#Please trust me I was taking this game seriously

[meazalykov]

play for the crowd

lauren james x english!influencer!reader : social media + fic

summary: a fake relationship never ends well.. or does it?

warnings: angst, very long chapter

for @pinkyqily + @jackiesunshines

“welcome back to ‘call her daddy,’ babes,” alex starts with her signature grin, leaning closer to the mic. 

“today, we’ve got the it-girl of england sitting across from me. she’s hilarious, she’s fashionable, she’s friends with basically everyone worth knowing—please give it up for y/n!!”

you laugh softly, adjusting your seating in the red fancy chair.

“oh, stop it. you’re hyping me up too much.”

“listen, i only speak the truth on this podcast,” alex replies dramatically, hands gesturing like she’s addressing an audience of thousands. 

“so, let’s just jump right in. your fashion—people are obsessed. i mean, half the girls listening are probably taking notes on your outfit right now as we speak.”

you smile, settling into your seat. 

“i feel like my style is a bit all over the place, to be honest. one day i’ll be in baggy streetwear, the next i’m in a full-on luxury brand look, then i’m in some scandi-inspired minimalism, and before you know it, i’m frolicking in a meadow in a cottagecore dress. i just wear whatever’s cute.”

“so, you’re telling me your closet must look insane.” alex leans forward, clearly intrigued.

“oh, it’s a disaster,” you admit with a laugh. 

“you know when people say, ‘if you can’t see it, you won’t wear it’? yeah, my clothes are in piles. i try to organize, but then i get new stuff, and it’s chaos all over again.”

“and yet you always look put together. how does that even work?”

“magic,” you joke, adjusting your oversized blazer. 

“or maybe just panic dressing.”

alex grins. 

“fair enough. okay, now—this is a call her daddy episode where i am the nosey host, so we have to get into your social life. you’ve got so many famous friends. who’s in your circle? who’s in the inner circle?”

you raise an eyebrow.

“you’re really trying to get the tea, huh?”

“always,” alex says without hesitation. 

“give us something.”

you smirk. 

“well, i’ve got a mix of people, you know? like, models, footballers, actors... it’s a weird little melting pot. i vibe with people who are chill and don’t take life too seriously.”

“what about jude bellingham?” alex’s grin widens, mischief sparkling in her eyes. 

“you’ve been seen with him quite a bit. are we finally getting confirmation here?”

your laugh is immediate, and you shake your head as you roll your eyes playfully. 

“oh my god, no no no absolutely not. jude is not my type at all.”

alex gasps theatrically. 

“wait, hold on. you’re telling me jude bellingham, literal dreamboat that maybe has a million edits of himself, is not your type? do you know how many women would kill for that chance?”

“i’m sure they would,” you reply, still laughing. 

“but, yeah, jude and i are just friends. strictly platonic. in fact, he’s hilarious.”

alex’s eyes narrow in mock suspicion. 

“so, what is your type, then?”

you pause for a moment, knowing the question is loaded. you take a breath, then grin. 

“well, just know that i don’t swing jude’s way.”

alex’s face lights up. 

“ohhh, so you’re into women?” her excitement is palpable.

“yeah,” you say, nodding firmly. 

“i mean, people have speculated for years, so… there you go. confirmed. i like women.”

“iconic,” alex replies, clapping her hands. 

“this is huge!!!! so, do you have a partner? because i feel like everyone’s going to be dying to know now.”

a weight sinks in your chest, but you plaster on a smile. you hate lying, but this is part of the game. 

“i do,” you say carefully, keeping your voice light. 

“but i’m not spilling anything just yet.”

“oh, come on,” alex pleads. 

“not even a little hint?”

you shake your head, laughing softly. 

“nope. but trust me, everyone will know who she is eventually.”

alex groans in mock defeat, throwing her head back. 

“you’re killing me, y/n. absolutely killing me.”

“i gotta keep some mystery, alex,” you tease. 

“otherwise, what’s the fun?”

y/n.l/n

{tagged: yourbsf}

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y/n.l/n hello 2025

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y/nl/nluvr5 SO CUTE

yourbsf ily

ashley_lawrence10 pretty! 🤩

wosofan2719 why are all of the chelsea girls in her likes?? 🫣

user6282 I thought I was the only one who peeped

random12938 after her podcast with alex on friday, I am convinced y/n's girlfriend is known to the public already. you might be onto something since she is already close with english footballers

madelineargy 😍

~view all 2,039 comments~

you’re sitting cross-legged on your plush beige couch, the soft hum of a charli xcx playlist filling the quiet of your london apartment. 

a steaming mug of tea sits on the coffee table, untouched, as you absently scroll through your phone. your eyes flick to the clock—just past noon. you’re waiting on lauren to send over the ticket details for tonight’s chelsea vs. arsenal match, the anticipated london derby.

your stomach twists slightly at the thought. not because of the game—you actually enjoy football. it’s the situation you’ve been thrown into that makes you uneasy. 

a fake relationship. a pr stunt. your team’s bright idea to boost both your profiles. it’s not like you haven’t heard the horror stories: influencer friends venting about staged dates, awkward photoshoots, and scripted chemistry with people they couldn’t stand and hated. 

you swore you’d never do something so fake, yet here you are.

your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts. it’s a message from lauren.

lauren: hey, just sent your name to the list—tickets will be at will call under 'guest of lj.' fancy title, right?

you smile faintly, typing back.

you: wow, i feel so important. 

you joke. a reply comes almost instantly.

lauren: absolutely. “fake girlfriend to chelsea star.” major clout.

you laugh under your breath, appreciating her humor despite the absurdity of the situation.

you: i can’t lie.. this is all so ridiculous. have you done this kind of thing before?

lauren: nope. first time for me too. i feel like i should apologize in advance if i make this awkward.

you: i was just about to say the same to you. we’ll both be awkward… it’ll balance out.

lauren’s next text takes a second longer to come through.

lauren: for what it’s worth, i know this isn’t ideal. but i promise i’m not a complete nightmare in person like the media can paint me out to be. 

you pause, rereading her message. there’s something about her tone—genuine, almost reassuring. however, you frown at the last part of her message. you have seen the tweets and post that have villainized her about certain situations that have happened between her and other players. you don’t play football, but you understand how intense things can be.

lauren’s genuine personality makes you think that this won’t be as terrible as you’ve been building it up to be.

you: well, if you’re not a nightmare, i guess i can survive one football match. or how ever many as i will need to go to for us. as long as i don’t get smacked with a football in front of your everyone or something.

lauren: if you do, we’ll just blame it on the opposing team.

you laugh again softly, shaking your head. her dry wit feels disarming, and you find yourself a little more curious about meeting her in person. maybe, just maybe, lauren will surprise you.

the cool london air nips at your cheeks as you step out of the car, pulling your brown puffer coat tighter around yourself. the excitement hums through the blue and red crowds gathered outside the chelsea stadium. 

you glance up at the familiar facade, the blue and white banners waving proudly in the breeze. you’ve been here before, more times than you can count, but tonight feels… different.

you make your way through the gates, clutching the ticket lauren organized for you. your name’s on the guest list, which feels oddly official, even though you know it’s all just for show. navigating the stadium is second nature by now—you’ve been here for england matches, screaming alongside the fans, but you’ve never been here for chelsea. 

the thought feels strange, almost disloyal, considering most of your friends are manchester (city and united) fans through and through.

their reactions flash through your mind, the way they nearly lost it when you casually mentioned you were going on a "date" with a chelsea player.

"you’re joking, right? chelsea? you can’t be serious," one had said, barely hiding their disbelief.

"wait, who is it?" another pressed, practically bouncing in their seat. 

"don’t tell me it’s lucy bronze—no, wait, she just transferred here so i don’t think it's her."

you’d shrugged them off, offering nothing but a sly smile. “you’ll find out soon enough,” you’d teased, leaving them to spiral into speculation. you didn’t have the heart—or the nerve—to explain the truth yet. 

not until you’d met lauren in person, not until you knew how this whole fake relationship would pan out.

as you approach the friends and family section, a subtle wave of nervousness rolls over you. this is it—the start of whatever chaotic media circus your teams have orchestrated. you take a deep breath, smoothing the invisible wrinkles on your coat, and step inside.

you wonder if people will question your presence in that section, why you were here by yourself with none of your friends to accompany you. however, you decide to take the next 90 minutes to collect your thoughts while lauren plays her match.

taking your seat, directly where you can see the middle of the pitch, the noise of the crowd fills your ears as you settle. your focus is razor-sharp. your eyes stay locked on lauren as she moves across the pitch with ease, weaving through arsenal's defense like it’s second nature. 

the game already started three minutes ago.. and she’s good…really good. you knew that already, of course, seeing her play live is something else entirely.

you shift in your seat, trying to keep your expression neutral. the plan is simple: be here, watch the match, and appear supportive. it’s harder than you thought to ignore the weight of the cameras that occasionally pan away from the game and land on you instead. 

you know what the headlines will say. you can already picture the tweets that are posting on twitter as your eye move along lauren’s body.

the speculation is what you’re here for. you tap your fingers against the armrest of your seat, trying to drown out the chatter in your head. this is all part of the plan, you remind yourself. 

still, the questions buzzing online are ones you’re not ready to answer. not yet. this isn’t even real after all.

your eyes dart back to lauren. she’s on the ball again, making a sharp run from a sharp pass from lucy that sets up a near-perfect chance. the crowd erupts, and you find yourself caught between genuine admiration for her skill and the uncomfortable reality of why you’re here. with the cameras on you, though, you know better than to let anything too much slip. 

you lean forward slightly, keeping your attention locked on lauren, as though she’s the only thing that matters in the moment.

the game ends with a 2-1 win for chelsea. you stand awkwardly by the fruit stand in the lounge room area, pretending to be invested in the arrangement of grapes and orange slices. the truth is, you feel out of place. 

this isn’t your scene, and it shows. the other friends and family members seem at ease, chatting and laughing like they belong here. you, however, can’t shake the anxiety in your chest. of course, people recognize you—this is england, after all. your face is plastered on magazine covers and social media feeds. here, in this context, you feel more exposed than ever.

you shift your weight from foot to foot, glancing at the clock on the wall. lauren’s team has just wrapped up their post-match debrief, and any minute now, she’ll walk in. the thought doesn’t help your nerves; if anything, it makes them worse. 

you haven’t even met her in person before, yet the entire world will soon think that she’s your girlfriend. the absurdity of it all threatens to make you laugh, but the knot in your stomach keeps you grounded.

you’re about to reach for a piece of pineapple when you feel a light touch on your shoulder. the sensation startles you, and you turn around quickly, almost dropping the toothpick you’re holding.

“i didn’t know you could be so shy, y/n,” lauren says, her tone teasing but warm. she’s standing there, freshly showered, her hair damp and swept back. the post-match attitude has faded, leaving her looking relaxed, but there’s a spark of curiosity in her eyes as she takes you in.

you smile nervously, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your blazer. 

“well, i’m usually not,” you reply, your voice quieter than you intended. 

“but this is… a little out of my comfort zone.”

lauren’s brows raise slightly, and she steps closer, her presence somehow steadying. 

“really? you, out of your comfort zone? that’s hard to believe.”

you glance down, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. 

“it’s different when it’s not my crowd. football people, you know? i’m more used to influencer events or fashion shows, not… this.”

lauren chuckles softly. 

“well, for what it’s worth, you look like you fit right in. maybe too well. people are already whispering about you.”

“great,” you mutter, trying to keep the sarcasm light but unable to mask your discomfort. 

“exactly what i wanted.”

she tilts her head, studying you for a moment. 

“it’ll die down eventually,” she says, her tone more serious now. 

“but i get it. it’s weird, isn’t it? pretending like this? its going to be worse once we have to tell the media.”

you let out a small laugh, more out of relief that she said it than anything else. 

“weird doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you admit. 

“i mean, we haven’t even met before today, and now the world will think that we’re madly in love. it’s ridiculous.”

lauren nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. 

“yeah, it is. but hey, we’re in this together, right?.”

you meet her gaze. she’s genuine, at least, and that’s something. “you’re right,” you say softly, your smile more genuine now. 

“i guess we’ll figure it out.”

she grins, and the moment feels strangely natural despite the layers of pretense surrounding it. then she gestures toward the lounge area where the other players’ families are gathered. 

“come on. let’s get you out of the corner. they’re going to think i’m a terrible girlfriend if i leave you standing here alone.”

you laugh, following her lead, the tension still present but slightly eased by her presence. it’s strange, walking beside her, knowing that the world will see something entirely different from what you feel inside. 

for now, you push that thought aside and focus on surviving the night.

lj10

{tagged: y/n.l/n}

liked by y/n.l/n, lucybronze, and 131,216 others

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random28383 IS THAT WHO I THINK IT ISSS??????

y/nl8vr MY BABY ON THE THIRD SLIDE

chelseafcwfan7 I KNEW IT WAS LAUREN THAT WAS DATING Y/N

❤️ *liked by author*

y/n.l/n 😘😘

user91010 oh that's not..

meazalykov ??

user91010 @/meazalykov i did not expect lauren and y/n no shade..

meazalykov well too bad..

lucybronze hard launch era

catarina_macario 😍😍

~view all 10,378 comments~

the days throughout the next few weeks blur together in a haze of carefully curated social media posts and staged interactions. every picture, every story, every comment feels like a chess move, calculated for the public eye. 

by now, the world has accepted the narrative—lauren james and y/n l/n, england’s newest power couple.

behind the scenes, it’s a different story entirely. you and lauren barely talk, only exchanging the occasional text when coordinating your next “public moment.” it’s efficient, professional even, but cold. 

you can’t help but feel the growing weight of the disconnect between the facade you show the world and the reality of your relationship. or lack thereof.

yet, something about lauren lingers in your mind. she’s kind in the brief moments you’ve interacted—genuine, with a subtle humor that catches you off guard. you’ve noticed how her quiet demeanor shifts when she’s irritated, her sharp gaze and tense shoulders mirroring your own tells when you’re frustrated. 

it’s a trait that feels too familiar, like looking into a mirror.

sitting on your couch late one evening, your phone in hand, you scroll mindlessly through instagram. you pause looking at the instagram story you posted with lauren, staring at the image, at the way lauren’s hand rests casually on your back in the mirror picture. you’d both laughed during that shoot. the memory stirs something in your chest—a quiet ache you can’t quite place.

she’s fascinating in a way you didn’t expect. it’s not just her talent on the pitch or her rising fame; it’s the little things. the way her smile softens when she’s genuinely amused. the thoughtful pauses she takes before she speaks. the way she seems to carry a quiet confidence, even in the chaos of the public’s attention. 

you shake your head, exhaling sharply. this is ridiculous, you tell yourself. the truth is, you want to know her… the real her, not the polished version you’ve pieced together through brief interactions and online impressions. 

you open your messages, your thumb hovering over her name. for a moment, you consider texting her something—anything—to start a conversation. however, the thought of overstepping, of complicating an already convoluted situation, keeps you frozen. 

with a sigh, you lock your phone and toss it onto the couch beside you.

whatever this is, whatever it could be, will have to wait. for now, you’ll stick to the plan, no matter how much your thoughts keep drifting back to lauren.

y/n.l/n

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y/n.l/n good evening

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❤️ *liked by author*

lj10 good evening 😍😍

lucybronze its 11:09am..

y/n.l/n again, good evening lucy bronze

lucybronze good evening ig 😒

catarina_macario 🤩

random2728 lj and y/n having a private but not secret relationship 🥰

user72929 LOVE

random2728 there's something off about this..

random10989 wym?

leahwilliamsonn 😍

~view all 4,290 comments~

the bar is calming, music thrumming in the background as laughter and chatter fill the air. the dim lighting casts a warm glow over the group, everyone mingling and sipping on their drinks. 

you’re perched on a stool near the bar, glancing occasionally at lauren, who’s leaning against the counter, chatting easily with one of her teammates, millie. she looks relaxed, her posture casual, but there’s something about the way her eyes flick to you every so often that has your stomach in knots.

“another drink?” her voice cuts through the noise, her tone light but carrying just enough warmth to catch your attention.

you look up at her, a slight smile tugging at your lips.

“are you trying to get me drunk, lauren?”

she smirks, handing you the glass. 

“maybe. or maybe i just want to make sure you’re having a good time.”

you take a sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol mixed with something sweeter—the way she’s looking at you. 

“thanks,” you murmur. 

“but i can return the favor. what are you drinking?”

“water,” she says simply, holding up her glass. 

“staying hydrated.”

you tilt your head, studying her. 

“water? not even one drink? you’re playing it too safe.”

she shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes. 

“someone has to keep an eye on you.”

you laugh, the sound escaping before you can stop it. 

“oh, so now you’re my babysitter?”

“if that’s what you need,” she fires back smoothly, her grin widening.

there’s a moment, a charged pause, where the noise of the bar seems to fade into the background. lauren’s gaze lingers on you, and you feel your cheeks heat under the intensity of it. 

you lean in slightly, emboldened by the drinks and the energy between you.

“careful,” you tease, your voice dropping just enough to match the tension. 

“someone might think you actually care.”

“and what if i do?” she counters, her tone light but her eyes unreadable.

you blink, caught off guard. the banter feels easy, natural, but there’s something underneath it that feels heavier—real. you search her face for a clue, but she keeps her expression steady, a flicker of amusement playing at the corners of her mouth.

“then i’d say you’re doing a great job convincing everyone here,” you say finally, trying to match her confidence, even as your heart races.

her lips curve into a smirk. 

“convincing you, too?”

your breath catches, and for a split second, you don’t know what to say. she watches you, her expression calm but undeniably smug, as though she knows exactly the effect she’s having on you.

“maybe,” you admit, keeping your voice steady despite the way your pulse thunders in your ears.

she chuckles softly, the sound low and intimate, and it leaves you feeling both flustered and unmoored. then, as if sensing the moment tipping into something too real, she pulls back slightly, raising her glass of water in a mock toast.

“to good acting,” she says, her voice light but her eyes holding yours a beat too long.

you clink your glass against hers, your stomach twisting as you try to discern whether she’s teasing or deflecting. 

as the night wears on, you can’t shake the way her words, her gaze, her presence—all of it—lingers in the back of your mind. was it an act? or was there something more beneath the surface? you don’t know, and the uncertainty gets at you in a way you didn’t expect.

your drink—something sweet and forgettable—sits untouched in front of you, the condensation pooling around the glass on the counter. the room feels alive as you watch your surroundings again, as lauren’s teammates and your friends fill the dance floor, laughing, swaying to the music, completely at ease. 

you, however, feel like a misplaced puzzle piece.

you’re here for a purpose, after all—not to let loose, but to be seen. you and lauren were both instructed to attend, to sit in proximity long enough for someone to notice, snap a photo, and post it online. the public needed to see the happy “couple” out and about, living their seemingly charmed lives. 

that was the plan. it always is. however, something about tonight feels off.. or maybe it’s you that feels off. 

your eyes drift to lauren, who’s sitting a few stools away at this point, talking to sjoeke. lauren’s body language is relaxed, her posture casual, and she exudes that effortless charm you’ve come to associate with her. her laugh carries over the music, soft but genuine, and it’s disarming. 

you’ve seen her in a dozen different settings by now—on the pitch, in interviews, even in those staged photoshoots your teams made you do together—but she always carries the same quiet confidence. 

“why do i care so much about her flirting earlier?” the thought hits you suddenly, and you blink, startled by your own realization. you know you shouldn’t care. it’s not like there’s anything real between you two. this is business, nothing more. 

you’re about to take a sip of your drink when movement catches your eye. a brunette woman, her steps uneven and her smile a little too wide, weaves her way through the crowd and makes a beeline for lauren. 

she stops next to her, leaning on the counter for balance before sliding onto the stool beside her. 

at first, you think nothing of it. people approach lauren all the time; it comes with the territory of her being a footballer.. then you notice the way the woman leans in, her body language screaming flirtation. 

even over the music, you catch snippets of her words. 

“i’ve been watching you all night,” the brunette says, her voice slurred but still clear enough to make your chest tighten. 

you force yourself to look away, focusing instead on the condensation trailing down your glass. but your attention snaps back when you hear lauren laugh—a soft, polite chuckle that quickly morphs into something warmer. she’s flirting back. 

it’s subtle, nothing overt, but it’s enough to make your stomach churn.

you grip the edge of your stool, willing yourself to stay calm. this doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. this isn’t real. lauren is a footballer—a brilliant, talented, and undeniably attractive one. of course people are drawn to her. of course she’s going to flirt back.

you remind yourself that you’re just the one her pr team picked for this charade. nothing more. 

the tightness in your chest refuses to go away. watching lauren lean in closer to the brunette, her smile softening, feels like a punch to the gut and worse, it makes you question things you don’t want to question. 

like why you even care in the first place.

the noise of the bar feels suffocating, and before you know it, you’re sliding off the stool and heading toward the bathroom. the music dulls as you push through the door, and the quieter space is a welcome reprieve.

then, your eyes land on zion and amber. 

your two friends are tucked into a corner of the bathroom, lost in their own world. amber’s hands are tangled in zion’s hair, and zion’s lips are pressed firmly against amber’s. they don’t even notice you until the door clicks shut behind you. 

zion pulls back first, her face flushed. “y/n?” she asks, stepping forward. 

“you okay?”

you hesitate, the weight of the night pressing heavily on your chest. you don’t want to talk about it, but the lump in your throat makes it clear that you need to. 

“not really,” you admit, your voice quieter than you intended.

amber straightens, exchanging a quick glance with zion before walking over to you. 

“what’s going on?” she asks, concern evident in her tone.

just like that, everything comes pouring out. the fake relationship, the constant public scrutiny, the pressure to perform for an audience you didn’t ask for. you tell them about the brunette at the bar, how lauren flirted back, and how much it hurt even though it shouldn’t have. when you’re done, you feel a little lighter, but the knot in your chest remains.

zion crosses her arms, her brow furrowed in thought. 

“y/n,” she says carefully, “are you… catching feelings for lauren?”

the question hangs in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. your first instinct is to deny it, to brush it off as ridiculous. but the truth gnaws at you, undeniable and unrelenting. you don’t say anything, which is answer enough.

amber steps closer, placing a hand on your arm. “look,” she says gently, “you need to figure this out. either you tell her how you feel and end this whole fake thing, or you set some serious boundaries before you get hurt.”

you nod slowly, the reality of her words settling over you like a weight. “yeah,” you murmur. 

“you’re right.”

as you stand there, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, the question lingers in your mind. 

how did i even let this happen?

the days pass in a haze of avoidance and overthinking. 

you bury yourself in work, content for tiktok, and anything else that keeps you busy enough to ignore the fluttering in your chest every time you think of lauren. it’s not hard to avoid her; after all, your only real interactions have been the orchestrated ones... lunches, coffee dates, the occasional walk in the park, all designed to feed the narrative. 

without the need for those, you manage to keep your distance.

your phone buzzes occasionally with texts from lauren. nothing accusatory or probing, just polite questions about when your next outing is or casual jokes about how your pr teams must be getting impatient about when the next outing will be. 

each message makes your stomach twist, the guilt poking at you. she doesn’t deserve to be avoided, but you can’t bring yourself to face her right now.

the bathroom conversation at the bar replays in your head on a loop. amber’s words, “set boundaries or tell her how you feel,” echo louder with each passing day. it feels like you’ve done neither, stuck somewhere in limbo, unsure of what to do. 

all you know is that seeing lauren flirt with someone else hurt more than it should have. and now, it’s painfully clear why.

you caught feelings. 

the realization had hit you like a train that night, leaving you panicked. you’ve spent years building walls around yourself, keeping relationships at arm’s length, unwilling to let anyone in after your last heartbreak. yet here you are, feelings growing for someone who isn’t even truly yours. 

lauren’s face lingers in your mind far more often than you’d like. the chelsea player’s quiet humor, her thoughtfulness, the way her smile lights up when she’s genuinely happy.. it’s all etched into your brain, no matter how much you try to push it away. 

the worst part? you know this is going nowhere. fake relationships don’t magically become real, and even if they did, there’s no guarantee lauren feels the same.

you sit on your couch, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. the notifications pile up—comments on your latest post, messages from friends, an email from your team about your next public appearance. 

you can’t bring yourself to focus on any of it. all you can think about is how scared you are that you’ve made a mistake, one that’s far too late to undo.

hours later.. around midnight.. you’re curled up on your couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs as you dig into a bowl of rice and chicken. the dim glow of the tv lights up the room, the suspenseful soundtrack of squid game filling the air. 

it’s the perfect distraction, engrossing enough to keep your thoughts at bay, even if just for a little while.

then, a faint knock interrupts the quiet. at first, you assume it’s coming from the show, but when it happens again, you freeze. your eyes flick to the door. you weren’t expecting anyone, and frankly, you’ve been avoiding everyone for the last few days. 

the knocking persists, steady and deliberate, until you reluctantly pause the show and get up.

your heart races as you peek through the peephole. the sight of lauren standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie, sends your mind spiraling. 

what is she doing here? how did she get my address?

you open the door slowly, your confusion evident. 

“lauren?” you ask, your voice wary. 

“what are you doing here? how did you even know where i live?”

she offers a small smile, almost sheepish. 

“hey. i asked madeline. hope that’s okay.”

you step aside, letting her in despite your confusion at why she would go so far to ask your mutual friend what your address was. lauren looks around, her eyes landing on the paused screen of squid game. 

“season two?” she asks, nodding toward the tv. 

“is it any good? haven’t had the chance to watch it yet because of training.”

“so far, yeah,” you reply, your tone cautious. 

“like the first season. but… why are you here?”

she turns to face you, her expression soft but serious. 

“i came to talk to you. you’ve been avoiding everyone.. me included.. and it’s not like you. i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

you try to brush it off, waving a hand dismissively. 

“i’m fine. just needed some space, that’s all.”

lauren doesn’t budge. she crosses her arms, tilting her head slightly. 

“come on, y/n. i know something’s wrong. you can’t just disappear like that and expect no one to notice.”

you let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. 

“what does it matter? you probably have a real date to get to or something.”

she frowns, her brows knitting together. 

“what are you talking about? i don’t have a real date. why would you say that?”

your heart pounds in your chest, but you push forward, your voice tinged with frustration. 

“do you have a real partner, lauren? someone you’re seeing while we’re doing this… this fake thing?”

lauren’s confusion deepens. 

“what? no. where is this even coming from?”

the tension boils over, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out. 

“because it’s driving me insane, lauren! this whole fake relationship thing.. it’s messing with my head. i can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s not just for the cameras or the public or whatever. i caught feelings, okay? within these few months of pretending to be your girlfriend, i somehow…. god, i don’t even know. i like you and i know that’s not part of the plan, so if this makes things too complicated, we can stop. i get it.”

the room goes quiet, your words hanging heavily in the air. lauren’s eyes widen, and for a moment, you brace yourself for rejection. but then her expression shifts… softening into something that looks like relief.

“wait,” she says, stepping closer. 

“are you serious?”

you nod, your heart in your throat. 

“yeah. and if that’s too much, just say the word, and we can call this off. i’ll tell the pr team about the situation myself.”

lauren shakes her head quickly. “no, no. you’re not calling anything off.” her voice is steady, her gaze locked onto yours. 

“if we’re going to stop the fake relationship, it’s only because we’re starting a real one.”

your brows knit together, confusion washing over you. 

“what are you saying?”

she takes a breath, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. 

“i’m saying that i’ve caught feelings too. you’re kind, funny, and beautiful.. completely yourself no matter the situation. you’re the kind of person who i love spending my time with, even for something as ridiculous as a fake relationship, this has been the best part of my year.”

you stare at her, your brain struggling to catch up. 

“you… like me?”

“yeah,” she says, her smile widening. 

“i like you, y/n. for real, nothing fake.”

the tension in your chest finally loosens, replaced by something warm and overwhelming. 

“so, what do we do now?”

lauren grins, her expression brighter than you’ve ever seen it. 

“first, i’m calling the pr team and telling them we’re done with this fake stuff. after that, we’ll figure it out. together.”

you let out a breathy laugh, relief washing over you. 

“okay. yeah. let’s do that.”

she glances at the tv, her grin turning playful. 

“before that, can we watch the rest of this? i’ve been meaning to start season two.”

you laugh, gesturing to the couch. 

“sure, but you’re sharing my blanket.”

lauren plops down beside you, pulling the blanket over her legs as the two of you settle in. for the first time in weeks, everything feels right.

also real.. 

masterlist

happy very early birthday aj 😆

[kwoniele]

don't let them hear — choi subong

synopsis: lights off meant something a little different between you and the famous choi subong, also known as thanos.

genre: smut and fluff bc theyre js exes who want eo bad LOL. green flag choi subong... say WHAT 💜

warnings: afab reader, tease, fingering, nothing else honestly

author's note: this is the first time i have ever written on this account + since my social media detox so pls bear w me if this isnt exactly up to your standards ha ha ha... ily anyway not proofread! i wrote this when it was 3am leave me be.

"lights will be turned off in ten seconds."

in a moment, the lights will dim and the only thing shedding light in the room would be the giant pig dangling from the ceiling and choi subong's pale skin that's attached to yours. ever since he told you he would be joining you in bed tonight, you couldn't deny the fact you were thrilled. your drug-addict ex boyfriend shouldn't have excited you this much. let alone the fact you were waiting for him. 

"five, four, three, two, one." now, it was fully dark. 

you sighed in disappointment. you turned away from the side subong was and decided to sleep on your own. you knew you shouldn't have trusted him at all, yet you were gullible enough to believe he'd keep his promise. and he didn't. cause if he did, he would be beside you with his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to him so that you could warm one another up.

"y/n?," your eyes abruptly opened, "are you still awake?" he actually did it. he actually kept his promise.

he actually came.

you decided to play the stubborn game and not answer. but you knew that he was aware you were definitely up. "don't want me here? okay señorita. i'll leave." his footsteps began to get quieter as he 'left'. you felt guilty and decided to let him explain himself. after all, it hasn't been long since that robot woman announced it was time for bed.

"fuck you." you turned toward him, expecting him to be halfway gone already. yet you met a choi subong sitting down with his arms trapping his knees while replicating footsteps that were leaving. "wow. double fuck you.'

"please, i know you want me here. so move over." he stood up and laid down beside you as his head automatically dug itself into your chest. "i don't give a fuck if you're going to go on some lecture about how i should have been here sooner, so don't waste your time." he pecked your collarbone before adjusting his position. "i'm here with you and that's what matters. okay?"

speechless is an understatement. you couldn't even be mad. you couldn't feel the slightest anger in you because he's right there. you could see his purple hair laying on your neck.

wait. something's wrong. something's missing.

"wait. choi subong. where's the necklace?" you used two fingers to tilt his head up so you could see his eyes. they're still as pretty as ever. fuck him for having such charming eyes. 

"gone. i threw it away when i saw you rave about how you were so much happier when you quit." he stared at you. waiting for you to say something. "what? do you want me to dig my hands into the toilet to retrieve it?"

"did you seriously… get rid of it? for me?" you sat up. tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before holding his hands. you noticed the tattoo he dedicated to you. the little heart with a sun next to it because he said that you were his ray of sunshine.

"of course i did. i meant it when i told you i'd fix myself as long as we crossed paths again, you know. i don't just make promises for the sake of—" shutting him up with your lips was probably your favourite thing to do. you missed this. you missed him. you missed feeling his lips perfectly match yours everytime you leaned in to him. 

"then i meant it when i told you i'd let you fuck me whenever, wherever. hopefully you take that damn opportunity now." he analysed your face before realising you were serious. he didn't even need to say anything. he just held your face by your jaw, kissing you rougher than earlier while gently laying you down on your bed.

he took off your pants and placed it just beside the bed, sliding your panties right after it. "fuck. how long have you been this wet, hm?" his middle finger glided itself from your cunt to your clit, using your slick as lubricant to teasingly insert his finger in your hole. "was it when i told you i quit? or when you kissed me? or better yet, since you saw me?"

"fuck, subong–" his free hand covered your mouth, preventing you from letting a noise out. 

"can you be quiet for me, baby? wouldn't want to let these jackasses know i'm fucking the prettiest girl here, would you?" you shook your head, agreeing that you should be dead silent. 

you didn't even notice that he snuck a second finger, fucking you with his fingers repeatedly until your were squirming and arching your back from the bed. "that's it, baby. do just that." his thumb flicked your clit, causing you to buck your hips on his hand. 

you don't know how he understood, but you mumbled against his hand that you were going to cum. his smirk was evident in the dark room which caused you to be pushed to the edge even more. "are you going to cum? hmm? is my baby finally going to cum for the love of her life?"

all you could do was nod. it was cute to him.

when you finally reached your release, he made sure to lick off all of your juice from his fingers. you watched him slowly suck on his ring finger while intensely staring at you. "i love you. don't leave ever again. i better be the only one you do this to."

"only for you, baby. just you and me. choi subong and future choi y/n. okay?

[justwhisperingfantasies]

Girl At The Rock Show -9-[smut 18+]

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Characters: Reader. Jensen. Megan. Mac [o.c] Robert [o.c] Erica [o.c]

Mentions of: Jared. Alex. Josh.

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Drinking, Smut, Unprotected Sex [no!], Fingering, P-I-V

You guys are amazing. Seriously thank you for every heart, reblog, and comment. I love hearing your feedback. 🫶

Please do not copy my work.

Tag List

Master List

Jensen

He felt the corner of her mouth twist into a smile on his chest. "Would this happen to be the same baseball game your nephew will be playing in?"

He chuckled. "Yes."

"The baseball game your family will be attending?"

"That's the one."

"Jensen Ross Ackles. Are you asking me to meet your family?"

"Maybe..." He teased, gliding his finger through her hair. "What if I was?"

"I would have to inform you that this is a big step"

He chuckled again. "Oh, I was not aware."

She giggled. "You sure you're ready for that, Ackles?"

"I wouldn’t ask if I wasn't baby."

She lifted her head, resting her chin on his chest she peered into his eyes. He raised his brows. "Whatcha doin?" he asked

"Looking for any sign or nervousness or uncertainty." She razzed him.

He smiled. "And how’s that going for you, darlin’?”

“I think you got a little bit.”

“I think you’re full of shit too.” He retorted, her laughter echoed through the room, making him smile.

She crawled up his body until they were nose to nose. “I can see a smidgen right.”

A soft squeal escaped her lips as he shifted his weight, rolling her on to her back. Hovering over her, he pressed his lips to hers. “Trust me, you ain’t gonna find any in there.”

She smiled. “Ok.”

“Yeah?” his face lit up

“Yes Jensen, I would love to meet your family.”

Jensen

He woke up with the weight of her head missing from his chest. His arms stretched, as his hands searched for her, but found nothing. 

He pulled on a pair of sweats and headed downstairs. 

He stopped and leaned on the kitchen doorway, a smile spread across his face as he took in the view. She was sitting on the bar, flannel pjs covering her crossed legs, sipping coffee, watching one of her drama Netflix shows. Her hair in a messy bun, wearing one of his Family Business hoodies. 

“Well good morning sleepy head.” She smiled at him.

“Good morning sweetheart.” He replied. 

She sat her coffee down and uncrossed her legs letting them dangle as he moseyed over. He rested his hands on her hips, stepping in between her legs. She took his face in her hands, bringing his face to her. He kissed her lips then started placing kisses all over her face, making her giggle. He placed another on her lips and reached for her coffee. Her eyes went wide when he brought the mug to his lips. He smirked and took a sip. “Sir! That is mine.” raising her playful tone.

“Alright, alright. No violence needed.” 

“Smart choice, Ackles.” 

He smiled. “How long have you been awake?” He asked, walking over to the coffee maker.

“Eh, for about an hour, I couldn’t go back to sleep. So, I came down and made a breakfast casserole. It’s done, just turned it down on low to keep it warm.” She hopped off the bar and made her way over to the stove.

“You could have woke me up. And shouldn’t you be more careful?!” he sipped his coffee.

She pulled out the casserole and sat it on the stove. “Shush. No high hopes.”

His brows arched “Says the girl who would drink A beer yesterday.”

“I had to drive.” She exclaimed  “Grab the sour cream for me, would ya?”

“I can do that.” He poked her side making her jump as he walked past.

“You’re really pushing it today.”

He laughed as he handed her the bottle.

“Do you have anything planned for today?” she asked.

“I have to go to the brewery and take care of a few things. My brother said something about going fishing, but I don’t know if he wanted to go today. Why what’s up?”

“Mac asked about watching Supernatural today,”

Her phone started to ring, she hit the ignore button as private caller showed on the screen.

“I didn’t know what you were up to.” She said, sitting her phone back on the counter.

“Am I not invited to supernatural day?” He asked in a dramatically offended tone as they made their way back over to the table.

She giggled. “You are always invited. I just know if you had something or anything planned for us.”

He took a bite. “Damn baby, this is so good.”

She smiled. “Another one of Mama Jo’s recipes.”

He playfully sighed. “I guess Mac can have you today, But I get you for dinner.” He winked.

Jensen

“So, I’ll pick you up at 6?” He asked her, walking to her car. 

“It’s a date.” she winked at him

He smiled leaning in to kiss her.

“Drive safe.” He opened the car door for her. She got in. He dipped his head in the car and kissed her again. “I love you baby.” He smiled.

“I love you too, Mr. Ackles.” She returned his smile 

Reader

“Hey.” You shouted walking through your front door.

“Kitchen.” Mac and her dad yelled at the same time.

“That sweatshirt is kinda big there, don’t ya think?” Robert asked you as you sat beside him.

“It’s her boyfriend’s.” Mac teased.

“Please tell me you're not back with.”

“No dad. Her new boyfriend, not really new though it's been almost a month.”

“A month? You've been dating this guy for a month and I don't even know his name?”

You chuckled. “It's Jensen.”

“Jensen? Huh. Not a very common name.  Where’s he from?”

“Dallas.”

“And what does this Jensen do?”

“He’s an actor.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Has he played in anything?”

“Lots actually.”

“[Y/n] would you like a cup of coffee with your interrogation?” Mac laughed.

You chuckled. “No thanks.”  She furrowed her brows, relaxing them as her dad’s head turned towards her.

“Anything else Robert?”

“Just 1 more.” He turned back to you, “When do I get to meet him?”

“Soon,” you looked over to Mac. “Last night, He asked me about meeting his family.”

You looked at your phone screen as it started to ring. Private number. You hit the ignore button.

“Oh. So, you guys are like serious?” She asked sarcastically.

Your phone rang again. You sighed when you read private number again. Robert held out his hand, you handed it over. 

“State trooper Goodwin. How can I help you?” He handed your phone back. “They hung up. Hopefully they don’t call back.”

“Let me grab a shower and we can start.” You gave your adopted father a kiss on the cheek. “I will check with him and see what his schedule looks like.” He nodded with a smile, and you made your way upstairs.

Reader

You sighed when your phone started to ring again, you pulled your shirt over your head and strolled over to your dresser. A smile spread across your face when you read his name.

“Hello there handsome”

“Hey babe, don’t be mad.”

“That’s not what you wanna hear at the beginning of a conversation.”

“So, TMZ was at the airport the other day.”

“Oh, of course they were.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just a picture of us hugging. They didn’t say anything mean. Just that I might have a new girlfriend.”

“Ok.”

“OK? You’re not mad?”

You chuckled. “No, I’m not mad. Kinda comes with the territory of dating a celebrity doll face. Did you really think I’d be mad at you?”

“Not so much me. Just the situation. I’ve had a couple buddies lose girlfriends because of it.”

“At least they weren’t mean.” A question forced it's way out of your lips. “Is it a bad thing if people know you have a new girlfriend?”

“Seriously?”

“Just askin’.”

“ Well don't.... So, whatcha doin?” He changed the subject.

“Just got dressed.”

“Booo!”

You chuckled. “What are you up to?”

“Bout to pick Jared up and meet Josh out at the lake.”

“Tell sasquatch I said hi.”

He snickered. “ Will do. Oh, yea, dress fancy tonight.”

You heard a soft chuckle, as you let out a hefty sigh. “Fine. But it better be worth it.” you teased. 

“Oh it will be.” You bit your lips at his husky seductive tone. 

“Have fun. Tight lines.” 

“Did you really just use the term tight lines?”

“I'm from Michigan, baby. You come out of the womb with a fishing pole in hand.”

He laughed. “I’ll see you later, pretty lady.”

“Not if I see you first, doll face.” you hung up, making your way down the stairs.  “Let the supernatural marathon commence!!”

Reader

You took one final look in the mirror. “Are you sure I look, ok?”

“Really [y/n]?! You are gonna knock his socks off.”

You glanced over your shoulder. The borrowed black dress did make your ass look good. Your eyes moved up your bare back to the halter tie at the top. Your hair in a classy bun with curled strands dangling out here and there. You let Mac go a little extra with the make up. The smokey effect she blended perfectly on your eyelid really made your irises pop.

“Be right back.” Mac was back in a second. Black heels in one hand and a silky black shawl in the other.

Fastening the straps of the heels around your ankle, you heard the car. 

You grabbed the shawl, along with your black clutch, and made your way to the stairs. He knocked on the door when you got to the bottom.

You opened the door, and you felt the warmth spread through you as the fluttering began in your stomach. His soft locks were brushed back, a pin striped, black suit clung to his perfect body. The first three buttons were undone, showing off some of his sexy chest. A big smile spread on his face as you checked him out.

Jensen

She opened the door, His brows raised, as all the air left his lungs. He shifted his weight, trying to steady his wobbling knees. God she was breathtaking. She always looked good, but all dolled up in that sexy black dress. ‘Good lord’

“Good evening Mr. Ackles. “

“Good evening,” he choked out. “Babe. You look amazing.”

She smiled. “Me? Have you looked in a mirror?”

He chuckled as his cheeks turned pink, sticking his elbow out  “You ready?”

 “Absolutely.” She slid her hand in the crease. “I can’t believe you drove the Porsche.”

“Well, a deal’s a deal.” He winked at her. She started to step in front of the car, his elbow caught her hand.

 Her jaw dropped slightly as a small gasped slipped out. “Now?!”

He smiled and held up the keys . She squealed as she grabbed them and practically skipped to the driver’s door.

“Can you do this in heels?” He teased as she released the e-brake.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Just tell me where to go, Ackles.”

Jensen

“Not too shabby darlin’,” He held his elbow out again as she made her way around the car. “At least the tires are ok.” She sighed, making him chuckle.

“Good evening.” The valet greeted, as he approached.

“Evenin’.” Jensen said, handing the keys to the man.

Jensen opened the she let out a small whistle as she walked through it. “This place sure is fancy.” She spoke in a whispered southern accent making him chuckle.

“Reservation for 2. Under Ackles.” he told the hostess.

Right this way Mr. and Mrs. Ackles. He smirked at (y/n) not correcting the young lady. His hand automatically went to the small of her back as she followed the hostess. She glanced over at him as his hand slid down further. “Sorry,” she smiled.

 Jensen slid her chair out for her and slid it back in. He sat in the seat beside her.

“Your waiter will be with you shortly, here’s the wine list if you need anything just let us know.”

“Ok thank you” the young lady walked away. Jensen grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers  “Well Mrs. Ackles,”

 Her smile fell. “You should have corrected her”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He brought her hand to his lips kissing the back of it. She shook her head with a smile.

“Can I get you started with a drink from the bar, or we have a nice 1982 Chateau Margaux on the list tonight?” The waiter asked as he approached.

“No thank you, water is fine.” Jensen looked over to her.

“Same. Extra lemon please.” She told the waiter. He nodded and walked away. Her face turned to Jensen with a confused look “You’re not drinking tonight?”

“Nope.” He affirmed.

The waiter brought back the waters with extra lemons on the side “Are we ready to order?” Jensen looked over to you

You go first he chuckled “I’ll have the 12 oz New York strip medium, no sauce or toppings, with the Yukon gold pommes purée.”

The waiter looked over to her. “Can I have an 8 oz tenderloin filet, well done, no sauce or toppings, with steak fries please.”

“Of course. We will have it out shortly.” He took your menus and walked away,

Jensen smiled. 

“What?” she asked.

“Fries?”

“Steak fries. I got a steak.”

He laughed. “Touché.”

“So  did y’all catch anything?”

“Jack and shit, but it was really nice to hang out with my brothers, Josh is excited to meet you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, especially after Jared’s review.”

“What can I say, I'm pretty awesome.”

He chuckled. “You’re not wrong.” He took another drink of water. “How was your day?”

“Good. Mac’s dad was at the house when I got there today.”

“How’d that go?”

“Well, I had to explain the oversized hoodie. Which led to him asking when he gets to meet you.”

“And you told him…?”

“That I would ask you about it and see what your schedule looks like.”

“Should be easy to set something up. Not a whole lot going on right now.”

“I can’t wait to see his face when he meets you.”

“You didn’t tell it was the guy from the show his daughter is obsessed with?”

She chuckled. “Like he would have believed me.”

Jensen opened his mouth but was cut off by the food.

Jensen

“That was amazing, babe.” she said walking out the door.

Recognizing him the valet nodded and walked off. Jensen stayed silent, his eyes looking into the distance. 

“Are you really giving me the cold shoulder right now?”  she asked, looking up at him and tilting her head. He couldn’t stop his eyes from glancing down at her, she was so damn cute.

 “And how long do you think that’s really going to last Mr. Ackles.” She stepped in front of him and slid her hands up his chest. He felt the anger melt away as her arms wrapped around his neck. He leaned in to kiss her as her lips got close she leaned back slightly aching her brow. “You gotta talk to me to get kisses.”

His eyes narrowed. “Fine, but next time you pay the bill behind my back, I’m gonna bend you over my knee.”

“I can’t wait.” She challenged, making him smile.

Reader

The only light in the dark house came from the flickering tealight candles that led up the stairs. You flashed him a smile and took his hand, following the trail laid out for you. You pushed the bedroom open, and your eyes filled with tears as they scanned the room. The glow of the dancing flames filled the room while soft country music played in the background. You stepped in and your eyes found the rose petals scattered on the bed and some arranged in a heart making you laugh out loud.

"That was Jared's idea, he said it was classy and romantic. I told him it was cheesy and cliche. He said if anything you would get a good laugh out of it. You can destroy it if you want."

"Absolutely not. It's beautiful." you said in a dramatic tone making him smile.

He swaggered over to you. “Not compared to you.” He matched your tone, making you laugh again. His arms wrapped around your waist as his lips found yours. Yours found their way around his neck. His hold tightened as your feet left the ground, deepening the kiss. He returned your feet to the ground; you rested your head on his shoulder as your hips swayed with his. 

You stepped back, sliding your hands back down to his chest, pushing the suit jacket they made their way to his shoulders, your eyes followed it as you pushed down his arms, you brought your eyes back to his as it fell to the floor. His viridian gaze locked onto yours as his fingers found the small zipper on your hip and pulled it down. His fingers gliding up your back raising goosebumps, his fingers gripped the dangling end of the halter tie and pulled. The dress fell to the floor, you brought your lips to his as your fingers started undoing the buttons on his shirt. His fingers grasped your ass as his tongue pushed past your lips, making your fingers fumble with the last button. He chuckled softly against your mouth. 

You unbuttoned his pants as he slid his shirt off, a groan left his lips when your fingers brushed against his length, as you slowly pulled the zipper down. He shimmied out of his pants, making you giggle. A small yelp left your lips as he grabbed you up and took you over to the bed.

He smiled as he loomed over you. He brought his lips close to your ear. “You really are beautiful.” His hot breath sent shivers down your spine. He trailed kisses down your neck, going up the other side once he got to the hollow of your throat. Finding your other ear. “Just perfect.” His words made you smile. He thrusted his hips, brushing his hard shaft against you, muffling your whimpers with his lips. You walls clenched as he took your breast in his grasp, kneading gently. His fingers wandered down, finding your clothed clit. You moaned as he started tracing circles, his lips found your ear again. “And those sexy little noises you make mmm.”

He pushed your black lace thong aside, your core throbbed as his fingertips teased your entrance. He groaned, feeling how wet you were for him already. He slowly slid 2 fingers inside you, making another moan escape you.

His fingers started pumping in and out as he rose to his knees. He bit his lip, watching your hips writhe in pleasure.

You felt the tension in your stomach as the pleasure rippled through your body, he smirked and began to pump them faster. Making your walls clench around his fingers as the tension reached its peak. 

You heard him groan as he curled his fingers, as soon as he hit your spot the tension snapped and your moans echoed through the room as your orgasm crashed over you. He slowed his fingers, as your walls pulsated. 

Bringing his fingers to his mouth he moaned as he tasted your sweet juices, licking them clean. He pushed his boxers down and fell back on top of you, his arms catching his weight just before he crushed you, he laughed in response to your giggles. His thumb stroked your chin, as he stared.

“What?” you asked with warm cheeks.

He smiled. “Nothin’.” He leaned down, his lips hungry lips captured yours. Your hands slid up his back as he lined his tip to your entrance. Your fingers gripped, as he moaned you named burying himself inside you. You could feel his cock throb against your walls as he stretched them.

“You ready baby.?” He asked, kissing your jawline.

“Yes.” You whined.

He drew his hips back, pleasure coursed through you again as he thrust back inside you, praising him with moans of his name. Your nails dug into his back as he increased his speed, causing him to thrust harder.

 Heavy pants and moans filled the room as your walls started tightening  around him, the tension almost to its peak again. “Jensen.” You whispered.

“I know baby,” he pounded harder. “Come on. I wanna feel it.” He groaned, nibbling at your neck.

Your release crashed over you again, sending shock waves of bliss through you. He pushed you as far as he could and with a loud moan he pulled out. You felt the warm liquid ooze on your stomach as he kissed your lips and then nuzzled your nose with his.

“You know if we used condoms this whole clean up thing would be easier.” You smiled at him as he dried your stomach.

“Or I could jump cum inside you.” your jaw dropped. A grin stretched across his face as his eyebrows jumped “Yea that shut you up.” he teased.

Reader

You finished brushing your teeth and turned the light out and stopping in the doorway, staring with adoration, he laid there on his back, arm resting across his forehead, his chiseled chest on display, boxers pulled low enough to display that v he had, his socked toes wiggling along to the music that was still playing.

His eyebrows raised as he looked over at you. “Can I help you?”

“Nope, I’m good.”

A smile spread across his face “You gonna come cuddle or just stand over there like a creeper all night?”

Jensen

He watched as she took a bite of bacon. “So?” He asked 

She smiled. “Close, but no cigar baby.” His face scrunched. “Still delicious though.”

“You could just tell me ya know?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”  she teased, making him laugh. “Do you have anything exciting today?”

“Depends on what you call exciting, The first half of my day will be spent on a zoom meeting, probably gonna be a lot of them in the next few weeks while we get scheduling and all the final details for countdown. And then I’m going to the brewery to do an inventory check and make sure everything we need is on order.”

“Never a dull day with you.”

“Nope, What’s on your schedule today?”

“Well let’s see.” She pulled her phone out and signed into her office’s daily schedule app. “I have a newborn checkup, a 3-year checkup, an ear recheck for a 7-year-old, a sports physical for a 12-year-old, and another newborn checkup. So far. If calls come in, they schedule with whoever is available.” 

“So, what do you do if you don't have time spots filled?”

“Charting, help other doctors, help any nurses if they need it, just whatever needs done. Around the office. “

“Never a dull day”

“Nope.” She smiled. “I’ll ask Erica today. What day were you thinking?”

“Either Wednesday or Friday. You don’t go in on Thursdays, right?”

“No, that’s my on-call day.”

“Noted.”

“So, I’ll meet you at your place when I get done?” he asked, walking to the driver side of your car.

“Sounds good.”

He laughed “Alright drive safe baby I love you”

“I love you too” She stretched on her tip toes and kissed him

Reader

“So, the 2 newborn checkup mamas left great reviews for you today.” Erica told you as she walked across the lot with you. “Keep up the good work y/n!”

“Will do boss. Have a good night.” you told her reaching for your door handle. 

“You, too.”

You sat down in your car and started it. You waved as Erica drove by you. Thinking about the kids you helped today, as you pulled out of the parking lot your mind began to wander. 

If you had a baby, would he look just like Jensen? He would be such a good dad. You smiled as you pictured it. He’s holding a little bundle of joy, swaddled in a blue blanket, bright green eyes just like his daddy. The proudest smile on Jensen’s face.

“Lucy, I’m home.” You yelled walking through the front door.

Mac sat in the recliner on her phone. “Hey babe.” She giggled. “Not you. y/n just walked in.” you nodded at her and walked into the kitchen.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket when it started to ring. Your smile turned into a frown as you read, private caller. You hit the red icon and laid your phone on the counter. You opened the fridge grabbing a bottle of water, Mac walked in and sat down at the bar. You swung the fridge door closed.

“Alex says hi.” She smiled.

“So, that’s a thing now?”

“Kinda, maybe, we’ll see.” She Stammered making you chuckle. “He did invite me to the Dallas convention.”

“That sounds fun!!”

She got up and got into the fridge. “Beer?”

“No thanks.” you held up your water 

 She peered at you, closing the fridge door. 

“What?”

“I have a question for ya.”

Your brows arched.

“Are you...” she hesitated. “Never mind.”

You sighed, “Probably not, but I would feel horrible if I was and I drank.”

“Hm. Well it’s kind of bad timing.”

“Well, it’s not like I planned it.”

“Did you use protection?” your face scrunched as you looked down. She signed.

Reader.

You popped your head out of the closet when you heard your bedroom door open. Jensen had his phone to his ear. He blew you a kiss and held up a finger.  You nodded and went back to getting dressed.

“No. It’s not like that.”

“I know, but you don’t need to.”

You walked out of your closet, finding him sitting on the edge of your bed. He looked up and winked at you.

“I’ll take care of it. I gotta go.”

“Just don’t worry about it.”

“Bye.”

“Baby!!” he exclaimed

“Well, that sounded intense.” You commented.

“Eh, just work stuff.”

You knew he was lying. “How was your day?”

He motioned you over, hugging around your waist once you got close. “Better now.”

“Hey guys!” you heard Mac yell through your door as she knocked.

“Yea.” You answered.

“Have you seen this?” she held her phone up as she approached you.

She had a TMZ article pulled up. You read the headline under the photo of you and Jensen from the previous night outside the restaurant “Jensen Ackles Remarried?”

You felt him tense.

“I told you; you should have corrected her.”

“Oh man, can you imagine, if you were showing.” Mac remarked.

“So, we are telling people now?”

“Not people. Mac. And she figured it out.”

“Still.”

“Still nothing. At least I didn’t lie to your face.”

He scoffed. “And when did I lie to your face, sweetheart?”

“Just work stuff?”

His phone started to ring, a different ringtone than usual. He raised it to his ear, holding your stare. “Hey mama.”

Jensen

He felt a pang in his chest as he watched her sleep, curled up on her side facing the other direction.

He didn’t know if it would help or hurt if he cuddled up behind her, so he stayed on his back where he was.

His phone started to vibrate. “Hi Megan,” he whispered.

“Hey Jensen, can you talk?”

“I can whisper.” His voice soft, still watching her.

“That works. So, we got TMZ to retract the article, but it’s out there. Everyone is talking about it on social media. “

“So how do I make this better?”

“Jay, I know you love her, but there’s only one way to completely keep her out of all this.”

“Not an option.”

“I know. I’m just sayin.”

“No.”

“Ok, well then you need to embrace it. Introduce her to your fans, do a live, take her to the Dallas con. Let your fans get the chance to know her. Show them why you love her.”

“And the paparazzi?”

“Well, it kinda comes with the territory of being with a celebrity.”

“That’s what she said when the first pictured got out.”

“See she gets it. I think she will be fine.”

“Ok, ill call you tomorrow and you can help me set up the live.”

“Alright. Get some sleep Jay, everything is going to be ok.”

“Thanks Meg.” He sat his phone on her nightstand after he hung up.

She rolled over. “Did you get everything sorted out?”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“In and out.”

“You know what might help?”

She chuckled and scooted closer to him, resting her head on his chest. He left out a sigh of relief.  ‘That’s better.’

“Are you still mad?” he asked his fingers finding her hair.

“Are you gonna tell me who was on the other end of that phone call?”

He clicked his tongue. “It was Heather.”

He felt her muscles tense up. “As in your ex?”

“Yes. She just wanted to make sure.”

“You weren’t married to a gold digger.” She cut him off.

“I told her it wasn’t like that.”

“Yeah, but that’s what everyone is thinking.”

“The important people know it’s not true. I’m sorry about all this and for lying, I was just trying to keep my drama away from you.”

“Jensen, if we are going to do this its not just your drama. We face everything together. No matter what. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“And don’t freaking lie to me again about anything.”

“I promise baby.” He kissed the top of her head.  “Megan and I have a plan to make this better. It includes a Supernatural con if you’re interested.”

“Uh absolutely.”

He peered into her eye as his fingers lifted her chin. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for an uncertainty.”

She laughed. “You won’t find any in there, doll face.”

Tag List

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@phoenixqueen @spxideyver

[kelbunny]

Hi guess what game I played (and beat the main path of recently)!

Have some screenshot from my sorta liveblogging on discord lol. Omori spoilers fyi

[cream-and-five-sugars]

Whatever your opinion on dating sims is, I cannot stress enough to experience Doki Doki Literature Club at least once in your lifetime

[muntitled]

Indebted

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: He wouldn't call it jealousy... He just wasn't very fond of sharing his toys.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Jealousy Language, Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Caning, Forced Orgasm, Controlled Orgasm, Dumbification, Impact Play, Blood Play, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Rough Sex, Blood Play, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Overstimulation

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

4k words

"Seriously, if it weren't for your help, I'd probably fail this module-" you meet him at the door, your Salesman, who's come to play one of his games. He arrives just as you're ushering someone else out.

"It's honestly my pleasure," you say, "You've made me feel useful."

As you speak, you open your front door to reveal your Salesman standing on the opposite end of the threshold.

You hadn't been smiling, not until you saw him standing there in a crisp, well-fitted navy blue suit. He's not looking at you. Not immediately. His eyes are trained on the boy you're standing beside. The one who's slipping on his sneakers, still murmuring about how incredibly grateful he is for your tutoring.

'It's nothing,' you replied modestly, even though it was most definitely not nothing to dedicate your entire Wednesday afternoon to tutoring. The boy is a first year and budding with the need to get better in psychology. His essay would have been flawless, had it not been for the grammatical and spelling errors that plagued the page. You'd both sat for the majority of this Wednesday afternoon hacking through the issues and improving on his spelling. It was endearing. To be in university and still need a spelling tutor.

"Thanks so much for the help." The boy tries to maneuver his lanky frame past your Salesman who takes up the majority of the space by your little doorway.

"See you next week." He shoots you a small smile before giving an uneasy glance to your Salesman.

"Hello." Says the Salesman, so painfully formal it causes a wave of unease to swell. He peers down at the boy like a tiny little thing.

"H-Hey." Your student replies before thanking you once more.

When he leaves and it's just you and the man you're paid to please every Wednesday evening, an uneasy sort of silence settles between you both.

You're smiling up at him.

And he's smiling down at you but it's different somehow. Tighter. Not a genuine smile at all.

Although admittedly, none of his smiles were genuine. His entire face was a carefully orchestrated scam, to get any suspecting victim to trust him.

And yet somehow, this smile feels more phoney.

Like a tempest is brewing beneath.

Before you're able to dissect it further, he's already stepping closer, letting his large, elongated shadow fall on you. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"The last time you came to my house, you killed someone." You lean against the door, your hip leaning against the wood as you fold your arms over your chest. His eyes zero in on the movement and a rare occasion occurs: You feel powerful. That's the last thing you've ever been made to feel in his presence.

"It took a week to get the smell of blood and death out of my room." You continue.

He lifts his hands in front of you, showing the briefcase that hangs from his heavy fingers and the blisters coating his palms. Like a magician convincing you his hands were clean, "I come in peace." That deep and gravelly vibrato veneering his voice causes a tantalizing hum to run all the way down your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. You step aside, staring blankly ahead of you as he steps into your house, bombarding everything with his presence.

From his brisk walk alone, trudging into your apartment like he owns the palace (which he regrettably does) you almost immediately realize that something is wrong. You are not under the impression that you've done anything to make him angry but unease still rolls in your stomach like a tempest that's brewing. When you make it into your adjoining living that bleeds into the kitchen, you find him standing in the kitchen. He lowers his briefcase onto the counter before resting both his heavy hands there.

You move to the other side of the counter, leaning down- giving him a more than perfect view of the cleavage spilling from your dress. You hope it might appease him as you try to wrack your mind for possibile slip-ups that would've caused this terrible silence.

This little-to-no-conversation between you both makes your dynamic feel like the transaction that it actually is: a girl, who needs her university fees paid and a sadist who wants his needs met. Feelings weren't in the equation and yet, your heart stops when he asks,

"How was school?"

"School was school." You reply, sounding pathetically excited to finally hear his voice since the moment he entered your little home.

"Although," you peer down at your jittery fingers on the counter. Your nerves are shot to hell as you admit, "I don't know how proactive I'm going to be tonight-”

He was a ruthless dominant, never failing to leave you absolutely spent by the end of the night. It left you with great discomfort to not be able to perform to the greatest of your abilities during these sessions. “I'm so tired... I've got this psychology quiz and-"

"Who was that?" His questions cut through yours like the tip of a hot knife.

“Who was who?” You ask.

He only smiles before turning his back to you, frantically pulling open cupboards as he says, “Rice. Where's the rice? Do you have rice?”

“The cupboard in the bottom row- Who are you referring to?”

He pulls out your tall container of rice and you watch him round the counter with it in his hands. “This place is so fucking small.” He says, popping the lid of the container, “Reminds me of my childhood home.” He stands right in the only open space in your apartment and all you do is watch as he tips the container over, watching millions of rice grains scatter to the bare floor.

“THAT'S MY FOOD, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-”

His voice is like molten lava when he looks down at you and points toward the ground. “Kneel.”

You feel nothing but cold air slide across your exposed arms when he trudges back to your little kitchen. Your mind reels and your stomach sinks and sinks and sinks- burning a hole through the rest of your organs.

“Am I being punished for something?”

“Be a good girl and kneel on the rice.” He says and because you were nothing but a slave to the dominance in his voice, you slowly lower yourself to the ground. From behind the kitchen counter he watches your face contort into unmistakable pain as the rice grains dig into your knees. He takes a while but soon you're fully kneeling on the floor. He rounds the counter once again until he's standing before you.

“That… child that was just here,” his voice is eerily calm as he caresses your cheek, “Who was that?”

Had you been in any other situation, under vastly different circumstances, you might have looked for the urge to laugh. His blatant jealousy of some university first-year was nothing if not laughable.

“He's just a friend from class- ah.” It almost becomes unbearable but for the sake of your self preservation, you know not to get up.

He continues to caress you, loosening his tie as he asks. “Which class?”

“P-Pardon?”

“You mean to tell me you only go to one class?” He snaps and you fight off tears, “What the fuck am I paying for?”

“You're paying for me to get my psychology degree.” You reply with feeble words, trying to put away the thought of all the little stabbings plaguing your knees.

“And does that entail sleeping with your classmates?”

“What?!” You screech as he walks away. You're suddenly left without nothing to hold onto and you sway forward, your palms landing on more rice.

“Y-You know I don't do that.” You cry, feeling the sting more from the accusation than the pain of all this bloody rice, “Y-You know I don't sleep around- You know I don't talk to anyone-”

You hear his briefcase click open. From your vantage point on the lowly rice-filled floor, you cannot see what he's taking out. It fills you with more dread than you've ever experienced before. Which was utterly ridiculous.

With him, dread is a thing you ought to be accustomed to. Dread is where you live now. You ought to get comfortable with it.

“Such a shame.” He tsks as he finally rounds the corner to reveal whatever it is he's gone to go fetch. His dress shoes clack against your recently varnished floor and you breathe heavily. The pain had subsided- or perhaps you've gotten used to it- which scares you more than anything. He's messing with your pain threshold. Causing you to build a tolerance for certain things and that terrifies you.

Hidden under all that terror was unmistakable lust.

God help you.

“I thought we were making progress, you and I.” you see the cane first. Made of rattan, it hangs from his strong hand corded with tense veins. A gleaming watch is secured around his wrist and you're already shaking your head as you slowly look up at him. Now the tears are right by the doorway. No matter how much pain he forces you to get accustomed to you could never survive this. Your body still has limits.

“He just asked me to help him with his spelling- Please!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Spelling, you say?” he pats down on your head, eliciting a dizzying wave of subordination as he says, “I think you've just given us our game for tonight, Doll.” He bends down, knees bending until he's somewhat closer to your height. He's still far too big for you. Far too much. You try to crawl backwards, you try to crawl away but he grabs you by your face. You're quite literally being expertly manhandled as he turns you around until you're on your knees in the opposite direction.

“Please…” You're begging but you don't know what for. Once his games were set in motion, nothing could stop him.

Your movements still when you fill him lower his large hand onto your backside. It's so big and warm and you momentarily forget about the rice digging into your skin. He slowly lifts up the skirt of your dress, revealing your underwear beneath.

“Our little Spelling Bee,” he lowers your panties down your thighs, causing a shiver to wrack through your entire body. It's pointless to hide how affected you are by every little thing he does.

“For every word you spell right,” he lifts your leg for you, giving you momentary reprieve from the pain as he manoeuvres you out of the underwear, “You get to cum.”

You'd never felt more degraded: being forced onto doggy style onto a million grains of rice while this man lets his fingers graze over your exposed cunt. He parts your folds and a wave of embarrassment rolls over your face. It's all so normal to him though, just sticking his fingers inside your cunt. He does it with the professionalism of gynecology and all you're able to do is stare blankly ahead while he prods at you.

“We can't make things too easy, though, so you're gonna keep this little thing warm for me while we play,”

You're craning your neck back, trying to get a look. “What thi-”

You release one hoarse gasp when he inserts something round and bulbous and vibrating, straight into your cunt.

“Th-This isn't a game. It's a punishment.” You say through gritted teeth, trying to fight off a moan as the vibrator hums inside you, “I've only ever had sex with one person-”

You. That voice pipes up in the back of your head, feeble as you felt. You think back on the time you gave him your virginity. It had been a bloody affair.

The second his cock ruptured your hymen and the blood began to coat your thighs, it only made him ravage you more. You'd gone to bed crying that night, your tears soaking into your pillows. You were unable to get up and head to classes the next day. All that pain and yet you also felt so incredibly fulfilled. The pain was a godsend.

But this pain? It's angry.

He's angry and he's punishing you for it.

Silence follows your pleas.

“Are you done?” He asks and your shoulders slump as the tears begin to fall. The urge to grind down onto the vibrator coupled with the rice stabbing your knees puts you in an odd predicament. The inner workings of your body is being made a fool of and he's the root cause.

“I'm afraid you've gotten too comfortable with me-”

“Comfortable?” You scoff, whipping your head back to glare at the man watching you with calm eyes and raised eyebrows. “I could never feel comfortable around you.”

“And you've forgotten your place.” He smiles before standing to his full height, “Letting little boys over to your place-”

“We were studying-”

“I've gone soft on you as of late.” He lets his other hand drag across the length of the hard cane. “Shame on me. It's clearly deluded you into forgetting about our arrangement.”

He steps around you until he's once again standing in front of you. “You've forgotten your place as a thing.”

He grabs your face. “My thing.”

You do a very wrong thing then.

You moan.

It's soft and insecure and so dreadful but you moan

His eyes search yours. You can see the pleasure diluting them. Causing them to go as round as saucers.

He wants to lean into that sound you just made, but he's still furious with you and that sends you into a spiral.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay-”

“So you admit you're a slut?” He asks, inches the buttons of his blaze as he readies his assault. “You whore yourself out to that little boyfriend of yours.”

"Boyfriend?” It's laughable. “Me?”

“Are you condescending me?” He asks darkly and you screech in frustration.

“You know I don't talk to anyone- Why are you so angry with me!?”

“You haven't seen angry, Little girl.” His face is calm. Dangerously so. “You haven't fucking seen angry.”

A shiver wracks through your body as you look up at his cold dead eyes.

“Fine.”

Whatever it takes.

“I am a slut-” you really weren't and the words barely register as truth but you're scrambling as he steps away from you. His hands folded in front of him and he appears oh so in control as he says, “Your first word is Gorgeous.”

You breathe out as you try to refocus enough to successfully spell the word.

“G-Oh.. fuck.” Your cunt spasms around the device and your eyes roll back. You're rocking backwards and forwards, frantically searching for friction that just isn't there. He loves the show you put on for him, writhing on the floor like a puppy in heat. He barely contains his glee as he raises his hand and says, “Wrong.”

“W-What!?” you blink, trying to shake away your pleasure-filled daze, “N-no that wasn't my final-”

“G-o-r-g-e-ou-s,” he says smugly as he moves until he's behind you. Your body tenses and the world shatters when he darkly repeats, “Wrong.”

The cane cracks through the air before it ever lands on your backside. The word ‘sting’ doesn't begin to cover the utter agony that blossoms across your asscheeks. All you know for all those seconds is white hot pain. Everything is at attention, and your body vitaly tries to urge you to take care of the inflicted wound but you can't.

“Sane.” He's breathing heavily as he walks over to stand in front of you. He's getting riled up, a strand of black hair falls in front of his almond eyes. His shoulders rise and fall and rise and fall. Seeing you get caned once does unspeakable things to his resolve. “Your next word is sane.”

Too easy.

"W-Which one?" You blink through the pain, trying to will the tears away. The second you slipped into self pity, it'd be over for you. "S-Sane is a homophone.” You say thickly. The pain. The pain. The pain. “There's Sane,” you glare up at him through wet lashes, “Which you very much aren't-" that amuses him greatly. You're regrettably far too happy to hear the dark chuckle. “Then there's Seine, like the fishing variety-”

He places his hand on your head. “Clever girl. I thought you didn't have a dad.”

“I don't,” you hiccup, “I just like fish. Men aren't the only fishers in the fucking world.”

“Smart mouth.” He pulls away again until he's standing at his full posture. “You use it like that with the boy from Psyche?”

Your shoulders slump and you don't care about the desperation in your voice as you reaffirm, “I'm telling you I haven't done anything-”

“Seine as in the fishing practice. Spell it.”

“S-E-I-N-E” your eyes are squeezed shut as you take a strike from a whip that never comes. Your eyes that had once been squeezed shut, slowly flit open and you're amazed to see his grinning face right in front of you. Every wrinkle running like tributaries around his eyes. The smile lines. He's so handsome it's devastating.

“Correct.” He says. “You're allowed to cum. Congratulations.” Just those few words have your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you begin to rock back and forth. You lean into the pleasure like a warm and fluffy blanket during aftercare. It's a godsend and it has you moaning and whining into the air.

“Let me give you a hand,” he says, before stopping to deliver that signature, “My little winner.” He brings you in close, your hands cling onto his forearm while the other reaches behind you. He delivers a kiss to your forehead as his fingers find your puffy clit.

“I'm gonna-”

“Cum for me my Clever girl. Cum for me before I change my mind,” There is nothing but him. He consumes you as you fervently hump against his hand on all fours like the animal he reduced you to. Your hips move on their own accord and in his eyes, you can see his own pleasure mounting. Its in the gravel in his voice when he clears his throat and says, “Thank me for letting you cum.” your orgasm crashes down on you and it's ferocious. It's vicious. It's guttural. The rice underneath you still serves as a reminder of your punishment and that somehow has you coming harder.

“Thank you for letting me cum Sir,”

his eyes flutter shut and his chest expands as he basks in your servitude. He breathes it in, letting it settle in his bones, making him feel as important as he needs to.

“N-No more, please,” you whisper once the orgasm passes. He doesn't switch off the vibrator and soon the pleasure bleeds into a painful discomfort. the aftershocks rattle through your body as you drift into overstimulation, “Please-Done-” you became horribly useless with your words when he had you like this, and he watches you so intently as if not only turned on by your torture but so completely intrugued by it. You intrigued him.

“Stop-” You begin but he chuckles as he moves away from you. He straightens his suit and readies the cane, “Why? You’re not even bleeding yet.” He says, “Suck it up.”

“Oh my god, I need to come again,” it rolls through you quite literally out of nowhere and you gasp as you try to keep it at bay. Cumming without having won a round was a breach in the rules of the game and you didn't wanna do that.

“Well then, I guess you better spell the next word for me.” he says with a smile.

You swallow thickly. Your previous win elicits a tiny sliver of confidence and spelling is something you excel in so you steel your nerves. You breath in deeply and stare blankly ahead.

“Honorificabilitudinitatibus.”

You immediately look up at him.

“Latin words arent-” another aftershock rams through you. You're so close to cumming completely hands-free. “L-Latin words aren't allowed.”

Nothing but a dark chuckle escaped him at your expense. “I had no idea you were making the rules.” He says sarcastically. “Had no idea the cane's in your hand.” That draws your gaze to the cane, leaning in his palm.

Point made.

He could throw in whatever wild-card word he wanted because he held the cane.

“H-o-n-o-r-” you make the mistake of looking up at him then. He's gazing down at you with his head tilted slightly to the right. His cane behind his back as he leans down slightly.

“No cumming,” he tsks, shaking his head. “Disqualified.”

“B-But I didn't-” even as you say those words, you feel it. The lightning zipping through you like a phantom. A ditzy sort of smile flashes across your face as you succumb to the pleasure being forced out of you. “F-Fuck-” its so painful and so fucking good you're seeing stars. He runs a hand through his messy hair and the cane comes down on your backside. This time it draws blood.

“I'm a rusty old man, glad to see I've still got a firm grip,”

“P-Please-” You're still caught in the world of unicorns and rainbows. Your orgasm is center stage, in spite of all the pain. You didn't even know your body could cum for this long. You didn't think it was possible but here you are, riding wave after wave of pleasure induced by a vibrator in your cunt while he canes you almost mindlessly.

He transcended every realm of physical possibilities.

He's breathing heavily now as the cane falls to the floor. The end is bloody. You stare down at the floor while he moves behind you.

“Don't forget, this is a transaction,” Behind you he kneels behind you, his fingers graze your backside, “This is about you avoiding student debt for the rest of your miserable life. A life you'll probably spend married to some depressed drunk who beats you and doesn't even let you cum.” A hand pulls you back by your hair until you're seated on your haunches. Skin had broken.

Your blood drips down your backside like a marble statue in the rain. There were marks. Scars.

“You're indebted to me.” He says behind you. “Say it.”

“I'm indebted to you.”

“Thank me for hitting you, Doll.” His hands drift over your body. The softest touch after these moments of brutality.

Th-" You struggle to catch your breath as he digs his fingers in your cunt, finally freeing you of the vibrator that rattles to the floor, “Thank you… for hitting me.”

He hums into your hair, smelling you, feeling you. “You're welcome, my little winner,”

You hear the sound of his zipper, and frantic movements behind you. You're utterly spent. You'd let him do anything he wanted. Anything at all.

“You look so pretty, Baby. Look at you,” his fingers swipes down the arch of your back. He brings his hand around to show you the crimson dropping from his index. Almost automatically as if the two of you were in communication far beyond that of human understanding, he brings your finger forward the same time you dip your head lower and roll your tongue out. Until the taste of your own blood drawn from all his sadistic torture is wiped along your tongue.

He groans. “I wanna jerk off with your blood.” He admits, “Fuck-”

You gasp, beginning to rock on haunches as if you could still feel that vibrator inside you, “Please- don't say stuff like that-”

This was bad enough.

You were bad enough.

He's already corrupted you to a point where you didn't even recognize yourself.

Where is the quiet, shy girl you had been? She's drowning under all the blood he'd spilled to make himself cum. She's buried under all the pain, all the turmoil and all the damn torture.

You don't miss her

"Pl-lease fuck me, I need it." Your voice is hoarse and you realize you're making demands but still you peer at him over your shoulders. Your tired eyes plead with him.

“I never ever ask you for anything. I've let you control everything.”

While you speak, your voice deep and hoarse, his hand is already moving over his erection. He bends you forward, until you're in doggy style again. Fabric rustles. Your limbs are trembling.

“For once, just grant me th-” the words are barely out your mouth before he's shoving his cock all the way inside you.

“O-Oh God!” Your eyes squeeze shut as he fucks you on the floor like a rabid animal. You try to crane your head back, to watch him ravage you.

His hair is a mess, his tie completely undone. He's everything he tries to hide from the rest of the world. Nothing but an untamed beast.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight-” he says, resting his hands on bloody ass. He guides your movements, pulling you roughly down on his cock until you're screaming into the open air. You're both like animals. You've both regressed to the very basis of your instincts.

“I need to see your blood on my cock,” He's already pulling out of you. The sound reverberates with finality all around the apartment and you cry. It's all you're able to do as you crane your head back to watch him stroke his cock with a bloodied fist.

“Are you ready to cum for me again, baby?”

Your lips are quivering as you rock backwards urging his cock in, “L-Like you won't believe,”

“Then cum for me, Princess.” He says, sliding his cock back inside your overstimulated cunt. Your orgasm is instant and swift and it rocks through you, tightening your cunt around his cock like a vice. His movements grow more frantic as he fucks you through it, keeping a firm grip on your ass.

Your mouth falls open when you realize he's fucking his own cum and your blood back into you and its all too much. He throws his head back when he cums, letting his hips stutter against your ass and the world spins.

“You're s-such a fucking slut,” he laughs manically. You've quite literally given yourself to a sadistic monster and the post nut clarity is vicious.

“I want to take you out,” he says, way softer than he had been a minute ago.

Your body tenses. “Out? Where-”

“Dinner.” He says. “You deserve it… my little winner.”

If you knew anything about anything, you knew it wouldn't just be any ordinary dinner.

But who were you to refuse?

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[jinniejjam]

Breaking Down Walls

✎ CollegeBand!Bang Chan x nerdyAfab!Reader

✎ Nerdy College AU, Emotional, strangers to Lovers, 18+ MDNI! NSFW, Slight breeding Kink and bulge kink, creampie, cunilingus.

✎ 5,9k

✎ Synopsis: Bang Chan, the campus heartthrob, reluctantly seeks help from Y/N, a no-nonsense tutor who doesn’t trust boys like him. As late-night study sessions turn into something more, their differences blur, and unexpected feelings emerge, challenging both their walls.

A/n : hii guyss, another Chan X Nerdy again loll, i just love this trope so muchh! Enjoyy and please don't mind the typo or the grammatical error^^

— Bae

You stared at the email on your laptop screen, a sinking feeling pooling in your stomach.

Dear Y/n,

Professor Lee has recommended you for a special tutoring assignment. The student, Christopher Bang, has been struggling with his coursework and could use your expertise. We believe you are the right person for this. Thank you for your cooperation.

Best,

Academic Support Team

You groaned audibly and smacked your forehead against your desk. Christopher Bang. Everyone on campus called him “Bang Chan,” the lead singer of a campus-famous band. He was the kind of guy who was perpetually surrounded by a sea of admirers, always with an easy grin and a cocky confidence that screamed trouble.

You didn’t have time for trouble.

When Professor Lee mentioned this tutoring opportunity during class, you thought it’d be for someone serious. Someone who genuinely wanted help—not a guy who probably spent more time flirting than studying.

Still, you couldn’t exactly back out now. The professor had personally vouched for you. Besides, you needed the extra credit this gig offered. So, with a deep sigh and a firm resolution to keep things strictly professional, you emailed Chan back to arrange your first meeting.

"Tuesday, 4 PM. Library. Be on time."

It was Tuesday at 4:17 PM, and you were tapping your pen against the library table, glaring at the clock.

Of course, he’s late.

You had your laptop open, notes prepared, and a coffee you’d already drained. The quiet hum of the library did nothing to calm your irritation.

Just as you were about to send him a passive-aggressive follow-up email, you heard footsteps approaching.

“Hey! Sorry, sorry—I got caught up!”

You looked up to see him. Bang Chan, in the flesh. His dark hair was slightly messy, as if he’d just rolled out of bed, and his leather jacket was slung carelessly over his shoulder. He looked every bit the campus heartthrob you’d expected, complete with that infuriatingly charming smile.

“You’re late,” you said flatly, refusing to return his smile.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Guilty as charged. Traffic on the way here was brutal.”

“This is a walking campus,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned, unbothered by your sarcasm. “Touché.”

You sighed and motioned for him to sit down. “Let’s get started. I assume you know why you’re here.”

“Enlighten me.” He plopped down across from you, leaning back in the chair with an air of relaxed confidence.

You slid a piece of paper across the table. “Your midterm grades. Let’s just say they’re not exactly... stellar.”

Chan winced as he glanced at the sheet. “Yikes.”

“Yikes indeed,” you said dryly. “If you want to pass this course, you need to take this seriously. No distractions, no excuses.”

“Got it. Serious. No distractions.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you with those annoyingly pretty eyes. “But just to clarify—you’re not a distraction, right?”

Your jaw tightened, and you rolled your eyes. “We’re not here to play games, Bang.”

“Call me Chan,” he said with a wink.

You ignored him and opened your laptop. “Let’s start with last week’s lecture material.”

Despite your initial assumptions, Chan actually seemed... attentive. He took notes, asked questions, and even admitted when he didn’t understand something.

“Wait, so this formula—does it only work for linear functions, or can it apply to quadratic ones too?” he asked, frowning at his notebook.

You blinked. That was actually a decent question. “It’s primarily for linear functions, but there are variations you can use for quadratic ones. Want me to show you?”

“Please.”

As you explained, you couldn’t help but notice how focused he was. His pen tapped lightly against the notebook, and his brow furrowed in concentration. He even nodded along occasionally, muttering things like, “Okay, that makes sense now.”

It was... unexpected.

“So, do you actually want to pass this course, or are you just here because your professor made you?” you asked after a while, unable to hide your curiosity.

Chan looked up, surprised by the question. Then he smiled—this time, it wasn’t the cocky grin you’d seen earlier. It was softer, almost sheepish.

“I mean, yeah. I’ve got a lot on my plate, but I don’t want to fail. Music’s my thing, sure, but I don’t want to let my grades tank either.”

Something about his honesty caught you off guard. Maybe he wasn’t as shallow as you’d assumed.

“Well,” you said, clearing your throat, “if you keep this up, you might actually pass.”

He smirked, the cockiness returning. “Is that a compliment, tutor?”

“Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, trying—and failing—not to smile.

--

The next few sessions followed a similar pattern. You’d meet in the library, Chan would inevitably charm his way through your carefully constructed defenses, and you’d catch yourself noticing more than his academic progress.

It was frustrating.

“Okay, I think I’ve got this,” Chan said one evening, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “All thanks to my amazing tutor.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the warmth rising to your cheeks. “Flattery doesn’t get you bonus points.”

“Good thing I’m not doing it for points.”

Your pen paused mid-sentence. His voice had dipped slightly, teasing, but there was something about the way he said it—soft and genuine—that made your chest tighten.

“Focus, Chan,” you muttered, flipping to the next page of notes.

“Right. Focus,” he echoed, but you caught the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

---

The tension reached a boiling point during one particularly late session. The library was practically deserted, save for the two of you tucked away in a quiet corner.

“Okay, last problem,” you said, sliding your notebook toward him. “Solve this, and we’re done for tonight.”

Chan groaned but picked up his pen. You leaned back, watching as his brows furrowed in concentration. He tapped the pen against his lips—a habit you’d noticed—and you quickly averted your gaze, pretending to check your phone.

“How’d I do?” he asked, sliding the notebook back to you.

You scanned his work, nodding slowly. “Not bad. You’re actually starting to get the hang of this.”

“Wow. Another compliment?” he teased, leaning closer. “You’re spoiling me, tutor.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Don’t get used to it.”

But then, as you reached for your notebook, your fingers brushed against his. It was a brief, almost insignificant touch, but it sent a jolt through you.

You glanced up, and Chan was already looking at you, his eyes searching yours.

The air shifted.

For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of you in that small, quiet corner of the library.

“You know,” he began softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “you’re a lot more fun to be around than you let on.”

Your heart thudded in your chest. “Chan—”

“Relax,” he said, leaning back with a playful grin. “I’m just messing with you. Unless... you don’t want me to stop.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks betrayed you, burning with heat. “Goodnight, Chan.”

As you packed up your things and left, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had shifted—something you weren’t quite ready to face yet.

---

The shift came unexpectedly a week later, during a particularly bad storm. You’d just finished your last class of the day when your phone buzzed.

Chan: “Library’s closed. Raincheck?”

You sighed, staring out the window at the torrential downpour. Normally, you’d jump at the chance to stay in, but something about the thought of Chan struggling with the material alone bothered you. Before you could overthink it, you replied:

You: “Come to my dorm. Bring your notes.”

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at your door.

“Hey,” Chan said, slightly breathless. His hair was damp from the rain, droplets clinging to his leather jacket.

“You look like a wet puppy,” you teased, stepping aside to let him in.

“And you’re as welcoming as ever,” he shot back, but there was no malice in his tone—just the easy, teasing warmth you’d come to associate with him.

As the session went on, you noticed Chan seemed... off. He was quieter than usual, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more subdued.

“You okay?” you asked finally, setting your notebook aside.

He hesitated, then sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “It’s just... a lot. The band, school, everything. Sometimes it feels like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. For all his confidence, it was moments like these that reminded you he wasn’t as invincible as he seemed.

“You’re doing fine,” you said softly, surprising yourself with the sincerity in your tone. “You just need to give yourself some credit.”

Chan looked up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the unspoken tension between you thickening.

“Thanks,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you said, your voice softer than you intended. “You’re doing the work. I’m just here to guide you.”

Chan gave you a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Still... It’s nice to hear. Sometimes, it feels like everyone only sees what they want to see, you know?”

You nodded, understanding more than you cared to admit. “Yeah. People look at me and think, ‘nerdy girl who has her life together.’ But they don’t see the rest—the doubts, the late nights wondering if I’m good enough, or if I’ll ever be more than just... this.”

Chan tilted his head, his eyes scanning your face. “Why would you think that? You’re... incredible. Smart, focused, driven—”

“Boring,” you interrupted with a bitter laugh.

“No.” His tone was firm, and the intensity in his gaze made your breath catch. “You’re anything but boring.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, pressing against your chest.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Instead, you looked away, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your notebook. “You don’t mean that. You’re just saying it because... well, that’s what guys like you do.”

“Guys like me?” Chan repeated, his voice laced with curiosity.

“You know.” You waved a hand vaguely. “The popular, charismatic type. Always knowing exactly what to say to get what you want.”

His expression softened, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You’ve got me all wrong.”

You glanced at him, skepticism evident in your eyes. “Do I?”

“Yeah,” he said simply. “You think I have it all figured out, but most days, I’m just trying to keep my head above water. And if I seem like I know what to say, it’s only because I’ve spent my whole life trying to make people happy. It’s exhausting.”

His honesty caught you off guard, and for the first time, you saw him—really saw him—as more than just the confident, untouchable guy everyone adored.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” you admitted quietly.

“Not many people do.” He smiled faintly. “But I feel like... I can be real with you. Like I don’t have to put on a show.”

Something shifted in your chest, a warmth spreading through you that you hadn’t expected.

“Same,” you murmured. “I don’t know why, but... you make me feel like I can let my guard down, too. It’s scary.”

“Why?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Because... I’ve spent so long convincing myself that people like you and me don’t mix.”

Chan reached out then, his hand covering yours. The gesture was gentle, tentative, as if he was giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t.

“Maybe we’re not so different,” he said softly. “And maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

You looked at him, your breath hitching as his thumb brushed against the back of your hand.

“Chan—”

Before you could finish, he leaned in, his face inches from yours. His eyes searched yours, asking a silent question.

When you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was hesitant at first—testing the waters—but quickly deepened as you responded.

Your hands moved almost instinctively, one tangling in his damp hair while the other rested against his chest. His heart was racing, beating in time with yours as the kiss grew hungrier.

Chan pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “Is this okay?” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips.

“Yes,” you murmured, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips found yours again, more urgent this time, and you felt yourself melting into him.

The books and papers scattered across the table were long forgotten as he pulled you closer, his hands resting on your waist, anchoring you to him.

The storm outside raged on, but inside, everything felt still—like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his voice raw with emotion.

Your heart swelled at his words, and you found yourself smiling despite the heat of the moment. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Chan chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin as he pressed kisses along your jawline, trailing down to the sensitive spot just below your ear, a shiver ran through you, and you tightened your grip on him, pulling him impossibly closer, for the first time, you let yourself stop overthinking. You stopped doubting his intentions, stopped worrying about what this meant. In that moment, it was just you and him, tangled together in a whirlwind of affection and desire, and it felt... right.

The intensity between you grew, as the room seemed to shrink, leaving just the two of you in your shared bubble. Chan's hands trailed gently along your waist, his touch firm but careful, like he was afraid you might dissapear if he pressed too hard.

"Wait," you murmured suddenly, pulling back slightly.

Chan froze immediately, his hands dropping to his sides, his breathing was ragged, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss. "What's wrong?" He asked softly, concern flickering in his eyes.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I just... i need to know this isn't just a game for you."

He blinked, clearly caught off guard by your question. "What? No. It's not a game. Why would you think that?"

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "Because guys like you—"

"Stop saying that," he interupted, his tone gentle but firm, he gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushed lightly in your cheek "I'm not some stereotype, neither are you. I know i've got reputation but that's not who i am—not when im with you."

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. Slowly, you looked up, meeting his gaze. There was no hint of the cocky playfulness that he usually do. Instead, his eyes were full of something deeper, Something real.

"I like you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not just for this. For everything. The way you so passionate about what you do, the way you don't take anyone's crap, the way you challenge me to better."

Your chest tightened at his confession, a warmth spreading through you that felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

"I like you, too," you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, seeing him in that vulnerable state make your heart weak.

Chan's lips curved into a soft smile. "Good. Then let me prove it to you."

Before you could even respond, he kissed you again—this time slower, more deliberate. It wasn't just about the heat or the tension, it was about connection, it was about trust.

As the kiss deepened, you found yourself letting go of every lingering doubt. Your hands moved to his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he responded by wraping his arms securely around your waist.

The storm outside seemed to mirror the intensity between you, thunder rumbling in the distance as the rain pounded against the window.

Chan's hands slip up your sides, his touch leaving a trail of heat in it's wake. His lips moved from yours to your neck, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses along your skin, sucking the skin under your colarbone untill it turn purple, marking you as his.

"Chan," you breathed, your voice barely audible above the sound of your own heartbeat. he reached for the hem of your sweater, his hands firm as he yanked it off with sudden force, sending it flying across the room. The fabric brushed your skin before it landed, discarded in the corner.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire but still full of that same tenderness "Tell me if it's too much," he said, his voice husky but laced with care.

"It's not," you assured him, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Its perfect."

The words seems to spur him on, and he captured your lips again, his kisses grow hungry.

Before you knew it, you were pressed against the edge of the desk, the paper and books scattered around the desk now laying on the floor. He trail kisses from your neck down to your clothed breasts, his fingers brushing against the plush skin, squeezing your tits with his big hands.

Your breath hitched at the contact, and he paused, his gaze meeting yours. "Is this okay?" He asked again, his voice steady despite the beat between you.

"Yes," you whispered, your cheek flushing.

He continue to assault your tits, yanking the bra off to suck on your right nipple, making you let out a loud moan from the feeling of his warm tongue swirling around your perked nipple, he let go of your right nipple to lick and play with your other nipple, giving it the same service, making you squeze his shoulder from the sensation.

His hand trail your curve and gripping your waist, he let go of your nipple with a pop, he smilled—a soft, almost shy smile that made your heart flutter— he leaned in to kiss you again.

His hands were still on your waist, his grip firm as he guided you to stand, before you could react, he was lifting you effortlesly, the next thing you knew, you were perched on the edge of the desk the cool surface hitting the back of your thigh sending a shiver down your spine.

He stepped closer, his breath hot against your ear as his hands brushed the side of your body, pulling you in with a controlled intensity. His fingers traced the curve of your hips, lips still attached to yours— his tongue slipped in to your mouth—guiding you closer until you were flush against him, the proximity sending a wave of heat through you.

He pulled back slightly from the kiss, "Look at me," he murmured, his voice low and commanding but tinged with something softer, something you couldn't quite place. You met his gaze, your breath hitching as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Spread your leg for me baby."

Chan’s eyes flickered with something dark and unreadable as he waited, giving you a moment to decide. The tension in the air was almost unbearable, and the quiet hum of the room felt louder than anything.

You could feel the heat between you two growing, the closeness undeniable as his fingers lightly traced the inside of your thighs, his touch a contrast to the urgency in his eyes. Slowly, you shifted, obeying the unspoken command, spreading your legs just enough for him to move closer.

He leaned in, his breath fanning over your lips, but he didn’t kiss you right away. Instead, his hand found its way to your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his, searching your eyes for something—permission, reassurance, understanding. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, his gaze softening for a brief moment.

“You’re sure?” His voice was barely a whisper, the weight of his question settling between you, the intensity in his eyes matching the tension in your body. His hand was still on your thigh, but there was something so much deeper in his touch, as if he was waiting for you to guide him, to tell him you were ready.

You nodded, your voice caught in your throat. You didn’t need words anymore. The pull between you two was magnetic, and you knew that despite the hesitation in your chest, there was no turning back.

He smiled softly, his lips brushing against yours for a brief moment, the kiss slow, tender, before his lips parted from yours, trailing down to your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers through you. As his hands slid further up your body, his movements were deliberate, almost teasing, drawing out the anticipation.

He move his hand to cupped your aching core, "So wet already, hm? So eager aren't we?" Your heart pounded louder now, the room seeming to close in around you. Every touch, every breath felt amplified as you finally let yourself sink into the moment, unable to resist the pull of everything that had been building between you.

He paused again, his gaze meeting yours, that soft, unspoken understanding passing between you two. And then, as if to confirm the depth of what was happening, he murmured, “I’ve wanted this... wanted you... for so long, you have no idea what you've done to me" he said with a hoarsh groan falling from his lips, while his hand still drawing small sircle around your bundle of nerve making you squirm and moaning mess for him.

"Mmh chan, please." You were not even sure what you were begging for, but you just need him to ruin you into a complete mess with his touch.

He chuckled, low and deep, a sound that sent shivers down your spine making the wet spot on your panties even more visible.

Chan didn't stop swirling your clit watching you squirming under his touch, chasing your pleasure like a cat in a heat.

"Sshh sshh, patient kitten, patient." He said, stopping his finger movement on you, leaving you whining in the lost of contact. But not too long after, Chan lowered his height, pushing your knees to spread your leg even wider for him, displaying your damp panties.

You moan to the sight, him kneeling between your leg, spreading you open like that was never on your bingo card. Chan look up to you, drawing a small sircle on your inner thigh, asking for your consent once again, you nodded eagerly, you already so wet it literally drenched. "Please, Chan" you whine, feeling so desperate for his touch.

He chuckled, seeing you so desperate like this is so cute but also turning him on, Chan hook his finger to move your drenched panties to the side, displaying your glistening pussy clenching around nothing. He mutter "Fuck—" from the sight, "You're leaking baby, holy shit" your pussy is so wet—drench even— he bet he could slide right in right then and there, but he didn't want to rush, he wants to take this moment slowly, savoring every inch of your body, worshiping it, he wants to make love to you.

He began to run his finger up and down your slit, teasing the clit with his thumb, brushing it slowly making squelching noise from how wet you were. "You hear that baby?" He said, looking up to watch your fucked out expression, lips swollen from how much you bite it to muffle your sound, eyes looking down at him, you look so pretty like this—he thought.

Seeing you enjoying his action, Bang Chan started to get bold, he lick a fat stripe along your fold making you let out the most pornographic sound that you don't even know you could. "Ahhh Chanh fuck" eyes rolling back to the back of your head, the feeling of his warm tongue on your pussy is top notch, you never feel this good before. He continue his action, licking your cunt skillfully leaving you breathy and a moaning mess, hand fall to his head, gripping his hair for the overwhelming pleasure, that sent a shiver down his spine, the sound that u made is enough to make him rock hard and trying so hard not to bust in his pants.

"Fuck baby, keep moaning my name like that mmhh you taste so sweet" he said while giving your clit a kitten lick, making you feel a knot bubbling in your lower belly, a strange feeling that you've never experience before.

Your moan getting louder in each flick of his tongue, Chan knew that you were so close, he try to elevate the pleasure, he insert 2 finger into your hole, making you scream and tug his hair harder, the painfull stings on his scalp sending a rush right in to his throbing cock making him moan onto your pussy, the humm create a buzz who made you clench on his digit, making the knot inside your belly tighten, you are so close.

"Chanh i–i nghh fuck" the words die in your throat, he chuckle, quicken his finger pace, pumping his finger into you faster, curling it in the right spot where you can see the star.

"Cum princess, let go, cum on my mouth like a good girl you are" he keep hitting that certain spot with an unbelievably quick pace, making you break and cum on his mouth, your orgasm washes over like a tsunami, leaving you breathless from the intense orgasm you just had.

Chan sit up from his position, licking his lips clean, your wetness spreading all over his chin, the sight is blissful making you blush so hard, heat rushing up to your cheeks seeing him covered in your cum.

His smirk grew wider as he leaned in, his fingers sliding down to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You’re blushing, darling,” he teased, his voice low and smooth, dripping with mischief. “Did I make you shy, or was it the way you screamed my name?”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words sending a wave of heat rushing through your entire body. You tried to look away, but he caught you, gently pressing his forehead to yours. His scent enveloped you—warm, intoxicating, and entirely him.

“Don’t hide from me now,” he whispered, his nose brushing against yours. “I want to see every bit of you like this. All messy, all mine.”

His lips found the corner of your mouth, pressing a feather-light kiss that sent sparks racing through you. Then another kiss, softer, right below your jaw. Each touch was deliberate, leaving you breathless and clinging to his shoulders for balance.

“Chan,” you finally managed to whisper, your voice shaky but laced with yearning.

He hummed against your skin, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with you, "Say it again," he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. His gaze was dark, filled with something unspoken yet undeniable.

Your lips parted, and before you could even utter another word, his mouth was on yours— hungry, claiming, leaving no room for hesitation. His hand reaching to the waistband of your panties, sliding it down to your ankle, leaving you bare for him, the cold air hitting your core sent a shiver all over your body, making you gasp from the contact. His hands sliding back to your waist, pulling you flush against him, grinding his rock hard cock on your bare pussy.

The contact drew a chorus of moans from both of you, the raw pleasure sparking between your bodies like fire. “You feel that, baby?” Chan groaned, his voice thick and ragged, hips grinding against you with deliberate force. “Fuck… look what you do to me.”

His lips parted, his breath shallow and uneven as he took in the sight of you beneath him, flushed and needy. It was enough to snap the last thread of his patience. Without wasting another second, his hands moved with purpose, fingers fumbling slightly as he unbuckled his belt. The sharp clink echoed in the heated air, sending a thrill down your spine.

His gaze never left you, dark and full of promise, as he freed himself, his cock springing to life in his hand. “I can’t wait any longer, can i baby?” he murmured, the desperation in his tone making your heart race but the way he still asking for your consent is making you melt, you nod eagerly, muttering a soft "Please," that makes Chan groaning in return.

Your breath hitched as his hand returned to your waist, steadying you as the tip of his cock brushed against your entrance. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, and your fingers instinctively gripped his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

“Relax, baby,” Chan murmured, his voice softer now but no less commanding. “I’ve got you.”

Slowly, he pushed forward, the stretch making you gasp, your body adjusting to the delicious intrusion. His low groan vibrated against your skin as he buried himself inside you inch by inch, his head falling to the crook of your neck.

“You feel so perfect,” he whispered, his voice shaking with restraint. “So tight… so warm… just for me.”

Your nails dug into his back, your mind hazy with pleasure as he finally stilled, letting you catch your breath. He pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, his hands stroking your sides soothingly, grounding you in the moment.

“Tell me how you feel,” he urged, his lips brushing against your ear.

You couldn’t find the words, overwhelmed by the fullness and the way your bodies seemed to meld together. Instead, you let out a shaky moan, tilting your hips slightly in response. That was all the encouragement he needed.

Chan began to move, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in, slow and deep. The sensation was maddening, each roll of his hips perfectly measured to drive you wild. He set a pace that was both tender and commanding, as though he wanted to savor every second while still unraveling you completely.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice rough but filled with affection. You opened your eyes, meeting his intense gaze. The way he looked at you—with unbridled desire and something much deeper—made your heart skip a beat.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, punctuating his words with a deep thrust that left you gasping. "And i'm going to show you exactly what that means."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone making your core tighten around him. Chan groaned at the feeling, his control slipping as he snapped his hips harder, pulling a cry from your lips.

“That’s it,” he rasped, his hands gripping your hips as if anchoring himself. “You’re taking me so well, baby. So good for me.”

Each thrust seemed to claim you further, his movements growing more desperate as your moans filled the room. The sound of your bodies meeting was intoxicating, mixing with the broken gasps and groans that spilled freely from both of you.

“Chan, please,” you whimpered, your body trembling under his relentless rhythm.

“Please what, baby?” he teased, though his voice was strained, his forehead damp with sweat. He slowed his pace just enough to drive you insane, his cock dragging against your most sensitive spots with every deliberate stroke.

“Faster,” you pleaded, your nails digging into his arms. “Don’t stop.”

His smirk returned, though it was softer now, his lips brushing against yours in a fleeting kiss. “Anything for you,” he murmured.

With that, he adjusted his grip, pulling your legs higher around his waist as he slammed into you, deeper and harder than before. The angle was devastating, and you cried out, your body arching into him as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned, his voice rough and full of pride. “I can feel you, baby. You’re so close, aren’t you?”

You nodded frantically, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “You’re gonna take everything I give you, aren’t you? Let me fill you up, baby. Let me make you mine in every way.”

The heat pooling in your stomach surged at his words, the thought pushing you even closer to the edge.

“Yes,” you whimpered, your voice trembling. “I’m yours. Always.”

“That’s right,” he growled, his pace quickening, each thrust hitting deeper. “Gonna fill you up so good. Gonna make sure you feel me for days.” he said, and his palm pressing to the buldge visible on your lower belly, where his cock going in and out.

The tension inside you snapped with his words, a wave of ecstasy crashing over you as your walls clenched around him. You cried out his name, your body trembling as pleasure overwhelmed you.

Chan cursed under his breath, his hips stuttering as your release pulled him over the edge. He buried himself deep with a guttural groan, his warmth spilling into you as he held you close, his grip on your hips unrelenting.

“Fuck,” he panted, his forehead pressing against yours as he caught his breath. “You’re perfect. You were made for me, baby.”

As the intensity of the moment passed, the room fell into a quieter, more peaceful rhythm. Chan pulled out slowly, carefully adjusting you so that you were no longer perched on the desk but supported against him, still breathing heavily. His hands gently cupped your face, his touch tender and reassuring.

“Hey, baby, are you okay?” His voice was soft, the previous urgency replaced by a genuine concern. His eyes searched yours, his gaze warm and comforting.

You nodded, still catching your breath, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m okay,” you whispered, your hands gently brushing his chest as you let your head rest against him.

Chan let out a breath of relief, his hand sliding down to your back as he pulled you closer to him, his warmth grounding you. He held you against him, his lips brushing your forehead in a soft kiss.

“You were amazing,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection. “I’ve got you, alright? Just breathe, take your time.”

His hands continued to move gently over your skin, tracing circles along your back and shoulders as if he were trying to erase any tension that might have lingered.

After a few moments, you met his gaze again, your heart still racing but feeling safe and cherished in his arms. “Thank you,” you said softly, your voice trembling just a little. “For being so gentle…”

He smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Anything for you, baby."

Chan leaned in and kissed you again, slow and tender this time, his lips soft against yours. When he pulled back, he continued to hold you close, his hands never leaving your body.

“You’re perfect," he said, giving your lips a light peck.

The air was still heavy with the aftermath, but now it felt like a calming silence, the love and care in his words washing over you like a warm tide. You stayed close, letting the quiet moments stretch out between you, savoring the feeling of his presence.

[gutsby]

Cowboy Killers

Pairing: Cowboy!Joel x Reader

Summary: On a mission to find—and fight—your best friend’s lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair.

Warnings: 18+. Drunk-Assholes-to-Enemies-to-Lovers. Oral (m!receiving). Road head. Age gap. Daddy kink.

Note: My favorite sub-genre of country music is ‘I’m Gonna Fucking Kill My Husband,’ and I think Miranda Lambert’s ‘Gunpowder & Lead’ is a perfect representation of that.

Word count: 4.1k

Forgive and forget.

Forgive and forget.

Forgive and—

“I’m about to lay this motherfucker out,” you announced.

Across the line, your friend laughed.

“Yeah? You see him?”

Of course you saw him. Who else would be wearing a Carhartt flannel and jeans in ninety-four degree heat? Not a soul in this world but your friend’s own lying, piece of shit, hopefully-soon-to-be-ex boyfriend, you guessed.

The game that Old Fuckstick Miller had decided to play tonight was a dangerous one—he was dumb as shit, and you were drunker than a skunk. He was dating your best friend, and she was not present at the Tipsy Bison to see the barefaced clusterfuck taking place before you now.

She was home, over thirty minutes away. He had told her that morning he would be working late, and not to wait up. You were here, at the bar, approaching one A.M. with a Redbull Vodka clenched in either fist and a Texas-sized frown on your face, seeing the very same man with his hands all over a woman that wasn’t your friend. You’d wanted to puke as soon as you saw them. You knew you could never trust a man who claimed to be an Austin native and couldn’t name a single George Strait song.

Your friend had only been dating the guy for a month, and you’d just seen his face in pictures up until now, but from what you could see less than twenty feet in front of you—slightly blurred from all the drinks you’d had—this guy was him. A dick. There, cheating on your best friend.

And no man would get to do that and walk out unscathed if you had anything to say about it.

Your grip tightened on either one of your fizzy drinks and, barely managing to cradle the phone between your head and your shoulder, you gestured over to another friend.

“Dave. Take it,” you said, words slurring a little.

Dave York cocked an eyebrow but said nothing as you passed him one of your RBVs and shimmied off the barstool. By the time he was able to pose his question, your ass, your phone, and your one remaining drink were already wobbling the other way. Vaguely, you heard him:

“Where ya headed, hon?”

You turned and raised your drink, then seriously doubted he would be able to hear you over the blare of the music, but yelled back anyway, ‘I’M GONNA KILL SOMEONE!’

The age-old pro-forgiveness aphorism continued to thump in your brain as you made your way over and began to contemplate every feasible method of murder.

A gun in the face would’ve been too simple—and besides, you’d never owned or shot a firearm in your life.

Poison could be fun, but from the way you were approaching the man now, you seriously doubted he’d ever let you get within a mile of his drink. You nudged the phone closer to your ear and took a sip from your own.

“Closing in,” you told your friend simply.

She’d already given you the go-ahead to execute the confrontation and beat his ass any way you pleased after the fact. Now it wasn’t so much a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’ you’d finally get to encroach on this little loved up scene at the other end of the bar. The man had had his back turned to you, and the stunning redhead hanging off his neck, likewise, had no idea what was coming. You smiled.

“Promise you won’t go to jail this time?” your friend said.

“Will you bail me out again if I do?” Your grin got bigger.

“Well, duh.”

“Good deal. I’ll be the shitfaced inmate with ‘Fuck Men’ tattooed on her forehead. Wait for Travis County to call.”

“I love you, psycho.”

“Love you more.”

You ended the call.

And you were fully ready to end this man’s life when you saw him lean in to kiss the woman’s neck—that was sick.

You weren’t thinking straight. You weren’t seeing straight

You yelled out, ‘He-e-e-ey, honey!’ without blinking.

The couple turned.

As soon as the man had done a full 180, you flung your drink in his face and made sure the cup struck his nose.

“You cheatin’ FUCK!”

He flinched, sprayed by your vodka-infused energy juice.

The music overhead was loud, but not so deafening as to prevent the bar from hearing your shriek. From the front of the room, a band was playing ‘Gunpowder & Lead,’ and you couldn’t help but feel the song had been fate.

“What the f—” the adulterer started, evidently stunned.

You knocked the Shiner Bock out of his hand and spat:

“Working late, are we?!”

And spilled another patron’s beer reeling back.

“Got a little caught up on the way home?”

Gesturing toward the green-eyed beauty to his left. At first, the girl fixed her stare on you as if you’d sprouted another head, but then, by turns, she was tilting it to him.

“You have a girlfriend?” she hissed.

Cheater McFuckstick was wiping his beard with his hand

Shaking his head.

“Hell no, I ain’t never—”

“LIAR!”

Channeling your inner Representative Wilson circa 2009, you let your mouth fall open and stared at the big, burly man like the Congressman had once done to President Obama all those years ago. The semi-stranger in front of you was far less composed than his political counterpart.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” he snapped.

You felt your cheeks heat up.

“Is she your girlfriend?” would-be mistress said, shrill.

“NO!” you and been-knew asshole yelled together.

You saw the man’s nostrils flare, and at the same time, the woman beside him departed. Quickly. A few people around you cleared the way, while others still stared, gawked, and murmured amongst themselves. The Miranda Lambert cover band continued on without a hitch, though you could tell there had been a stir in the crowd. They probably thought the worst of it was over.

They thought wrong.

“You’re a dick,” you seethed, unrelenting.

You almost expected the man to turn and leave.

You thought wrong.

“You’re a cunt.”

And the man chucked a stray whiskey sour in your face.

The $15 spirits splattered on your skin like the meanest insult of all. His aim was better. Though he didn’t let go of the cup, as you had with him, he did make sure to coat the whole of your twisted look with the liquor, and once it landed, he had had the nerve to do something else, too.

He brought the glass to his lips then drank what was left.

“How’s it feel?” he sneered.

You stood in wet, sticky silence for half a second; arguably, you’d earned that cocktail to the face.

On the other hand, who the fuck did he think he was?

You grabbed a random can of Keystone Light and flung it at his chest to give him a hint—and catch him off-guard.

“You’re a bitch, Tommy Miller!”

“Wh—”

“Maria’s my best friend, you absolute f—”

“What—”

“—and you cheated on her for what? All so she—”

“What did you just call me?!”

“A BITCH!”

“No, the NAME!”

“TOMMY MILLER!”

“I’M JOEL!”

Oh.

Oh.

You and Joel were shortly escorted out of the bar.

Joel’s name, and a trace of bourbon, were still fresh on your tongue when you found yourself stranded in the middle of the Tipsy Bison parking lot two minutes later. You leaned into a car beside you and held your stomach.

“Someone drop you on the head as a baby?” Joel barked.

Presently, for you, the world was tilting sideways, and your head was throbbing at a nauseating tempo.

“Go around slingin’ drinks at any old man you—”

Green. Green must’ve been the color of your face as you braced your hands on your knees and assumed a stance as if to scream at the ground. Rather than expecting any noise to ring out, though, you had only to squeeze your eyes shut and hold onto a hunch for something much less pleasant. And viscous.

Reeking mostly of Red Bull and regret, if you had to guess.

Joel took a big step back, and then he took another.

“Da-a-adgummit, girl, what the—”

He turned away just in time to miss the sight of you emptying your guts on the ground, but not quite fast enough to be spared the sounds of you retching. They were loud. Joel Miller was known to be a largely imperturbable force around these parts, but even he was made to feel queasy hearing that. Out of habit, he clapped his hand to his own gut and stumbled off. He stared at the bar, then at his car, then at the gravel crushed under his feet for what felt like the longest time. Then his gaze lingered to his lower half, and he thought:

‘Please, please don’t gimme no daughters. Please.’

He was forty-five. The time for making babies and raising daughters to be anything like a woman of your ilk was probably long past him. All the same, he kept his gaze on his crotch and sighed. Balls, you better not betray me.

When he heard the crunch of rocks, he turned around.

“HEY!”

Oh, no. No. Not tonight.

You were staggering to your car, keys in hand.

“Hey!” Joel called again, jogging after you.

It seemed the second shout had done him no more favors than the first. You were fumbling to get the key inside the door, and you looked as determined as ever.

Over your shoulder, you tossed back, careless:

“You ain’t the boss of me, Tommy Miller.”

You got the key to turn. You opened the door. You were just about to climb inside what looked to Joel to be the ugliest Dodge Ram pickup he’d seen in his life, when he grabbed your arm.

“It’s Joel,” he growled. Pinching your elbow tight as he tugged it back, “And you ain’t driving anywhere tonight.”

Somewhere in front of him, tilted away from his line of vision, you must’ve been grinning, because the next thing he heard from you was the scoff of a laugh.

“Oh yeah?”

Joel flipped you around to face him.

“Yeah,” he snapped.

Feeling a bit like a kid for mimicking your tone.

What were you, twenty-two? Twenty-three? You couldn’t have been a patron of a place like Tipsy Bison for very long, or else he would’ve recognized you tonight.

Then again, you struck him as the type to have had a fake ID since you were fifteen, so he really couldn’t know.

“I’m twenny-wuh-un,” you slurred up at him, exaggerated, once he’d made you step down from the running board and onto the ground. Answering his last unspoken question with the same, sleepy grin as before. Then lifting one of your hands to wag a finger in his face, “I can drink legal anywhere I want to in this country.”

“Not there,” Joel nodded to the interstate.

You looked to where he’d gestured and whistled. Standing and staring, like he had done to his crotch.

“Well fuck me-e!” you said next, dragging out the sound a childish amount, “You the law or somethin’, Mr. Joel?”

“Ain’t no cop.” Joel rolled his eyes.

You kept smiling. Then you turned on your heels.

And instead of trying to climb back into your truck, you sauntered off—in what direction, Joel couldn’t tell. You were more so bumbling about, turning in circles like the world’s most scantily-clad, semi-intoxicated ballerina. And then you stopped. You put your hands on your hips.

“‘Cause I’m the law,” you resumed in a slow, deliberate drawl. The twang you used was mostly feigned, “And you cain’t beat the law. Don’t nobody get away with that, not even a bunch’a Alabama smart alecks, believe you me.”

Joel didn’t know what the fuck you were talking about. The man was Texas born and bred, and you knew it.

He communicated as much by pinning you with a wide, bewildered stare, and something in that seemed to amuse. You stared back, making your eyes bug out too.

“It’s a quote from a movie,” you said, after a beat, “You’ve never seen Fried Green Tomatoes before?”

Joel couldn’t say that he had.

Joel reckoned there was a lot more than just movies he didn’t share in common with you. Miss Twenty-One. Barely a year past the age he’d been when he’d moved out of the house and tried to make a living on his own.

This woman, this girl he saw twirling out in front of him now probably couldn’t pour piss out of a boot with the instructions written on the heel if he’d asked you to. Joel shook his head and moved his feet, frown etching deep.

“Alright, princess. Up.”

You didn’t seem to understand, until he’d lifted you. Up.

You were thrown over his shoulder and carried to a truck much nicer than yours in less than fifteen seconds or so.

“Stinks in here,” you said as soon as he’d set you down.

Then, sniffing the air—and grinning:

“Aw, hell, Miller…you smoke?”

Joel wished he’d said no.

Wished he’d rolled his eyes and told you to pipe down, stop asking him questions. It would’ve made the drive a whole lot easier, and more peaceful. Nowhere near as painful, either, if he were being perfectly honest—the strain in his jeans had already gotten to be more than he could bear, and all you’d asked for was a pack of smokes.

“They call ‘em Cowboy Killers,” you said, matter-of-fact.

“I know what they’re called,” Joel grumbled in reply. Flicking the radio on and hoping to find a tune that would drown out the too-lovely, cloying voice you’d assumed as soon as you thought you might win a cigarette off of him. More chatty now than ever.

And for one, blissful moment, Toby Keith had you beat. The calm was fleeting. As soon as ‘Who’s Your Daddy’ started to drift through the car’s old speakers, you reached across and turned the knob to the left.

“Gross,” you muttered.

“What?”

“Got a light?”

“Blow me.”

Joel’s harsh, clipped tone was deliberate. The way he’d made himself mean—meaner than he’d been around a woman in a long, long time—was a choice. He couldn’t let your faux sweetness win him now. Not after you’d thrown two drinks in his face, mocked his truck, and foreclosed any possibility of getting laid by way of all your publicized infidelity philippics and shit-talking. Giving in to your charms from where you sat in the passenger seat now would only sink him further in his own esteem. Simply put, Joel’s ego couldn’t take it.

“Okie doke,” you said presently. Shrugging.

“Now keep your—HEY!”

Joel nearly swerved his truck off the road and into a ditch. Your deft little hands had slipped into his lap—and started palming his crotch through the denim.

He’d just managed to right the vehicle before jerking a look your way, staring at your hand, then your face:

“What the fuck was that?!”

“You said ‘blow me,’ Joel!” you huffed, and you seriously appeared as distraught as he was, “Sorry for listening!”

Joel grit his teeth with all the force of a cold steel trap.

“You’re fuckin’ nuts.” He gripped the wheel even tighter.

“I’m aware.”

“Where the hell do you live, anyway?”

You told him.

Your hand slipped down to the seat beside him.

And just as Joel let out what felt like the tiniest sigh of relief—he knew where that was, and the address sounded vaguely familiar—he yelped again. This time, he managed to keep control of his truck, but it was hard.

Your fingers had returned, and they were kneading the bulge under his jeans. Joel flushed from head to toe.

He didn’t have so much as half a mind to make you stop. He didn’t want to see you slink back over to your side of the car. But you were twenty-one, and he was forty-five. And you were both under the influence to some degree. And he was driving, for fuck’s sake. Shit like that only worked in dreams—not on a highway in a town like this.

He turned the radio dial to 75. At length, he heard it loud:

‘WHO’S YOUR DADDY? WHO’S YOUR BA-A-A-ABY?’

He saw you cringe.

“C’mon, Joel,” you groaned, “That’s…yuck.”

The fingers of the one hand kept digging, rubbing, but the other reached out and turned the music down again.

Joel shifted in his seat, feeling the pleasure start to bloom from the pit of his stomach, but not wanting to let you off that easy. Briefly, he looked from the road to you.

“What? You got a problem with Toby Keith?”

“I got a problem with anyone sayin’ ‘daddy’ like that.”

You unzipped his fly. Popped the button of his jeans from underneath the soft shelf of belly hanging over it, and held him, finally. You could only cup his erection through his boxers at that point, but the friction was enough to send a shiver through the whole of the old man’s body. He hadn’t been touched like that by a hand that wasn’t his own in…he couldn’t remember how long. He sighed.

“That why you’ve got your hand down the pants of a man old enough to be your father?” Joel quipped.

He couldn’t help it.

Your hand only gripped him tighter. From the passenger seat, you’d leaned over and started crawling. Scowling.

Your knees swiftly planted themselves on the old, upholstered cushion of the bucket seat, and you slipped a touch beneath the waistband of his underwear. With a hand that was smooth and soft and eager to please, you wrapped your fingers around that base and leaned in.

“You sound like you want me to say it,” you whispered.

Under your hand, he pulsed. His gaze stayed on the road.

“Don’t make no difference to me, sweet pea,” he said, and was amazed how even he was able to keep his tone:

“But those ‘Cowboy Killers’ you wanted…”

Your fingers curled tighter. Your head sank lower.

“…they don’t come cheap, y’know.”

Oh, you knew. He saw a smile snag at the corners of your lips as you brought them to his lap, and he had to force himself to look at the road again. It was empty and dark.

The tarmac stretched out for days. The fields rolling past warned sternly, ‘Don’t let her win,’ and something more in between each tree seemed to invite deliberation—remembrance, maybe. Joel was far too focused on the feel of your mouth to give the woods a second thought.

You’d worked the first inch between your lips in a slick, obscene sort of kiss; you made room for just the head and then toyed with a bead of precum leaking out of his slit. You licked it, squeezed the shaft in your hand, and hummed while the first real moan rumbled through him.

Joel turned to putty with just that flick of your tongue. He didn’t have to see your face to know he was losing.

On the wheel, his grip grew tighter, and he choked out:

“Ain’t your fuckin’ lollypop, kid.”

Then, dropping one hand to push down on your head—make you take him to the back of your throat in one go.

“Daddy wants you to suck him like a big girl, hear?”

At the base of his cock, he felt you gag. From the bottom of his heart, Joel knew there was no sound sweeter than that. He ran his fingers over your skull and tapped gently.

“If you want those smokes,” he told you—and really, with all the warmth and moisture of your mouth enveloping him now, he’d had to try to sound rougher than he was, “You’re gonna do what daddy says and suck him right.”

You gagged again, then squeezed his denim-clad leg with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around his member.

Joel yanked you by your hair and made you look up.

Your cheeks were already smeared with spit and tears. Much to his surprise, he found your eyes alight and soft.

Suffused with desire, too, from what he could see.

“Yes, daddy.” You grinned up at him.

Joel knew if he let your gaze stay on his a second longer now he’d either crash his car, blow his load, or fall in love—and he simply refused to let you succeed on any of those fronts, so he shoved your face back down.

You sucked him obediently. Greedily. Mouth growing more pliant and wet by the second, as if your jaw and salivary glands had contrived to get him as close to release as possible, as quickly as they were able.

Joel took a left onto a road he had only a dim recognition as being connected to yours, and he got that feeling again. You were bobbing your head, taking him further, flattening your tongue along the bottom of his member when his pleasure swelled inside him. At the same time, he felt a sense of dread. His hands were shaking on the wheel. He didn’t dare steal a look down to the sweet, soaked, perfect little mouth sucking him dry, because he knew that feeling would only strike twice as hard. He had to cum, or make you stop, or bring his truck to a halt.

As it was, he felt five tiny crescents sink into his thigh as you gripped him tighter, and a noise bubbled up in your mouth. Your breathing went shallow, and your lips stretched wide—you were trying, and succeeding, in deep-throating his thick, throbbing, much-too-old-for-a-girl-her-age member down close to your windpipe, and Joel could feel it. He hit his blinker, not thinking, and saw a sign that marked your street. Trepidation hit him again.

Fully, this time, in a feeling that was more like terror.

He didn’t have another second to question it, either. By the time he had the old, lone farmhouse in his sights and his heart nearly halfway up his throat with fear, your own throat pulsed, and opened the last two inches to him in. Your nose found their home in the rough, grey, wiry hairs at the base of his belly, having swallowed him whole, and Joel quickly sensed the start of what he knew too well.

He came down your throat in one, two, three, four, five long spurts, and didn’t let his foot off the gas even once.

He saw your house, approaching closer now, and paled.

No fucking way.

You’d wanted to skip the whole way up your drive.

Spit still drying on your cheeks, cum resting comfortably in your belly, and a smile as bright as the sun on your face as you waved to the F-150 pulling off toward the road, you’d never felt more alive—or smug—in your life.

“Is your dad…Lucien Flores?” Joel had asked no more than a second after his dick slipped out of your mouth.

“The one and only.”

Somehow, his face got even paler. His jaw visibly clenched, and his palm hit the top of the wheel. Hard.

It was then that you’d learned your father had hired Joel Miller on as a full-time ranch hand sometime last week.

He’d remembered the address, vaguely, but didn’t connect the dots until he’d pulled up in front of your house and damn near punctured your windpipe with his pulsing dick from how fast he’d jumped up—and cum.

His spend had almost shot through your nose with the force of it, but you didn’t mind. Once he’d revealed the wild, gory, and admittedly hilarious details of his newfound employment, you were too busy laughing your ass off to care if he’d torn your throat in two with his dick.

“So you really are a cowboy, then,” you’d said, giggling.

Joel had scowled. Rolled his eyes. Practically turned the color of a tomato when you leaned in and kissed him.

Now you were waving to him from your front door.

Joel’s truck was slow to go. The taste of him was fresh.

And there, weighing light in your back pocket while you said goodbye was a brand new pack of Marlboro Reds.

2:21 AM

You were safely in bed. You checked your phone.

Aside from fourteen missed calls, you saw:

1:09 AM – Maria

DUDE

1:09 AM

TOMMY JUST CAME HOME

1:09 AM

THAT’S NOT HIM AT THE BAR

1:13 AM

IT’S JUST JOEL!! HIS BROTHER!!!

1:13 AM

ABORT ABORT ABORT

1:42 AM

DAVE SAID YOU BEAT JOEL UP???? CALL ME

1:54 AM – Dave York

Ur gonna fuck that old dude aren’t u

[seelestia]

✧ the gambler and his knight.

aventurine can't stand having his outfit exposed to the elements nor to the rude hands of clients that won't cooperate – luckily for him, he has you to take care of it all. { aventurine with a bodyguard!reader. }

⎯ fluff & angst. 2.9k wc. headcanons w/ some written scenes. the plot is vv subtle but it's there a.k.a aventurine simps for you (jokingly) but you both end up catching feelings (not jokingly). mentions of violence, death & russian roulette. pre-penacony timeline. a self-indulgent piece to celebrate this blog's 2nd anniv! ★

★ 〜 masterlist.

© seelestia on tumblr, june 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

aventurine who graciously welcomes you under his employment with a game. just a little something to ease your nerves and get you used to his ways. you look at him with such incredulity as if he just fell and hit his head silly. he pays no mind to this – finds it to be amusing a great deal, actually. keep it up, newcomer!

“heads or tails?” he asks, flipping a coin in the air and catching it seamlessly. a routine for him, you would've figured from the sight. “that's. . . an odd way of saying hello,” you point out but your tone bears no hint of protest. he notices that.

“i've heard that one before,” aventurine tilts his head with a smile, nonchalant. “so what's your guess?”

“tails,” you reply without any delay. it's a mindless answer; getting it wrong this way would prove to bear less disappointment compared to putting actual thought in it. “heads for me then,” he whistles.

aventurine opens his palm. it's heads. you frown as if to suspect foul play—but you don't because you know about his notoriously good luck—and your new boss chuckles, almost placatingly.

“looks like i win,” he grins without a care in the world at all. “aren't you starving? let's fetch ourselves a meal, friend.”

a loss rewarded with a prize? you blink. with grace so in contrast to the whiplash you feel, aventurine walks past you with a trail of expensive perfume in his wake. obviously, he expects you to follow and you do after a moment's reluctance.

(this guy is more confusing than the stellaron.)

aventurine who grows quite fond of seeing you acquiesce to his wishes, whether serious or trivial. could you ward off those reporters? could you pour him a drink? could you play a game of poker with him? could you join him for lunch? you're always so professional that he starts to find some mirth in pushing your buttons (never too much). unlucky for you, he does it to be affectionate and lucky for him, you always say yes even if you roll your eyes every single time.

aventurine who trusts you with his credit card. . . to a worrying degree. when asked if he's sure about this, he just waves it off and says it'll be safer in your hands. seriously, this card has been in your possession longer than it's ever been in his. sometimes, he does ask for it back – only to drop some 200k credits to your account. “a tip for doing a good job,” he'd wink casually while you're flabbergasted beyond belief.

aventurine who finds it extremely attractive whenever you step in to protect him from harm. dealing with uncooperative clients is a day in his life, yet some are so brutish they resort to getting physical – but he has you to make sure their hands stay off him. a gun in his direction? knocked off before the trigger even has a chance to get pulled. reaching out to grab him by the collar? they're already on the ground, your foot threateningly pressed on their back as a warning. what a dashing sight – and thanks to you, his pristine outfit has been saved more times than he could count at this point.

aventurine who likes to call you his “knight in shining armor” teasingly. awh, you don't like it? he thinks you're more than deserving of that title with the way you always swoop in to get him out of trouble. if the thousands of credits he gives you aren't enough yet, won't a cute title suffice? “it sounds corny,” you tell him with a grimace—and maybe, yes—but he just chirps coyly, “dunno. i think it's fitting.”

aventurine who makes it his responsibility to check on you after a rough mission. credits are no problem, he'd even reserve the most expensive private doctor in the cosmos if that means you'll recover faster. sadly, he has little to no medical skills – so the most he can offer you is bandages. sure, you can take a bullet to the stomach and handle a punch or two, that's your job, but what about tiny scratches? . . .don't tell him you're about to reject his kind offer.

“what's your favorite color?” he queries, somewhat out of the blue considering the situation where he is helping you tend to a minor cut on your finger. you raise an eyebrow, “why do you wanna know?” as he gently plasters a plain-colored bandage on your skin (which he's only been granted permission to after minutes of begging you to let him do it).

“for the bandages,” aventurine answers. he finds no need to hide his intentions as he runs a thumb over the bandage, softly as to not hurt you, to keep its position secure. “so that the next time you ask, i'll have some in your favorite color for sure.”

“how. . . thoughtful of you,” you snort, amused.

(briefly, he resists the urge to ask if he can place a kiss on your cut for 'luck'. but if he does, you might have his head. so, he'll try another time.)

aventurine who slowly begins to find a sense of comfort in your company. maybe, it's the way you scoff at his quips with a smile or the way you always tell him to be careful. maybe, it's the way you take him seriously or the way you stay by his side—is your job description the only reason why?—or maybe, he's just pathetic and reeks of so much loneliness you feel sympathetic. he can't tell, but he hopes the luxuries he has can persuade you to stay just a little longer. even if you don't actually care. (you do.)

aventurine who notices how anxiety brims in your gaze when you watch him gamble at the table – with a sum too high to be considered sane and sometimes, his own life. he can see it all; how your hands shake as if you want to reach out, how your lips tremble as if you want to tell him to stop. but this is what he's made for, is it not? he'll survive one way or another. . . until fate decides the bill for all his past good fortune is finally due. and when the time comes, he'll be ready for it. (will you?)

a game of russian roulette.

it always starts with thrills only to end with carnage spilled all over the table. luck is the only thing worth praying for at that point and oh, is luck not the dearest friend aventurine ever had? hence the reason why he always agrees, not with a yes but with a “why not?”.

you're there as his protector, yet utterly condemned to the role of a witness as soon as aventurine nods along to that darned game. panic rushes through your veins as the gun is passed around so relaxedly, so easily with laughter all around. aventurine's next in line, you realize grimly. the next decision that comes after is spontaneous, so different from your usual calculated nature – you drag him out of the casino in a frenzy before the weapon even lands in his hand. in your head, there is no other thought louder than: he could've died.

“a shame i didn't get to the fun part,” you hear him hum from behind you, too disturbingly calm for your liking. the bustling noises inside the establishment have all but faded into the background. “that was close, hm?” he laughs, a sound you would've found endearing if this was another occasion. any occasion that doesn't involve teetering dangerously on the precipice of death.

you stop in your tracks and aventurine, behind you, naturally follows. your silence is something he first takes note of and the way your hand shakes as it holds his is the second. you still haven't let go. what's going through your mind? he calls out your name softly, perplexed at your lack of explanation.

“. . .why did you say yes?” you respond with a bitter question. “you could've died. you almost died,” you try to hold back a shout – yet, your words are spat in such a fusillade he feels a seed of guilt starting to bloom inside his lifeless heart. he discards it in favor of putting on a frivolous smile.

“oh, relax,” he lets out a chuckle, one that sounds so ignorant of the taut tension in the air. “it's just some russian roulette. why so serious?” he shrugs as if to physically brush off any seriousness clinging to his figure. his remark gives off the assumption that every single hint of your worry has flown over his head.

“it is serious. . .” you bite your bottom lip. he sneers in return, “yeah? since when?” as if to challenge you to give an actual answer. his life is full of risks, to say otherwise would be a lie. “you're sweet for worrying but you don't actually care about me that much, do you?” he snickers to himself. like the thought of your caring about him can't possibly be true, like it's all just a terrible joke.

but he's the only one laughing.

aventurine falls quiet and finally, genuinely meets your gaze for the first time that night. he doesn't like what he sees. your lips are downturned, unamused and saddened—you do care, a realization that has been left unsaid—and all remainders of levity in him are replaced by immediate dread. it only now registers that the anger, concern, frustration on your face are for him; they're the unavoidable consequences from caring about him.

(his eyes widen. no, no, no.)

“c'mon, you—” he covers it up with a carefree smile, as feigned as it came. he shoves his hand in one of his pockets. it's shaking. “. . .worry too much. you've seen me play a handful of games before. i've never lost a wager, remember?”

you don't look convinced at all. in fact, you look as if you've arrived at the brink of seething. “and if you do? for once in your life, you lose?” you prod him for more. for something, for anything – perhaps, for a promise that he won't do it again.

(but you know aventurine, you know there would be no such promise.)

“then i lose,” he says, final and resigned. “there's really nothing else to it,” he tries to offer you another smile but it didn't quite reach his eyes. “hey. at least, you'll be there to witness my spectacular fall, right? it'll be a show to remember.”

he nearly doesn't manage to keep up the façade. it's already as precarious as it can be. you don't reply to him this time – instead, you let go of his hand to wipe at your cheeks. his gaze trails after your fingers and it freezes upon seeing the pearly tears falling free from your eyes.

aventurine has never seen you cry before. you're always so stone-faced, so hard to break that he recalls almost cheering when he heard you laugh for the first time. that was when you finally won a round of poker against him. a pity, he would've reminisced about the memory more. . . if only the matter of losing and winning a game isn't as serious as it is now.

“don't say that,” you mutter, harshly wiping away at the incessant tears pouring from your eyes more than you'd ever allow them to. some make their way into your mouth, they taste just as bitter as your current frustration. does he truly value his life so little? you can't fathom it, you can't fathom him at all.

but there is one thing you were certain of, at the very least: “you hired me to protect you,” you shake your head unrelentingly, “so i'll do it. until you throw me away, i won't let you die.”

you've stopped crying then. aventurine feels remorse; the tears that you shed because of him are starting to dry. the selfish part of him wants to reach out and brush them away with his thumb – but would you let him? would this lead you further down the rabbit hole that is him? in the end, he decides against it.

“. . .i'm sorry,” he sighs instead, raking a hand through his messy blond hair. whatever it is he is apologizing for, he doesn't have a clue either. he lets his eyes slip shut. he can't bear to look at you, can't bear to look at his pitiful reflection in your eyes.

(he's not worth caring about, can't you see? he dances hand in hand with death – there is no need to subject yourself to being a spectator.)

the two of you then part ways that night with shallow pleasantries on your tongues. no inside jokes, no evident yearning for the other to stay, no more than an awkward exchange of “i'll see you tomorrow.”

on his way 'home', regret and relief clash to form something inexplicably hollow inside kakavasha's chest. he wanted to wipe away your tears—what a regret—but if he did, they would've burned on his skin and became another mark to haunt him—what a relief he didn't. and frankly, if destiny is about to reap his debt, he'd rather go with no regrets at all.

whether those regrets include you? he doesn't have an answer just yet.

(the name at the bottom of his contract with fate is signed as kakavasha. but you wouldn't recognize that name. not as him, at least.)

aventurine whose eyes can't flutter close at night ever since thoughts of you fill his mind more than they already do before. you care for him, you want him to live—all his fault, he allowed himself to get too close—but these realizations are rooted in too deep and refuse to leave. what to do, what to do, what to do?

it isn't supposed to turn out like this.

what he and you have is meant to be transactional; he'd be spared from unnecessary scuffles and you'd be compensated with monetary payment. he means to keep it superficially fun; for him to tease you with jests—so you'd stay and save him from the deafening silence in his head—and for you to dismiss him with that adorably annoyed look on your face. just some silly banter, that's it.

so then, since when are there rounds of poker where he'd coo over your frown when you lost? or the sound of your lecturing after he secretly got you a high-end item? or meals shared together where you'd bicker over the bill? or bandages in your favorite color kept inside his bedside table? since when do you start to care? . . .since when does he start to care?

think of something else.

kakavasha tosses and turns in his bed, but the soft pillows and blanket do nothing to quell these bothers of his. are feelings always this complicated? he places a hand over his eyes, tired and exhausted, and stares at the ceiling as if it could provide him with an answer.

but there's no use.

in a moment void of logical thinking, he reaches for his phone and hovers a finger over your name in his contacts. he is usually good friends with bad ideas – but not this time, he sets his phone down and lets out a frustrated sigh that only his expensive pillows are there to hear.

(for gaiathra's sake, he hasn't even told you his real name yet.)

aventurine who becomes awfully distant the next time he sees you. you accompany him to meetings with clients per usual, but it's different. . . he talks to you succinctly, not verbosely with that trademark grin of his. his face is bereft of the things you grow to like seeing on him. a sincere smile instead of one just for show, for example. but even that's difficult to ask for since he only speaks to fill the silence with empty chatter. he doesn't look you in the eyes either; you feel a pang of hurt, you've always loved his eyes.

aventurine who discards all thoughts of you as soon as he steps inside pier point to be assigned a project. a conclave between the stonehearts is a matter of top confidentiality and you, dutifully, are ordered to wait for him outside the office. though, he'll admit; your absence by his side actually does leave a gaping void—such hypocrisy, really—but at least, those pesky voices in his head know how to shut up when it comes to work.

“penacony. . . is diamond finally ready to do something about it?”

aventurine rests his left hand on the small of his back, fiddling with the clubs-shaped detailing on the fabric there. it looks like an act of idleness from afar, but anyone observant enough would know it's a way to subdue whatever nerves he wishes to hide.

he waits for the person in front of him, gazing at the purplish-red sky of pier point at sunset, to speak. for their next words shall mark the start of his next journey in fate's course.

aventurine who hesitates to let you come to penacony with him at first. but it'd be poor reasoning not to, since some might have a bone to pick with him as the corporation's representative. . . and he knows you'll protest to come with anyway. fine then, situationship discomfiture be damned – not even a second after he steps out of the meeting, his neon eyes finally meet yours. “so, how does a trip to penacony sound?” he announces with a confident smile. you blink, noticing how his lips are wobbling at the sides. you don't say no, however. (if only the two of you know what sort of ride you're getting yourselves into.)

— thanks for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. why don't we all sob over this man like it's a cryfest ♡

[notsoverymerry]

Boyfriend (j.yh x reader)

<jeong yunho x fem!reader>

summary: You can't believe you're dating Yunho. Others can't either.

genre/warnings: smut, unprotected sex (please use protection!), fluff, use of pet-names a/n: let me know literally anything about this :) word count ~3.6k

You were dating Jeong Yunho; you really were. 

You went on dates, held hands, kissed, and said the cheesiest, most sweetest, tooth-rotting things to each other. All the time. And yet, none of the boys had caught up. By some mysterious miracle or rather an ominous curse, guys and the staff have considered you two to be just really good friends. You could've screamed love proclamations at each other from mountaintops, and nobody would take that seriously. His habit of calling you his little bro, or some variation of that, as a pet name did not help in the slightest.

At first, it was funny. Just at the beginning of your relationship, when you intended to keep your fondness away from prying eyes and wanted to enjoy exploring each other in this new, intimate side of things, having people consider you pals was great. You can recall Seonghwa making a few remarks about how cute you would look together, but it was dismissed rather quickly. The first time it happened, you totally saw Yunho's ears go red, him stammering out something about friendships and trust and members making you uncomfortable. 

At the end of your third date, you were sure you wanted this man next to you for life. He took you to the aquarium. It was a cliché, but it's something you have always dreamed of. You love animals, love to learn new things, and you think you love Jeong Yunho. He looked dashing in just a pair of blue jeans and a white sweater; your heart definitely skipped a beat when he smiled, hands reaching to greet you in a short embrace. It skipped a beat again when you heard him laugh lightly at some joke you made. And again, when his hand brushed against yours as you walked to your destination. Stepping into a room with tiny fish specimens showcased in various tanks, blue lights now illuminated his frame and those round sparkling eyes. Your heart doesn't seem to work correctly. 

Few hours went flying. You took pictures. Half of them when he wasn't paying attention. You told him he looks like the prettiest starfish they have and didn't miss his cheeks darkening with blush even in the dim lights. Not too long had passed before you started to point out funky ones to each other, exclaiming, 'You!' and laughing. After a particularly accurate comparison of you to a dwarf puffer ('Dwarf puffers are aggressive, sensitive, and active' the sign read), he reached and intertwined your fingers, not a single hint of trying to hurt you with that juxtaposition, his eyes full of adoration, a huge smile on his face. You could have just kissed him.

He insisted on ice cream later in the evening. You were just heading out the shop when you bumped into Mingi. Faces red but happy, Yunho's arm hugging you to his side, a small bag of sweet treats in his hand. It took a second for Song Mingi to take the sight in. And another second for him to smile and greet you, to ask how's it going and where you're going to go.

''Oh, my girlfriend and I are just going to relax somewhere in the park nearby.''

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips. Girlfriend. You can definitely get used to being called his girlfriend. And then it happened. Cue Mingi's cluelessness, or the fact that he's just tired from their hectic schedules. 

''Man, it's great that you can be so close with each other and aren't afraid someone will mistake you for a couple. If you could act a bit better, maybe you'd even get a discount sometime!'' With that, he was gone. 

There was a little tradition your small company liked to keep. Board games. 

Every once in a while, when everyone wasn't busy, you'd spend an evening playing, talking, lightly drinking, and overall just relaxing. Adult life could take a really boring turn, the one that only had 'road work ahead, and so should you' sign. Bills, taxes, colleagues being stressed and mean, and yada-yada. Idol life was probably even worse. 

There was some catching up due, and this Saturday night seemed just the perfect opportunity. The lot of you chose a game, lo-fi music was put on for background, and the living room area was cleaned so up to ten people could comfortably sit in a circle. Drinks were cold and ready to be handed out. 

You took a seat in between your beloved Yuyu and Yeosang, a dear friend of yours who got you in the group. You'd expect him to know your heart of all people. Although when you told him about your new boyfriend, all he did was laugh and say that was a good one. 

Bewilderment washed over you in a tidal wave. It showed up on your face, swimming behind your eyes and overflowing in a strangled sound from your lips. And you, Yeosang? With your confused and hurt whimper, the topic was brought to everyone's attention. 

''Did you guys know y/n likes Yunho?'' Maybe it was the alcohol, but you heard more laughter. 

''Oh? But y/n likes all of us, don't you?''

''Well, yes, but—'' you were not going to finish that sentence. He heard what he wanted.

''See?'' Wooyoung looked so smug; if your brain wasn't so busy being confused, you'd be infuriated. Right now you looked like there was a loading circle turning in your head. Hopefully you won't bluescreen. 

''Are you guys pulling my leg?''

''Are you? Seriously, you and Yunho.'' There came a playful nudge to your side. 

You wanted to protest, to ask your boyfriend to back you up, but turning to him, you saw his eyes creased by a smile. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to say that it's fine and they will catch up to it eventually. He knew it was going to take them a while. And with his hand lightly caressing your back, your anger dissipated, replaced by a warm feeling inside your chest. Was it always so hot in here?

''Just relax, little pal. I got you.''

A while has passed before you decided to be openly affectionate, at least around those closest to you. 

It was a day off for the both of you. You planned on going out, but upon seeing your boyfriend's tired eyes, you opted to offer a quiet night in. Weather seemed to agree with that, given that it started raining against the broadcast's best predictions. 

You were met with Hongjoong, who opened the door and let you in. When you entered their living room, you saw Yunho, still in sweatpants and a big shirt, holding a steaming mug. 

''Hey.'' He said, ''Isn't it my favorite little dude!''

''Hello, honey.''

The warmth in your voices could melt the arctic icebergs. You took a few moments just to look at each other, gentle smiles tugging at the corners of your mouths. 

''Oh, hey, bro! I'm also in the room, where's my sweet greeting?''

It was San, a pout already present on his sleepy face. 

''You'd get it when you have a girlfriend.''

The day was spent in the comfort of their couch, with soft cushions and comforters draped around. None of you cared for the cancelled plans, not really, when all you ever wanted was to be in each other's presence. That was enough. Several movies were watched, hot tea keeping the cozy atmosphere company. You were cuddled with Yunho, feeling warm and giddy. That's when Seonghwa made another comment about how cute the two of you were. 

''But I don't want to make you uncomfortable, y/n. Don't take this close to heart. We know there's nothing romantic going on.''

It was as though they were doing it on purpose.

''It's okay, Seonghwa; we are together. Like, I love him and all that.''

Your voice was steady, your face was serious, and yet…

''Of course you are,'' San almost scoffed. ''But that behavior is exactly why you can't get a date these days. People see Yunho and don't dare approach you.''

A light chuckle could be heard from the room; Yunho also couldn't contain his. The more blunt you were at stating your relationship status, the more oblivious band members became. 

''Little broski is saying she doesn't need a date. She has me. Right, darling?''

Yunho was being honest. You nod at him, darting your eyes back at your friends in hopes of seeing the realization there. Yet, his playful tone and charming smile did nothing to convince the others. It's not like you've been actively trying to make them believe you were an item. Though now it seemed to irritate you a bit. Was it really that hard to imagine you and Jeong Yunho together? Were you not good enough in their eyes? Or was it his habit of calling you bro? You never knew. 

''Why is it so hard for you to believe we're dating, though?''

You voiced your thoughts, needing to know the answer now.

''Y/n, love… You'd date a reputable scam artist before Yunho; we know that much. You'd probably even date Hongjoong first if-''

''I can hear that!''

That was the captain's answer from the kitchen.

''A reputable scam artist?''

That was your confused reply. What does that even mean?

''And what is so wrong with dating me? I'm handsome, I'm charming, and so, so funny! A real treat. I could also be a scam artist if I really wanted to.''

A strangled sound tore from your chest.

''See? That's a laugh.''

There was another. He was not at all interested in proving them wrong.

You couldn't believe your luck when you showed up at the dorms a week later and no one was there. 

Yunho had called you, asking you to come in, some mischevous spark laced in his tone. It turns out, the boys had work, and those who didn't decided on spending the day outside. There was undoubtedly a need for shopping for essential items, as well as just a bit of fresh air and relaxation for those workaholics. Well deserved. Yunho needed it too. So when he asked if you could just cuddle him a bit and maybe cook something easy later, you couldn't find it in yourself to deny this request.

His bed? Soft. His body? Warm. Hands? Big and strong and held you against him perfectly. You were happy. You basked in the feeling of his chest pressed against your back, like puzzle pieces, you thought. You traced the veins on his arms, switching to play with his fingers from time to time. This feels nice. This feels so right. How could his members not see this? You were practically made for each other. You decided to bring it up.

''Why do you think our friends don't take us seriously?''

He let out an amused hum, his breath fanning over your neck. 

''I dunno. Maybe they all want you, just can't take the fact I already hogged you for myself.''

He hugged you tighter. In all honesty, that was distracting. How could you think about other guys, about anything else, really, when your big and strong boyfriend held you so tenderly against himself? The thought of him wanting you and caring for you as much as you did for him should melt your heart. Instead, with the way his fingers played with your shirt, caressing your skin where it had rode up, it sent hot waves someplace else. Were you cruel enough to ruin this perfect cuddle session with your dirty thoughts? 

''You're here, love?'' His hand went up to cradle your face. 

Turning to him, you couldn't avoid looking at his lips. So pink and soft. You know just how nice they feel against yours. Your eyes had darkened already, the feelings you had for this man had your head all dizzy. Without much thinking, you moved forward, connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. You felt his breath hitch. A tiny sound tried to escape his throat, but your mouth didn't let it. His hands moved to your waist again, holding you even closer.

You put your hands in his hair. You just couldn't resist massaging his scalp and tugging gently, soft locks slipping through your fingers. And god were you rewarded with another sound from him, right into your lips, chest reverberating against yours. He stopped kissing you; for a moment he just needed to look at your face. Rose hue on your cheeks and blown eyes — no doubt he looked the same. 

''I see,'' he chucled. Hands roaming your body, skimming your sides. ''You're so amazing. I can't get enough of you, my little bro.''

There it was again. The way he said it was ethereal. His voice so soft and perfectly low, his eyes dark and full of adoration. But it was the bro part that got your mind out of the gutter. Only for a moment, though.

''I want to make love to you so badly,'' you started. He sucked in a breath. His eyes fixated on your face, jumping over to your lips for a second. ''But please, stop with the bro thing. You can put that mouth to better use.''

''I'll be good,'' is his promise. 

With that, he leaned in to kiss you again. This time pressing into you harder, needier. You couldn't control yourself any longer, too. With a soft moan, he moved even closer, almost getting on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. And it feels, oh, so good. You bite on his lower lip carefully, anything to hear his beautiful sounds again. You let him take the lead, tongue gliding over yours. He moans at the taste. 

Tongue keeps rooling over yours; he lets his hands slide under your shirt. He kneads your breasts, then moves his hands over to grab at your hips and thighs, and back under your shirt again. You feel on fire. You want him to touch you everywhere at once; you want to touch him even more. You're the first to give in, reaching to help him take his t-shirt off. 

He's gorgeous. Hair a bit messy, lips glossy and red from the kiss. He pants a little, and you reach to glide your hand over his abs and chest, circling over his nipple. You can hear a tiny pleased sound leaving him, but it's not enough. He reattaches himself to you right away, mouth finding your neck. He kisses, bites, and licks at your most sensitive spots. You take him back gladly, hugging him close and moving your hips to meet his. He seems eager to do the same, another perfect sound leaves his lips. It's a groan, and it's right into your ear, and it makes your head spin. 

''God, you feel amazing.'' He breathes out, and you can't take it anymore. You want him, you need him with you, on you, in you. Your clothes get swiftly discarded, that eagerness earning you a quiet snicker. You don't care; your brain is in a fog, Yunho is the only thing on your mind.

''Please, touch me.'' you ask, settled in his sheets and looking up in his eyes, dark pools filled with lust to the brim. 

He obliges, positioning himself at your side. ''How do you want it, baby?'' He asks, but his hands are already on you. He groups your breasts once more, bringing his mouth to suck at your neck, moving down until he can lick your nipple. He plays with you as he pleases, kneading your skin and ghosting over the area where you want him the most. ''Please,'' you whine. 

''What? Isn't it good when I touch you here? Or maybe here?''

He moves his hand to massage your thighs so close to your hot core, playing with your inner thighs, pinching slightly. You start to buck your hips involuntarily. Oh, but then he moves it over your belly to your nipples again. You tug at his hands and whine again. With more and more whimpering coming from you, he surrenders. 

Long fingers find your sticky folds to roll through them. The sound you let out makes his dick twitch in his underwear. When he finally pays attention to your clit, you feel exstatic. You look at him, at his concentrated face as he plays with you. You're lost in this feeling, lost in him. His fingers enter you suddenly, and you try to say something, but no real words come out. All you can think of is how good he feels inside of you. Your fingers can never do what his long ones can. They strech you a bit, just enough to feel this sweet pressure and leave you wanting more. Just enough to reach that gummy spot there that makes you see stars behind your eyelids. 

''You look so good like this, fuck.'' He praises. His voice brings you back to reality. ''So fucked out already, and I barely even done anything.'' 

You want to protest, to say that you are not fucked out yet, but the way your walls clench around his fingers is a dead giveaway. You are losing your mind a little. Can he really blame you, though, when he's the one pressing on that spot inside of you, so, so well. You can't really say anything, the only sounds escaping are your moans. Yunho thinks your voice sounds like honey, so sweet and thick with arousal. He bucks his hips against you, breathing deeply.

You reach for his cock, still trapped in his sweats and boxers. Suddenly, the fabric is just so frustrating. He lets out an airy laugh at your feeble attempt at touching him, taking his fingers out. You mewl at sudden loss pathetically. 

''What's wrong, love? Do you miss me already?''

He leaves your side not even for a minute, but it feels like forever. With a teasing grin, he discards the rest of his clothing and finally climbs back to bed, now on top of you. It's great. He's big and pinning you down and pressing to you just right. 

You want him inside, so you try to shift a little, make it more comfortable for him to finally fuck you, but he doesn't budge. The look you're giving his way is comical. You're flushed and needy, and there's that throbber almost visible on your forehead again. Your boyfriend doesn't give you time to ask, diving into another heated kiss with you. Your moan is bordering on a sob when he opts to fuck your mouth with his tongue instead of fucking you like you desperately need him to. 

When at last he's lining his cock up with your slit, you think you're actually going to cry. He's so hard and so big, the stretch feels euphoric. Pleasure overtakes and your eyes flutter shut as he slowly bottoms out. 

''Keep your eyes open. Look at me, baby.'' 

His words come out in a mix of a moan and a growl. You swear you could come just listening to him, hand-free and all that. You open your eyes, and the sight is breathtaking. He moves inside of you, your walls feel hot and tight and like the most expensive velvet. You can see all of that in his eyes. He feels so good, and you're the one making him hiss and groan in pleasure, his mouth forming the perfect O's and stuttering muddled praises. God, you love him.

You can't keep thinking about it for much longer. The pace he's set becomes a bit faster and sloppier, and he reaches his hand in between your bodies to put pressure on your clit. With it comes his strangled warning, '' 'm close, honey.'' And you can feel it, too. His dick hits that spot in you just right, and with your clit stimulated, the familiar feeling is building in your stomach faster and faster. ''Me too,'' your eyes close without you realizing it, and with a cry of his name, you come all over his cock. A string of curses follows, and you feel him twitch, hips stilling, and warm liquid fills you up. 

You take a minute to come down to earth again, and so does he. Leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek, he rolls over beside you, still panting a little. 

''Fuck. My baby, you did so well.'' 

You're not sure how it is possible to feel so giddy and syrupy after being so unbelievably horny just a second ago. Guess he has that effect on you.

''It was amazing, Yuyu. I love you, so much.''

''I love you too.''

He drapes his blanket over the both of you, snuggling closer, stroking your hair with your head on his chest. You want to say more cheesy things to him. Just as you open your mouth, though, there's a knock on the door, and Mingi's figure pops in, hand covering his eyes.

''Are you guys done? Please tell me you're decent; I do not want to see y/n's boobs or worse!'' 

You yelp, tugging the covers to your chin. Both Yunho and you decide to speak.

''We're decent.'' 

''When did you come back?!''

''Just in time to hear the closing credits.''

Mingi is now taking in the scene. Clothes scattered on the floor, Yunho's disheveled look, you trying to hide in the blanket. Lovely.

''I am traumatized, by the way.''

''What's that supposed to mean?''

''We brought beef, by the way. Wanna join us in the kitchen?''

You're lost. You don't know if you should feel embarrassed or offended. Mingi doesn't bat an eye at your barely covered form. At least that's what it feels like.

''Let us maybe get dressed first?'' Yunho chimes in, hugging you to him to try and cover himself a bit too. 

Mingi leaves, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You start to shift a bit when the door gets burst open once again, followed by, ''Wait, so you are actually dating?!''

[medicasino]

EVERYONE GO LISTEN TO JHARIAH !!!! RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[vixstarria]

Seeing stars

Welp, I wrote more porn.

Astarion x F!Tav/F!Reader

18+, smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings, jealous Astarion, soft dom Astarion, dirty talk, fingering, PIV, elf ears and more! Humour, banter and fluff mixed in per usual. Tav failing several insight checks in the process.

I also poke fun at the in-game romance mechanics, and Wyll's Act 2 scene in particular.

This is the last time they have sex before the "I want us to be something real" conversation.

Approx. 2,900 words

AO3

“You won’t believe the ludicrous encounter I just had with Wyll.” 

You burst into Astarion’s tent. Well, it was ‘Astarion’s’ tent only notionally at this point. Yours still stood, but it now served solely as storage space for your assorted junk. You had effectively moved in with Astarion, having first coerced him into replacing the wooden plank and bloodstained rags he slept on with some sensible rugs and blankets. 

Astarion lounged half-naked on one of the bedrolls, reading something by candlelight. 

“Oh?” he looked up at you. “Do tell.” 

“First the massage you promised earlier,” you said sinking down onto the floor of the tent and stripping off most of your clothes. “My back is killing me after carrying everyone all day.” 

“Oh please...” he rolled his eyes. “I recall you nearly walked into your own cloud of daggers, again, and would have if I hadn’t pulled you away in time. And then you blasted Lae’zel off a cliff. It’s a wonder we haven’t kicked you out yet.” He shook his head. “And if you’re carrying anyone, I’m the one carrying you.” 

Still, he sat up as you laid down on your stomach.  

“Who do you think you’re fooling with this modesty, darling?” he murmured, noticing that you’d kept your underwear on. “Just lose it now,” he added, as he slid it off, leaving you completely naked, before he settled over you, his fingers commencing work on your shoulders. “So what happened with Wyll?” 

“I was making my way back here, and found him... performing some kind of jig by the campfire, pretending like he didn’t know I was there.” 

“The ‘Blade of Frontiers’, dancing alone in the middle of camp?” Astarion snickered. “Did you mock him? Please tell me you mocked him.”  

“Well... I was going to, but then he asked me to dance with him, very earnestly.” 

“That scoundrel...” he mused. “And let me guess - you agreed, didn’t you?” 

“Oh trust me, at that point it would have been more awkward not to dance with him, I had to play along.” 

Astarion scoffed, with a chuckle. 

“Do you always go along with whatever people want from you just because it would be too awkward to say no?” 

"I try not to – last time I did, I ended up with a vampire who won’t stop sucking me dry,” you deflected. “I figured there was no harm in indulging him. Besides, I don’t see you dancing with me. It was kind of nice,” you teased. 

“I hate dancing,” he said. 

“Right,” you said. “I’m sure you hate dancing just as much as you hate poetry, flowers, art, cats... What else?” 

“Children,” he answered. “I also can’t stand children.” 

“No, that one I could see being true,” you grinned. 

“So anyway, you two dolts pranced around the fire to the sound of crickets, then what?” 

“And then he tried to kiss me,” you admitted, with a sigh. 

Astarion’s hands paused for a moment before resuming their work, slightly harder than before. 

“Well look at you, receiving the Duke Ravengard’s heir’s attention. Moving up in the world, hmm?” 

“I didn’t let him.” 

He laughed. 

“Is there even a single person left in camp that hasn’t tried to get into your pants, darling?” 

You had to think for a moment.  

“Are we counting Volo?” 

“Sure.” 

“Then just Karlach and Withers.” 

“Gods, I fucking love Karlach,” he murmured. “Don’t tell her I said that.” 

“Why? Getting jealous all of a sudden?” 

Astarion was silent for a few moments. 

“I just don’t understand it,” he said. “You’re with me every night. I’m at your side every day. They see us. They hear us. Still, they don’t take me – or you and me – seriously. Tell me, is there something about me that screams: ‘Please, go ahead and take my lover for yourself. Come on in and snatch her right out from under me, I don’t mind’?”  

Perhaps you’d made a bad judgment call when you thought Astarion would find the absurdity of the situation humorous rather than offensive. Still, you had to bite your cheek to keep from laughing at the dramatics he added to the delivery of the last few lines that left his mouth. 

“Stop laughing,” he said.  

“I’m not laughing,” you laughed.  

“I can feel your back muscles twitching in your efforts.” 

“Well, they’re aware this all started as a joke. Perhaps they never realised that it’s long stopped being one?” you offered. 

Astarion’s hands had been moving lower and lower along your back. They had now reached your ass and continued to rub, stroke and squeeze, as you let out a soft groan. 

“That’s not my back, Astarion.” 

One of his hands kept squeezing an ass cheek, while the other dipped to stroke you between your legs. He gave a satisfied hum when two of his fingers entered you effortlessly. 

“Maybe if they could see how wet I can make you just by rubbing your back they’d reconsider how much of a joke this is,” he said, his voice low. He continued to pump his fingers in and out – you were almost embarrassed by the loud squelching sounds that came out of you. You moaned and tried to lift your hips higher, but your legs were encased between his thighs, pinned down on the bedroll. “Do you think you’d be reacting this way to young Ravengard, darling?” 

“Stop it,” you hissed. “You know I don’t want anyone but you.” 

“Stop?” he pulled his fingers out, to your dissatisfied whine. You looked back to see him studying your slick on his fingers. “I should go smear this on his face right now... The audacity to try to get his hands on what is not his.” He licked his fingers clean instead. He turned his attention back to you.  

“Maybe if you were more vocal about your devotion to me the others wouldn’t make these mistakes.” 

His hand returned between your legs, spreading your wetness and slipping lower to tease your clit.  

“I could be... encouraged... to be more vocal about it,” you breathed, trying to grind against his hand.  

“Yes... I should make you scream my name, so they all know who you belong to.” 

His fingers returned inside you, teasing you with shallow strokes.  

“You can try,” you taunted him. 

Astarion let out an indignant huff and shifted to spread your legs open with his knees, simultaneously placing a hand on your back to firmly hold you down. You expect to feel his cock enter you, but he continued to stroke you with his fingers, turning his hand to curl them downwards.  

“Is that a challenge, darling?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “You should know better by now than to bet against me,” he said, continuing to flex his fingers inside you. 

It started off pleasant enough, but rapidly grew into... more. And more. You weren’t sure what he was doing but whatever it was, it was just about making you see stars. 

You sputtered as the new sensation started to take hold of your whole being.  

“Ast… what..”  

You couldn't manage anything coherent, as his fingers continued to dig into you, gradually picking up speed and pressure. You started to squirm to try to get away despite yourself, but he simply put more weight against the hand on your back, securely pinning you to the bedroll. 

“Always getting yourself into situations you're not prepared for…" he murmured. "You're not talking your way out of this one.”

His fingers were relentless. You were worried you really would scream and wake everyone in camp. All you could do was bite down on the pillow, hoping that it would muffle your drawn-out moans. 

“Let go, darling... I know you want to.” 

It's not so much that you let go – rather, all your decorum was ripped from you, as your muscles convulsed, the orgasm rolling through your entire body. You panted and shuddered, trying to keep quiet, your hands clutching desperately at the covers beneath you, trying to hold on to anything like your life depended on it. 

Once the feeling subsided, you came back to your senses to find Astarion hovering over you, kissing the back of your neck and shoulders, grazing them with his fangs, almost but not quite hard enough to draw blood. You felt his erection rubbing against your hip. 

“Has anyone fucked you like this before?” he whispered hoarsely into your ear, his breath ragged from his own arousal. “Tell me.” 

“No,” you gasped, trying to catch your own breath.  

“I thought so,” he whispered with a smile, kissing your neck before he sat back up. 

You turned back to look at him over your shoulder. He watched you with a self-satisfied grin, his fingers returning to stroke you lightly between your legs once more. 

“Do you want me to do it again?” he purred. 

A part of you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face after what he just put you through. Another, much larger part, wanted nothing more than to submit yourself to whatever he would do to you.  

“Yes,” you admitted sheepishly. 

“Turn around...” he narrowed his eyes mischievously. “I want to see your face this time.” 

You flipped around onto your back, under his watchful gaze. His eyes never left yours as he stroked your slit, teasing your engorged clit with his thumb, before his fingers slipped back inside you. 

You found yourself mewling in anticipation before he really even started doing anything.  

“So eager,” he smirked. “So wanton...” 

He curled his fingers again, moving his whole hand to mercilessly claw into a sweet spot you didn’t even know existed inside you.  

You tried to relax into and accept this sensation, now that you were familiar with it. A growing pressure kept building at the bottom of your stomach. It was too much. It was entirely too much. You couldn’t take more of it. You couldn’t- 

“Let go, I’ve got you...” His whisper sounded so tender in sharp contrast to the depraved way he was handling your body. 

You sobbed as what you hoped was cum gushed out of you, your legs quivering.  

“Good girl”, Astarion laughed with glee, bending down to place a kiss on your lips, continuing to stroke you lightly, “Your body reacts so perfectly to me... Do you want more?” 

“You... I want you...” you groaned, biting his lip. 

“If that’s what my good girl wants,” he purred, discarding what was left of his clothes.  

You groaned as his cock entered you, rocking your hips against his, trying to find that feeling again. 

“So wet and needy for me...” he goaded you. “I’ve completely ruined you for anyone else, haven’t I?” 

He held absolutely nothing back as he fucked you, lewd insistent sounds of skin slapping on skin combined with your shared grunts and moans disturbing what was likely otherwise a silent night. 

“Anyone awake knows exactly what I’m doing to you right now,” he rasped, voice thick.  

Your walls clenched at the thought, making him shudder and sigh as well. 

“You like that thought, don’t you..? I know you do,” he continued. “So shameless...” 

Despite yourself, you whimpered, clenching again as another orgasm started threatening to overtake you. 

“That’s it... Come for me again,” he groaned. “Come for me, my love.” 

‘My love’..? Just a figure of speech, you thought. You’d thrown that phrase around, jokingly, but it’s never sounded so... raw. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to keep hearing it.  

“Your what?” you gasped.  

He didn’t answer. Instead he caught your lips in a deep, devouring kiss, pinning your arms over your head.  

Your body gave in and you trembled under him, caught up in waves of pleasure again.  

He released your arms and eased his movements once you rode out your high, but kept kissing you, hungrily, unwilling to release your lips from his.  

Clearly, no further words of love would follow, you thought to yourself with a tinge of both relief and disappointment, deciding to let it go. 

“You’re so good to me,” you managed, breaking your lips from his. 

“Aren’t I just?” he groaned, speeding up again to chase his own release.  

You kissed your way up his jaw to his ear, pausing to nibble on his earlobe.  

You couldn’t see it, but a ditsy, open-mouthed smile started to play on his face. 

Astarion gasped with a sharp intake of breath as you continued further, running your tongue over the inside of the shell of his ear. 

“Oh sweet hells,” he sighed with pleasure, immediately grinding into your harder. 

You smiled as he tilted his head, just about pressing his ear against your lips. 

“Do you like that?” you whispered in his ear, running your tongue over it again, lifting your hands to run your fingers through his hair. You knew he did. You just wanted to hear him say it.  

“Yes... Don’t stop...” His words sounded like a desperate plea. 

You continued to gently nibble on the edge of his ear, soft moans escaping you from his movements. 

“That’s it, take what’s yours” you groaned, as his hips crashed into yours harder. 

His breathing and movements were becoming more and more frantic.  

“Astarion...” you whispered, grazing the shell of his ear with your lips. 

He let out an uncharacteristic whimper, all his usual composure slipping from him, as he bucked his hips, fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts.  

“My sweet...” you breathed against his ear. 

He came completely undone, spilling into you with forceful, jagged thrusts, before finally stilling. His whole body seemed to melt into yours as he stayed on top of you, trying to regain his breath. 

You wrapped your legs around his hips, not wanting to let go of him yet, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to lift himself from you either. Instead he trailed light, tender kisses from your neck up to your lips.  

You delicately traced the contours of Astarion’s face with your fingertips, running them from his cheekbone down to his jaw, as he leaned into your caress, gazing into your eyes.  

Astarion parted his lips slightly, as though to say something, only to seal them again. He tilted his head to kiss your knuckles as your fingers gradually made their way back up, to run through his hair. Eventually he spoke. 

“You would really choose me over the more... blatantly obvious options you have at your disposal here?” he asked quietly.  

“Haven’t I made that abundantly clear already..?” 

“Well of course you have – no one else is this good,” he said with a tired smirk. 

“I’m not talking about the...” you blinked. “You know I’m not with you just for the sex, right..?” you frowned, looking into his eyes. 

He looked away, slipping out of you and moving to lie down next to you.  

“Is that so?” he said softly.  

You found yourself suddenly feeling rattled. Was he simply fishing for compliments again, or had you been utterly oblivious to just how deep his insecurities ran this whole time..? 

“You have a wealth of other qualities that I... enjoy and appreciate,” you said, somewhat lamely.  

Astarion propped his head up on his hand and raised an eyebrow at you quizzically. There was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes despite his outward nonchalance.  

Oh for fuck’s sake, you thought. I’m not ready for any serious conversations now, especially not with cum running down my thighs.  

You turned away to grab something to wipe yourself down with. 

“A gentleman would clean up his own mess, by the way. Not one of your strong points. But you do have some virtues that make up for it. For instance... I can leave cheese unattended around you, knowing you won’t eat it.” 

Astarion went to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing.  

“You’re a treasure trove of useless information,” you continued. “But unlike some of our companions you usually keep it to yourself.” A hint of a smile played on his lips at that.  

“Your hand feels nice and cold on my forehead when I have a headache.” You laid back down next to him, mirroring the way he was lying. 

“You always smell nice, especially for a dead guy. You never hog the mirror.”   

“What about my hair, won’t you mention that?” he smiled. 

“No, fuck your hair, it makes mine look awful in comparison.”  

He chuckled at that. 

“I do rather adore the garnet puppy eyes though,” you murmured. “What else... You make me laugh, and, more importantly, I make you laugh – which is great for my ego,” you continued.  

“As long as you understand that I’m usually laughing at you,” he countered. 

“Prick... Then there’s the fact you’ve saved my life four times.”  

“Seven,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes.  

“Five.”  

“It’s seven, dear, I counted.” 

“Whatever. When it comes to battle, you’re silent but deadly,” you said. “Like a-” 

Astarion’s hand covered your mouth.  

“Do not finish that thought, darling.” 

You grinned from behind his palm.  

“I think we can be done with this conversation,” he said.  

“Wait, wait, one more...” you laughed. “You’re eccentric, unpredictable, often irrational. I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”  

You smiled as Astarion groaned dramatically, covering his face with one hand.  

“Knowing I’ll get to spend another day in your mad company gives me a reason to get up in the morning,” you added, softly. 

“Come here, you sweet fool,” he whispered, drawing you against him.  

You hugged him tightly. It took so long for him to start initiating these embraces that wouldn’t lead to sex... You relished each one.  

Tomorrow, Astarion thought to himself, unbeknown to you. I have to tell her tomorrow.  

~~~~~

Follow up bonus scene

This work is part of a series - here is the master list

Next in series - Confession

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@spacebarbarianweird @kittenintheden - hey, I heard you like elf ears

[voguesriot]

NOBODY’S BUSINESS ✹ luke castellan

part one

( summary ) social media au where luke’s sudden spike in confidence turns a few heads, including the head of your ex who just loves to jump in other people’s business

( pairing ) luke castellan x fem aphrodite counsellor!reader , mentions of ex bf! hephaestus camper x reader

( notes ) this feels a bit rushed bcs i’m sick rn but i hope you guys enjoy anyway!!

♫ American Teenager by Ethel Cain

♡ liked by maxwalsh , silenabeauregard , and others

yourusername proof that percy doesn’t actually hate luke

seaweedbrain hey girlie!!! can you take this down like immediately?? not to sound to mean or anything but i can and will find you 😇

yourusername you’re such a cutie perce

seaweedbrain kys

sarahdawson totally wasn’t held at gunpoint for that last pic guys no need to worry

connorstroll we weren’t worrying but thanks anyway ig

sarahdawson sleep with one eye open.

lukecastellan 2/10 post

yourusername sorry for messing with your tough guy image 😔

lukecastellan actually it only loses points bcs there’s no pics of you

chrisrodriguez WOAHHHHHHH

sarahdawson HIS BALLS FINALLY DROPPED

clarisselarue bit sad to know they weren’t completely crushed after the red team kicked their ass icl

yourusername oh trust they were all whining about it the second i put away the camera

clarisselarue good.

GROUPCHAT — chb’s finest

clarisselarue: y/n what is max doing in your likes…

sarahdawson: HES WHAT

sarahdawson: oh he’s brave

yourusername: IDK HE JUST APPEARED

yourusername: like a bug

seaweedbrain: or a rat

yourusername: that too

lukecastellan: he’s on his way for training with me rn so i’ll go extra hard on him

silenabeauregard: homoerotic subtext goes crazy

yourusername: thanks luke but really you don’t need to do that

yourusername: like i’m over him now and i just want to forget about him altogether

lukecastellan: he deserves a hard time for what he did to you anyway

lukecastellan: you deserve way better than that

lukecastellan: i mean anyone would

seaweedbrain: great save bro

lukecastellan removed seaweedbrain.

sarahdawson: oh you took that one personally

DIRECT MESSAGES

clarisselarue: ok when did you get game

lukecastellan: idk what you’re talking about

clarisselarue: oh please spare me i’ve had to watch you make googoo eyes for the past two years you can’t lie you’re way out of this one

lukecastellan: seriously idk what you’re talking about clarisse

clairsselarue: ok fine whatever but HYPOTHETICALLY if you were to try anything with my girl i want you to know that i approve but trust if you go a toe out of line then you will be dealt with

read.

♫ My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski

♡ liked by drewtanaka, hazellevesque , and others

[ tagged: sarahdawson ]

yourusername you’re the only thing i’ll ever thank a man for

yourusername thanks max

this comment was deleted.

sarahdawson I SAW THAT COMMENT GIRL THAT WAS BRAVE

drewtanaka surprised sar isn’t screaming for photo creds for the second slide

sarahdawson bcs i didn’t take it……..

silenabeauregard WOAH WHAT

pipermclean yourusername hey sis can we have a chat please

yourusername nope i’m doing cabin checks rn #counsellorissues

wisegirll i’m doing cabin checks rn though???

silenabeauregard the plot thickens

lukecastellan glad to see you listened to my advice

yourusername felt bad keeping my beauty from everyone

lukecastellan it was a rough time without it

groverunderwood chrisrodriguez now THESE are moves

chrisrodriguez LOOK AT MY BOY GO gods is this what normal parents feel when their kids go to college

maxwalsh nice earrings

this comment was deleted.

seaweedbrain we all saw that comment right…

clarisselarue yes.

DIRECT MESSAGES

maxwalsh: hey can we please talk

yourusername: no

maxwalsh: please babe cmon you didn’t even hear me out

yourusername: because you tried to kiss sarah you fucking asshole

maxwalsh: no it wasn’t like that you don’t get it

maxwalsh: look can you just meet me by our old spot and i can explain everything

yourusername: no

maxwalsh: babe you’re not acting like yourself

yourusername: bcs it’s not her, she’s asleep rn and she’s not your “babe”

maxwalsh: who tf is this???

yourusername: doesn’t matter

yourusername blocked maxwalsh.

lukecastellan posted to their story!

SARAHDAWSON replied to your story

sarahdawson: WOAHWOAHWOAHWOAH SLOW YOUR ROLL WHAT

CLAIRSSELARUE replied to your story

clairsselarue: “idk what you’re talking abt clarisse” oh i hate you so bad

SILENABEAUREGARD replied to your story

silenabeauregard: i’d know that silhouette anywhere…

CHRISRODRIGUEZ replied to your story

chrisrodriguez: i’m a bit hurt i wasn’t told in depth about this before but i’m too proud to pay attention to it GOOD FOR YOU MAN

MAXWALSH replied to your story

maxwalsh: so it was you who had her phone the other day

maxwalsh: wtf man

lukecastellan: womp womp

lukecastellan: you snooze you lose and you lost big time

♫ Nobody’s Business by Rihanna, Chris Brown

♡ liked by jasongrace , racheledare , and others

[ tagged: yourusername ]

lukecastellan and it ain’t what??

yourusername AND IT AIN’T NOBODY’S BUSINESS

clarisselarue ok edward cullen why are you eating her neck like that

silenabeauregard everyone i took the hammock pic thank me please 🙏😇

yourusername thank you beautiful angel

seaweedbrain cute i guess…….

chrisrodriguez I ALWAYS HAD FAITH IN YOU BRO EVEN WHEN EVERYONE ELSE THOUGHT YOU WERE A LOSER WITH NO GAME, I STAYED ROOTING FOR YOU

lukecastellan appreciate you bro

lukecastellan wait people said that about me???

wisegirll my favs 😭🫶

yourusername AWE ILY ANNIE

seaweedbrain oh i’m just dirt to you then? chill.

wisegirll you’re so dramatic percy

seaweedbrain oh so mental health matters until I’M the one hurt? cool.

lukecastellan and y’all were saying i had no game

seaweedbrain okay luke see that’s just not funny because your dad literally dances on a revolving stage for a living

lukecastellan had to bring out the dad jokes because you know i’m right?

seaweedbrain why is your old age pension ass beefing with me instead of talking to ur girlfriend… weird behaviour

sarahdawson too cute i fear

sarahdawson but you i must remind you mr castellan, i made it onto her feed first. you will ALWAYS be second to me. always.

drewtanaka anyone else hear weeping from the hephaestus cabin…

leovaldez it’s really depressing

leovaldez i think he just punched a hole in the wall

cbeckendorf he did

pipermclean LMAO WHAT A FUCKING LOSER 😭😭☠️☠️

( taglist ) @perseus-jackass @harrysnovia

[mcrdvcks]

Shut Up

Summary: You and Logan are sent on a mission: go to the gala and find out information about a mutant trafficking ring.

Word Count: 3.7k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: the summary seems much darker than what the story actually is, promise!

reader's powers are psionics, but her specialty is feeling other people's emotions

also, check out the part 2 if you so please! it's pretty much only smut (i think it's more words than this too, oops)

picture of reader's dress

warnings/tags: some uses of y/n, pet name (doll), rich people

Part 2

You and Logan stood in the large entrance way of the gala, the worker taking your feathery coat from your hands, leaving you in your black figure-hugging gown, with detachable arm sleeves and a high slit on one side.

This certainly wasn’t your ideal mission, you hated dressing up.

You fidgeted with the detachable arm sleeves of your gown, glancing over at Logan, who stood beside you in the grand entranceway. His usual rough exterior was toned down by the crisp black suit he was wearing, though he still had that rugged edge about him that no fancy attire could hide. He caught your fidgeting and smirked, leaning in slightly.

"You look uncomfortable, doll," he said in that deep, gravelly voice of his, his eyes scanning your figure from top to bottom. "Fancy parties not your thing?"

You shot him a quick look, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. He had a way of making you feel both self-conscious and... something else. Something you didn’t want to think about too much.

"You know I hate dressing up for this shit, Logan," you muttered, tugging slightly at the fabric near your waist. "I feel like I’m suffocating in this thing. And these people…" You gestured toward the well-dressed crowd mingling in the ballroom ahead, laughing and sipping on champagne. "Ugh."

Logan chuckled lowly, his gaze never leaving you. "Coulda fooled me. You look damn good." The compliment was casual, but the way he said it, the way his eyes lingered a bit too long on your slit, sent a small shiver down your spine.

You rolled your eyes, trying to act unaffected. "Focus, Logan. We’ve got a job to do, remember?"

"Trust me, doll," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets, his smirk still in place. "I'm plenty focused."

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Logan had always been like this with you—flirty, teasing, but never crossing the line. It was this unspoken thing between you two, a game that neither of you had acknowledged but both played. Sometimes you wondered if he was just messing with you, or if there was something more underneath all the teasing.

Either way, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about it.

As you both stepped further into the ballroom, the sound of soft classical music filled the air. Logan’s hand brushed against the small of your back, guiding you toward the bar, where you could at least look like you were blending in while you scoped out the place.

Charles had said there were going to be a group of people here tonight talking about a mutant trafficking ring. All you had to do was find them and listen in.

And just maybe kick some ass, even if Charles told you not to. You and Logan weren’t exactly the type to follow orders.

Logan leaned close to your ear as you both approached the bar. "Just remember, doll, no ass-kicking unless absolutely necessary," he said with a smirk, his voice teasing but with a hint of seriousness underneath.

You glanced up at him, trying to suppress a smile. "I know, I know. We’re supposed to play nice and just listen," you said, rolling your eyes. But let’s be honest, 'just listening' wasn’t your strong suit either. You were here to get information, but the thought of standing around, making small talk with these people, made your skin crawl. You’d much rather get straight to the point. Maybe that’s why Logan had been assigned to partner with you on this mission—he was just as bad at following orders as you were.

"Good. 'Cause the last thing I need is you turning this into a scene," Logan replied, his grin widening as he leaned against the bar.

"Oh, come on, Logan," you shot back, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "When have I ever been known to cause a scene?" You batted your eyelashes dramatically, playing innocent.

Logan snorted. "Yeah, sure. You, not causing a scene? That's cute, sweetheart." He signaled to the bartender. "Whiskey. Neat."

You glanced around the room, using your psionic abilities to subtly sense the emotional energy of the people around you. The room was a mess of conflicting emotions—excitement, greed, lust, and arrogance filled the space, but nothing out of the ordinary for a gathering like this. Still, you could sense something darker underneath the surface, a faint thread of fear and unease woven into the fabric of the crowd. It was faint, but it was there.

Logan nudged you with his elbow, drawing your attention back to him. "You picking up anything?"

"Just the usual cocktail of emotions," you said, lowering your voice as the bartender handed Logan his drink. "But there’s something… off. I can’t quite put my finger on it yet."

Logan took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes scanning the room. "We’ll find 'em. Just gotta stay patient." He gave you a sideways glance. "Think you can manage that, doll?"

"Patience is my middle name," you deadpanned, though both of you knew that wasn’t true. You weren’t known for your patience. But for now, you’d play along. This mission was important, and you weren’t about to screw it up. Not with Charles counting on you.

Logan chuckled again and leaned back against the bar, his eyes briefly flicking down to your gown before meeting your gaze again. "Still can’t believe you got all dressed up for this. Coulda fooled me that you hate it. You’re turning a few heads."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that your way of telling me I look nice, Logan? Because that almost sounded like a compliment."

His lips curled into a slow, lazy grin. "What can I say? You clean up nice, Psionix." He downed the rest of his whiskey, eyes twinkling with amusement.

You felt a slight blush creeping up your neck but quickly masked it with a smirk. "And here I thought you liked me better in tactical gear."

"Don’t get me wrong, doll," Logan said, his voice lowering as he stepped just a little closer, his presence filling the space between you. "You look good in anything. But this… this is something else."

Your breath caught for a split second, the heat between you rising as his gaze lingered on your face, your lips, and then back to your eyes. “Well, if I’m being honest, I prefer you shirtless,” you teased, your voice low but dripping with playful intent. You didn’t break eye contact, letting the words hang in the air between you both.

Logan raised an eyebrow, that cocky smirk of his creeping back onto his face. “Is that so?” he murmured, leaning in slightly, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. "Can't say I'm surprised. Most people do, sweetheart."

You snorted softly, rolling your eyes as you turned away from him to glance around the room, trying to refocus on the mission. But you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. This was just Logan. Always pushing boundaries, always teasing. And you weren’t exactly innocent in it either.

But still, there was something… different about tonight. The way his eyes lingered on you, the way his voice dropped a little lower than usual, the way your heart raced just a little faster. You wondered if he could sense it too—the tension between you both that had always been there but never quite acknowledged.

Logan’s hand found its way to the small of your back again, his touch light but steady as he subtly guided you toward a quieter corner of the ballroom. The warmth of his hand sent a jolt through you, but you tried to ignore it, focusing instead on scanning the crowd for your targets.

“You see anything?” he murmured, leaning close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath against your ear.

“Not yet,” you replied, eyes darting from face to face. “But that uneasy feeling is still there. Just need to figure out where it’s coming from.”

“Hmm,” Logan hummed in acknowledgment, his gaze still roaming over the room. “Stay sharp, doll.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Like I need you to tell me that.”

He smirked, a hint of a challenge in his eyes. “Just making sure you remember the plan.”

“Oh, I remember,” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Play nice, look pretty, and no ass-kicking unless absolutely necessary.”

Logan chuckled, his eyes flicking over your form again. “Well, you’ve got two out of three down pat.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Which two?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Looking pretty and causing trouble.”

Your breath hitched slightly, the intensity in his gaze sending a ripple of heat through you. “Pretty sure ‘trouble’ is your middle name, not mine,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Logan’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Guess that makes us a good team, then.”

You wanted to scoff, to brush off the implication, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to think straight. For a second, you almost forgot why you were there, the mission blurring at the edges as you got lost in those damn eyes of his.

“Psionix,” he said, bringing you back to reality with just your code name. His tone was more serious now, a subtle reminder of where you were and what you were supposed to be doing.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, tearing your gaze away from him and focusing on the task at hand. “Just keep your eyes peeled.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. But as you turned to face the room again, you couldn’t help but feel his eyes on you, a weighty gaze that made your skin tingle.

You refocused, honing in on the emotions swirling in the crowd. There was excitement, greed—nothing unexpected for a gala full of rich people. But that dark thread of unease lingered, slipping just beneath the surface. It was faint, but unmistakable. Whoever it was, they were here.

You closed your eyes for just a second, concentrating. Your power flared slightly as you extended your senses further into the crowd, gently weaving through the emotions until you found it—a cluster of fear and malice. Bingo.

"There," you whispered, nudging Logan subtly. "Near the back, close to the big windows. Two men, maybe three. They’re nervous, hiding something."

Logan gave a small nod, his gaze shifting casually toward the area you’d mentioned. "I see 'em," he murmured. "Can’t hear much from here, though. We’re gonna have to get closer."

You both started moving, weaving through the crowd, trying to appear casual. You made your way to the bar again, standing just a few feet away from the group of men. Logan's superhuman hearing kicked in as he subtly leaned in, pretending to survey the liquor bottles behind the bar.

"They’re talkin’ about somethin’ shady, but it’s quiet," Logan muttered, low enough for only you to hear. "Mutants, shipments, some kinda deal goin’ down soon."

You kept your eyes forward, but your heart quickened. "Trafficking?"

"Sounds like it," Logan replied, his jaw tightening. "We need more details. But if we hang around here too long, they’re gonna get suspicious."

"Maybe we should split up. We’d blend in easier with the crowd," you suggested, trying to stay casual as you glanced around the room.

Logan tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling back on you. "Not a bad idea, doll. But if things go sideways, you better stay close. Don’t need you gettin' yourself into trouble without me."

You rolled your eyes. "I think I can handle myself, Logan."

He smirked. "Oh, I know you can. Just sayin', I like bein' there to watch."

You ignored the way his words made your pulse quicken and nodded. "We’ll stay in each other’s sight. I’ll keep an eye on the emotions from this side. You listen in, and if anything happens, we meet at the far end of the bar."

"Got it." Logan took another sip of his whiskey before turning to saunter off toward the side of the room where the group of men stood. You watched as he moved, trying to blend in with the crowd as you stayed where you were, your senses focused on tracking the emotions of your targets.

The nervous energy around the men was still there, tense and uneasy. It was like they were waiting for something—or someone. You shifted your stance, leaning casually against the bar as you closed your eyes briefly, letting your psionics stretch out just a bit more, trying to pull at the threads of fear in the room.

Logan, now closer to the group, kept his back to them but you could tell from his posture that he was listening in. His superhuman hearing had always been a huge advantage in these situations, and with your psionics guiding him, you made a pretty solid team—when you weren’t teasing each other, that is.

Just as you started to focus, one of the men in the group glanced over, his gaze lingering a little too long on Logan. Shit. He must've noticed something.

You felt the wave of suspicion hit you before Logan even turned slightly to meet your eyes across the room. You knew you had to do something before the men caught on to what you were both up to.

Without thinking, you pushed yourself off the bar and sauntered over to Logan, pretending like you’d been on your way to him the whole time. When you reached him, you leaned in close, brushing your fingers against his arm as if you were just here to flirt.

"Play along," you whispered into his ear.

Logan, ever the pro, didn’t even flinch. Instead, he turned his head slightly toward you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Thought you couldn’t stay away from me, doll."

You narrowed your eyes at him but kept the playful banter going. "Yeah, well, someone has to keep an eye on you. Besides, you’re the one who told me to stay close."

His smirk widened as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in closer so you were pressed up against him. It was all for show, of course, but the feel of his hand on your hip sent a jolt through you that had nothing to do with the mission. "That’s right. Guess I did."

You could feel the eyes of the men across the room on you both, their suspicion easing slightly as they bought into the act. You had to keep them distracted, keep their attention off what you and Logan were really doing.

"Don’t get too comfortable," you muttered, trying to stay focused. "They’re still watching."

Logan’s grip tightened on your waist for just a second, his eyes flicking toward the group before settling back on you. "Don’t worry, doll. I got this." Before you could respond, Logan leaned in even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "You’re really sellin’ it, Y/N. Almost too well."

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way his breath on your skin made you feel. "Just doin’ my part."

His hand on your waist slid a little lower, dangerously close to your hip bone. "Sure you are. You’re enjoyin' this a little too much."

You shot him a glare, but before you could retort, one of the men from the group stepped forward, moving toward the bar. He was heading in your direction.

"Incoming," you muttered to Logan, your voice barely audible. “He’s confident. Think he knows who we are?”

Logan didn’t look phased, but you saw the subtle shift in his posture—his muscles tensing under the fabric of his suit. He kept his gaze focused ahead, though you knew his senses were already tracking the man moving toward you.

“Don’t think so,” Logan murmured, his lips barely moving.

The closer the man got to you, the more arrogance you felt. Whoever this guy was clearly thought he had you both right where he wanted you.

You turned slightly in Logan’s hold, his hand moving with your body to finally rest on your hip. “Quick, pretend like you're about to kiss me.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Pretend, huh? Doll, you should know I go all in or nothin’- ”

You cut Logan off by putting your hands on his jaw and pulling him down, pressing your lips against his. It was supposed to be just for show, just a distraction to keep the guy from getting suspicious. But the second your lips met his, the whole plan went out the window.

Logan didn’t hesitate. He kissed you back, hard and fast, his hand tightening around your waist as he pulled you even closer. The heat between you two had been simmering for a while now, and suddenly it felt like a dam had broken. You felt the tension that had been building for so long snap into something real, something you couldn’t ignore.

Your heart was racing, and you knew you should stop—this wasn’t the time or place, and you had a job to do—but his lips were on yours, and it felt way too good to stop. You could feel his rough beard brush against your skin as he deepened the kiss, his other hand sliding up to the back of your neck, holding you close like he didn’t want to let go.

For a brief moment, the mission faded into the background. The gala, the crowd, even the man approaching—all of it disappeared as you lost yourself in Logan. The heat between you two was undeniable, every teasing remark, every playful touch over the years suddenly making sense. It had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface.

But then reality crashed back down, hard.

You heard the footsteps stop a few feet away, the arrogant man watching you both with thinly veiled disgust. He cleared his throat, his presence a stark reminder of where you were and what you were supposed to be doing.

You pulled back from the kiss, breathless, eyes wide as you met Logan’s gaze. For a second, neither of you moved, the intensity of the moment hanging thick in the air. His hand was still on your waist, the other resting gently at the nape of your neck, fingers brushing your skin. You could see it in his eyes—he didn’t want to let go, and truth be told, neither did you.

But the mission.

Clearing your throat, you took a step back, putting some distance between you and Logan while keeping your posture relaxed, like you hadn’t just been completely swept away. You smoothed your gown, trying to regain some composure.

The man standing before you smirked, his eyes flicking between you and Logan with an air of superiority. “Enjoying yourselves?” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Logan was the first to recover, his rough exterior snapping back into place like a shield. He gave the man a once-over, his gaze hard and unyielding. “What’s it to you?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, as if daring the guy to say something more.

The man’s smirk widened, clearly not intimidated. He tilted his head, studying you both for a moment before speaking again. “You two don’t look like the usual gala attendees.” He raised an eyebrow, his suspicion obvious now. “Mind telling me what brings you here?”

You could feel the tension crackling between Logan and the man, both of them sizing each other up. Logan’s body was coiled, ready to strike if needed, and you knew he was already itching to shut this guy up the old-fashioned way. But you couldn’t let this turn into a fight. Not yet.

You forced a smile, stepping slightly in front of Logan to diffuse the situation. “It’s a gala,” you said, keeping your tone light and playful. “We’re here for the same reason everyone else is—to enjoy ourselves.” You ran your hand down Logan’s chest as if to sell the act, even though your heart was still pounding from the kiss.

The man’s eyes narrowed, clearly not buying it, but he didn’t push the issue further. Instead, he gave a condescending shrug. “Well, enjoy the party,” he said, his voice laced with disdain before he turned and sauntered off toward the bar.

The second he was out of earshot, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, glancing up at Logan. “That was close.”

Logan’s eyes were still on the man, watching him like a predator watches prey. “Too close,” he muttered, his voice gruff. Then his gaze shifted to you, softer now, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your mind was still spinning from the kiss, from the intensity of it, from what it might mean. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

Logan didn’t answer right away, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer before he finally tore his gaze away. “We need to figure out what those guys are up to. You still got a read on them?”

You blinked, shaking off the lingering effects of the kiss as you focused on the mission again. Closing your eyes briefly, you stretched out your psionic senses, feeling for that dark thread of unease that had been following the group. It was still there, pulsing just beneath the surface of the room’s general excitement. “Yeah,” you said, opening your eyes. “They’re tense. Something’s about to happen.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. “Then we better be ready for it.” He gave you a long look, as if trying to figure something out, but then his expression hardened into his usual no-nonsense demeanor. “Stay close, doll.”

You nodded, pushing aside the butterflies still fluttering in your chest as you focused on the task ahead. There’d be time to unpack what just happened between you and Logan later—right now, you had a mission to complete.

But as you and Logan moved back into position, ready for whatever came next, you couldn’t help but steal one more glance at him. The tension between you wasn’t going anywhere. And something told you that after tonight, it was going to be a lot harder to keep ignoring it.

tags: @freythecrazyfae, @its-in-the-woods

[heavyhitterheaux]

Back to You

AN: angst with some fluff!

Synopsis: It's the first game of the season, and you promised your boyfriend that you would be in the audience cheering him on. But when you don't make an appearance at the game, Joe quickly grows annoyed at you until he learns the reason why

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Requested by: a lovely anon 💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“If you keep giving me kisses, you're going to be late.” You told your boyfriend of two years as he continued giving you small pecks and you peeked past him to look at the clock that was hanging behind him on the wall.

“Not you complaining that I need my good luck kisses.” Joe responded while turning up his nose at you.

“I'm not complaining by any means. I just don't want you to be late. You know how much I love giving you kisses.” You told him as your arms wrapped around him as he kissed your forehead.

“I love giving you kisses somewhere else too and you’re wearing my jersey tonight, correct? I love seeing you in it and I love it even more when I take it off when the game is over.” Joe asked and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I'm wearing Ja'Marr's along with the hoodie he gave me.”

Now it was Joe’s turn to roll his eyes and suck his teeth.

“Babe? Seriously?”

“You're the one asking stupid questions, not me.”

“There's no such thing as a stupid question.”

“Hmm, Joseph, I beg to differ. Now please go so you won't be late. I love you.” You told him as you reached up on your toes to give him one more kiss which he gladly accepted.

“I love you too and I'll see you when you get there.”

“I'm going to need a huge mountain of mozzarella sticks when I do. Probably throw some nachos in there too for good measure.”

“Did you forget that you ate yourself into a food coma last week and fell asleep in the last 10 minutes of the game?”

“Nope, and I'm getting ready to do it again.”

Joe just shook his head at you knowing that you would be complaining about it later.

“See you when you get there, babe.” He told you as he played with your necklace that he had gifted you with his name on it.

“Can't wait to see you win this one.”

After Joe had gotten into his car and pulled off to make his way to the stadium, you took the steps two at a time to head to your master bedroom in order to get ready to head to the game. Your sister was coming with you since she was able to get off of work because someone switched swifts with her. Even if she was the owner of her own shop, she needed someone she could trust to handle things when she wasn’t going to be there. She was actually the reason that the two of you were together in the first place, but it was definitely a love at first sight type of situation.

Your sister just so happened to own a bakery and was very surprised when Joe walked in one day and was casually browsing the display case of treats. That day she was short staffed and you were helping her out for a few hours since you loved to bake in your spare time and knew your way around a kitchen. Natalie just loved it even more to eventually make a career out of it. As Joe was asking about the different desserts and pastries, your sister Natalie kept seeing his eyes wander in your direction.

“She’s single and I need for you to take me out of my misery because she is always all up under me.” She told him as she nudged her head in your direction. She knew how big of a crush you had on Joe with you being a huge football fan and thought it was hilarious that you hadn't recognized him yet being in the very same store breathing in the same air. She knew it was only a matter of time before you turned around and saw him.

Hearing this, Joe's eyes went wide and he began to stutter.

“What? I… um…”

“She's my baby sister. Go over there and talk to her.”

Ever since that moment, the two of you had been inseparable.

You told Natalie that you were going to pick her up so that she didn't have to worry about driving through the city which you knew that she despised and would try to avoid at all costs. Knowing her if she drove, she probably wouldn’t even make it to the game until halftime since all she liked to take were backroads.

You- Getting ready now! Leaving the house in about twenty minutes!

Natalie- Okay! Just text me when you get here. I'm excited and can't wait to eat ourselves into a food coma lol 🤣

You- Will do! And Joe will just have to deal with it

Your shower had been taken with Joe an hour and a half before so all that was left for you to do was to get dressed. Slipping on Joe's jersey as promised, you then slipped on your jeans before grabbing your black and orange converses. As you sat down at your vanity, light makeup was applied before putting your knotless braids into a high ponytail with an orange bow holding it in place.

Taking one last look in your shared bedroom, you made sure that nothing was left behind that you might need as you slipped your crossbody up over your head to rest on your shoulder.

It would take you about fifteen minutes to get to Natalie's house and then it would take another thirty in order to get to the stadium coming from that direction. As you made your way out of the neighborhood and stopped at a red light, a quick text was sent to let her know that you were on your way. The light then turned green and you promptly entered the intersection before your head suddenly slammed against your driver's side window knocking you unconscious.

There were only mere minutes until the game started and there was no sign of either you or your sister in the stands which made Joe extremely nervous. He knew you didn't mention stopping anywhere except to get Natalie so he didn't quite understand.

You had mentioned that you would leave the house about twenty minutes after he did, so you should have been there by now with Natalie and he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that he was having. A feeling that something was incredibly wrong. But on the other hand, maybe something important had happened because he knew for a fact that the last thing you would ever do is miss one of his home games.

Kickoff had now begun with the defense taking the field first. Joe was constantly looking over his shoulder every few minutes hoping that you would suddenly appear, but every single time he came up empty. Ja’Marr could tell that Joe was distracted and made it a point to ask him about it.

“You good?” He asked, breaking Joe out of his thoughts.

“Y/N and Natalie aren’t here yet and I don’t know where they could be. She literally told me that she was going to leave the house about twenty minutes after I did to get her sister and then that would make her only be thirty minutes away. She never misses a home game if she can help it. I’m worried, but also starting to get annoyed at her because she promised she’d be here.”

“Hey, I’m sure that there’s some type of explanation for all this. Hopefully they’ll be here by the time the first quarter is over. But for now we need to focus to get this win.” Ja’Marr told him and Joe simply nodded his head. Ja’Marr could tell that he was obviously still annoyed, but was hoping that this didn’t cause Joe not to focus on what was happening in front of him.

The game was now over with the Bengals winning over the Chiefs 38 to 31 and Joe was now more than annoyed with you. Pissed off was more like it as he began to get dressed to head home after taking a shower.

“Joe, get your phone, it’s been going off nonstop.” Tee told him as he walked by making Joe quickly pick it up to look at it.

Staring back at him was a total of seventeen missed calls all from Natalie as well as an unknown number that he didn’t recognize. Seeing how many there were instantly made his heart drop as he picked it up to call your sister back. One thing that did stick out to him was the fact that there weren’t any missed calls from you and the sinking feeling that he had gotten in the pit of his stomach was now more prominent.

Natalie didn’t even give the phone a chance to ring before she picked it up to answer.

“JOE! THANK GOD!”

“Natalie, what…. What is going on? Why didn’t the two of you come to the game?”

She wasted no time and was talking a mile a minute.

“Y/N was on her way to get me and I know that because she sent me a text telling me, but she literally never made it here.”

“What do you mean she never made it there?” Joe asked with a lump in his throat forming.

“I literally just got a call from the hospital. I had been trying to call her for hours, but she didn’t answer. Someone hit her car while she was crossing the intersection by the light closest to where you guys live. She has you listed as her emergency contact, but since they couldn’t get a hold of you, they called me. I’m on my way there now and oh my God, I hope she’s okay. They wouldn’t tell me anything over the phone. Joe, she is my only sister and there is no way I can…”

“Okay, Natalie. I know this is the last thing you want to hear right now, but you need to calm down and breathe. You’re driving so I want you to get there safely. Just focus on the road and I’ll meet you there. Which hospital is it?” Joe tried to comfort your big sister as best as he could when he was falling apart at the seams himself.

“University of Cincinnati Medical Center.”

“I’m on my way now.”

With a shaky hand, Joe quickly hung up the phone and got dressed in under two minutes. There was literally no time for him to do a press conference because seeing if you were okay was his main priority. Grabbing his bag, he practically ran out of the stadium and heard Tee yelling behind him.

“Joe, where’s the fire?!”

“Y/N got into an accident and I don’t know if she’s okay or not. They’re going to have to do the press conference without me and get the fuck over it.”

As Joe was driving, he started to feel guilty about being mad at you before he found out what had actually happened. He was simply praying for you to be okay when he got there and you not being at the game was now the least of his worries since there would be plenty more.

It only took him about fifteen minutes to get to the hospital as he weaved in and out of traffic and quickly parked before practically taking off running to the emergency room entrance. Once he passed the threshold and signed in at the security desk, he saw your sister down the hallway talking on the phone and quickly went over to her. Her face was red and puffy from crying, but she immediately took the phone away from her ear once she saw Joe.

“Where is she? How is she?”

“She’s okay, thank goodness. It just looks worse than it actually is. Just talking to my dad. She’s in that room right over there.” She told him as she pointed.

Joe quickly nodded his head before walking down the hallway to your room. Once he got there, the door was open and he saw your eyes closed while the television was on a low volume in the background. Your face was covered in streaks of blood and scratches as bruises were taking form on your arms on the skin that was exposed. Your Bengals jersey had splatters of blood covering it and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It hurt Joe to see you in that state, but he was simply happy that you were alive.

Hearing footsteps, you quickly opened your eyes to look towards the door and let out a sob when you saw your boyfriend who immediately embraced you in a hug.

“I’m sorry… I…” You started to say, but he promptly cut you off.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re alive and that’s all that matters.” He told you as he rubbed small circles along your back.

“But I broke my promise. I told you that I would be there.”

“Baby, that is the last thing we need to worry about and besides, this was in no way, shape or form your fault. Do you remember what happened?”

“A little bit. I was at the light and it was red, so I sent a text to Natalie telling her that I was coming. The light turned green and I proceeded to go and that was when someone hit me. I hit my head on the window and that’s where all these little cut marks are from apparently. Next thing I knew, I woke up and I was here. They got your number out of my phone, but I told them that you were a little busy and to call Natalie.”

“I am never too busy for you, you know better.”

“I just… I wanted to be there for you, first game of the season and I missed it.”

“You have the rest of the entire season to be there for me. I needed to be there for you today.”

“There’s one more thing…” You said as you looked down and played with your necklace at the same time.

“What is it, babe?”

“My car….. Is probably totaled from the impact. He was going at a high speed and I was told that it’s a miracle that I’m even still alive to tell the tale because the car is unrecognizable.”

“As soon as you’re all healed from this, we’ll go and get you a new one. But once again, that is the last thing that we need to be worrying about. Until then, I’m driving you everywhere and I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

“Oh good, I’m probably going to make my first stop at Sephora.”

“Wait… hold on…”

“And Target too.”

Joe simply sighed before nodding his head because he knew that he would do anything to put a smile on your face.

“It looks like you were the one who needed the good luck kisses today.” He told you and you scoffed.

“Oh wait! Did you guys win?!” You asked as the thought popped up into your head.

“We did.”

“So, it looks like the good luck kisses worked both ways. I need to give them to you more often.”

It was another hour and a half before the doctor cleared you to leave the hospital and you convinced Joe to get you McDonald’s before heading home since you weren’t able to get your nachos and mozzarella sticks at the game.

After taking a shower and washing off the day's events, you quickly put your hair up and slipped on your comfy black and orange Bengals pajamas as you slid in bed next to Joe who promptly put his arms around you and kissed your forehead. He glanced down at you to see that you were looking back up at him and he reached down to kiss the tip of your nose.

“Your mind is racing, what are you thinking?” You asked as you held onto him tighter.

“That I came very close to losing the love of my life today and how thankful I am that I still get to hold her.”

You sighed and simply nodded, not really knowing what to say.

“And it made me feel guilty when I did find out what happened and why you weren’t there because I can admit, I was upset and pissed off. I just thought ‘why would she promise me that she was coming and she’s nowhere in sight?’”

“You know that I always keep my promises whether it’s big or small. But, it didn't happen today.” You softly said to him and he simply nodded.

“You came back to me and that is literally all I could have asked for.”

Taglist:

@hoodharlow

@nattinatalia

@wickedfun9

@a-moment-captured

@dandelionwrites8

@keiva1000

[cupcakelvr]

𝑺𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

(Both NSFW and SFW)

Minors n men dni!!

SFW ~

Always up for a challenge. Whether it's a tough mission or a game of cards, Sevika thrives on challenges. She enjoys any situation where she can test her skills and intelligence, and she respects those who can hold their own against her in battle or conversation.

༞

She’s loyal af. Her loyalty to Silco shows how deep her devotion can run. If you're someone she deems worthy of that loyalty, you become a part of her inner circle, which is a rare privilege. Betraying her trust, though, is unforgivable in her eyes.

༞

Our bbg is a night-owl. Sevika thrives at night. Whether it’s late-night patrols or enjoying a drink in a dimly lit bar, she’s in her element when the sun goes down. The night brings a certain calmness that lets her guard down, and those rare, quiet moments are where she’s most reflective.

༞

Despite her rough exterior, Sevika follows a strict personal code. She believes in discipline and self-control, which is why she takes her training and physical condition seriously. Even when she’s off-duty, she’s never entirely relaxed, always keeping her edge. (She just needs some head.)

༞

If she cares about you, she shows it in subtle ways. She might give you a hard time or tease you, but she’s always watching out for your well-being. Acts of care, like bringing you something to eat or patching you up after a fight, are her way of showing affection. (She will 100% scold you.)

NSFW ~

Here we go with the horny shit..

OUR FAV DOMINANT QUEEN. Sevika has a naturally dominant presence in the bedroom. She’s assertive, in control, and knows what she wants. She’s not afraid to take charge, and she enjoys when you let her lead.

༞

LOVES HAVING CONTROL. She loves keeping you on edge, alternating between letting you beg for more and giving you exactly what you want when you least expect it. She gets off on seeing how much she affects you. (Dominate me please)

༞

Aftercare’s different with her each time but one thing she’ll always do is light a cig and share it with you. After that she’ll take really good care of you, she will bring you snacks and water.

༞

While she's dominant, Sevika isn't always loud during intimate moments. She lets her actions speak louder than words, using her body and presence to control the mood. It's the smoldering intensity in her gaze, the way her hands grip you just right, that makes the experience unforgettable

༞

Sevika keeps you on your toes by constantly switching things up. She might start slow and methodical, only to suddenly change to something more aggressive. The unpredictability adds to the thrill, making each experience with her feel fresh and exciting.

I HOPE YALL LIKE IT LMK IF I MADE SOME MISTAKES.

ꨄ