#but MAN i love this show so so much. I WANT THEM BACK SO MUCH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

forever-rogue · 24 hours ago

Note

hii i love the way u write for Joel and was just wondering if i could request something.

so i always see people write joel coming home later then usual after patrol and reader is very worried but i haven’t seen much of it the other way around, like reader is on patrol without joel and joel is all worried and can’t sleep and is just waiting for reader to come home and maybe reader comes back with a few cuts and bruises but nothing to serious but joel is just taking extreme care of her 🥹

AN | Oh, but I love this concept! Enjoy💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

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“Pacing ain’t going to get you anywhere,” Ellie stood at the foot of the stairs with her arms over her chest as she looked at Joel, “you of all people should know that better than anyone. ‘Sides what are you even worrying about?”

“Ellie,” he sighed her name in that familiar tone that never failed to amuse her. He’d been at the front door, poking his head out and looking around the yard and surrounding area, “why are you still up?”

“It’s only ten o’clock, old man,” she made a show of looking at her watch, one he had gifted her a few years back, “and I’m not ancient. And…I knew you were worried and I can’t sleep if I know you’re worried.”

“I’m not…” he stepped back inside, closing and locking the door behind him. He leaned against the door and looked at the girl with a small smile, “ain’t no use lying to you, is there?”

“Never has been,” she walked over to the couch and flopped on it, leaving ample space for Joel, “and there never will be. I can see right through you. You’re not as brooding and mysterious as people like to think.”

“Well then you should probably know exactly what’s on my mind,” he sat down with a groan next to her, kicking his feet onto the coffee table. The two of them exchanged a quick look, “I can’t not worry about either of you. You’re….you’re my girls and it’s my job to worry. She was supposed to be home this afternoon. She’s late.”

“Don’t you think we worry about you as well?” she nudged his leg and he huffed with a roll of his eyes, “we do. You know that. It’s okay to worry…even if there’s no use. They’re probably just running a little bit behind. You know how these things go. It doesn’t inherently mean that anything bad happened.”

“There is always use,” Joel insisted, “even if you don’t want to think there is anything to worry about, there’s always something. You can’t just trust anything outside of our walls.”

“Yeah…well, nothing’s ever happened to your sweetheart so I think it’ll be okay,” she insisted softly. Ellie barely managed to stifle a yawn as Joel raised an eyebrow at her before looking pointedly towards the upstairs. She rolled her head back and groaned, “fine. Fine. Maybe I’m tired. Are you sure you’re going to be okay? You’re not gonna stay up all night looking out the door every five minutes?”

“I’ll be alright,” he promised. He knew that, logically, everything would be alright but it still didn’t help to quell the lingering worry that was hanging on at the back of his mind, “I’m about to go to bed too. You’re right; ain’t no use with worrying about something I can’t change.”

Joel had had the intention of going up to bed after Ellie, but he'd remained on the couch for a few minutes longer. Soon enough he had changed positions and was fast asleep, snoring away softly, despite his intentions of actually getting up and going to bed.”

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By the time you walked into the house, the sun was starting to rise; you’d planned on being home the afternoon before but you know, life always seemed to have a different plan. You hadn’t planned on getting injured either but here you were; your shoulder was grazed but patched up the rest of your scratches weren’t anything of note. Well - to the average person they wouldn’t be anything to take a double look at but your partner was far from the average person. You were pretty sure he’d have a heart attack, or something close to it when he saw you.

You opened the door as quietly as possible, slinking into the front room and shutting and locking the door. You’d been sure that Joel and Ellie would be fast asleep but instead you found Joel sprawled on the couch, snoring softly.

“Oh honey,” you whispered sweetly, careful not to make too much noise to rouse either Joel or Ellie.

A smile graced your face as you dropped your bag and kicked off your shoes, trying to be as quiet as possible. You grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and gently draped it over Joel’s frame. He mumbled something softly but didn’t stir otherwise. You tenderly pushed some of his stray curls out of his face, and brushed your thumb over his cheek. Your original plan had been to take a quick shower and slip into bed and maybe, kinda, sorta pretend you’d been there for some time, but as soon as you’d seen him on the couch you knew that wasn’t going to be an option.

Instead of any of your original plans, you yanked your sweater off and tossed it the pile by the door before gently pulling the blanket off Joel’s frame and sliding in next to him. You had just enough room to make it in, and as soon as he felt your body next to his, Joel wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his frame. You made a small sound of content as you settled into him, quickly feeling yourself lulled to sleep.

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Joel hadn’t heard you come home - not entirely anyway. He had been half awake when he’d heard the door open and then felt someone drape the blanket over him. He was pretty sure that he was having some sort of dream so he hadn’t questioned it or bothered to try and fully wake up.

When he did finally wake up, he was confused by the warm body next to him. Panic was his first instinct but then he quickly realized that it was you. He let out a small sigh of relief at the fact that you were finally home. He put two and two together and realized that what he thought was a dream was actually just you coming home. You hadn’t woken up yet so he gently maneuvered himself out from behind you and made sure you were comfortable before going to gather up your things to put them away.

But before he managed to walk away he touched your face and almost froze.

“What happened?” he asked sharply, as he looked over the bruising on the side of your face that led down to your shoulder. He exhaled sharply when he spied the bandage that was covering most of your shoulder. He hadn’t meant to ask so loudly, but it caused you to startle awake.

You blinked away the bleariness that was remaining in your eyes and found Joel looking at you with a worried expression on his face. A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth when you realized it was him, “hey Joel.”

“Baby,” he sighed softly, crouching down in front of you, “thank god you’re home.”

“Happy to be home,” you whispered, yawning lightly, “sorry it took so long.”

“What happened? Do you have any other injuries?” Joel was ready to rip the blanket off and look you over for himself to make sure there wasn’t anything hiding from him. If anything happened to you, he wasn’t sure he’d survive. He’d been through too much in his life and he wasn’t sure if he’d survive another such heartbreak. He knew, he was well aware, that he was spiraling and was trying to control himself but it was hard. But logically, judging from how you were still quietly laying on the couch, he knew that you were more than likely okay and if you had anything more it would be superficial.

“Just scratches and stuff,” you mumbled as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and shifted to sit up. You slowly stretched, careful not to aggravate any of your injuries further and fully aware of Joel’s eyes being locked onto you, “nothing I can’t handle. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Miller.”

“I hope I never get rid of you,” he mumbled as he took your face gently in his hands, appraising you with gentle eyes, “I’m gonna need to keep staying tough, baby.”

“I don’t plan on changing,” your words came out as more of a whisper than anything as you looked at him with sweet eyes and a saccharine smile, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he promised in return, closing his eyes and letting out a soft sigh, “I just worry.”

“Yeah, I know you do,” you put your hand on top of his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, “but what does worrying get you? Nothing except a few more wrinkles and worry lines. It doesn’t change what’s happened or what will happen. I know it’s easier to say than do but promise me you’ll try?”

“I’ll try,” he agreed and you gave him a knowing little smile, “I didn’t say I was going to be perfect. But for you I’ll try anything. You gonna tell me how you got that injury then, darlin’?”

“Joel…it’s fine,” you swallowed thickly, absentmindedly running your hand over the bandaging, “just know it’s all going to be alright.”

“Now what makes you think I would accept that as an answer, huh?” he said back down in front of and offered you an expectant look. You knew that he wouldn’t just accept that answer and you’d been a fool to even try that one on him. Silly girl. The only way Joel Miller would accept such an answer was when he was long cold in the ground and even then it wasn’t a guarantee, “you’re smarter than that.”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” your voice was small and gentle as Joel nodded.

“I’d never be mad at you, baby. I just want to know…please.”

You let out a small sigh as you nodded, “well, it turns out that I was a little slow and umm, well, t-there was a clicker and the fucker was a just a little faster than me. A-and it got me so yeah….”

Joel’s mouth dropped as he processed what you said, “I-”

“W-wait, I didn’t - I wasn’t bitten,” you hastily pulled off the bandage to show him as though he needed some kind of proof. You’d never put anyone else in danger and neither would Joel, “just scratched and scraped. See - I-I’m fine.”

“Baby - baby,” he put his hands on your upper arms, doing his best to calm you down, “I’m not worried about you being bitten. I know you wouldn’t…no. But this is….it’s still not great. It looks-”

“Terrible,” you finished for him, fully aware that you would be bearing a nasty scar for some time, “I didn’t want you to panic.”

“I just want to know that you’re okay. I don’t want this to get infected - don’t laugh at that - and lead to something worse,” you hadn’t meant to laugh at his inadvertent comment but you also were tired and felt half delirious from everything that had happened, “but it looks well looked after. You’re just going to have to be careful for a while, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed softly, “you’re not going to let me go on patrol for a while, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he agreed, causing your heart to melt at his sweet tone, “I’ll pull double duty if I have to, but you ain’t going out there. Not right now - I think everyone can understand that. And if you even try, darlin’, you won’t even make it to the stables.”

“I wouldn’t dare to try,” you were absolutely a strong independent woman…but you couldn’t deny the fact that when Joel grew so protective and in charge it did something to you, “can I ask for a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can we go to bed?” you asked softly, “I just wanna go to sleep and want you to hold me.”

“We can do that,” he slowly rose to his feet and stretched before helping you off the couch, “that sounds great to me. You’re trouble, but I love you.”

“I’m just your kind of trouble,” you offered as he huffed through a laugh, “I love you too, Miller.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou

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honeyryewhiskey · 22 hours ago

Text

when dean falls in love

or, all the little details that run through dean's mind when he's falling in love. and all the fears and self-doubt that come crashing down on him. warnings ! a pinch of angst | mostly feel good | kissing | confessions | dean admiring reader | dean's internal struggles | reader being patient | sam third wheeling j's note ! this is my apology for that sad one i posted last night. also, i had little baby 26-year-old dean in mind for this one. enjoy <3 5k words

Few rules exist in Dean’s life—most are made to be bent, broken, or ignored altogether. But you?

You’re the exception. You’re the rule he refuses to cross.

You are entirely off-limits.

Not that you seem to care. You crashed into the Winchesters' world like a wildfire, all sharp eyes and steady hands, showing up guns blazing in the middle of a nasty hunt. There was no slow introduction, no time for cautious trust. One minute, it was just another night, another hunt—then suddenly, there you were, standing in the wreckage, breathing heavily, covered in blood that wasn’t yours.

Dean should’ve known to let go right then and there—you were too good to be true. But he didn’t. Instead, you stuck to the corners of his mind like sugar between his teeth, sweet and relentless. Your energy, raw and electric, burned through everything around you. You invaded his thoughts, wrapped around his mind like a constant hum.

You were the kind of girl who made a man forget his own damn rules.

At first, Dean tells himself this newfound trio is temporary.

You’re a lone wolf, and the Winchesters don’t do long-term attachments. But somehow, you weave yourself into their lives like you’ve always belonged.

You slip into the passenger seat of the Impala without waiting for an invitation, kicking your feet up on the dash just to piss him off. You steal fries off his plate like it’s second nature, smirking when he glares at you but never stopping. You roll your eyes at his bravado, call him out when he’s being an ass, and yet—when it matters—you’re always there. Ready to fight. Ready to bleed for this life, for them.

For him.

Dean tells himself he doesn’t notice the little things. The way you hum along to his rock tapes like you’ve known them forever, how your hands—so much softer than he deserves—patch him up without hesitation. The way you meet his teasing with just as much fire, never backing down.

None of it means anything.

Because it can’t.

Not when he’s always been too rough, too jagged around the edges to hold onto something as good as you. Somewhere around his twentieth birthday, he made peace with the fact that he was cursed—fated to be nothing more than a soldier, a brother, a blade meant for war.

Being anything else, wanting anything more—wanting you—would only end in tragedy.

But then he catches Sam talking to you in hushed voices over coffee in the morning, like you’re family. As if every diner table and wobbly motel kitchenette was always meant to sit the three of you. He watches you clean his gun without being asked, like it’s second nature now. He hears your voice on the other end of his phone at 3 a.m., always answering when he calls, asking if he’s okay after a rough hunt.

And just like that, you’re in. You’re a part of them.

A part of him.

And that? That’s the most dangerous thing of all.

Dean doesn’t know when it happened—when the lines started to blur, when the rule he swore by turned into something fragile, something breakable.

Maybe it’s the way you slip so effortlessly into their lives, settling into the spaces he didn’t even realize were empty—mediating brotherly arguments like you were always meant to be their missing piece. Maybe it’s the sound of your laughter, bright and unshaken, slicing through the heaviness of a bad hunt. Or maybe it’s the way you look at him, like he’s something more than the scars, more than the sharp edges—like he’s worth seeing at all.

Or maybe it’s the small moments like this.

The diner is warm, buzzing with the quiet hum of conversation, the clatter of silverware against plates. Sam’s focus is his laptop, half-listening to whatever you’re saying as you flip through the menu, sitting beside Dean, debating tonight’s meal. Dean’s trying to keep up, trying to ground himself in the normalcy of it all.

And then, without a second thought, you reach for his jacket.

It’s been draped over the back of the booth since he sat down, familiar and worn, carrying the weight of long nights and too many miles. And you just take it, slipping your arms through the sleeves, tugging the collar up like it belongs to you.

Dean’s fingers tighten around the menu.

It’s nothing new—he’s handed it over a dozen times before, thrown it around your shoulders without a second thought on cold nights. But this? This is different. You didn’t ask. Didn’t even hesitate. You just did it, like it was instinct, like it was yours.

He clears his throat, trying to force down the feeling clawing its way up his chest. “Comfy?”

You hum, settling into the fabric, your fingers curling into the sleeves. “Mmhmm.” Your voice is light, easy. “You always run so warm. Thought I’d steal a little of that.”

Dean swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. Prying his eyes off of you, he tries again to look like he’s reading the menu. Scanning the small font, even though he’s already decided on a burger and fries like he always gets.

Across from him, Sam sighs, clicking at his keyboard. “You guys do realize you act like a couple, right?”

Dean shoots him a glare. “Shut up.”

Your laugh falls out sweet and quiet, the sound pressing against his heart with a persistence to make it move faster. Your boot nudges Dean’s under the table, and he takes it as an excuse to look at you again. “You jealous, Sammy? Want me to steal your jacket next?”

Dean barely hears the response. He watches as you burrow further into his jacket, your nose dipping beneath the collar. Then, with that same mischievous glint in your eye that always spells trouble for him, you lift the collar to make a show of taking a slow, exaggerated sniff.

His brows press down, lashes forming a tight squint around his eyes as he braces himself, “What the hell are you doing?”

Your lips twitch like you’re holding back a laugh. “One thing about this old jacket, though,” you muse, taking another thoughtful inhale. “There’s this metallicy smell… buried under all that cologne you drown this poor leather in.”

Dean scoffs, shifting in his seat and turning his head to save himself from letting you see the pink creeping up his cheeks. “I do not drown it in cologne.”

Sam doesn’t even look up from his laptop, but his chuckle doesn’t help ease Dean’s embarrassment. “You kinda do.”

Dean’s head shoots up, tilting slightly as he glares at his brother. You’re already grinning, undeterred, your fingers lazily tracing the worn seam of the sleeve. “It’s faint, but it’s there. Like… gunpowder. And whiskey, I would assume. And maybe a little bit of blood?” Your teasing gaze flicks up to meet his, “What have you been getting into, Winchester?”

Dean should play it cool. Shrug it off. But he can feel his ears burning red and hot from that little teasing smile on your lips and his brain is a few steps behind, caught somewhere between you’re too damn close and when did this get so hard to ignore?

He leans back, arms crossing over his chest. His mind makes quick work to steady buzzing nerves, “Dunno what to tell ya, sweetheart,” he sighs, jaw popping as he finds his barings, “That jacket’s seen more action than you have.”

You feign offense, pressing a hand to your chest. “Wow. First, you over-season your leather, and now you’re just slinging insults?” You shake your head, dramatic as ever. “I thought we had something special, D.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “Yeah, yeah. You done sniffin’ my jacket, or should I be concerned?”

You huff, settling back against the booth so that your arms brush against each other when you shrug. “I dunno. Might need another whiff.”

Dean points a warning finger at you, his smile breaks his attempt at stoicism, and all it does is make you grin wider.

Sam lets out another long-suffering sigh, shutting his laptop with a little more force than necessary. “I’m concerned. And I’m officially done with this conversation.”

You smirk, smug as ever, but Dean? Dean’s just trying to pretend he’s not completely, stupidly gone for you.

The rest of dinner passes in easy conversation—at least, for you. Dean is quieter than usual, letting you and Sam fill the space between bites of food and stolen fries. He tries to focus on anything else—the chipped laminate of the table, the hum of the old diner lights, the way his fingers tap absently against the side of his glass.

Mostly, he tries not to look at you.

Not when you lean forward, chin propped in your palm, laughing at something Sam says. Not when you nudge his boot under the table, stealing the last bite of his pie with a satisfied little smirk. Not when you adjust the lapels of his leather jacket like it’s yours now, like it belongs to you the way he does.

By the time the check hits the table, he’s still got too many thoughts in his head, and none of them are ones he should be having.

Outside, the night air is crisp, the motel’s flickering vacancy sign glowing just across the lot. Sam mutters something about research and trudges off toward their shared room, leaving the two of you lingering by the diner’s door.

Dean shoves his hands into his pockets, suddenly hyper-aware of how quiet it is. You shift on your feet, then tilt your head toward the motel.

“What’s it gonna be tonight, D?” Your voice is soft, slipping into the quiet like it belongs there. “You sticking around for a bit, or heading to bed?”

Dean exhales, shaking his head. “Gotta make sure you get in safe.”

Your laugh rings through the empty parking lot, light and easy, curling around him like warmth against the cool night air. And despite only wearing a flannel, despite the late hour and the breeze whispering through the lot, he feels nothing but warm.

“Ah, yes,” you tease between giggles, nudging his arm. “My knight in shining armor, always keeping me safe.”

The short walk across the lot is quiet but never empty—the kind of silence that lingers in the spaces between you, comfortable and charged all at once.

At your door, you unlock it with a flick of your wrist, pushing it open before leaning lazily against the frame. The dim motel light catches the amusement in your eyes as you glance back at him.

“See?” You gesture to the empty room with a grin. “All’s quiet on the western front.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves you off, stepping inside without a second thought, the door clicking shut behind him.

You move past him with easy familiarity, shuffling through your things while Dean leans against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. He watches as you slip into your usual routine—kicking off your shoes, pulling your hair back, stifling a yawn with the sleeve of your sweater. His jacket, draped over the chair beside your bed, stays untouched. He doesn’t move to take it. If he’s honest, he kind of hopes you’ll sleep in it. Let it take on your scent instead of his.

When you return from the bathroom, fresh-faced and sighing contentedly, you crawl onto the bed and sit cross-legged, flipping absentmindedly through an old paperback—the one you grabbed from the library when you were supposed to be researching.

“You gonna tell me what’s got you so deep in thought tonight?” you break into the silence without looking up, voice soft but knowing.

Dean huffs, tipping his head back. He’s trying to find something other than you to look at, he’s gotta stop watching you so often. “I’m always deep in thought.”

You snort, “yeah, okay. Sure.”

Your eyes flicker over him, he’s always following you into your room like a stray pup, like he doesn’t know where else to go. He lingers in your space, but is careful to maintain a set distance. At first you thought he was trying to claim you as another notch on his bedpost, but all that ever happened on these nights were quiet talks until your eyes grew too heavy to keep open. And by morning, you’d be alone, tucked beneath the blankets like someone made sure they were pulled around you just right.

You watch him for a beat, noting the familiar tension winding through his shoulders. “Seriously, though. You were kinda out of it at dinner.”

Dean hesitates, glancing away like he can pretend he didn’t hear you. His eyes settle on the peeling motel wallpaper, tracing the cracks like they hold some kind of answer. He hadn’t planned on sticking around this late—not when his head is already full of you. Not when it’s dangerous for the sanctity his carefully drawn lines to be near you like this, feeling the way he does.

But neither of you move. You, cross-legged on the bed, book in hand. Him, still leaning against the dresser, pretending he has somewhere else to be.

He should make an excuse, crack a joke, steer this conversation somewhere safer. But your voice, soft and steady, tugs at something in him. And instead of fighting it, he lets himself lean in.

“You ever think about what happens when we stop?”

Your fingers still against the worn pages of your book. “Stop what?”

“This.” He gestures vaguely, like that explains everything. “The hunting, the moving around. All of it.”

Your brows furrow slightly as you consider his words, the weight of them pressing down in a way you don’t want to acknowledge. This life—it’s far from glamorous, but it’s all you’ve got. Stepping away from it is a thought you buried long ago, a fantasy that never had a chance. You shrug, pushing the thought aside. “I don’t know,” you say quietly. “Never really let myself think about it too much.”

Dean exhales a heavy breath, eyes dropping to the floor like the weight of your words is sinking in. “Yeah.”

A beat of quiet settles between you. It’s not uncomfortable, but there’s a weight to it that presses against Dean’s chest, making the space feel tighter than it is. You can feel his tension, like he’s holding something back, but he doesn’t look up.

Then, you shift, breaking the silence with an easy gesture—a pat to the empty space beside you on the bed. “Don’t just trail off on me, D. Sit down. Tell me more.”

Dean hesitates for a split second. This is a bad idea. It’s an invisible line he’s been toeing for too damn long, one he’s tried not to cross—never sit on the bed, never get too close when we’re alone. But then again, it’s you. You’re looking at him like you care, soft and patient, as if whatever’s inside his head actually matters.

And just like that, he gives in. One little exception, just for tonight.

With a quiet sigh, he pushes off the dresser, settling beside you on the bed. He stretches his legs out, but the small mattress makes it impossible to keep any real distance. His legs brush against yours, and his arm brushes yours too. He hopes to hell you don’t see the flush creeping up his neck.

If you notice, you don’t mention it. There’s no teasing, no playful smile—just the quiet comfort of your presence beside him. You don’t push, don’t pry. You just sit there, calm and steady, waiting for him to speak.

“I dunno,” he mutters, “just been thinkin’ lately. About what it all looks like when it’s over. If it ever is.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “And?”

Dean swallows, debating how much to say. How much to admit.

“And… I don’t see much of anything.” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Spent my whole life doing this, I don’t see an ending where I’m not dying at the hands of this. Y’know, going down in the fight.”

You’re quiet for a moment, then—so softly he almost doesn’t notice—you shift closer, your arm snaking its way around his. You’re snuggled right up next to him, watching with careful eyes.

“There will always be monsters to hunt,” you murmur, your voice soft yet steady in the dim room. “But you don’t have to be a warrior forever, D. There will always be hunters, too. Doesn’t mean you have to be one.”

Dean chuckles, but it’s a hollow sound, more an exhale than a laugh. His gaze drifts toward the bedspread, unable to meet yours. "Yeah, well... I don't know if I could just walk away." His words come out quieter, like he’s unsure if he’s talking to you or to himself.

You turn slightly toward him, noticing the tension still coiled in his shoulders. The quiet settles deeper now, heavier with each passing moment, but he doesn’t seem to notice the distance between your words.

“What’s got you thinking about all of this?” you keep your voice light, though there’s a weight to it.

Dean rubs the back of his neck, his thoughts at war with the words he wants to say. "I can’t have the things I want, not really," he finally admits, the confession slipping out before he can second-guess it. His gaze drifts to the side, and his fingertips come up almost absentmindedly, dragging across your temple, pushing stray hairs back into their place.

“This life," he continues, barely above a whisper, "it consumes all the good things in my life."

“Not true,” your voice is firm but gentle, like you’re trying to remind him of something he can’t see.

He doesn’t answer immediately, just quirks a skeptical brow at you.

“You have your brother,” you continue, “and you’ve got me. Nothing in this universe can take us from you.”

Dean’s breath catches, and for the briefest moment, he wonders if you understand just how much weight those words hold. He swallows, trying to hold it together, but he can’t ignore the ache that creeps up his spine. He gives a small, almost rueful chuckle, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "What makes you so sure?"

You meet his gaze with a steady confidence. "Because I know you wouldn’t let it."

His hand lingers by your face, his thumb brushing softly against the warmth of your cheek. There’s an electricity in the touch, something that feels too close and yet too natural. He can feel the way his pulse quickens, how much his body wants to close that last inch of space between you. But he doesn’t.

You don’t push him. You just watch him, like you’re waiting for him to decide whether to take the step—or to retreat.

Dean’s breath catches in his throat, and his eyes drop to your lips for a moment before meeting yours again, like he’s trying to reconcile the gravity of what he’s feeling. His voice drops to almost a whisper, his words thick with something raw. “You have no idea how right you are, little miss.”

Your hand comes up, curling over his with a quiet, deliberate touch. The softness of your skin against his makes it almost impossible for him to remember the times he’s watched you move through the world—handling a gun with precision or a blade like it’s second nature. Most of you makes him forget, really, about everything that doesn’t involve you in this moment.

Your warmth, your softness, it makes him lose himself in daydreams of a version of you—one that doesn’t belong to this life. A version where you’d lean into that gentleness, the part of you that exists outside the hunts and the danger, in a life far away from the chaos that haunts him.

You shift, sitting up, still keeping your gaze on him, and it makes something in his chest tighten. The determined strain in your features catches his attention immediately. It’s the same look you get when you're deep into a lore book, your brow furrowed with that little scowl—like something has piqued your interest, and you won’t rest until you’ve unraveled it completely.

“Dean, there’s more to this than you’re letting on.”

He shakes his head, trying to brush it off with a quick, dismissive shrug, his lips pouting up into his best attempt at nonchalance. “Nope. That’s pretty much it.”

You let out an exasperated huff, and Dean can tell you’re seeing straight through him. It’s not enough to deflect you. What he doesn’t expect, though, is the rough shove to his shoulder. It makes him blink in surprise, but before he can recover, your fingers press right back into the tension of his muscles he’s been trying to ignore all night.

“You’re as stiff as a board,” you point out, your fingers digging in a little harder. “Something’s bothering you.”

His breath comes out shakier now, and for a moment, his whole body feels like it’s been wound too tight. You can feel it, he knows you can. There’s no denying it now, but the words feel too heavy in his throat. He wants to argue, to brush it off again, but something in the way you’re watching him shifts. It’s not just curiosity anymore—it’s concern. And maybe, just maybe, a part of him wants to let you in.

But damn if it doesn’t feel like a risk.

Dean shifts uncomfortably, trying to pull away, but the pressure of your fingers is a subtle anchor, keeping him there. His gaze flits to the floor, anywhere but your eyes, because once he looks at you, he knows he won’t be able to hide.

"I told you, it's nothing," he mutters, his voice rougher than usual, the words escaping before he can stop them. He tries to push himself up, but the weight of your stare presses him back down.

You don’t buy it. You never do.

"No, Dean," you start softly, the concern clear in your voice, "I know you better than that. Something’s been eating at you for a while, and you’re not gonna keep dodging it."

His chest tightens, his heart racing in his ribcage. Every part of him wants to throw up some wall, some excuse. Something to keep you from seeing the rawness of what’s inside. The vulnerability he’s been running from his entire life.

But still, you watch him, waiting, your eyes steady and unwavering.

"Come on, just let it out," you press, your hand moving to his shoulder again, your touch gentle now but insistent. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself, you know?”

He swallows hard, his jaw tightening, hands suddenly restless at his sides. The fight inside him is crumbling, piece by piece, until he's barely holding on to whatever's left. His voice comes out strained, almost desperate.

“Please, just drop it,” he grinds out, his eyes briefly meeting yours before flicking away again, helplessly. “I’m fine. You don’t... you don’t need to know all of it.”

You sit forward, leaning in just a little, your hand still gently gripping his arm as you search his face. The determination in your gaze doesn’t waver, but there’s something softer there now, almost like a plea. “Dean—”

He jerks back slightly, suddenly standing up with a bit too much force, the air between you thickening with a tension that’s making it harder for him to breathe. He takes a few steps away, running a hand through his hair, his back turned to you as he tries to calm the storm rising inside.

"I can’t do this," he mutters, his voice low, rougher now, like it’s been dragged over gravel. His shoulders still tense with the weight of the world pressing down on him.

You’re silent for a beat, and he knows it’s because you’re giving him space. But he also knows you won’t stop until you get him to say what he’s been holding back.

He exhales sharply, his hands trembling as he clenches them into fists, his back still turned, fighting a battle he knows he’s losing. "God, I don’t want to talk about this." His voice cracks slightly as he says it, and he hates how much it betrays him.

His eyes flick to you then, and there's a crack in the armor—a vulnerability that’s almost painful to see. He looks at you, but he’s not sure he can bear the weight of your gaze anymore. Not when all he wants to do is keep you safe from the wreckage inside him.

His body is coiled tight, but his chest feels like it’s going to implode. He wants to walk away. He wants to escape from the weight of this conversation, from the way you're looking at him like you’re waiting for him to finally crack open and spill it all out.

But when he finally turns back to face you fully, all he sees is that unflinching patience, that quiet insistence that you’re not going to let him go until he finally says what he’s been hiding for so long. It makes him want to burn every rule he’s built for himself.

"You don't get it," he spats roughly, eyes flicking to the floor. "I can’t just... say it. It’s part of me, it’s who I am, this thing that I can’t get away from."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room in one smooth motion. There’s no anger in your steps—just a calm resolve that cuts through the tension between you like a knife.

"I'm not an idiot, Dean," you peek up at him, unfamilarly timid as you cross this uncharted territory. "I see the way you look at me. Hell, at first I thought I was imagining things but I can see it’s eating you alive. And I—” your words cut off in your own shock at the confession, the sincerity in your expression making his knees weak, “I can’t bear to see you like this.”

Your hands reach up tentatively, like you’re scared he’ll tear himself away again. But he stills, letting your warm hands press into either side of his jaw, “you’re my rock, alright?” your words trail into a soft laugh, easing the tension of your own truth. “I don’t wanna live in a world where I’m not by your side, because you make life worth the fight to stay alive. But you can’t just keep me in the dark, I have to know what you’re feeling.”

His breath catches in his throat, the weight of your words hitting him harder than he expected. The realization that you know, that you’ve seen through all his defenses, makes everything inside him ache.

"I don’t know what you want from me," it comes out sounding like a plea, still looking for an excuse to retreat into himself.

"I want you to stop hiding from me." Your words are simple, but they strike right at the heart of the matter. "I want you to stop pretending like you can’t have the one thing you want most."

His throat tightens, and he shakes his head, trying to dismiss it. "I don’t get it," he mumbles, though his eyes are locked on yours, searching for the reprieve he still doesn’t believe he’ll find. "I don’t... I’m not fit for this."

"I’m not either, D. I’m just asking you to let it happen." You’re so close now, he can feel the warmth of your body, the soft pressure of your fingers against his jaw. Your gaze doesn’t break, it never wavers.

And that’s when it hits him. He’s been afraid of this—afraid of the way you make him feel like he can finally breathe, like all of his pain and avoidance can cease in your presence. he’s been holding himself together with tattered shreds for so long, and you’re the only thing that’s strong enough to pull him out of the mess he’s made of himself.

And letting that security live in someone else terrifies him more than any monster he’s faced.

“I’m not perfect,” he admits quietly, his words like gravel in his throat. “I’m broken, and I’m scared as hell, but god, if you only knew how much I want—”

You stop him with a soft kiss, the sweetest touch of your lips to his. It's gentle, almost hesitant, but it shatters something inside him, enough to freeze him in place. The weight of everything unspoken presses in, and for the first time, it feels like the walls he's built around himself might finally crumble in your hands.

The chains of his tightly kept composure snap at the delicate pressure of your lips, and without thinking, his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer. His hands find purchase at your waist, holding you as if you were the only thing that kept him grounded. The kiss deepens, desperate, as if he's trying to kiss away the years of holding back, the silent fear of letting you see the real him, the uncertainty of if you’d stay with him in the wreckage.

When you finally pull back, your lips linger just above his, breaths mingling. Your voice is a soft whisper, but it cuts through the tension like a thread being pulled taut. “Then say it, Dean. Tell me what you want.”

His heart beats in his chest, loud and frantic, as his walls come crashing down, piece by piece. He can’t think straight with you in his arms, all of his steely armor melts at your touch. And for the first time in what feels like forever, he lets go of some of those fears.

His eyes are nearly consumed by his pupils as he takes in the sight of you slightly out of breath, lips wet and a little more pink. From his doing, from his touch—it makes every broken rule worth the trouble.

“I've fallen for you, Sweetheart,” he breathes, his voice is raw, shaky, but it's honest, every word carrying the weight of what he’s been holding back. “I want to keep falling for you, love and all that crap. And I’m terrified of it, but I can’t keep hiding this from you.”

Your thumb brushes over his cheek, the gesture soft, but nevertheless, grounding. A quiet smile tugs at the corner of your lips, and your eyes hold nothing but certainty. “You’ll never have to hide any part of yourself, Dean. I’ve been here all along, with nothing but love. Just been waiting for you to see that.”

tags <3 @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @snowluvvie @dulcescorderitas @bluemerakis

#dean winchester #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fluff

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angelltheninth · 2 days ago

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How We've Both Changed

Pairing: Caleb x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, friends to enemies to lovers, clit stimulation, name-calling, degradation, rough sex, creampie, teasing, dub-con, body betrayal, forced orgasm, dom/sub dynamics, manipulation

Word count: 0.7k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Caleb has an iron grip on my brain. I won't hear anything about it because it's not gonna get any better.

"Look at you. When did you get like this? So submissive and docile? Is it those... other men you've been hanging around with? Well it doesn't matter now, I'm gonna show you what a real man is like." Caleb growled next to your ear as he fucked you into your bed with the full intention of breaking you or it.

At first you were happy to see him. Even if he seemed a little bit different. But this was never the way you imagined he'd make love to you. Could this even be called making love? Because his love doesn't feel like the love you used to get from him.

Every sound was rough, every look judgmental, every thrust painful, every touch scolding.

He smirked as you let out a whimper, weather it was from pain or pleasure he didn't seem to care all that much. His fingers, cold against you, kept pressing and torturing your clit to the point it became painful. "This isn't about you feeling good, although I can tell that you are by the way your cunt is squeezing around me. But don't mistake that for my kindness, love." Caleb leaned in close. "I waited for you. Every day that was hell I kept going because of you. But you... you forgot about me the moment other men showed up."

"I never forgot. Caleb, I... always thought about you." You wanted to reach out and hold him but you only managed to struggle against the unyielding grip he had around your wrists.

Caleb smirked above you, his cock ramming itself into your pussy, creating lewd, wet, sloppy sounds. "Really? When you fucked yourself with those toys you thought of me? Or when you were on all fours, desperately trying to make yourself come? What about when you were with those other guys, did you want it to be me fucking you instead?"

His words hurt as much as the way he was fucking you did. "I never... I haven't been with anyone... in a really long time."

"Huh. Explains why this pussy is so easy. It needed a good cock. You'll never need or want for anything ever again, I'll give it all to you!" The necklace hung just above your face, clicking and shining, almost like Caleb was taunting you with it. His rigid cock kept hitting your sweetspot every time his hips smacked heavily against yours, causing your back to arch and your clit to push against his fingers. "So messy. God, you've become such a desperate whore in the time I've been gone. Your pussy is so good at taking cock isn't it. Mine. The only cock it'll be taking will be my cock!"

Caleb pushed his fingers into your already abused pussy and curled them upwards just as his cock sank in and stilled. "Ca-Caleb, Caleb, that's too much!"

"No it's not. No it's fucking not, I know you can take it. You can be good. If you were good for those other guys, then won't you be good for me too?" His voice dropped to an almost cooing tone. "Don't you want to be good for me?" He asked, his fingers curling again and again, each movement sending lighting across your body until your mind went blank.

"I can... I can't-!" You cried out, tears spilling down your face.

"You can. My love, I know you can. You will." His tone turned commanding towards the end, "You will come for me." With one last cruel flick of your clit you came with a desperate whine, your voice breaking as you arched off the bed. Just then he chose to let go of your hands, allowed you to embrace him. "Yes, hold onto me. I've got you, I've got you now." He chuckled against your ear, his fingers easing out of you and holding you against him with both arms as his cum filled your desperate, fucked pussyhole.

Desperate sounds kept falling from your lips as you shook against him, your clit pressing against his abs, your legs locked around his hips and pussy stretched to its limits. "Ca-ah-leb..."

"Easy, easy, I'm here, I've got you. I'm not going anywhere, I'm never leaving you again." His words were flavored with an equal amount of a sweet promise and a dangerous threat. "We're together again. Nothing will get in the way of our love. As long as we love each other, that's all that matters." The more he cooed those words in your ear the more you started to believe he was right.

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hotgeniusreid · 2 days ago

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Have you ever tried… This position?

Aaron Hotchner x F! Reader

Mentions of: Sex, P in V (wrap it b4 you tap it), riding (SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY YEEHAW), oral (M! Receiving), not proofread we die like men

!!!NSFW/MINORSS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

One thing you had come to realize since your relationship with the BAUs Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner was that without a doubt, he was a very dominant man. He’d soften up when he’d come home from work and see Jack, but in bed? The dominance continued, not that you were complaining but you had spent many lonely nights wondering what it would be like to be on top just once, would he lose his composure? What noises would he make?

You sighed, once again losing focus on the book you were reading, letting out a groan of frustration and tossing the book on the couch, you were losing your mind over something so trivial, you loved being under him, but the thought of being the one on top had you spiraling, you had to experience it at least once and then you’d stop obsessing over it. Standing up from the couch, you had made a decision, thankfully Jack was away at his aunts house for the night, and Aaron was coming tonight from a rather difficult case, you had made up your mind, your were going to ride this man like if your life depended on it.

You had it all planned out, hopping out of the shower, you blow dried and styled your hair, and slipped on your favorite lingerie, a baby blue lace babydoll nightgown with matching lace panties, one night during a girls night with the BAU girls, you had confessed that you had a thing for buying pretty lingerie, you never really had the chance to wear them though, because Aaron always cut right to the chase, always taking you to the room and commanding you to strip with that dominant tone. You did your makeup subtly, and dolled yourself up with some jewelry, spraying his favorite perfume you own, and slipping a short silk white robe on top. Looking at the time, you realized you still had more than enough time to cook dinner and set up the table.

The sound of the door opening and keys being dropped into the bowl by the door signalled that Aaron was finally home, you slipped out of the kitchen and met him at the door, “Hi honey, how was the case?” You murmured as you wrapped your arms around him, standing on your tiptoes to press your lips to his, his arm wrapped around your back as he returned the kiss, “A bit tiring, but we managed to catch the unsub, how are you? Where’s Jack?” He asked, looking around, waiting for Jack to come out and welcome him home. “Jack is having a sleepover with Jessica tonight, said something about a movie night.” You smiled softly, “Come to the table, I just finished making dinner, it’s your favorite.” Turning around, you walked off to the kitchen, his eyes finally raked over your body, breath hitching at the fact that you were wearing the smallest silk robe that looked so nice against your body, he could feel himself growing hard, if only he knew what was under.

He walked into the kitchen, the smell of a home cooked meal making him smile, he loved you more than you could ever know, and seeing you do something so domestic such as serving him food truly made him appreciate just how much you did for him and Jack. He wrapped his arms around you as you began serving the food onto plates, “All right, what’s the big idea hm? Cooking my favorite meal, and looking so pretty, what did I do to deserve this?” You let out a giggle, throwing your head back against him, taking in the fact he was home, “nothing, just wanted to show you how much I missed you, I also happened to have a lot of free time today.” A chuckle escaped him as he shook his head, “Honey you spoil me, takeout and a movie would have been just fine, unless, there’s an ulterior motive for this?” He said, his hand stopping at the tie on your waist. Setting the plate down on the counter, you froze, had he really found you out? Turning around and looking at him with a pout, “Me? Ulterior motive? You wound me Aaron. But maybe I suppose you might be right.” You murmured sensually, turning around and pressing a kiss to his neck, he let out a low hum as he gripped your waist. “I think dinner can wait a little longer, I think I’m hungry for something else.” He said, his voice deep and wanting.

In an instant, his hands were at the tie of your robe, loosening it, a groan fought its way out of his throat at the sight of your lingerie that he was not expecting, his eyes raking down your body, he took in how well the lingerie hugged your curves, he licked his lips, “God you look so fucking pretty baby, this all for me?” You nodded your head, “Why don’t we go to the room?” You said turning around and walking to your shared room, swaying your hips, his pupils dilated, taking in the sight of your ass, he palmed his now achingly hard cock, ridding himself of his shoes and following you to the room. He closed the door behind himself and the moment the door closed he was on you, bringing your body against his, his erection pressed against your ass as you let out a mewl, you wanted to submit to him right then and there, but you remembered the task at hand.

You turned him around so that his back was facing the bed, you pressed your lips to his and walked him backward til his legs hit the end of the bed. Aaron sat down, you dropped down, knees on the floor, looking up at him through your lashes, you began to palm his hard cock through his slacks, a low rumble sounding in his throat, you smiled at him, “Aaron your so handsome.” You murmured, “Especially like this.” You breathed, unbuttoning and unzipping his slacks, bringing them down enough for his cock to spring free. Your mouth always watered at the sight of Aaron’s cock, long and girthy, the tip red and angry, with a pearl of precum adorning it, you licked a long strip from base to tip, before taking his tip in your mouth, a sigh escaping from him as he tangled his hands in your mouth. “You always look so pretty, but your so gorgeous when you have my cock in your mouth.” You moaned around his cock at his praise, taking more of him in your mouth, you bobbed your head up and down, groans and sighs escaping his mouth at the feeling of you giving him head.

You loved riling him up by sucking his cock, the weight of his cock in your mouth never failed to get you wet, the heady taste never failing to make you so needy, you took a deep breath, before swallowing his cock to the base, a moan escaped his throat as his hand tightened in your hair. You pulled off of him, a string of saliva and precum the only thing connecting you to his cock, the string snapped and you wiped it as you stood up, straddling Aaron, bringing your lips to his desperately, your tongues clashing and spit slipping from the corners of your mouths, you grinded yourself against his hard cock, a gasp escaping you at the feeling of cock pressing against your clothed pussy, “Fuck Aaron, wanna ride you so bad.” You whined, circling your hips, he let out a breathy chuckle, “Is that what this is about baby? Wanna ride my cock?” You nodded, a whimper falling from your mouth as he grabbed your ass roughly. “Yea, wanna fuck myself on your cock baby.” You pulled your panties to the side, too desperate to completely pull them off, you moaned at the feeling of your bare pussy against his cock, you bucked your hips at the feeling, your head finding a place on his shoulder.

You heard a dark chuckle before you felt a hand tangling in your hair and pulling you upright, forcing you to stare at Aaron, “If your gonna ride my cock, your gonna fucking look at me while you do it, you can be a good girl and do that right?” You nodded vigorously, whimpering at the feeling of your hair being pulled, you lifted yourself, lining his cock up with your entrance, and dropping yourself down on his cock in one movement, a gasp fought its way out of your throat, you knew Aaron was big, and usually when he’s on top he fucks you so good, but the feeling of being on top and the fullness you felt was something you could have never imagined, you threw your head back, trying to regain your composure, Aaron littered kisses against your neck, “Breathe baby, eyes on me.” He murmured, encircling his arm around your waist, you took a deep breath, and looked at him, the sight of him under you was exactly what you wanted, heavy panting and lidded eyes, you clenched around his cock at just the sight of him looking so fucking sexy. He let out a growl, his thumb digging into your side at the feeling of you clenching around him.

You pressed your forehead to his, staring into his eyes as you lifted yourself up and dropped back down, moans coming from both of you as you began bouncing on his cock, “F-Fuck you look so pretty like this, all ruined over my cock.” He was panting, his hand on the small of your back guiding you to rock your hips back and forth, the action causing friction on your clit, you clenched around him once more, a wanton mewl slipping from you, you placed your hand on his chest, pushing him back til his back was on the bed, you continued rocking your hips against him, “Mmm, Aaron feels s’good, fuck your so big.” You were a mess on top of him, you had spent so much time thinking about how it would feel to be on top, and now that you had it, it was indescribable, you were in your own little world, relishing in the feeling of how deep Aaron was, Aaron planted his feet on the bed, thrusting up into you, a scream tore from your throat, instantly losing your balance and tumbling into his chest as he continued pounding into you from below, moans and cries of ecstasy falling from your lips.

“A-Ah Aaron, gonna cum!” Tears were trickling down from the pleasure he was giving you, you met his thrusts, bouncing up and down, chasing your high, your hand on his abdomen, feeling the coil in your stomach threatening to snap, “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me hm? That’s what you wanted right? To cum while you were riding me? Go ahead baby” He murmured, holding off his release so you could let go first. A choked sob came from you when he brought his hand down to your clit, your orgasm washed over you, waves and waves of pleasure, your thighs trembled and you clenched tightly around him, the feeling of you clenching around him so tightly triggered his own orgasm, hot ropes of white cum staining your insides, you wrapped your arms around his neck as you both came down from your highs, Aaron let out a chuckle, “So this is what you got all pretty for? You wanted to ride me?” You hid your face in his neck, “It’s been on my mind since you left for the case, and it was frustrating me. Had to do something about it.” You mumbled.

He rubbed your back lovingly, “Cmon, let’s go shower and go eat dinner.” You laughed softly, “Oh now you care about dinner?” You smiled up at him, “I cared about dinner from the moment I got home, you just distracted me honey.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, he pulled out of you, you whined at the loss and grimaced at the feeling of his cum leaking out, he stood up, picking you up bridal style and taking you to shower, but to no surprise, he fucked you in the shower, saying something along the lines of ‘having to thank you for riding him’. Lying down in bed, thoroughly satisfied, you looked at him, a smile gracing his features, “I love you.” He whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, before leaning down and kissing you softly, “I love you too.” You said as you snuggled into him, basking in the post sex haze.

When Aaron went into the office the next morning looking well-rested and in a good mood, Morgan patted him on the back, “Had a good night last huh?” Morgan teased, smirk on his face, Aaron smirked back “A very good night indeed.”

#criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader smut

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sisyphus-hye · 2 days ago

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Love is Nothing (Part 3)

Thomas must suffer. It was always meant to be that way.

Weeks have passed since Wonyoung's last incident with him. The one where she sent him a personal video of her getting spitroasted and double penetrated by two random men in a fancy hotel room. The video had played in his head every day, every hour, of every minute that he had time to think to himself. The way their cocks stretched Wonyoung's holes, the way she completely submitted to them in a way she never did for him. It was total humiliation on every level.

Over the days since then Wonyoung ordered Thomas to move out of his apartment and move in with her so he could be a full-time cuck to his goddess. The money he made from his well-paying job went to Wonyoung, he spent his time cooking and cleaning her home, he waited on her hand and foot just to be treated like the beta that he knew he was. He did it all just to sit in the corner at night and watch his girlfriend bring home random men and watch them fuck her like he never could.

One night after IVE performed at a particularly successful event, Wonyoung walked through the door with a wicked grin on her face. Thomas knew that look. It meant she had a surprise for him, and it was never the kind of surprise he didn't want. She strutted in, her high heels clicking on the floor, a trail of her heavenly perfume following her.

"Look what I found, Thomas," she announced, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Behind her, six muscular, handsome men stepped into the room. Thomas's stomach churned. This was going to be a long night. It was going to be a night he won't think he'll ever recover from.

"I saw these men in the crowd tonight," she said, her eyes dripping with lust over the men in her home. "They're all such big fans of IVE, and they're all dying to meet me. Aren't you, boys?"

The men all nodded eagerly, their eyes glued to Wonyoung's body, not even acknowledging Thomas's presence in the room. The jealousy boiled in his veins, but he knew better than to argue. He had no choice but to swallow his pride and watch as she put on a show for them.

"Now if you don't mind I think it's time you men take off your pants," Wonyoung demanded, her voice firm and assertive. The room grew tense with excitement as the men complied, one by one revealing their thick, hard cocks. Thomas couldn't help but feel inadequacy as he stared at the size of these strangers. They were all so much larger than him, so much more capable of satisfying her.

Wonyoung walked over to the nearest one, her eyes lighting up with hunger. She reached out and stroked his cock gently, a soft moan escaping her lips. "It seems like you're all very eager to show me your appreciation," she said, her voice a sweet purr. The man's eyes rolled back in his head as she went down to her knees began to suck him off, her mouth moving expertly around his shaft. Thomas felt his own cock stir, but he knew he wasn't allowed to touch himself. This was her show, and he was just a spectator.

The other men watched intently as Wonyoung went to town on the first guy. They jerked themselves off, waiting for their turn. The scent of male arousal filled the air, thick and palpable. Thomas couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of his girlfriend, the woman he loved, the woman he worshiped, on her knees before these strangers. Her tongue flicked out, tasting the precum leaking from the man's tip, and she moaned with pleasure, sending waves of agony through Thomas's body.

One by one, she moved around the circle, her mouth a warm, wet haven for each cock that was thrust into it. The sounds of sucking and slurping filled the room, mingling with the heavy breathing of the men and Wonyoung's own whimpers of excitement. Each man had a different taste, a different texture, a different level of excitement that she eagerly devoured. Her cheeks hollowed as she took them deep into her throat, her eyes watering from the effort, but she never slowed down, never once looking to Thomas for approval or pity.

With a final, triumphant gasp, Wonyoung pulled her mouth off the last cock and looked up at the men, her lips glistening with their precum. "Now, my bitch boy Thomas," she said, her voice hoarse from the abuse, "keep your eyes on me. This is the part you're going to love."

Wonyoung closes her eyes and sticks out her tongue, a gesture of pure submission and filthiness. The men, fueled by lust and the thrill of degradation, start slapping the head of their cocks on Wonyoung's face, her cheeks reddening with each impact. Thomas feels his stomach churn, his mind racing with a mix of anger and arousal. He wants to scream, to fight, but he knows it's futile. This is what he signed up for when he agreed to be her cuck.

After they're done slapping her with their cocks the first man steps forward, grabbing a fistful of Wonyoung's hair, and pulls her head back roughly. She opens her mouth, gasping for air, and he shoves his cock inside, pushing down her throat until she's gagging. She tries to pull away, but he holds firm, his grip unyielding. He starts to pump into her mouth, face fucking her with a brutal rhythm. Her eyes water and her nose runs as she struggles to breathe around the thick shaft. The man looks Thomas right in the eyes as he treats his girlfriend like nothing more than a toy and it continues like that for 5 more men. After one has had their fill of face fucking Wony the other takes their place until all six have had their turn using her face. When they are done Wonyoung's face is covered in spit, precum, and her makeup is ruined. She's a mess but she doesn't care… Anything to make her cuck suffer.

The men form a tight circle around her, their cocks in hand. They're all so close she can feel their hot breath on her skin. They stroke themselves in unison, watching her with hungry eyes. The sound of their palms slapping against their cocks is like a drumroll in Thomas's ears, a symphony of his humiliation. He can see the veins popping out on their shafts, feel the heat of their desire, and the smell of their arousal is like a fog in the room.

Wonyoung looks at Thomas right in his eyes, "You like watching this don't you, you fucking cuck? Watch me get used like a cheap whore," she says with a smirk. "I bet you didn't think that on our first date it'd be like this, watching these six studs all about to paint my face with their cum. Tell me, do you want to see it?"

Thomas nods, unable to speak, his mouth dry and his heart racing. Wonyoung laughs, "Good boy," she says, treating him like an animal that's learned a new trick. She opens her mouth wide, sticking out her tongue in an obscene gesture.

The first man steps closer, his cock pulsing with the need to release. Thomas can see the beads of cum forming at the tip as he jerks himself off. With a groan, the man explodes, sending a thick rope of white liquid directly onto Wonyoung's face. It splashes across her cheek, her nose, and into her open mouth. She doesn't flinch, just keeps her eyes locked on Thomas's, a challenge in her gaze. The second man is quick to follow, aiming for her eyes, but she tilts her head back just in time to catch it on her forehead and let it dribble down her nose and chin.

Thomas feels a mix of disgust and arousal as he watches his girlfriend's face become a canvas for these men's lust. She's so beautiful, so degraded, so utterly used, and it's all for his humiliation. The third and fourth men cover her cheeks and mouth, their cum mixing with the saliva and snot that's already there, creating a sticky, hot mess.

The fifth man approaches, his cock a picture of raw power as it spits and jerks in his hand. Thomas can see the excitement in Wonyoung's eyes, the thrill of knowing what's coming next. She tilts her head back, her long hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. The man's cock is only a few inches from her face when he lets go, a thick rope of cum shooting directly into her left eye. She gasps, the warm liquid stinging and blurring her vision. Thomas's heart races as he watches, his own cock straining in his pants. He wants to look away but can't, the scene too depraved to ignore.

The sixth man, the leader of the pack, steps forward with a knowing smile. He tells Wonyoung to pucker up, and she obeys, her glossy lips forming a perfect O. Thomas can see the anticipation in her one eye that doesn't have cum in it, the spark that tells him she's about to get the grand finale she's been craving. The man strokes his cock one last time before aiming it at her mouth. The head of his shaft is a deep, angry purple, and Thomas can see the bulbous end pulsing with the need to release. The man starts to spurt, a thick rope of cum shooting out and landing right on her plump lips. It slides down to her chin and onto her chest, leaving a sticky trail in its wake. The man keeps going, painting her bottom lip with his seed, then her cheeks, and finally her forehead. She closes her eyes and opens her mouth, catching the last few drops on her tongue. She swirls it around before swallowing with a dramatic gulp, her eyes never leaving Thomas's.

"Oh my fucking God, that felt so good," Wonyoung exclaims while she begins to rub her clit. "Are you still there cucky? It's a little bit hard to see right now," she says, her vision blurred by the cum in her left eye. She giggles as she reaches for a tissue to wipe herself clean, her hand shaking with excitement. "C'mere honey. Come give me a kiss," she beckons Thomas, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.

"Huh?" Thomas questions, his voice barely above a whisper. "You want me to… to kiss you after all that?"

Wonyoung laughs, a sound that's both cruel and playful. "Why not?" she says, her cum-covered face glowing with excitement. "You love me, don't you?"

"You know I do, but-but-but," Thomas stammers, his voice cracking with the weight of his own degradation. But Wonyoung doesn't care for his protests.

"How about this? You come here and give me a kiss or I'm going to get these nice men here to kick your ass and then they'll make you kiss me anyway," Wonyoung says, her voice filled with both a commanding tone. Thomas swallows hard, his heart racing faster than ever before. He knows that if he refuses, it'll just get worse for him.

Thomas shuffles over to her, his legs feeling like they're made of jelly. He tries to keep his eyes on hers, but they keep drifting down to the mess on her face. When he's close enough, Wonyoung grabs his face with both hands, her fingers sticky with cum, and pulls him down to meet her. He closes his eyes, bracing himself for the worst, but it's nothing compared to the humiliation he's already felt. He presses his lips to hers, feeling the warm, salty taste of the men's cum mingle with her own flavor. He kisses her deeply, letting his tongue explore the inside of her mouth, tasting every inch that's been claimed by the others. He can hear the men laugh at him, he thinks he even heard one call him a loser, but he doesn't stop.

Wonyoung lets go of Thomas's face with a smacking sound, leaving him gasping for air. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Good bitch," she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Now go clean yourself up. You're a mess." she adds laughing at him.

#kpop smut #wonyoung x reader #girl group smut #ive smut #wonyoung smut #male reader

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dollesung · 2 days ago

Text

FEMME FATALE .ᐟ

PAIRING. jungwon x fem reader GENRE. nsfw REQUESTED? yes. WORD COUNT. 1.7k. SYNOPSIS. after a girls day out with your friends, you show your boyfriend, jungwon, your newest set of nails. let's just say he's more than a fan. WARNINGS. sub jungwon. dom reader. reader also yaps a lot. profanities. handjob. dirty talk. jungwon thinking with his penis and his penis only. (lmao). minors do not interact.

NOTE. i wrote this at the hospital semi-drugged on some strong-ass painkillers. i shouldn’t be held responsible for whatever the fuck i wrote but i will be (i’m jk, not about the hospital and the drugs tho.)

Jungwon was waiting by the couch when you got home.

Arm perched by the backrest, with a late-night show illuminating on the TV. Jungwon was nearly half-asleep, as he blankly stared at the screen, but his face lightened at the sight of your figure entering your shared-apartment.

You had an exhausting, but exciting day out with your girl friends. You spent a lot of hours shopping for clothes and bags, as well as pampering yourself with an entire session at a spa and salon.

You deserved it after tiring your back out at work for months now, project after project piling themselves at your desk. Jungwon, of course, your ever-loving boyfriend who could never resist you, absolutely agreed that you needed some time off and supported your endevour.

“Baby, you’re home,” speaking of, Jungwon greets you as you walk in the door, with a multiple array of shopping bags in both hands. “Let me help you with those.”

You give him a grin, handing over half of the bags and letting Jungwon place them on the sofa. He grabs the remote from the coffee table by the TV and shuts it off, wanting to focus entiret on you. (Not that he cared much about that show, anyway.)

Jungwon sets some of your bags down on the floor, leaving a bit of space for the two of you to sit.

“So,” he begins. “How was your day?”

MORE UNDER THE CUT.

“Oh, it was fantastic,” you gush, repositioning yourself to face your boyfriend. “The girls and I spent waaaay too much cash on this one spa but it was kinda worth it because I’ve never felt so relaxed—“

You begin to tell him loads of anecdotes about your day, the stuff you bought, the stores you went into, and without question, Jungwon listened quietly, resting his elbow against the couch and his head against his hand. He let you go on for a few minutes, wanting to hear everything about your day.

“—then, after that, we went to a Dior store, I bought you a perfume, but thankfully they didn’t have the shoes I wanted in my size because I was sure I was going broke already, and oh—!” You stop mid-rant, suddenly remembering something you had in mind earlier today.

“Yes?” Jungwon pried you to continue.

“I got my nails done!” You exclaimed, excited. “You wanna see them?”

“Of course, baby,” Jungwon responded with interest.

You squealed in delight, excited to show the man your new set. You always loved getting your nails done, but in the last couple of months, you were unable to get them fixed due to work.

“Okay, close your eyes,” you instructed, and Jungwon obliged. You placed your hands, palms down in front of his face and told him to look. “Open them.”

Jungwon eyes fluttered open as you told him to, and he was immediately greeted with the image of both of your hands.

“Tada!” You giggled. “I got them in your favorite color!”

The nails, colored both blue and black with a chromatic finish, shined as Jungwon eyed them, with a hand on your wrist so he could get a better look.

“These are really pretty—“ Jungwon notes, feeling his mouth go a little dry. “And long…”

You give the man a frown. “Do you not like them?”

“No—!” He exclaims, giving you an eager look. “I love them! They’re pretty.. I’ve just.. never seen you go for long nails before.”

Not knowing what to say, you keep quiet, watching as Jungwon continues to examine your nails like he’s never seen anything like it before.

You begin to notice a subtle flush of color in his cheeks, as well as the sudden change in his demeanor. His eyes flick between your face and your hands, and you notice him swallow, before licking his lips.

Then, your eyes flick down, towards his lap.

“Oh,” you vocalize, eyebrows raised and lips curling into a smirk. “Really, Wonnie?”

There was an evident print of his bulge against his shorts, which you swore wasn’t there before, given the fact that he’s been staring at your hands a little longer than an average person would, and his earlier expressions, the puzzle pieces click in your head.

Jungwon seems to have noticed your realization, as he makes a move to pull away and hide. “S-Sorry–!”

You grab the man by the wrist, lithe fingers wrapping themselves around the limb. You can almost feel his pulse quickening. “Don’t hide, baby.”

His face is flushed red, and he’s attempting to look away from you, possibly ashamed. You reach out with your other hand, cupping his cheek and forcing him to look you in the eye.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you comfort. “It’s okay.”

“I-I don’t know why…” He attempts.

“There’s no need to explain, love,” you give him a comforting smile. “C’mere.”

You pull him forward gently, allowing him to settle on your lap. You place a hand on his hip, while your other hand starts to brush up against his leg, leaving feather-like touches from his waist, down to his thigh, to his knees.

Jungwon’s breath hitches, eyes locked on your hands, watching your every move. Then, after fiddling with the hem of Jungwon’s shorts, you press your palm against his bulge, cupping his half-hard cock against his shorts.

“Ah, n-noona,” Jungwon moans. “Y-Your hand…”

“Want me to stop?” You ask, watching Jungwon’s face for any signs of discomfort.

Instead, Jungwon fervently shakes his head, urging you to continue. You press your hand against him a little harder, eliciting a moan from the other. He throws his head back a little, his hands grabbing your shoulders for support.

Jungwon’s hips produce the tiniest bit of movement, and you’re not even sure if he’s aware he’s done it, but you urge him on, gripping his hip with your other hand and letting him grind against you.

“Fuck,” he curses, already looking breathless as he continues to grind on your hand. “Please?”

“Please what?” You look up at the boy, drunk on the image of him absolutely flushed and panting on your lap. “Let noona know what you want.”

Jungwon gasps, hands clenching against your shoulders. “Y-Your hand, please?”

A small part of you wants to continue teasing him, wants to see how far he can beg just for your hand alone, but you decide to take pity on the boy. You push him off your lap and instruct him to take his shorts and boxers off.

Drunk on his own arousal, Jungwon follows as instructed, tugging the articles of clothing off of himself and unto the floor. Then, you tell him to turn around and sit back on your lap, right after you lean against the arm of the couch.

Jungwon hesitantly takes his spot back on your lap, and you pull him close, his back flush against your chest. You start to press open-mouthed kisses against the expanse of his neck, relishing at the way the boy shivers at each one.

“Please, ah– stop teasing me,” Jungwon voices, hands placed on each of your knee.

You let out an entertained chuckle, letting your hands wander under Jungwon’s shirt. “You’re not exactly in the right position to be making demands, baby.”

Jungwon didn’t respond and remained quiet, whimpering as your fingers brushed against his nipples, before trailing back down to his legs. You watched in amusement as goosebumps appeared against his skin when you rake your nails ever so lightly against his inner thighs.

Your take a glance at the appendage between his legs, his cock, now hard as a rock, stood between his thighs, looking a little closer, you can almost see the precum pooling from the tip.

You laugh, amused. “You’re so fucking hard, huh?”

Jungwon doesn’t respond, embarrassed at the entire situation, eyes closed shut to avoid both looking at you and at his own arousal.

“This what you wanted, Wonnie?” You ask rhetorically, before slowly wrapping your fingers around his cock.

“S-Shit,” he curses under his breath.

“Answer me,” you order, giving his cock a rough squeeze.

“Fuck, yes–!” He yelps, panting against your chest.

“Good boy,” you whisper in his ear with a smirk, before starting a slow pace, stroking his cock with your hand.

“Oh, god,” Jungwon moans, hand loosely holding onto your wrist, as if he was bracing himself.

You take a minute, stroking his cock at this pace, after a while, you decide to speed things up, focusing on the base of his cock.

“O-Oh, noona–!” Jungwon’s moans only grow in volume, throwing his head back, against your shoulder. He’s starting to thrash on your lap, legs shaking and eyes closing from the sensation.

“Feels good, hm?” You taunt the boy on your lap, drunk on every moan he lets out. “Feel good, acting like a slut on my lap, Wonnie?”

The boy practically squeals, shaking his head, as if to deny your claim. “N-Not a– shit!”

You didn’t let him finish, the pace of your hand picking up speed as you continued to jerk him off. His thighs begin to shake, threatening to close on your wrists, but your legs keep him from doing so, trapping his legs between yours.

“Look at this fucking cock,” you taunt, giving the organ an experimental squeeze. “Fuckin’ leaking all over my hand.”

Jungwon whines, both hands now gripping your wrist. You’re not sure if he’s attempting to push you off or urging you to continue. ‘’m suh– sorry!”

You take Jungwon’s chin with your other hand, forcing him to look down. “This what you wanted, Wonnie? My hand around your cock, hm?”

He’s nodding so aggressively, eyes locked on his cock, as if he was hypnotized at the sight of your hand– or more importantly, at the sight of your nails, wrapped around his dick.

“Please, n-noona–!” He’s whining, back nearly arching against your chest as you continued your assault on his cock. “I-I’m, ungh, c-close!”

“Want you to cum, baby,” you mouth against Jungwon’s ear. “Cum all over noona’s hand, baby.”

It takes only four strokes before Jungwon was cumming all over your lap. His back arched and head thrown back, eyes shut and mouth open in a silent scream. After a moment, he wilts and nearly collapses against your chest.

As you maneuver him off your lap and onto the couch, you grab a tissue from the coffee table to clean the both of you up. Jungwon is still catching his breath by the arm of the couch after you finish.

“So,” you start. “I’m definitely going back to that nail salon.”

Jungwon chucks a pillow over your head in retaliation.

NOTE. ngl, can't remember writing that ending so idk why it sucks so much.

#𐙚 ────── 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒈.𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 #enhypen reactions #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen headcanons #enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #sub enhypen #sub jungwon #jungwon smut #jungwon imagines #jungwon x reader

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arbitrarykiwi · 2 days ago

Note

I crave more thangyu x reader before/ no game! au your fic is 😫😩😫😖😖😫😩😩😣 *SCREAMS*

What's Better Than One Boyfriend?! TWO Boyfriends!!!: II

OH WHAT A DELICIOUS MEAL YOU BOTH REQUESTED!! Omg I got so much love on the original two boyfriends post!! And I’m so happy I did because these are so fun to write. I was sitting here kicking my feet writing this fr. I combined two requests for this one, I hope yall don’t mind🙏 as always thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoy!! ORDER UPPP🗣️🗣️

Warnings: 18+ , drug usage , closed polyamory , swearing , some smutty parts / mentions of sex near the end , cum play , spit , probably ooc Thanos and Nam-Gyu, read at your own risk

You can find my other thangyu Two Boyfriends request here

You knew that agreeing to this relationship you’d have to please two people, give attention to two people, and you were well away of their chaotic personalities. But you did not expect that really at no point in your life are you alone now. Sure, if you’d ask nicely to have some time alone- they’d pout and give it to you- otherwise, if it wasn’t both of them with you; one of them was.

Thanos was like a ticking time bomb that could go off at any minute, he was always hyper and ready to run off with you and take you on various adventures. He was for sure an ass man, his hand always on your ass when you’re walking or bending over. He’s slapping your ass playfully as you three all head somewhere to eat lunch. When he’s walking with you his hand is 100% in one of your back pockets. He’s shitty with gifts, never really knowing what to get. He normally leaves the gift buying to Nam-Gyu. But, with his rap career picking up, he is always giving his dark haired counterpart money and telling him to buy something he thinks you’d like. And to also make up for his poor gift giving skills he often takes you shopping! Taking you wherever you like and telling you to buy whatever you pick up. He likes to say he’s not as touchy as Nam-Gyu, not as needy, but he always has to be touching you if he’s near you. Hand on your waist, thighs touching when your two sit together- just some sort of contact.

Nam-Gyu is the tamer of the two of them, balancing out the erratic nature that Thanos seems to bring to the table. Don’t get it twisted though, Nam-gyu can be just as chaotic. He’s walking into your apartment randomly and sneaking into your bed while you’re asleep because. Vary rarely do you three sleep apart, so the one night you all had work late- Nam-Gyu is texting Thanos to meet him at your apartment so they can use the key they have to enter and get to exactly where they belong- curled up next to you or on you. Nam-gyu is the one that is down for a nap whenever. You just want to stay the whole day in bed? Bet he’s getting up to close the curtains and return back in bed with you, almost immediately going back to sleep next to you. He remembers little things you said you wanted to buy but didn’t, leaving small gifts on your bed, hiding a package he got for weeks before he shows you it’s a hard to get item that you wanted and talked yourself out of because it was so expensive. And like the most perfect opposites they are Nam-Gyu is a huge tits guy. He’s laying on them, holding them, his mouth is sometimes just on your pert nipple for over an hour just because it relaxes him. When you’re walking somewhere with him- probably on the way to meet Thanos at some restaurant he found recently that he wanted to try- his hand is holding yours, fingers interlocked and pulled into his jacket pocket.

They just genuinely enjoy being around you. They swear you’re a drug yourself- claiming they get withdrawals without you nearby. Even if you wanted to go to the bathroom, just wanting to take a warm shower by yourself to relax- Thanos is on the counter of the bathroom sink, legs kicking back and forth aimlessly while Nam-gyu is sitting on the toilet lid. They’re passing a blunt back and forth, hot boxing the bathroom and making it more foggy than it already was by the hot water of your shower.

They always complain it’s too hot but never leave the bathroom. And as you turn the water off and rip open the shower curtain they’re both standing up quickly, Nam-gyu is wrapping you up in a towel and Thanos is holding a blunt to your lips. You glare at them, trying your best to seem annoyed but you can’t when they’re hazily smiling down at you with hooded eyes that are tinged red- and so your mouth begins to curl up in a smile to match theirs as you inhale the smoke.

They frequently fight for your attention. Nam-gyu more so compared to Thanos; but they both still need their precious baby’s attention! Thanos isn’t a stranger to pouting to try and get his way.

There was one time that you begged Thanos to let you finally dye his hair. The purple spray he used for the look damn near every day had stained nearly every pair of sheets you had with how easy it would come off with the slightest bit of friction. When all three of you were fucking?! Forget it- you would all come out stained purple. When he finally agrees you got him sat in front of you while you sit on the living room couch. You had to put on a show of his choice to keep him still enough to let you work your magic. Your hands work diligently against the bleached strands of hair, applying the vibrant purple dye over the entirety of his head.

The whole process was taking forever. It was a lot of steps!! And Nam-Gyu was getting fed up that Thanos seemed to have all your attention. Thanos himself didn’t have your attention captured- it was the bright purple dye that you had to apply with precision, less you stain him, you, or the furniture purple more permanently than his spray color he used to use- but Nam-gyu doesn’t notice the difference. All he sees is you’re not paying attention to him. He’s leaning down on the couch, slipping under your arms that work against Thanos’ hair to lay his head on your lap, looking up at you with a scowl. He’s trying hard to seem angry but all you can think about when you look down is a sad cat who just wants to be pet.

“What?” You ask between giggles as you look down at Nam-gyu. “It’s been hours…” he whines, “haven’t touched me at all.” He finishes, a glare still on his face. “‘M sorry baby..” you laugh again, only making him pout more but you couldn’t help it! He was just so cute. “I’m almost done! You were also the one complaining the most about being purple after we all fuck soooo- ‘m really doing this for you“ you draw out teasingly, “‘m almost done.” You say, leaning down and lifting your leg to raise his head- allowing you to place a quick kiss on your lips. You pull away and the kiss seems to make him relax a bit but there’s a look of deep thought on his face.

You quirk your eyebrow up at Nam-Gyu questioningly, your hands paused above Thanos’ head. “What if I want purple hair.” He mumbles, it’s quiet but it has both you and Thanos shocked. Thanos is spinning around to look at Nam-gyu, an accusatory eyebrow raised. “You’re jus’ being needy. You don’t want purple hair, just want ‘er to touch you.” He teases, poking Nam-gyu’s cheek with a laugh. Nam-gyu is swatting Thanos’ hand away and huffing. “No…” he grumbles, very obviously lying. He’s sitting up from your lap, “Was just thinking we could all match….i dunno, put a couple purple streaks in my hair and yours.” Nam-gyu says pointing to you.

And that’s how you ended up with purple streaks in your hair and Nam-gyu ended up with the underside of his hair purple. It was honestly adorable, all three of you matching. You took many photos of the three of you showing off your new style, you have a whole album dedicated to the three of you and your matching colored hair As time goes on you all keep it, eventually swapping colors- of course with Thanos choosing the color since he had the majority of his hair colored- it’s all about compromises!

They also take turns paying for your nails. They both seem to have their own kink for seeing your nails wrapped around their cocks or raking down their chests; and when they realized you went every two weeks like clockwork to get a cute new design, they begin taking turn handing you wads of cash to get your nails done. Who ever was paying would be the one to pick out the design. Thanos more often than not picked vibrant colors. Purples, greens, yellows- he even had you get them painted to match the pattern of his nails once. He loves French tip designs- something about them drives him crazy. He’s asks you to get crystals added or even a ‘T’ charm. Nam-Gyu usually picks dark colors. He loves seeing your nails all black with a deep blood red ombré or maybe deep blue set chrome details- of course like Thanos, he’s asking you to get his initial hidden somewhere on the design.

On weeks they’re feeling generous, they’re putting their heads together to find an extravagant design they both want to see wrapped around them. It’s one that has many add-ons, each nail a different design, different colored crystals littler the inspiration picture like a regal vault full of gems. And of course it costs more but they don’t care! When you finally leave the nail place and send them a picture of the nails they chose, not so innocently posed as if you had something cylindrical in your hand- they’re spamming your phone begging you to come back to your apartment so they could see your nails in person (and see them wrapped around their cocks).

In the relationship, surprisingly Nam-Gyu is the cook. He even ties back his hair and wears an apron. Oddly enough he seems to be able to make whatever you and Thanos want. You could simply be lounging on the couch with them, limbs entangled as you mumble about a specific craving you had- next thing you know Nam-gyu is crawling on the couch and heading to the kitchen. You can hear him rummaging, opening and closing the cupboards, beginning to call out various ingredients. Thanos-who knows his roll in the situation begins to type out a list on his phone, adjusting you off his arm and positioning you on his chest. His arms are wrapped around your back allowing you to feel the minuscule movements of his arms as he types.

When Nam-Gyu is done, he’s returning to the couch. Thanos is begrudgingly pulling himself off the couch, lifting you up a bit as he gets up, setting you in Nam-gyu’s lap. He grabs the back of your head pulling you to him and placing a quick kiss on your forehead before pulling back. “I’ll be back soon, the list isn’t too bad this time.” He chuckles as he grabs his keys off the hook by the door.

Nam-Gyu smiles when the door closes, pulling your back into him and beginning to place kisses all around your face in neck. It tickles, the rapid light touches has you giggling and squirming in his lap. As much as he loves the relationship you three have- he cherishes the moments he gets alone with you and has your attention all on him.

Thanos is off to the grocery store to pick up the ingredients that Nam-gyu requested. However, despite how many times he’s done this, and even him saying the list was easy before he left- he’s still texting Nam-gyu pictures of the items in rapid succession to make sure he’s getting the right item. It’s adorable really.

And as always, the meal is fucking phenomenal. You’d say it’s 5 star Michelin worthy but you’re sure that even the most expensive meal at the most luxurious restaurant could never compare to the full, warm flavor of the home cooked meals that Nam-Gyu makes. Anything he makes is wayyy better than any top chef- you know it and you always tell him. The sleeves off his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, showing off his tattooed arms as he cooks. You’re happily hugging him from behind, standing on your tippy toes to hook your chin over his shoulder and watch him cook. You place a kiss on his neck right below his ear. “It’s not gonna be good if you keep distracting me pretty.” Nam-Gyu would hum out, pausing to turn more towards you and pull you into his side, turning his head and leaning down to place a kiss on your lips. He pats your ass a couple times and gently pushes you over to Thanos. “Help him break down the weed, I gotta focus on dinner.” The dark haired male says with a chuckle.

You’re pouting and walking over to Thanos who sits on the counter opposite the stove. He’s wearing a pair of shorts and has no shirt on, allowing you to see all his tattoos. You look up at him with a frown, “He doesn’t like me…” you playfully whine, it causes the both of them to laugh. “Mhm sure…he’s in an apron cooking for you because he hates you so bad.” Thanos teases, reaching up to cup your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks together. “You’re jus’ oh so needy, Señorita. There’s no satiating you- ever.” He laughs, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. You hum against his lips, standing up taller to press your lips against his harder. As he pulls away he tilts his head towards the rolling tray and the bag of weed that sits on the counter to his left, “Break it down f’me, sweetheart? I gotta break down the cigar.” He says in a sickly sweet tone, one that you simply cannot say no to. So you nod and he smiles, packing one more quick kiss on your lips before releasing your face.

Another bonus to add to the list of bonuses you get when dating the two of them- is they’re literally the best people to rant to. They’re both effortlessly sassy. They both think you could do no wrong- allowing you to bitch and complain about the littlest things involving work issues, friend drama, or even something as niche as a weird fixation you found on an internet deep dive.

You were lying on your back on the bed, your head at the foot end, one hand folded lackadaisically behind your head and the other holding the blunt to your mouth. When you exhale your hit you’re ranting on about a co-worker who pissed you off at work, how you have to do extra work because the others don’t do your fair share, even telling them about the workplace romances that bloom in the office. They’re sat on the edge of the bed, nodding along to your words, looking down at you- one of them on either side of you- and passing the blunt between each other and then back down to you with ‘mhm’’s and ‘ohhh’s coming out of their mouths.

“So yeah, she comes into my cubicle and looks at the picture I have of you two on my desk- you know the one from new years last year where you guys are on my sides kissing my cheek.” You ramble, interjecting to describe the picture to make sure they know exactly what one you’re talking about. “Oh yeah I remember that, you looked so good in that dress.” Thanos says, free hand running gently over stomach under your shirt. “It’s a good fuckin’ picture. How cute that you have it in your cubicle.” Nam-gyu adds.

“Mhm.” You nod, “so anyway she asks about it and I say ‘oh it’s me and my boyfriends’” You say repeating what you told your co-worker. They both smile when they hear you say it, waiting for you to continue. “And this bitch gives me the nastiest look and says ‘as in both of them? that’s disgusting’” you say angrily mocking her nasally voice and rolling your eyes.

“What a fuckin’ bitch!” Thanos says with conviction, “She’s prolly’ mad she can’t even get one man to stay with her let alone two.” Thanos scoffs, passing the blunt down to you. “Yeah…ain’t she the cunt that you said fucked the entirety of the IT department? Don’t mind that bitch. The fuck does she know. ” Nam-gyu muses, recalling other stories about this co-worker you told him in the past. He’s rolling his eyes at the thought of that cunt saying anything like that to you.

To add to the ways they contrast each other, while Thanos is all for PDA, Nam-Gyu isn’t. Thanos has no problem with slapping your ass in public or gripping your face to pull you into a messy kiss on the subway- he’s addicted to you, when he needs a fix he’s going to get it. Nam-gyu, although not big on PDA, he makes it known he’s with you- hand in yours, small kisses to your temple or quick kisses to your lips. The difference between the two of them gives you the best of both worlds truly.

And while Nam-Gyu posts you all over his social media- tweeting about you, he adds photos of you with songs attached to his instagram or his Snapchat, posting various photos of the three of you or just you to his instagram to boast about you to his followers, Thanos doesn’t. It’s not that Thanos doesn’t post you- he does! Just not to the extent Nam-Gyu does. Maybe it’s a photo of you and Nam-Gyu across the table from him at a fancy restaurant in the middle of a photo slideshow or a few Snapchat videos of him waking you up, finding your sleepy mumbles adorable. When the rap career kicked off he gained a lot of followers and he’s painfully aware of the crowd he attracts- he doesn’t like the prying eyes of sleazy men in the comment section of the photos he does post of you.

Sometimes sleeping in the same bed with them is miserable. You love them, you really do, and most nights you three are tangled in a cozy pile of limbs that lulls you into the deepest, most blissful sleep ever. But let’s be honest, you’re dating two men who love various substances- and with that comes the occasional night of restless sleep. They both will twitch, jerking against you and pulling you out of your sleep. Thanos snores and Nam-gyu drools- sometimes you find it cute, endearing even, but other nights it only makes you toss and turn more. Thanos has a tendency to run hot, becoming a human furnace that causes you to wake up and throw the covers off you. Nam-gyu runs cold, some nights you have to put a blanket over your body between the two of you to stop your shivering, wanting to hold him but genuinely not being able to sleep when his body that feels as if it’s made out of ice is engulfing you.

As much as they know you, you know them better. One of your favorite things is stopping by the gas station before you return home after a long day of work to get them a little gift. You lazily, but politely- it is 2am after all, anyone working that hour deserves some grace- ask the man at the counter for a pack of camels and a sour watermelon vape. You giggle at the strange look he gives you but you thank him, pay him and head home.

When you come home and enter your room you wish you had your phone out to take a picture. Nam-gyu is lying on top of Thanos, head on his chest. Thanos has his arms around Nam-Gyu slowly scrolling on his phone. They’re both just in a pair of boxers- making the view all the more enticing. You smile widely, “hey my loves!” You laugh, kicking off your shoes excitedly. Nam-Gyu is rising off of Thanos with a yawn and looking back at you.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

“Oh hell yeah! You’re back!”

You nod and begin to take off your coat. “You’re home later than normal. Where’d you go after work?” Nam-Gyu asks as he’s pulling off of Thanos to sit next to him, rubbing his tired eyes and resting his back against the headboard. You raise a suspicious eyebrow- Nam-Gyu was always so on top of your schedule, your itinerary of day to day life burned into his internal clock; he knew if you strayed from the normal.

“You caught me!” You say teasingly, “I made a lil detour on my way home” you finish, reaching into your purse and grabbing what you got for them. You toss the vape and the cigarettes on the bed, following in the footsteps of the packaged nicotine you jump onto the bed. “Ohhhhhhh!!! You’re the best!!” Thanos yells, immediately beginning to open the box. “God you’re a fuckin’ angel” Nam-gyu says, his words muffled as he uses his teeth to tear the plastic off the carton of cigarettes. They’re both squeezing you between them, covering your face in excited kisses.

They have albums upon albums of photos and videos of you on their phones. It’s images on you sleeping on their chests, candid pictures of you waking up tiredly-your hair a disaster and the camera clicks right as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. They have those silly .5x zoom pictures of you from above- Nam-gyu honestly loves taking them when you and Thanos are holding plates of whatever he cooked, looking up at the camera as he points his phone downwards. He always post the images on his instagram, it becoming a little ‘thing’ for him to show off his new dishes that he cooks.

They also have an insane amount of filthy photos of you. They botch can’t help the thrill they get when they record you in the most desperate and debauched situations- only for their eyes to see. Both of them have albums dedicated to your nudes and the photos / videos they take of you. Admittedly, they have the most photos of your cunt raw and messy from the both of them cumming in you.

If you asked both of them, they’d tell you it’s their favorite place to cum, without question. Nothing can ever compare to the feeling of your tight walls sucking them in as they cum balls deep inside you. Even better if you’re taking both of them at the same time!! Good GOD the amount of storage the videos they take of you taking the both of them deep into your tight pussy is actually insane. It’s not every time they do it, it would destroy you if it happened every single time the three of you fucked, but every so often when they both fuck you, their cocks rubbing against each other while they fuck into your sloppy cunt, they’re most likely recording it to look back at later.

If not cumming in your cunt- their favorite place to cum will differ. Thanos loves to cum on your ass or on your face- something about painting your skin with his white cum drives him insane. He loves blowing his load on your ass then rocking his cock in the valley of your ass as the rest of his spend costs your back. His hands are on the globes of your ass, squeezing and smearing his cum all over you.

Just like Thanos, Nam-Gyu is fucking messy. His next favorite place to cum is in your mouth. But he doesn’t want you to swallow it. Sure, he loves watching you stick your pretty pink tongue out to show him the pool of white before you swallow it like it’s honey, but what drives him crazy- straight up feral- is when you take your tits in your hands and push them together, opening your mouth to spit a filthy mix of his cum and your spit onto the swell of your breasts, your hands and those fucking perfect manicured nails squeezing your skin and spreading the mixture on your skin.

And like the perfect girlfriend you are- you match their freak perfectly. Learning and compiling every little thing that makes them tick to get the most reaction out of them in bed.

With the two of them, you’re never alone, you’re always entertained, and you’re oh so spoiled!! Two boyfriends are so much better than one!

I LOVE getting to write about my Thangyu x reader thinks!! It’s so fun >:) thank you for the request!!! As always, much love - <3 kiwi !

For the next few requests (in order of when I received them) we have: thangyu x thick!reader smut , Nam-gyu x naïve!reader smut , Nam-gyu x reader angst into fluff , and Myun-Gi x Reader x Thanos smut

If you’ve requested something and don’t see it yet on the ‘next up’, don’t worry! I’m moving through them and as I post the next requests will be added! I have the next couple days of work so I’m moving through them slowly but surely!

Requests are still open just be aware that it may take me a bit to get to them <3

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lucygraysboy · 2 days ago

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“right? would mean i’m a dense moron if i didn’t know the way to your heart, bambi doll. i know it might take a while to convince you that i’m a changed man but at the same time not all that different, you know what i mean? right now i’m just happy that you’re here with me, happy to be your tour guide and the biggest fan.” living in the moment and treating her like a princess — that’s what he wants to focus on. he understands that their relationship is complicated, that even though they’re not together, their souls will always be bound to one another. it’s confusing and beautiful and frustrating, but they’ll manage. “you’ll have to show me your most recent creations once we’re back home. i’m very curious to see it all,” he asks with a smile, loving the sound of her laugh so very much. the sweetest symphony. and the little squeeze of her hand… it has his heart skipping a beat. “of course, you stay here, make yourself comfy.” as comfy as one can be in these chairs, anyway. “and what do you want to drink? i’m gettin’ a slice of cheese pizza and… pepsi, i think.” he unzips his jacket and takes off his gloves, laying them and the scarf on the small table before getting back in line to place their order.

“i’d be needin’ to check your brain if you didn’t.” lucy gray teases, giving him a playful smile. thinking back to a few moments in their arguments where he didn’t remember a few important things… even if she’s forgiven him for that, she’s still got something gnawing every time he does something kind for her— paranoia. they’ve only gotten reacquainted recently, it’s going to take her a long time to find the deep trust again she once had for him. she just doesn’t want history repeating itself. jumping too fast, like she did last time. which makes her feel guilty all at the same time while she’s silently catching a glimpse of his face as she stares up at him, some of that guilt creating a sad gleam in mocha hues. “what do you mean, did i? course i did, billy bean. i’m not a video gamer girl when i get bored, i’m a color-er. forever and always.” the brunette laughs, finding amusement he even asks in the first place and curious about her coloring book. stepping in, the warmth coming from the heart of the ovens is like a hug and chasing away winter’s brutal touch. eyes curiously observe the small menu as bambi eyes stare upwards towards the wall, glad she wasn’t wanting anything else— or she would’ve been sorely disappointed. “pepperoni, that’ll be fine. you want to order it for us?” questioning in a chipper tone, kind eyes flickering to his blues as she gives his hand a little squeeze.

#billysgirllol #ALWAYS ALEXS FAULT FJKSND

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squiddyfics · 2 days ago

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squid game characters in a relationship with you

saebyeok, thanos, namgyu, daeho, hyunju, semi, the recruiter

description: how squid game characters would be as partners (au; no mention of the games)

18+ minors dni

warnings: nsfw in parts!!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

saebyeok:

♡ you were the one to ask her out and she quite literally didn't believe it

♡ like she didn't even answer you at first because she didn't think you were being serious

♡ she has a hard time expressing her emotions. you definitely said "i love you" first and it took her a while to feel comfortable saying it back

♡ despite this, she was the one who fell in love first. she just kept that shit to herself lmao

♡ rather than being outwardly affectionate with her words, she expresses her love through quality time. she loves planning dates for you or just cooking for you at home

♡ she's not big on pda, but she'll wrap a protective arm around you while you're out together

♡ if someone hits on you, she'll get even more protective. partly out of jealousy, but mostly because she hates the thought of someone making you uncomfortable

♡ she's a generous lover. def more of a giver if you know what i mean

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

thanos:

♡ he was the one to approach you, and he was bold about it too

♡ you aren't his first partner by any means, but you're his first real love

♡ he looooves to show you off. "look at my baby. look how lucky i got."

♡ naturally, this means he's into pda. the more eyes on the two of you, the better. he wants the whole world to know you're his

♡ especially if someone shows interest in you... then he gets even more touchy, so he can rub it in their face that you're his, all his

♡ if anyone wrongs you, he'll vow to make their life a living hell. you can't even gossip about your work drama to him without him getting angry on your behalf and threatening to kill them

♡ even though he talks a big game he knows he's lowk a loser and he doesn't take it for granted that you choose to stay by his side

♡ that being said he makes you his bitch in bed. he's for sure heavily on the dominant side

♡ he also has an exhibitionism kink i just feel that in my bones

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

namgyu:

♡ he was the one to make a move on you, but he said it in a joking manner so that if you said no, he could play it off as not being serious

♡ this man's love language is physical touch there's no doubt about it

♡ his words don't match his actions.. like he'll make fun of you for crying during a movie while simultaneously cuddling you and rubbing your back

♡ he doesn't have any cute pet names for you, just insults said in a loving manner ("stinky" etc). he just can't take himself seriously enough to be sappy

♡ you've unlocked his secret second love language, which is sending you memes

♡ he wants to be seen as tough so he pretends to hate it when you call him cute (he does not, in fact, hate it) (it actually melts him)

♡ he gives the evil eye to anyone who dares to look at you for a second too long

♡ you are for his eyes only

♡ he's dominant in bed but he likes you bratty. he wants to work for it

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

daeho:

♡ you had known him for a while, and you had to be the one to ask him out because he was oblivious to all the hints you were dropping

♡ he was too much of a gentleman to risk overstepping your boundaries by asking you on a date

♡ however, once he had the confirmation that you actually liked him, he was all in

♡ he was absolutely the first one to say "i love you". that man fell head over heels

♡ he is patient as fuck and will put up with whatever bullshit you throw at him. like when you tested the orange peel theory on him and he passed with flying colors

♡ you literally have a pet boyfriend. he'll go anywhere with you and do anything to make you happy. your fav himbo <3

♡ he's prone to jealousy but tries not to show it so as not to make a scene in front of you. if someone hurts you, though, all etiquette goes out the window and he's ready to start SWINGING

♡ your pleasure is his priority in bed and he's up for whatever you're into, but when it comes to his preferences, he'd much rather be dominated by you

♡ call him a good boy and his brain will go haywire

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

hyunju:

♡ you definitely had to make the first move. this mf was way too stoic to express her feelings for you

♡ she got anxious and cancelled on you before your first date, so you had to be persistent and reschedule

♡ she was surprised by your strong interest in her, and she still doesn't know how she got so lucky

♡ it took her a bit to open up, but she ended up saying "i love you" first

♡ she's extremely protective of you. her introversion is forgotten as soon as someone upsets you, and she's giving them a piece of her mind within seconds

♡ she doesn't really get jealous, she just gets sad :(

♡ she's an acts of service girly. she'll vacuum your floor, change a flat tire for you, anything to feel useful to you

♡ she gives stone top energy (this one is more for an f!reader as it's a wlw term)

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

semi:

♡ she was the one to ask you out, and she said it so casually that you almost missed it

♡ her first "i love you" was also casual, said as she was leaving your house one morning. "bye, love you."

♡ you honestly don't know if she's prone to jealousy because no one has fucked around and found out. everyone around you two respects her quiet confidence and doesn't even bother trying anything with you

♡ she has strong opinions, but she expresses them calmly. because of this, the two of you never fight, though you do occasionally have respectful debates. you tend to walk away feeling like she was in the right after all

♡ she's not huge on pda unless it's something cute and lowkey like holding hands, or some stupid shit like licking you

♡ you def have a secret handshake

♡ she's a soft dom and she's not shy about wanting to receive. she wants you on your knees in front of her

♡ with that said, she also gives great head. that lip piercing..... iykyk

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

the recruiter:

♡ he asked you out at a bar, making a bet that if you lost at pool, you'd go on a date with him

♡ you lost on purpose so his fine ass would take you on a date, and the rest was history

♡ he said he loved you first, and he said it fast. it's not often that he feels love for someone, so he had to act on it

♡ he would do anything for you. anything. if you asked him for help burying a body, he'd tell you not to get your pretty hands dirty; he'd do it himself

♡ not that that would happen... but he's thought about it. he knows that's how dedicated he is to you

♡ this freaky little fuck doesn't feel an iota of jealousy when others flirt with you. he just smiles, knowing know matter how much they fight for your attention, it'll be his name you're screaming at the end of the night

♡ he likes to be in control in life, and that translates to the bedroom too

♡ he has big sadist energy, but if he ever actually crosses a line he'll drop everything to comfort you (and beat himself up about it)

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joelmillerisapunk · 1 day ago

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Love me like a loaded gun

fuckbuddy!jJavier Peña x f!reader // 1.3k

There's things I wanna say to you but I'll just let you live. Like if you hold me without hurting me you'll be the first who ever did.There's things I wanna talk about but better not to give.

summary: Javier Peña is a man who never stays, but that doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, seeking solace in the only way he knows how.

-or-

my interpretation of Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Rey if it was a Javi fic

warnings: mdni, 18+, unprotected emotions, unprotected p in v, a lil fingering, a lot of angst

notes: this is the doings of this tiktok (which I suggest you watch the 23 seconds of it to get in your feels before reading) AND the song that was on the tiktok Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Rey and then I heard 2 Hands by Tate McRae and it was over for me. Thank you @milla-frenchy for doing what you did. Thank you @thundermartini my baby for reading this lil guy over for me and always hyping me up and cheerleading me with everything especially my moodboard crisis that seems to be never-ending.love you both so much 💖

masterlist

Javier Peña is a hard man to hold onto. He never stays in one place too long. Never lets anyone get too close. You’ve known that since the moment you met him.

But that doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door in the middle of the night, his knuckles rapping against the wood like he already knows you’ll let him in.

You shouldn’t.

But you do.

Javi steps inside without a word, the familiar scent of cigarettes and whiskey clinging to him, sinking into the space between you. He looks like he had a long night—tie loosened, hair a mess, the weight of something unspoken pressing down on his shoulders.

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “You could’ve called.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, but it’s humorless. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

He doesn’t. He never does. And that’s the problem.

You watch him shrug off his jacket and take off his tie, tossing them over the back of the couch like he belongs here. Like this is just another night, another excuse, another way to forget whatever the hell’s been haunting him.

Your stomach twists.

“Mmm, guess not.” You say with a voice softer than you mean it to be.

Javi looks at you—really looks. His dark eyes flicker with something unreadable, something caught between hunger and hesitation. He’s good at this game, at keeping his distance even when he’s got his hands all over you.

You should tell him no. Should tell him that you’re done being the thing he comes to when he needs to bury the parts of himself he won’t face.

But then he steps closer.

“You want me to leave?” His voice is low, rough, but there’s something vulnerable under it, something he tries to hide.

You could say yes. You should say yes.

Instead, you reach for him.

His lips crash against yours before you can even think, all teeth and desperation, almost angry, like he’s trying to take something from you—like he needs this more than he should. Your fingers slide into his hair, and he groans into your mouth, deep and ragged.

Your fingers move down and twist into his shirt, holding on like you can stop him from slipping away. But he always does, in the end.

His hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you feel the heat of him through his clothes, through yours. You hate how easily your body reacts to him, how familiar this all is, how much you want him even when you know he won’t stay.

It’s always like this. Heated, frantic, like he’s running from something. Like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

You let him back you toward the bed, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders.

You break the kiss just enough to whisper, “Javi.”

He breathes against your skin, his lips dragging along your jaw, down your throat. “Don’t,” he murmurs. “Don’t say my name like that.”

Like you mean it. Like this means something.

But it does.

And you both know it.

His hands slide under your shirt, rough fingertips against soft skin, and you shiver at the way he touches you—possessive, desperate, like he’s trying to brand himself into you. Like he wants to forget everything except the way you feel beneath him.

Without a word, he grips the hem of your shirt and tugs it upward, his knuckles skimming along your sides as he peels it over your head. His eyes darken as he takes you in—bare skin, breathless anticipation, the way your chest rises and falls beneath his gaze.

His fingers find the clasp of your bra, unhooking it with a practiced ease. He pushes the straps from your shoulders, letting them slide down your arms before tossing it aside.

Javi’s hands are on you in an instant, palms rough against the softness of your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, teasing them into hardened peaks.

You let him pull you down onto the sheets, let him hold you the way he only does in the dark. His hands are reverent, his mouth sinful, his body pressing into yours like he can carve himself into your bones. And you let him, because you need this too.

And he doesn't hold back.

Javi is all over you, his hands skimming down your stomach, pushing your pants and underwear off with the kind of urgency that makes your breath catch. His fingers brush against the heat between your legs, and he exhales sharply, like the feel of you alone is enough to unravel him.

"Always so fuckin' wet for me," he mutters against your throat, his voice rough, almost angry. The way his fingers stroke over you is anything but. It's worship. It's desperation. He spreads you open, a slow, teasing drag of his fingers before he slides one inside you.

Your back arches. "Javi—”

He cuts you off with his mouth, swallowing your moan as he works another finger inside you, curling them just right, like he knows your body better than his own. Maybe he does. Maybe that's why he keeps coming back.

His free hand grips your thigh, spreading you wider, keeping you in place like he needs you to stay right there—needs this to last. But it never does.

You reach for him, tugging at his belt, desperate for more, and he lets you, pushing his jeans down just enough to free himself. He’s already hard, already aching, the tip dragging through the slick between your thighs before he presses in, slow and deep.

Your head falls back, a whimper catching in your throat as he stretches you open, as your body takes him the way it always does. Like he belongs there. Like you were made for this.

Javi groans, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath ragged. "You feel so fuckin’ good."

His hips start to move, slow at first, deep, like he wants to drag it out, like he wants to feel every inch of you. But then your fingers dig into his back, your nails biting into his skin, and something in him snaps.

He thrusts harder, deeper, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. You cling to him, gasping his name, and he hates it, hates the way it makes something crack open inside him, so he kisses you rough and messy, like he can make you forget what you just said.

You don’t.

And neither does he.

It’s fast and desperate, a little too rough, a little too much, like you’re both trying to take something from each other that neither of you can really give.

But right now, it’s enough.

For a moment, it feels like he’s yours.

For a moment, you can pretend.

His hand slides between your bodies, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit, dragging you closer to the edge, until you're falling, unraveling beneath him. You cry out, your body tightening around him, and Javi follows right after, a shuddering groan pressed into your skin as he spills inside you.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Heavy breathing. The warmth of his body still pressed against yours.

Then, like always, the moment starts to slip away.

Javi pulls out too soon. Rolls onto his back. And when you glance at him, when you see the way he stares at the ceiling like he’s already somewhere else, the ache in your chest spreads like wildfire.

You don’t ask him to stay. You don’t ask what this is or what it could be.

And he doesn’t offer, doesn't pretend this is anything more.

Because Javi loves like he fights—reckless, desperate, and always ready to leave before the dust settles.

And you let him.

Even when it breaks you.

#javier peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena smut #javier peña narcos #narcos fic #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal smut

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aliceinborderlandsquidgame · 2 days ago

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Yandere Alphabet | The Salesman Version

Warnings: Obsessive!Salesman - Possessive!Salesman - Mention of his past - NSFW - Violent parts -

Notes: Can be read as reader being his wife already. - I can finally use that gif!! -

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Oh its really intense. The Salesman has no shame on showing you how much he loves you. He will get you lots of gifts. Will be over you all the time when he is at his home with you.

He likes to leave marks on you that last for days. And when these starts to fade he gives you new ones. He just loves knowing that he owns you.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

VERY MUCH. He is a jealous Man and a controling one.He has no problem on punish the ones who threat your relationship. He has a special place that you dont know about where he play games with these people. He does not mind the blood on himself but does not want you to see him like that. So he cleans himself after it.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

The Salesman does not abduct you. He prepares a way that makes you think you two were mean to be from the start. He Plays the perfect boyfriend role and gets everybody to like him.

Only if you start to get distant or he feels like you are having second thoughts on your relationship with him its when he becomes violent. He will ruin your life and yourself till you have no options but him.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Unless you are being difficult...he wont ever try anything against your will. He wants you to love him and to depend on him.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He is a complicated Man when it comes to feelings. Most times he only shows that he loves you and that he would die if you ever left him. But its not vulnerability what it comes from it but rather a feeling of control and dread.

He loves you, he wants you on his life forever. He gets sad when you ignore him, but he never lets you see how real and deep hurt would he be if you were not part of his life.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Oh...Well he can get creative. He does not want to hit you. Unless it comes to sex. He would use other methods, that would make you fear him. Maybe he would say he will go after your family or after something/someone you care for.

He likes games. So he may prepare one for you. So you will end scared for days killing your will to fight him back.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No. He loves you. A lot. Its not a game. He may have his share of flints but no one of them ever sparked this...obesession he has.

Would hate to see you trying to escape or leave him. Thats why he makes sure you are enamored by the time you two start to live together. He cant go back to an empy house after having you with him.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

First, you will have to do something really bad that ends with his patience and makes him see over his obsession. He loves you and would move heaven for you. But does not mean he cant be cruel as well. The worse experience he would put you throw would probably make you face your worse fear in a twisted way that ends leaving him as a hero.

Do you hate talking in public and feel like your chest its closing on itself ? He would be the one who did put you on that position and would be the one who is there to encourage you. To tell you can do it.

Fear of the dark ? A classic. He will mess up the lights of the house and come home late to find you crying on the bed. Will tell you his phone died and he had to work late. Then will pull you on his lap to whisper calming things to you.

Something more extreme ? We know he is a sadistic at heart. But he does not want you to see that part of him. BUT lets say you fuck up bad. And he loses it. He is going to make you play a game of live and death (of course he will let you live but you dont know that) maybe he will blind you and tell you to walk around a room that has lots of sharp objects. Maybe he will make you play russian roulette with him (there is no Rea bullet but you dont know that). Its going to be something that lets you with nightmares for days but also with the lesson that you cant escape him and that you must obey him.

Ideals: What kind of future does they want with their darling?

MARRIAGE.

The Salesman has lived a lonely life and he was fine with it till he met you. Now all he wants its to see you in a beautiful dress and call you his wife. Even better when others know about it since part of him feels like he won a price with you.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He is quiet the cold head. He will get jealous yes but first will try to calm himself down. Does not mean he is not imagining killing the person who is taking much of your time.

Maybe a friend of yours has been getting close and close to you the last days and keeps sending you messages. That friend ends dead or so scared of him that they never approach you again and never talk about what he did to them.

When it comes to strangers he is more wild. If its someone flirting with you, that person is dead. Being bad with you ? Dead too. He feels like you deserve so much respect that the minum thing someone does that he feels like its not worth of you, yeah he wants them dead.

Does not mean he goes killing half Seoul. Will only target the ones that either have made you feel so uncomfortable that you told him about them or the ones who are really mean to you.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

LOVESICK PUPPY !!

No really!! This Man does a change in personality that is hella scary. With you he is not cold or calculated. But rather soft, he still holds that playful look in his eyes but these are less...well violent. His smile is sincere and he loves to have you by his side all the time.

Pouts when you tell him that you need to finish some work and cant be with him (once he finally gets a free day). Its going to make you sit you on his lap so you can work and he can hold you.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

REALLY WELL PLANNED.

He sees you for the first time and the game starts. He will stalk you, know your schendelure, Friends, family, even the school that you went (and if someone bullied you during that time well that person is going to have a very very bad time). He learns the things you like and dislike.

The first time you two actually do talk its a situation he made. You two just happen to go for the same drink and your hands touched themselfs. He is going to give you that charming smile of his and tell you to go ahead. He will also make a comment about something you are passionate about so you two engage in a conversation.

Will "casually" keep meeting you and talking to you till you two finally exchange numbers (not like he did not have it already).

His text are so planned too. Wishes you good morning and good night. Asks if you have ate today and drink enough water. He wants you to see that he cares for your well being.

If by any chance (most likely made by him) you tell him you forgot something for work/or that you must stay till too late and you are scared then he is going to be a gentlemen and offer to go and pick you up. Or help you with whatever you forgot.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

HELL YES.

With others he is emotionless, cold, sharp. All of him its a fake image to trick people into the games and to keep his bosses happy with his performance at work. Hell sometimes he forgets who he is after so many times living like that.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He hates punish you. If he has to it depends on what you did. Some may be really agressive if you crossed the line. And others well...are a mix of fear and arousment.

He does not like to make you suffer, he actually hates seeing you in pain but he wants you to understand that you cant just not obey him.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Honestly? Almost nothing. He will ask you to left your work, but under the idea that he can provied for you. Really ? He wants you to be at his house 24/7. He will allow you to go out to take air and do whatever you want (with limits of course). You want to meet up with a friend ? Oh he is there because he was passing by. He has a tracker on your phone and knows where you are all the time. If he feels like something is odd then he will go where you are.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

VERY

This Man has made a perfect image of you, and its ready to shape you like it. He knows its a slow process and that he cant Force you (too much) into what he wants.

Its going to be a slow process full of Manipulation under the disguise of love and affection.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

NO.

First if you die for whatever reason he will go into a down spiral of rage and sadness. If he knows someone was responsible behind your death then you can trust that person (or persons) will suffer a cruel end. A slow death with lots lots of physocological torment.

If you escape him (congrats!!) He wont give up. He will go after you, threath your family and Friends. In fact you may never really escape him. If you went off from him then you better start to hide very well becuase once he catches you back there is not limit on how he would act.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No and no.

He does not abduct you but makes the idea that you two were mean to be. In his head it makes perfect sense. Or course he wont ever let you go, he wants you by his side for the rest of his life.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

He has been a twisted one since he was a young one. Working at the island did not help at all. He thought he got detached from feelings but when it comes to you he loves you and cant avoid the idea of you with him.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Unless its under the act of sex he hates seeing you sad. Its a hit of reality that he is not doing his work well. Like he cant provide you with the happiness he promised he would give you. He wants you to be happy with him not sad or see that you insolate yourself.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Mhm I would say he is a classic one when it comes to manipulation and obsession but he is not that out from the classic Yandere.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Oh lovely you....while you are his weak point im afraid there is nothing you can do to make him lose control and let you go or give you a free lose.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Yes. If he feels like you did something very bad then he will do it. Not something that will leave marks on you at least not physically ones but mental ones ? Its another story, he will leave you marks on your mind that will make you think twice over trying something.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He would kiss the floor where you just walked. This Man is smitten with you. He is obsess truly, all he wants its you and only you.

He would worship you so much. With endearing words and actions. He loves kissing your hand, these kisses helps him ground himself. He is always telling you how beautiful you look, how stunning you are. If you have a hobbie like music or art he is your first fan. And he also likes to get the best quality food for you, not only remind you of eating but it to be delicious and help your health.

He would go as far as necesary. Does not know limits when it comes to it.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

If this means for how long would he stalks you and then goes to you like "snaps" well its a lot of time. He may get different twisted ideas when he is alone but he shows them only once he believes you are ready for them. If you mean it like when does he shows himself as obsessive well he never really shows himself as that. He crafted your relationship with him to make you think you two are mean to be so most likely you wont ever know how truly obsess he is.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Only mentally and only if you do something to piss him off really bad. He will make you depend on him so much...you wont be able to even think for yourself or take the minum decision without him.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

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#squid game imagines #squid game x y/n #squid game 2 #squid game imagine #squid game x reader #salesman x reader #recruiter x reader

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iamquiantrelle · 2 days ago

Text

SO INTO YOU (part 2) ───── iamquaintrelle

# pairings: aurelien tchouameni x black reader (✨💕)

# tags: @sucredreamer @snowseasonmademe @jessnotwiththemess @rougereds @judectrl @mufasathatniggatho @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro

# summary: you’re a multiple grammy winning artist with a record breaking single based on an embarrassing crush on a footballer & when that single demands visuals who else do you ask to be your video vixen besides said footballer crush? but is he also willing to blow your back out too? ♡ masterlist

The next few days passed in a blur — Madrid, the match, the rush of it all. Of course, someone caught you at the match — there was no way that wasn’t happening. You were you, after all, a Grammy-winning artist sitting in VIP seats at the Bernabéu, very much in the camera’s line of sight. The picture had already made its rounds on social media: you, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, watching the game with full concentration. Another showed you mid-cheer after Aurélien’s assist, your excitement unmistakable.

The comments on The Shade Room were a mess.

"Why is [Your Name] at the Bernabéu??" "She watching soccer now? 👀" "Ain’t no way she just ‘watching’ — look at that smile." "She’s a Madridista now? Elite taste." "I know she was there for Tchouaméni. Be serious."

You scrolled through the discourse with a grin, but the real entertainment was happening on Tumblr. Unlike the rest of the internet, your little tchouamenithoughts page was an anonymous safe haven, a place where you could be as shamelessly down bad as you wanted. And the girlies were going through it.

moot1: she’s cute. good for him i guess moot2: the way he’s been playing lately... yeah he’s in love moot3: it’s giving soft launch. moot4: imagine being the muse for that one song she wrote... bc I KNOW it’s about him.

You had to stifle a laugh reading that one. It was already too weird, and you knew — God forbid — if Aurélien ever found out about this little corner of the internet, you’d have to disappear into the abyss.

You then reblogged a gifset of Aurélien’s highlights from the match, tagged "captain of my heart" before clicking into the inbox.

Anonymous asked: "Bro tell me you saw [Your Name] at the match? She was going feral for our man Tchouaméni just like us. Respect."

You snorted and reblogged it with a simple: "As she should."

Your phone buzzed in your hand, pulling you away from the mess you’d been consuming like your own personal reality show.

Auré: Did you make it home safe?

You smiled, a warmth blooming in your chest.

You: I did. Tired though.

Auré: You should rest. You’ll need your energy for when I see you again.

You bit your lip, shaking your head at the audacity.

You: Oh? And when’s that?

Auré: Soon. I told you, I’m doing the chasing now.

Your stomach flipped. God help you.

You locked your phone and sighed, leaning back against your pillows, your laptop still open to the mess of your moots spiraling in real-time. Yeah, this Tumblr was going to have to go soon.

But for now? You had a little more time to kiki.

***************************************************

Aurélien meant it when he said he wanted to do the rest and chase you.

The next morning, a delivery arrived at your apartment in LA. A massive bouquet — white and blush pink roses, accented with baby’s breath. It smelled incredible, and the little card tucked inside made your stomach flip.

"Since I didn’t get to be the first one in your DMs, let me be the first to send you flowers. –AT"

You bit your lip, rereading the message at least three times before setting the card down. The man was serious.

And the thing was — he wasn’t doing too much. You’d been courted before, had men try to win you over with grand gestures that felt more about them than you. But this? This was just Aurélien being him. Smooth, intentional. Never overstepping, just reminding you that he was right there.

His texts came consistently, never letting a day pass without checking in. Some were sweet. Some were very much not sweet.

Auré: Did you sleep well?

You: Mhm. You?

Auré: Not really. Kept thinking about how you looked in my bed.

Whew.

Other times, he was just ridiculous.

Auré: Hypothetically, if someone wanted to know your coffee order…

You: Hypothetically, they should just ask.

Auré: I am asking. But I wanted to see if you'd be difficult first.

You: Vanilla oat milk latte, extra shot. Now tell me why you’re asking like you’re sending a gift card.

Auré: I might be.

You: Aurélien.

And sure enough, an hour later, an email from Starbucks: [Your Name], you’ve received a gift from Aurélien Tchouaméni.

You couldn’t even be mad.

Then came the FaceTimes. Usually at night, when he knew you were home. It started casual — just him, shirtless (because of course), leaning back against his headboard while you sat on your couch, notebook open, laptop playing beats softly in the background.

"What are you working on?" he asked one night, eyes flicking to your scribbled lyrics.

"Music."

"No shit," he teased, smirking. "But what kind?"

You tapped your pen against your notebook. "Just some ideas."

His brows lifted. "For me?"

You snorted. "No. Not everything is about you."

"Shame." He stretched, flexing way too much for someone who was supposedly relaxing. "But you’ll write another one about me eventually."

"You think?"

"I know."

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, focusing back on your lyrics. Until—

"You work too much," he murmured.

You glanced up. "And you run too much. What’s your point?"

His smirk deepened. "That I’m gonna fix that. When are you coming back to Madrid?"

You blinked. “Oh, you’re just assuming I’m coming?”

"Yeah." He looked so sure, so smug, you wanted to reach through the screen and wipe that smirk off his face.

"I have work."

"I have work too,” he countered easily. "But I make time for what I want."

That shut you up for a second. You clicked your tongue. "That’s a cute line."

He grinned. "It’s not a line, bébé. It’s a fact."

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, the next morning, another email delivery. This time? A plane ticket. First class, LAX to Madrid, one week from now.

No note. Just that.

And the man had the audacity to text: See you soon.

******************************************************

You told yourself you weren’t really considering it.

You weren’t impulsive like this. You had rules. Checklists. Boundaries.

But when Carmen barely batted an eye after you double-checked your schedule and when your best friend damn near screamed in your ear after you mentioned Madrid again?

"Are you insane? You just got back!"

You winced, pulling the phone away from your ear. "First of all, lower your voice—"

"No! Because this man has already had you in a chokehold, and now you’re just willingly running back?"

You sighed, switching the phone to your other ear. "It’s not like that.”

"What’s it like then?"

Silence.

Exactly.

Because what were you really gonna say? That you were working backwards? That the whole 'I have standards thing' was already a joke because you’d skipped about fifteen steps when you slept with him and now you were just here like some lovestruck fool?

Because you were.

"Yeah," your best friend scoffed when you stayed quiet. "That’s what I thought."

Still, none of that stopped you from breezing through TSA a few days later, sunglasses on, hoodie pulled low, boarding a first-class flight back to Madrid. Because somehow, in less than two weeks, you had gone from watching him on your screen to meeting him in person for your video shoot, and now you were sipping champagne, heading straight back to him.

You were supposed to be working — laptop open, beats playing, lyrics scattered across your notebook — but all you could do was stare at your phone, rereading his last message.

Auré: See you soon, bébé.

A slow exhale left your lips.

You weren’t even there yet, and he already had you spiraling.

The moment you exited arrivals, he was waiting.

Leaning up against his car, hands in his pockets, looking stupidly good in a fitted tee, Rhude shorts that made everything look right, snapback cap, and another Cuban link around his neck. His eyes locked on you like he’d been counting the seconds.

Your stomach flipped.

This man…

"You’re early," you said, trying to keep your voice even.

He smirked. "So are you."

Fair.

"C’mere."

You barely had time to react before his arms were around you, pulling you into him. His scent wrapped around you — warm, familiar, distracting — and suddenly, everything about this felt like a terrible idea.

If he was this good just holding you, how the hell were you supposed to handle anything else? Especially at the rate he was going?

"You miss me?" he murmured, lips at your ear.

You pulled back, schooling your face. "Did you?"

No hesitation. "Yeah."

Your heart betrayed you, but you kept your expression neutral.

"Hmm," you teased. "Was it the inside jokes? The deep conversations?"

He chuckled, dark and knowing. "The way you sound when I—"

"Aurélien."

His grin widened as he stepped back, opening the passenger door. "Get in, bébé."

And just like that, you were gone all over again.

The drive to his place was quiet.

Not the awkward kind — never that with him.

It was the kind of silence that buzzed, thick with anticipation. The kind where every glance, every shift in your seat, said more than words could. Aurélien drove one-handed, his other hand resting on your thigh like it belonged there, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin.

Like he was reminding you exactly why you were here.

The low hum of Afrobeats filled the car, blending with the occasional ping of a text on his phone. You ignored it, focusing instead on the way his fingers tightened slightly when you moved, the barely-there smirk on his lips.

"You good?" His voice was smooth, teasing.

You exhaled. "Fine."

A low chuckle. "Lying already?"

You shot him a look, but it was useless. He knew. He always knew.

By the time you reached his house, you were already on edge.

And then there was Ocho.

The massive Belgian Malinois greeted you at the door with an excited bark, nearly knocking you over in his eagerness.

"Damn, you remember me?" You laughed, scratching behind his ears as he licked at your wrist.

Aurélien chuckled behind you, setting your bag down near the stairs. "He doesn’t forget people he likes."

You glanced up, finding him watching you with something unreadable in his gaze.

The air between you shifted.

You swallowed, turning away to take in the space — the same high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows, the same sleek yet lived-in warmth from the last time you were here. But this time, there was something different.

This time, you knew what it felt like to be pressed against that couch, to have his mouth on your skin, to hear your own voice echoing against these walls.

And, of course, there were the flowers.

You huffed a laugh, finally spotting the massive bouquet of white lilies and soft pink roses in a crystal vase on the marble countertop.

"You really do this, huh?" you murmured, fingers ghosting over the petals of the bouquet before turning to face him.

Aurélien leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with that slow, knowing smirk that made your stomach tighten. "Do what?"

"This whole…" You gestured vaguely at the flowers, the way he had you standing in his kitchen, feeling like you’d stepped into something inevitable. "Seduction thing."

"I told you," he said, pushing off the counter to come to you, voice low as his fingers found your waist. "I wanted the chase."

Your breath caught as his chain moved gently against his collarbone.

"And now that I have you here?" His lips hovered over yours, his hands already moving, already claiming. "I’m not letting up."

Your breath hitched as his hand splayed against your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You were already in too deep, already fighting a losing battle against the warmth curling in your stomach, against the way he smelled — clean, like cedarwood and something distinctly him.

"Aurélien—"

He kissed you before you could finish, tilting your chin up, his lips moved against yours like he had all the time in the world, like he was savoring you, mapping you out. The hand at your waist gripped tighter, and he made a sound in the back of his throat when your fingers found the nape of his neck, threading into the soft curls there.

You felt him smile against your mouth.

"What?" you breathed.

He pulled back just enough to search your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "You taste smug," he muttered.

You arched a brow. "And what does smug taste like?"

His lips twitched. "Like someone who knew she was coming back to me."

Your stomach flipped.

You weren’t going to entertain that — not right now, not when his voice was doing that and his hands were still tracing over your body like he was committing every inch of you to memory.

So you deflected. "Ocho knew too, apparently."

Aurélien huffed a quiet laugh. "Ocho is a good judge of character."

You snorted, shaking your head, but the moment you tried to step back, his grip on your waist tightened.

"You’re not going anywhere, bébé," he murmured.

You swallowed hard.

Because he wasn’t just talking about right now.

And he knew you knew it.

The moment stretched between you, heavy with promise. His thumb was still tracing patterns on your skin, each touch deliberate, like he was writing his intentions into your flesh. The kitchen's warm lighting caught the angles of his face just right, making his dark skin glow golden, and that fade you'd written countless posts about was perfect for running your fingers through.

"You're thinking too loud," he murmured, ducking his head to press his lips to your neck. His chain brushed cold against you, making you shiver.

"Hard not to," you managed, trying to keep your voice steady as his teeth grazed that spot below your ear. "When you're being all…" you gestured vaguely at him, at this whole situation.

He huffed a laugh against your skin. "All what?"

"You know what."

"Mm," his hands slid lower, grip tightening just enough to make your breath catch. "Tell me anyway."

The command in his voice - that same tone he used directing the midfield - had your knees weak. But two could play this game.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, watching them darken as your fingers traced the chain around his neck. "All confident," you said softly.

His responding smile was dangerous. "Didn't you write a whole song about it?"

"That's not—"

"About how I control the game?" His lips brushed your ear, voice dropping lower. "About how I read the field?"

Your heart was absolutely betraying you, hammering against your ribs like it was trying to escape.

"You really memorized those lyrics, huh?" you tried to tease, but your voice came out breathier than intended.

He pulled back to look at you properly, and the intensity in his gaze had you forgetting how to breathe. The same focus you'd watched him apply to matches, to training, to everything he did - all of it was directed at you now.

"I memorized everything about you," he said simply, like he wasn't completely ruining your ability to think straight. "The way you bite your lip when you're nervous. How your eyes follow me during matches."

Ocho's tags jingled as he trotted past, heading for his bed in the corner, completely unbothered by the way his owner was systematically dismantling your composure.

"You're impossible," you muttered, even as your hands traveled up his arms, feeling the muscles shift under your touch.

"You like impossible," he countered, and before you could argue, his mouth was on yours again, more urgent this time. Less controlled. Like maybe you weren't the only one affected here.

Your back hit the counter, and his hands gripped your hips to lift you onto it. The marble was cold through your clothes but he was burning hot, all solid muscle and sure touches as he stepped between your legs.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your lips, but his hands were already sliding under your shirt, already knew your answer.

You tangled your fingers in his chain instead, using it to pull him closer. "No."

His answering laugh was all satisfaction, all victory. "Good girl."

*******************************************************

You woke up to Madrid sunlight filtering through his expensive blackout curtains that clearly weren't doing their job. His bed was still unfairly comfortable, sheets soft against your skin, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest under your cheek was threatening to lull you back to sleep.

Jetlag had hit you hard after... activities, leading to what was supposed to be a quick power nap but wasn’t. That kitchen counter definitely needed disinfecting though.

Multiple times.

Now the afternoon light was painting patterns on his dark skin, and you were finding it hard to care about time zones at all. When he woke up to slip away to the bathroom, you grabbed your phone, checking the damage.

Surprisingly, your Tumblr mutuals hadn't caught wind of your return to Madrid yet. But you knew better - it would only take one fan with a good camera angle to set everything off again. You heard the sink running, and then Aurélien padded back to bed, all sleep-warm skin and low-slung sweats. He lay beside you for a moment before that hand found your waist, tugging you closer.

"C'mere," he murmured, voice still rough with sleep. You went willingly, settling against his chest, ear pressed to his heartbeat. That same dopey ass smile from last time spread across your face as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. "How long are you staying?" he asked, playing with your hair.

You tilted your head up to look at him. "How long do you want me?"

His answering smirk was knowing as he bit his lip, considering. "A long time."

"Can't do that," you laughed softly. "But... two weeks?"

"Two weeks is good," he hummed, fingers still moving against your skin. "We can have fun, go on proper dates... maybe take a trip somewhere."

You propped yourself up on his chest. "Trips? Already planning baecations?"

"Mm," his hand slid lower on your back. "Gotta pull out all the stops. Could do Mallorca, Ibiza..." his smile turned dangerous. "Or maybe Paris?"

"Paris?" You tried to keep your voice steady, but the way his fingers were still tracing patterns on your skin was distracting. "That's a lot for someone who just wanted to be in my music video a few weeks ago."

His laugh rumbled through his chest. "Is it? When I've been catching you like those highlights at 3 AM?"

You pushed up to look at him properly. "Still can't believe that you noticed that. "

"Bébé," his hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek, "You should know that I notice everything. Why did you think I said yes to the video?"

Your heart did that stupid flutter thing again. "Because I'm a three-time Grammy winner and it'd be good PR?"

The look he gave you was almost pitying. "You really think that's why? Still?"

Before you could answer, he moved - that athletic grace you'd watched on the field now used to flip you onto your back, hovering over you with that dangerous smile.

"I said yes," he murmured, chain dangling between you, "because I wanted to see if you were as beautiful up close as you were in those award show pictures I kept saving."

Your breath caught. "You what?"

"Mm." His lips found your neck. "Want to see my camera roll? All those screenshots of you performing? The ones where you're wearing that dress at the VMAs?"

"Aurélien—"

"The way you move on stage," he continued, voice dropping lower, "the way you command attention…"

You couldn't process this - him admitting to essentially doing the same thing you'd been doing, collecting pieces of each other from afar.

"So this," he said, pulling back to look at you with those eyes that saw too much, "is just the beginning. I told you - I'm the lion." His hand slid down your side, grip possessive. "And I chase what I want."

"And what do you want?" Your voice came out embarrassingly breathy.

That smile should be illegal. "Right now?" His lips brushed yours. "For you to stop thinking so much and let me show you exactly why I memorized every word of that song you wrote about me."

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was kissing you again, all intensity and purpose, and yeah - two weeks definitely wasn't going to be enough.

***************************************************

The Madrid morning light painted his bedroom in honey-gold streaks, warming the spaces he'd left cold when he left for training. His kiss goodbye still lingered on your forehead, along with his casual "take the other car if you want to go out" - like lending you a hundred-thousand euro vehicle was as simple as sharing coffee.

But after last night (and the night before that, and the increasingly blurred hours in between), you were content to exist in the aftermath of him. Every room held echoes - the way he'd pressed you against that wall, how his chain had caught the light as he'd lifted you onto that counter, the sound of his laugh when you'd almost knocked over that probably-expensive vase.

He'd been attentive in a way that made your chest ache, all careful questions and watching eyes. The same precision you'd analyzed in countless match footage translated to how he touched you - deliberate, focused, like every response was data to be cataloged. His perfectionist tendencies apparently extended far beyond the pitch, and you had the marks to prove it.

Speaking of Tumblr... you scrolled through your dash one last time. The theories were still flying, the thirst posts still abundant, but it felt really wrong now. Here was Aurélien making actual time for you, being intentional about pursuing you, and you had a whole account dedicated to thirsting over him? The cognitive dissonance was too much.

You wrote a quick post about "digital wellness" and noted taking a break then deleted the app. You'd properly nuke the account later - right now, you had a house to explore.

Ocho followed you through the house, his tags jingling as he padded along faithfully. The home gym where he'd filmed all those workout videos that had sent your mutuals into chaos was impressive, but seeing that motivational quote wall in the flesh? You clutched your imaginary pearls. And the mural of what looked like the 1960s Real Madrid team in the hallway? Yeah, if this was heading where you thought it was heading, you were definitely calling an interior decorator.

The media room spoke more to his age - all premium gaming setups and theater-quality everything. But the real winner was the backyard. The pool area was something out of a luxury resort catalog, and the Madrid sun hit just right on the loungers.

You settled into one, Ocho flopping at your feet, and tried to process everything. Two boyfriends in your entire life, and now here was Aurélien Tchouaméni - six feet two inches of pure "god took his time" - sliding into position to be number three? The universe was really out here making dreams come true.

Your phone lit up:

Auré: Missing you already. Dinner tonight? Unless you're too tired…

Your cheeks heated, remembering exactly why you might be tired. The way he'd switched between languages when he was too far gone to think straight, how that chain had felt cold against your heated skin, the sound he'd made when—

Another message:

Auré: I can feel you thinking about last night from here 😏

The smile that spread across your face was embarrassing. Those Tumblr manifestations had worked almost too well - your mutual followers had no idea they were manifesting their own thirsting out of existence.

******************************************************

"Aurélien," you warned, trying to keep your hand steady as you applied eyeliner, "I swear to god—"

"Mm?" His voice was all fake innocence, but his hands on your hips were anything but, squeezing your ass appreciatively as he pressed against your back. "I'm not doing anything."

The bathroom counter was cool under your palms as you leaned forward, attempting to focus on your reflection instead of how his chain was brushing against your shoulder, how his fingers were tracing the curve of your—

"I'm trying to get ready," you protested, but it came out embarrassingly breathy. "We have dinner reservations."

"We do," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your neck that definitely threatened your carefully applied foundation. "In an hour."

"Which means I need to finish my face and—" you inhaled sharply as his hands slid lower, gripping more firmly. "Aurélien."

You caught his reflection in the mirror - that dangerous smile playing at his lips as he watched you try to maintain composure. The fresh fade and fitted shirt were doing criminal things for his already unfair looks.

"You look perfect already," he murmured, and the sincerity in his voice almost distracted you from how his thumbs were now tracing maddening circles.

"You're impossible," you managed, but you were already leaning back against him, makeup brush forgotten.

His laugh rumbled through his chest. "You like impossible."

"Get out," you laughed, pushing at his chest. "Let me finish getting ready in peace."

His pout was criminally effective, but he retreated to the bedroom. Through the mirror, you watched him settle on the edge of the bed, scrolling through TikTok with casual grace. The moment you spritzed your setting spray though, he stood up like it was Pavlov's bell.

Interesting.

You filed that reaction away for later research.

It was becoming clear that Aurélien had downloaded the Complete Boyfriend Experience somewhere between your time apart. His manners were even more impeccable, his timing perfect, his attention to detail almost suspicious.

He took your hand as you descended the stairs together - another discovery about the man your mutuals had analyzed endlessly. Physical touch was definitely high on his love language list, contrary to Maha's whole dissertation about him being an acts of service guy. (The smugness of proving a mutual wrong? Unmatched.)

The stilettos made you grateful for his steady presence, his hand warm and secure in yours. At the door, he turned to Ocho, voice dropping into that French that still did things to you both in and out of the bedroom.

"Sois sage, protège la maison," he murmured, scratching behind the dog's ears. The simple command shouldn't sound that good, but here you were swooning.

He led you to the car, opening the passenger door with that fluid grace that made everything look choreographed. But there, sitting in your seat, was a red gift bag.

"Aurélien…" you breathed, picking it up before sliding in.

That smile played on his lips as he made his way to the driver's side, starting the car with practiced ease. The dopey ass grin was back on your face before you could stop it as he pulled out of the driveway.

"Are you going to open it?" he asked, one hand on the wheel while the other found its usual spot on your thigh. The Cartier and Van Cleef & Arpels bracelets on his wrist caught the streetlights, and you couldn't help staring at how right his large hand looked there, fingers splayed possessively across your skin.

The gift bag sat in your lap, full of promise. Whatever was inside - expensive or not - didn't really matter. The fact that he'd thought to get you anything at all had your heart doing that stupid flutter thing again.

You pulled out the tissue paper slowly, dragging out the moment. Aurélien's thumb traced circles on your thigh as he navigated through Madrid's evening traffic, but you could feel his attention split between the road and your reaction.

Inside was a small velvet box that made your heart stop for a second before common sense kicked in. Too soon for that kind of box. Still, your fingers trembled slightly as you opened it.

"I saw you looking at it the other day," he said softly, as you lifted out the delicate Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet - a match to one of his. "Thought we could coordinate."

The way he said it so casually, like matching thousand euro jewelry was just something you did now. Like this wasn't him essentially marking his territory in the most expensive way possible.

"You're ridiculous," you managed, but you were already holding out your wrist for him to fasten it at the next red light.

His fingers lingered on your pulse point. "You like ridiculous."

"Maybe," you admitted, watching the bracelet catch the streetlights. It looked right next to his hand on your thigh, like it belonged there. Like you belonged there.

His answering smile was knowing. "Only maybe?"

You were saved from responding by his phone lighting up with a call from Jude. He answered through the car's Bluetooth, and you settled back to listen to him switch effortlessly between English and French, discussing tactics for their next match. The way authority wrapped around his words, how naturally he took command of the conversation - yeah, you were definitely going to need to write another song.

His hand never left your thigh during the entire call, thumb still tracing those maddening patterns that made focusing on anything else impossible. The bracelet glinted with each movement, a constant reminder of how quickly this was all moving.

Two weeks suddenly felt like both forever and not nearly enough time at all.

The restaurant was exactly the kind of place you'd expect Aurélien to know about — tucked away in a historic part of Madrid, all warm lighting and exposed brick walls. Private enough that phones stayed in pockets, exclusive enough that no one batted an eye when he led you to a corner table with his hand on your lower back.

"You're staring," he murmured as you settled into your seat, that knowing smirk playing at his lips.

"You clean up nice," you shrugged, trying for casual like you hadn't been watching him all evening. The black button-down was doing criminal things for his shoulders, and the way he'd rolled up the sleeves to show off those bracelets felt deliberately calculated to drive you crazy.

"Just nice?" His eyes glinted as he reached for his water glass, chain catching the light with the movement.

"Your ego doesn't need any more feeding."

His laugh was low, private. "No? After the way you were liking my training videos? Or maybe my posts?"

The waiter's arrival saved you from having to form a coherent response to that. Aurélien ordered for both of you in perfect Spanish - another language that had no business sounding that good rolling off his tongue. You were starting to think he could read a grocery list and make it sound sexy.

"So," he said once the waiter left, his fingers finding yours across the table, "about Paris..."

Your heart did that stupid flutter thing again. "What about it?"

"I was thinking," his thumb traced your new bracelet, "maybe we start there. Then Côte d'Azur, maybe Monaco..."

"That's a lot of planning for someone who just wanted to be in my music video a few weeks ago," you echoed your words from the other day, but this time they carried a different weight.

His eyes met yours, all intensity and promise. "I told you - I'm chasing. Properly."

The way he said it, like it was just that simple. Like planning European getaways and matching jewelry and looking at you like that was the most natural progression in the world.

"You're good," you said softly, watching his bracelets catch the light as he played with your fingers.

"At what?"

"This whole..." you gestured vaguely between you. "Boyfriend thing."

His smile turned dangerous. "Is that what this is?"

You tried to pull your hand back but he held firm, that grin widening. "I mean- I didn't mean to assume-"

"No?" He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "After I've been marking my territory so obviously?"

Your breath caught. "The bracelet–"

"The bracelet," he agreed, then his eyes got that glint that usually meant trouble. "Maybe next time we'll talk about a key. Make it easier than me having to come home from training to let you in."

His phone lit up with another call - Camavinga this time - but he declined it, attention still focused entirely on you.

"You can take it," you offered, but he was already shaking his head.

"They can wait." His thumb traced your pulse point again, right below the new bracelet. "I'm busy chasing."

The waiter came back with a bottle wine and poured some in both of your glasses. You took a sip quickly, trying to calm your nerves.

"You know," he said after taking his own sip of wine, eyes never leaving yours, "I'm going to ask you properly. To be my girlfriend."

Your heart did a backflip. "Oh yeah?"

"Mm." That dangerous smile was back. "Not yet though. Want to do it right."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "You're really out here making men look bad, you know that?"

"How so?"

"All this," you gestured between you, at the bracelet, at everything. "The chasing, the dating, the whole... intentional thing. In 2024? In this economy?"

His thumb was still tracing patterns on your wrist, just below where the Van Cleef caught the light. "You think I'd do any less? After watching you for months?"

He made it seem like putting in effort was the most natural thing in the world (and it was). Like taking time to court properly, to build something real, wasn't a dying art. Here you were, living through dating horror stories from friends about situationships and breadcrumbing and 50/50 and men who couldn't even send proper texts, and Aurélien Tchouaméni was out here planning European trips and buying matching jewelry and talking about asking you to be his girlfriend "properly."

"You're kind of unreal, you know that?"

That smile should really be illegal. "Good unreal?"

"Don't fish for compliments," you said, but you were grinning. "Your ego is big enough."

"My ego?" He leaned forward slightly, chain catching the light. "Says the one who wrote a whole song about me?"

Your cheeks heated. "That's different."

"Is it?" His voice dropped lower, more private. "Because I have some thoughts about those lyrics..."

The look in his eyes promised you'd be hearing those thoughts in detail later.

The meal passed in a haze of excellent food and better company, but dessert? That was when Aurélien decided to be truly unfair.

He moved your chair closer to his, the scraping noise against the floor making you wince - but he didn't seem to care, too focused on closing the distance between you. The chocolate something-or-other looked incredible, but the way he picked up the spoon, eyes locked on yours? That was what had your pulse jumping.

Every movement was deliberate as he gathered a perfect bite, holding it up with the kind of precision he usually reserved for perfectly weighted passes. His eyes never left yours as you leaned forward, and the intensity in his gaze as he watched you take the bite had heat crawling up your neck.

You dabbed at your mouth with your napkin, hyper-aware of how he tracked the movement.

"Is it good?" His voice had dropped to that register that did dangerous things to your composure.

"Very–" was all you managed before his mouth was on yours, tongue sweeping in to taste the chocolate himself. His hand came up to cradle your jaw, and maybe you should've been embarrassed about kissing like this in public, but with Aurélien? All bets were off.

Those full lips of his really were criminal, and the way his stupidly handsome face looked when he finally pulled back, pupils blown and that satisfied smirk playing at his mouth? Yeah, public decency was overrated.

"Let's go back to my place," he murmured against your lips, and something in his tone had your stomach doing somersaults.

The waiter appeared almost instantly at his gesture, and you watched Aurélien handle everything with that easy command he carried on the field — getting the dessert boxed, settling the bill, all while keeping one hand on the small of your back like he couldn't bear to break contact.

The night air hit cool against your heated skin as he guided you out, his touch steady and possessive. The valet had his car waiting in minutes, perks of being Madrid royalty, you supposed. He opened your door first, naturally, and the way his eyes tracked down your body as you slid in had you feeling like prey in the best way.

The moment he settled into the driver's seat, Brent Faiyaz's voice filled the car — something about one night, about pleasure, about giving in. The universe really was testing you tonight.

You pressed your thighs together, trying to ebb off your arousal, but then his hand found your leg again. Those fingers splayed possessively across your skin, squeezing just enough to let you know he noticed your movement. Every few seconds his eyes would flick over to you, dark with promise, and the way he bit his lip when you shifted under his touch had you counting the minutes until you reached his place.

"You good?" he asked, voice rough, and the smirk playing at his lips said he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Yeah."

The fact that he could still drive this well while systematically dismantling your self-control was honestly impressive.

The drive felt endless but somehow too quick at the same time. Aurélien's hand never left your thigh, and by the time he pulled into his driveway, the tension in the car was thick enough to cut.

He moved with that controlled grace of his as he came around to open your door, but there was something darker in his eyes now, something that had your pulse racing. His chain caught the security lights as he helped you out, and the way he pulled you close — enough to feel how his chest rose and fell a bit faster than normal — had you forgetting basic motor functions.

You barely registered Ocho's excited greeting at the door, too focused on how Aurélien's hand had slid from your back to your waist, how he was looking at you like he was planning exactly how to ruin your carefully applied makeup.

"Va te coucher, Ocho," he commanded softly to the dog, and honestly? French really should not sound that good. The way the words rolled off his tongue, all authority and promise...

The door clicked shut behind you.

His hands found your hips, turning you to face him. The "AT" pendant glinted in the dim light as he leaned down, stopping just shy of your lips.

"Now," he murmured, "where were we?"

Your breath caught, heart hammering as Aurélien’s fingers dug just a little deeper into your waist. His touch was steady, deliberate — like he was taking his time, savoring the way you melted into him.

"Right about here," you murmured, tilting your chin up, letting your lips brush his just slightly. Just enough to tease.

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

His grip tightened, yanking you that last inch forward until there was nothing between you but heat. His mouth found yours in a kiss that was all possession — slow, deep, unapologetically hungry.

Ocho let out a soft chuff before trotting off, uninterested in whatever was unfolding. You, however? You were done for.

How you made it up the stairs, you didn’t know. You were only aware of the way he guided you with ease, like he owned every move you made together. By the time you reached his bedroom, your back met the closed door the moment the door clicked shut behind you. His breath warm against your skin, his hands dragging up your sides, over the fabric of your dress.

"You knew how tonight was ending," he murmured, lips grazing your jaw, fingers already working the zipper down.

You swallowed hard, exhaling shakily as the dress slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. "Maybe," you admitted, voice breathy.

He smirked, the expression dark and knowing.

Then he stepped back just enough to unbutton his shirt, revealing the broad stretch of his shoulders, the sharp cut of his abs �� skin warm, golden, flawless. Your breath hitched at the sight, because God, you’d seen him like this before, but it never stopped stealing the air from your lungs.

You never got tired of seeing him naked.

He was too beautiful.

Aurélien knew it too, the way he watched you watching him, his smirk deepening as he worked the belt from his pants.

Your own breathing was uneven by the time you were both bare, and then he was leading you to the bed, his hands firm on your hips, guiding you onto the mattress with a touch that felt reverent despite the heat simmering beneath it.

He leaned back against the headboard, toned thighs spread slightly as he reached over to the bedside table, retrieving a condom with an ease that sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed as he tore it open, sliding it on with practiced efficiency.

Then he looked at you.

His gaze was heavy, filled with promise.

"Come here," he murmured.

You crawled over to him, straddling his lap as his hands found your waist, steadying you as you settled over him. His skin was warm beneath your touch, muscles tense under your fingertips as you traced up his chest.

Aurélien pulled you closer, lips capturing yours in a kiss that was deep and unhurried, his tongue teasing against yours as his hands roamed your back. You could feel him hard against you, the sensation making your breath hitch.

His mouth moved from your lips to your jaw, then lower, trailing heat down your neck until he reached your chest. He took his time, lips and tongue tracing over the swell of your breasts before wrapping around a nipple. The sensation sent a shudder through you, a soft moan slipping past your lips as he sucked, his other hand palming your other breast, thumb circling the hardened peak.

"Aurélien," you breathed, threading your fingers through his curls.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending another wave of heat pooling low in your stomach. He switched to the other nipple, flicking his tongue before sucking again, his hands gripping your hips as he ground you down against him.

You whimpered at the friction, the growing ache between your thighs making you restless.

He looked up at you then, dark eyes heavy with want, lips glistening as he murmured, "Ride me."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, at the low rasp of his voice.

You reached between you, aligning him with your entrance before sinking down slowly, gasping at the stretch, at how perfectly he filled you. Aurélien groaned, hands tightening on your waist as you took him inch by inch.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, head tilting back slightly, his grip firm as he helped guide you down. "Always so tight, bébé."

You moaned at the praise, at the delicious burn of him inside you.

He gave you a moment, fingers kneading your hips before urging you to move. You rolled your hips experimentally, exhaling sharply at the friction, at the way he stretched you just right.

"That’s it," he murmured, watching you through hooded eyes. "Take me just like that."

You set a rhythm, lifting and sinking down onto him, each roll of your hips making you both unravel a little more. His hands roamed your body, one gripping your waist, the other sliding up to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple as he thrust up to meet your movements.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, mingling with breathy moans and curses in both English and French.

Aurélien’s eyes stayed on you, dark and hungry as he murmured, "Look at you… made for me, yeah?"

You whimpered, leaning forward to kiss him, the movement messy and desperate, all tongue. It reminded you of the first night you were together, when you had barely been able to keep your hands off each other, drowning in the sheer intensity of it all.

He groaned into your mouth, hands gripping your ass as he helped you move faster, deeper.

"Fuck, bébé," he rasped, voice wrecked. "You feel so good."

Your nails dug into his shoulders, chasing that high, loving how perfectly your bodies fit together — his deep brown skin against yours, slightly darker but complementing you like a missing puzzle piece.

You moaned his name, head tilting back as the pleasure built, and Aurélien took the opportunity to kiss your throat, teeth grazing your pulse.

His grip on your hips tightened before he lifted you effortlessly, his strength making your breath hitch. He shifted positions, pressing you into the mattress as he settled between your thighs, the heat of his body making you shiver in anticipation.

Aurélien’s hands slid down your legs, spreading them wider, and you hissed at the stretch. He paused, eyes flickering up to yours.

"I got you," he murmured, his lips brushing against your knee before he lifted one of your legs to rest over his shoulder. "Relax for me, bébé."

You exhaled, forcing yourself to melt into the mattress just as he rolled his hips forward, burying himself deep in one smooth thrust.

Your gasp was swallowed by his groan, the new angle sending pleasure spiking through your veins like electricity.

"Aurélien—"

He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping against yours with a force that had you clutching at the sheets, at his arms, at anything that could anchor you. The bedframe creaked beneath you, the headboard tapping lightly against the wall with each deep stroke.

"You take me so well," he gritted out, watching where your bodies met, mesmerized by the way you stretched around him. His free hand slid down to press against your lower stomach, applying just enough pressure to make you keen. "Feel that? How deep I am?"

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat as pleasure wracked through you.

"That’s my girl," he praised, leaning forward just enough to kiss your ankle before snapping his hips even harder, making you cry out.

The sensations were overwhelming, your body trembling beneath him as that familiar ache coiled tight in your core. Your nails raked down his back, desperate for something to hold onto as you teetered on the edge.

Aurélien’s breathing was ragged, his hands gripping your thighs as he pounded into you mercilessly. "Come for me," he urged, voice rough and commanding. "Let me feel you."

His words pushed you over the edge, pleasure crashing over you in waves as your body clenched around him, your cry of release muffled by his mouth as he kissed you through it.

"Fuck," he groaned, his rhythm stuttering as he followed right after, burying himself deep one last time before stilling, his body shuddering above you.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your heavy breaths, your bodies still tangled together as you both came down from the high.

Aurélien kissed you once, slow and languid, before pulling out carefully. He slid off the bed, disposing of the condom before returning, the mattress dipping under his weight as he pulled you into his chest.

You let him, curling against his warmth as his fingers traced lazy circles on your back.

And in that moment, as his lips pressed against your forehead and his arm tightened around your waist, you realized something.

Whatever this man wanted, whatever he needed —you were going to give it to him.

No questions asked.

……………tbd

#quainwritings #aurelien tchouameni #quain’s masterlist #aurelien tchouameni x black oc #aurelien tchouameni fanfiction #aurelien tchouameni x black reader #aurelien tchouameni x reader #aurelien tchouameni fanfic #aurelien tchouameni fic #aurelien tchouameni imagines #footballer x reader #real madrid fanfic

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cupidwritessillystories · 9 hours ago

Note

A headcanon with them meeting their child from the future with hsr men

Character: phainon, mydei, anaxa, dan heng, jing yuan, blade, sunday and caelus

Fem reader

Something like the hsr men meet their kid from the future and the kid say that they're his kid from the future. At first the hsr man don't believe that, but then the kid show the family album photo that make the hsr man believe the kid. The male hsr can already know reader or haven't know reader yet. Maybe after that they meet reader and try to court her 👀

Hi, thank you for the request so much! It was really fun to write (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

Just fluff, confused hsr men, time travel and kids that try to convince their dads that they really are their kids from the future!

Characters included: Phynon, Mydei, Anaxa, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Blade, Sunday and Caelus.

Anaxa may and probably will be ooc, since he's not even out yet and the content we currently have of him is mainly leaks. His part is also exceptionally short. Either way, I hope you guys like it!

Love always, Cupid♡

Phainon

He met your future child inside a prophecy, as weird as it sounds. Usually, it was just whispers of Titans, words of maidens, the prophecies rarely ever appeared in a form of hallucinations, but this one did.

He listened intently, trying to catch what the prophecy wanted him to know, but when he opened his eyes, there was no one around besides a small child tugging at his sleeve.

“Dad” he called him. Phainon was surprised, to say the least. From what he understood from the strange story he heard, he would later on get with you, and this little one was supposed to be his future kid.

“Is this even a prophecy, or am I just dreaming?” He asked himself. He would enjoy a future like that, a future with you, but you had already turned him down once. Was he just projecting his unfulfilled desires, had the said “prophecy” read his mind and just gave him the answer he most wanted to hear?

He didn't believe it, he wanted to, but he didn't. The child looked up at him, confused, and then gave him a photograph that looked just a tad bit too real. He jolted awake suddenly, thinking that it was just as he suspected, a dream. But when he looked at what he had in his hand, his whole perception of what just happened changed.

It was the same exact photo the little one gave him. There was no way it was a dream, then, for the things you see in dreams can't just materialize in the real world. He believed now.

It was probably naive to believe that ridiculous story, no one in their right mind would do so, but Phynon couldn't help himself. It felt real, and he hoped it was real.

Little did he know, you were trying to think of a way to apologize to him for turning him down before, because you did feel the same way he did. The time of his confession just happened to be unfortunate, which resulted in you loosing your cool and shutting him down immediately, which later on made you regret your choice of words.

Fate is such a curious thing, isn't it? when two people are destined to be together, they will. No matter what challenges they may face along the way. And so, the “prophecy” did end up being true.

Mydei

Mydei met your child from the future back when he was still a Crown Prince of Kastrum Kremnos. He was on his way to the training arena when he heard weird noises coming from the nearby corridor. There were a lot of stupid people trying to play smart thieves around here lately, so he went to check it out just in case.

To his surprise, the presumed “thief” turned out to be just a young boy, not above the age of 13. He was scavenging through a bunch of crap laying loosely on the floor, a worried look plastered on his face.

“What are you doing?” Mydei asked, still contemplating whether to help him or throw him out of the castle, for he was definitely not supposed to be there. Mydeis’ face when he heard the boy call him “dad” followed by an unbelievable story about time travel and his non-existing family was priceless. A mix of emotion washed over him, most of which were negative ones. Who in their right mind comes up with bullshit like that?

He ended up ordering the guards to escort the boy outside, he wouldn't be able to stand another word from him. Although the boy has been escorted already, a weird feeling that Mydei wasn't exactly able to explain lingered somewhere inside of him. He noticed an envelope on the floor right when he was about to head to the training ground and forget all about this insignificant event. This must've been what the boy was searching for. He picked it up and the first thing he noticed was that it was meant for him all along. Not thinking much, he opened it. Inside there was a photo that looked like it had been taken in Okhema, the Holy city.

What really threw him off was the fact that it was him in the frame together with two people whom he didn’t know. One, he recognised as the young boy that caused him unnecessary trouble earlier on, but the other one was a woman whom he had never met.

It's been years until he finally found you. What's ironic is that he wasn't even searching for you. When he saw the photo, he decided it'd be best to just throw it out, but in the end, he never did. He kept it close to him at all times. He wasn't sure why himself. As soon as he noticed you among the crowd, giving your supplies of medicine out to those who clearly needed it, it suddenly dawned on him.

You were the woman from the photograph. He stared, and stared, and kept staring, untill you finally noticed him. You smiled at him softly, the sun illuminating your hair in a way that made them seem to glow. A flower crown adorned your head, making you look akin to an angel. You walked over to him, waving your hand in a friendly manner. It never happened to him before. People in Okhema were hesitant to talk to him, they probably thought him scary. But not you. No, not you.

When you were in hand's reach away from him, you stopped. You picked a flower out of the many on your head and tangled it in his hair. It was a beautiful white camellia that matched him perfectly. “Thank you, hero.” You said, and then walked away. Later on, Mydei found himself seeking you out on various occasions, making up a multitude of excuses just to be able to spend time with you.

Anaxa

Well, what can I say? Anaxa is a certified non-beliver. If he defies even the gods, he has no problem telling a kid that his story is bullshit and that he probably should focus on helping his parents with whatever they do. No regards for the child's feelings.

He does so repeatedly, but the little boy doesn't seem to be giving up anytime soon. They both stand their ground, using solid arguments to try and convince the other one that they are right. Unsurprisingly, it leads to nowhere.

The kid decides to prove his point by sharing a family photo with Anaxa, who doesn't even want to look at it at first, but after some time he gets irritated by the child's persistence and says that he will take a look at it.

And so, he does. It feels weird, because after further examining the photo he came to the conclusion that it is, in fact, real. He won't ever admit it, but something inside him stirred, and he may have believed that absurd story presented to him. A little bit, at least.

You looked really happy on the photograph, and so did he. It would really be a pity if it all was just a lie, a joke made by a bored kid. Luckily, it wasn't.

Dan Heng

Dan Heng was never the one to believe in fairy tales. He based his opinion solely on facts, so when a random kid suddenly appeared in front of him, trying to convince him that she's his “future daughter”. He genuinely contemplated calling a psychiatrist for her. He'd even pay for the services if he had to. That being said, he doesn't know what compelled him to doing a throughout research on you.

You, who seemed eerily familiar when he saw you on a photograph he received from the child right before she ran off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was sure he had seen you somewhere before.

He fell into a spiral. He spent almost every minute he could searching for you. For signs of you, however small, whether it be in his memory or on the internet, but nothing ever came up.

He was loosing his mind every time he looked at that photo. It was a picture of you, him, and the strange kid that gave it to him. You were holding the camera, he was standing behind you on a beach, his back turned to you. The girl from before was holding tightly onto his sleeve. She seemed younger than when she suddenly appeared in front of him that unusual day.

Just when he was about to give up, when he almost convinced himself that it was all just an unfunny joke played on him by a bored-to-death kid, he saw you.

He saw you when he was buying some snacks with March 7th and the trailblazer in Aurum Alley. The place was very crowded that day, he left his companions and ran after you before he could loose sight of you in the mass of people.

He grabbed your shoulder, you turned around, your eyes met, and suddenly, something clicked. He remembers now, and judging by the look on your face, you do, too.

Memories of his past incarnation cloud his mind. “Those are not my memories” he reminds himself. He let's go of your shoulder, he wants to leave, but before he can do so, you pull him close into a tight hug. He was hesitant at first, but when you rested your head on his shoulder, he reciprocated the embrace.

You knew he wasn't the same person now, what you knew is that if he would give you a chance, you'd fall in love with him all over again. More even than with his past self, and he seemed to be aware of that, too.

Jing Yuan

He was as calm as ever, even though for the past couple of minutes he was listening to a kid around the age of 10 excitedly explaining to him how he’s his future son. Truthfully, he didn't believe a single word that kid said, yet he still decided to entertain him. He was paying attention to every word the child said, asking different questions and letting out dramatic gasps from time to time.

It was until the kid mentioned your name. How was it that he knew you? Why did he suddenly bring you up, of all people? Jing Yuan didn't spare a second to ask the question he had on mind. “How do you know her?” The kid stopped his storytelling and looked at him, bewildered. “huh? Didn't I just tell you? Are you even listening to me?”

Jing Yuan's voice was still his usual, sleepy one, but underneath it, there was a hint of curiosity. “Sure i am. I'm just wondering, what does she look like?” The previous moment of hesitation that could be seen on his face for just a brief moment was now gone completly. He decides to play it cool, as he always did.

“Stop playing dumb!” The child retorted, a bit irritated by now. He managed to come to the conclusion that Jong Yuan doesn't believe him at all, and he wasn't wrong. “You don't believe me, do you?” The kid tilted his head to the side, waiting for a response even tho he knew the answer already.

Jing Yuan sighed in defeat. He got caught red-handed and lost a battle against that youngster. “I suppose I don't. Not entirely.” A second later, he already had a whole photo album laying in front of him. He raised a brow at the boy next to him. “Just look through it. Maybe it'll convince you.”

And so, he did. Not only did he look through it, no. He deeply analyzed every single photo that the album contained. He spent hours that he should be spending on work looking at the pictures. He was lucky enough that he convinced the kid to let him keep the album. None of the shots seemed fake, and some of them even had a signature. Your signature. He would be able to recognize your hand writing anywhere.

Later that day, he visited the alchemy commission where you were supposed to be resting after receiving a fatal injury. He was embarrassed, because the whole time you've been recovering he had never visited you once. He never missed a chance to ask people from the commission about the state of your well being, bit that was it. He wasn't sure himself why didn't he visit you, not even once. Maybe it was because he was scared, because he knew that everything that happened to you was entirely his fault.

His previous confidence faltered, but he wasn't about to back out now. He entered the room where you slept and placed a single peony on a nightstand besides your bed. He didn't wake you up, you will know he was there once you do, and that's enough.

Blade

Him being a stellaron hunter usually means that he has no contact with kids whatsoever, so when a sassy teen pops up randomly right before his mission, he doesn't know what to do. He tried to ignore her, but she's too stubborn to back down. After some persuasion, he finally gives in. He doesn't even say anything to her, just listens to her peculiar story. Besides the fact that the whole situation is rather unusual, everything seems normal, she goes on to explain time travel to him, but when your name slips off her tongue right next to the word “mom” he stops in his tracks.

He wasn't even paying attention to her meaningless monologue, but that didn't fail to reach his ears. His expression turns from an unpleasant one to something borderline threatening.

When she calls him “dad” he freezes once again. For a moment, he thought that she was your long lost daughter or something like that, deliberately ignoring the rest of the unbelievable story she bragged about just moments ago. He clenched the handle of his sword, but she just looked at him mockingly.

“I can prove it. I have a photo.” She said. “A photo… why would that convince me? Get lost.” He answered, but she handed him the photo anyway. She must've come to the conclusion that this is all pointless, because soon enough she disappeared from his sight. He didn't even notice it. He was too focused on the picture. It was real, he could tell, and that was what threw him off the most.

He quickly crumpled it in his palm to hide it when he felt your hands on both his shoulders. You were always unnecessarily clingy, even more with him than with other stellaron hunters. He thought you peculiar, your reason for joining was even weirder than your personality, because you literally didn't have a reason, or just didn't want to reveal it. When someone asked you why did you join the stellaron hunters, your answer was always short. “Fun.” He suspected your reason was entirely different in reality.

He never pried about it, though. He pretended it didn't interest him at all, even though deep down he was intrigued by your person. Maybe he did believe that kid, even if he didn't want to admit it.

Sunday

A little while before the Charmony Festival announcement something strange happened to him. He met someone, a child, that claimed to be his future future kid.

It was rather a peculiar encounter. Let's be fair - he doesn't know how to talk to kids. He's way too formal at all times, so the communication between the two went miserably.

Either way, he agreed to entertain the kid and listen to his made up story, or what he thought was a made up story. It had no logic to it, just a wild imagination of a young person, so there was no reason for him to think about it more than necessary, yet he found himself intrigued by it somewhat.

The conversation was cut short when the child looked at a clock and decided that it's time to go already. Before running off, he gave Sunday a single photo.

A weird feeling rose up in his chest once he looked at what it was. It was him in the frame. Him and a few other people, whom he recognised as the famous crew of the astral express. There was also the kid from before standing between him and a woman who he claimed was his mother.

Sunday didn't want to believe it. Why would he, of all people, ever join the Astral Express? He was content where he was, here on Penacony. It seemed ridiculous at the time.

Everything changed after the Charmony festival, when he got detained by the IPC and later on managed to strike a deal with Jade. Ironic as it is, he found himself asking the astral express crew whether he could board the express with them, at least for a little while.

At first, of course, they were skeptical towards that idea. He couldn't blame them, really. The one who seemed to have the biggest issue with him was you. He must admit, you've made some good points during the debate, if not for Welt advocating for him, you'd probably just kick him out the moment he first stepped foot on the express.

The conversation went on for a long time, with Sunday just standing to the side, waiting for the decision to be made. In the end you agreed, just like the rest of the crew, but the looked you gave him right after it was announced revealed that you weren't exactly happy about it.

He remembered his bizarre meeting with the kid, and the photo that he got, and the fact that supposedly, you and him were the parents. He still didn't believe in all of that, mostly because of your attitude towards him. The worst part was that the way you acted was justified. You seemed to hate him with a burning passion. But nothing lasts forever, and that, too, changed over time.

You started being more open to conversations with Sunday, you let yourself forget about all the unpleasant situations he managed to put the crew into back on Penacony. After some time, you got used to his presence. He would even argue that you kinda liked him, even though you wouldn't admit it.

As time passed, it only made you two closer, and he realised that the kid might’ve been right all along.

Caelus

at first, when the kid came up to him, claiming to be his child from the future, he burst out laughing. Like, really loud and hard, to the point his eyes started watering. It took him good fifteen minutes to calm down. He thought it hilarious.

After he finally cooled off, and your child kept explaining about them, you, and the future, Caelus stopped them way before they could finish. “okay that's not funny. It was only funny the first time around. Stop it.” man was creeped out.

His second instinct was to threaten your child with his baseball bat, and so, he did. It didn't quite work out the way he wanted to, because the kid laughed him off and threw a heavy book right at him, which he, caught off guard, didn't manage to catch in time, resulting in it hitting him in the face. Ouch.

Either way, he picked it up, asking what it is. Only thing he got as an answer was a quick “just open it.” And so he did. He turned it to a random page, and the expression of pure shock on his face said it all.

He expected everything, but not what he saw. There was only one photo on the page he happened to open the album on. In the frame, the first thing he noticed was you. You were cradling a little kid in your arms, and he was standing slightly behind you, his hands rested gently on your waist.

He was still skeptical about the truth, but the photo did look real. And you… You looked ethereal, he thought. Your eyes reflecting your love for the two, your hair slightly longer than it was now, and your smile seemed so sincere. He suddenly felt his heart skip a beat.

You were a passenger on the astral express currently, not yet a member, but you did travel quite a few worlds with the crew already. Caelus never seemed to notice the way you looked at him, although he looked at you exactly the same.

In that moment, he started to believe in the story presented by the kid just a little bit more. He hoped it was true, at least, and if it wasn't, he would make sure it'd come true. That's when he finally got the courage to ask you out, although when you asked what made him do it, he was too embarrassed to actually admit anything, so he quickly changed the topic by making some weird remarks about the lack of trashcan on Xianzhou Luofu.

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