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agathasfamiliar · 2 days ago

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hi!! I just found your blog, can I request g!p detective!agatha railing reader in a missionary position and has a bulge kink (poking the bear🤭🏃‍♀️)

thank you so much for this request it was very fun to write, i hope you enjoy it!

fuck the police:

detective agnes o'connor x fem!reader

You fucked up and finally got caught for your long-running streak of graffiti artistry. What's worse than being arrested, however? Being interrogated by the one detective in town who causes you to question your all out hatred for the profession.

word count: 6.2k

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, agnes is trans/intersex/has a penis, penis in vagina sex, power bottom!reader, service top!agnes (but agnes still needs a little control of course), handcuffs, breeding kink, bulge kink, agnes loves reader's tits, smut

author's note: trans butch agnes, my beloved. also i probably could've done more research into a more realistic set up/i know this isn't how someone being arrested/interrogated would work but it's porn so...hopefully you can look past that

You never thought you’d find yourself here, arrested and waiting to be questioned for your crimes. Perhaps you should’ve seen it coming, your graffiti art has steadily risen in popularity over the last few months, ever since one particularly evocative piece got featured on the local news and allegedly inspired a number of protests throughout the city of Westview.

Not that you had anything to do with that.

The police department has issued several requests for information on you, even offering a pretty handsome reward for the proven identity of “Hex”, the name you tag every piece with. A rumor has even reached your ears about a copycat artist getting arrested over in Eastview. Serves them right for using your signature, but it at least has kept the feds off your trail for a bit.

Admittedly, you’d gotten cocky thinking you could get away with tagging the squad car stationed at the busiest intersection in town. In your defense, it had looked empty. How were you supposed to know the deputy on duty was napping in the back seat? You’d made it halfway through the looping pink pig face you were sprawling across the windshield before he woke up and chased you down four blocks.

If you were wearing your usual running shoes instead of having slipped on an old pair of slides in your rush out of the house, you probably would’ve outrun the middle-aged cop chasing you, another mistake you won’t make again.

Now, you sit shivering in nothing but a sheer white tank top and sweatpants so spattered in all the vibrant colors of your, now confiscated, cans of spray paint, that you can’t even remember what color the pants originally were. You weren’t an idiot, you had a black hoodie on when you went out to do your work, but the rookie cop that booked you at the station also insisted on taking your sweatshirt for “evidence”.

You’re pretty sure he just wanted to see you suffer in the refrigerator-like temperature they keep the precinct at, clearly only recently having graduated the academy and already taking a shine to abusing his power. Pigs, indeed.

The interrogation room they brought you to well over 30 minutes ago sits at the very back of the building, a windowless box that somehow looks and smells both musty and sterile. A large one-way mirror covers the wall opposite the door, the only noise in the confined space being the tick-tick-tick of the clock above it that reads just past midnight.

You rattle the short chain connecting your handcuffed wrists to a bar on the heavy metal table in front of you, just to disrupt the suffocating silence. Have you seriously been forgotten here?

Just as you have that thought, as if summoning another person into existence with it, the door, opposite the corner where you sit, opens briskly.

Twin sighs of irritation drop from both your mouth and the supposed detective’s as she enters. You can’t make out too many details of her appearance at first because of the dim lighting that mostly just illuminates the table you sit at, as well as the fact that she has her head down looking over what you assume is your intake forms.

“I want a lawyer.” Are the first words out of your mouth once the woman has turned to shut the door behind her.

“Ha!” She laughs dryly and it has you simmering with rage already, but something about it also sounds familiar.

“Well, sweetie,” The still concealed detective continues as she finally steps into the light, “not likely to find a public defender that’s available at this hour, but if you insist on staying overnight…” She trails off amusedly, finally stepping into the light and causing your prepared reply to die in your throat as you connect the recognition of the voice with the blue eyes that meet yours.

“Detective O’Connor.” You greet, trying to keep your tone even.

Fuck.

Of fucking course, of all the detectives in the goddamn city, this is who had to come question you. The same detective you’ve served coffee to every morning for the better part of three years at your shitty cafe day job. The same detective who barely acknowledges your existence, but when her fingers brush yours as you pass her usual over the counter, you think about it for the rest of the day. The detective you berate yourself for fantasizing about, because she’s everything you despise and your friends would never let you hear the end of it if they found out, especially with how often you’re spouting your “radical” political beliefs (not that you see them that way.)

Detective Agnes fucking O’Connor…

This is not how you imagined it would look if you ever got her in a room alone.

“Huh? Do I know you?” She questions, almost offended, and now you’re the one to let out a dry laugh.

“Here, let me help jog your memory.” You say, picking up the small, paper cup of water that had been left on the table for you in one bound hand, holding it aloft and reciting her order.

“One large hot coffee with two sugars and half a pump of vanilla.”

She looks unaffected at your display, only raising both eyebrows once in sudden recognition before sauntering over to the chair on the other side of the table and sitting down casually.

“Impressive, that how you’ve avoided custody so long? Charming Westview’s finest by memorizing their coffee orders?” Her questions are laced with condescension.

“Nope, just yours. Why? Is it working?” You smirk despite your better judgment. You hadn’t planned to try the flirting route to get out your charges, but hey, the best schemes have an element of truth to them. Plus, if this is the only chase you’ll have to speak to the detective alone, you might as well make the most of it.

She doesn’t answer, instead leaning back in the rickety metal chair that lets out a squeal at the motion. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail that’s tied low at the base of her skull. Blue flannel sleeves are rolled up to the elbow and it’s all you can do not to think about tracing your tongue over the veins that snake over her strong forearms.

The jeans she’s wearing strain with the way she sits, legs spread apart, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from letting out a gasp when you notice how it puts the delicious outline of what’s beneath the denim on display. Fuck, you do not need to be thinking about straddling the woman where she sits and grinding down against her bulge right now, but you are anyway.

Mercifully, she leans forward again in the seat to ask another question and the view is gone. You need to focus if you’re going to get out of this without incriminating yourself.

“What were you doing tonight?” She asks flatly, getting down to business. You know better than to provide anything resembling an answer, true or false.

“This whole thing seems pretty excessive, all things considered. I mean, an interrogation? Really, Agnes?” Her first name slips out before you can catch it, but you don’t really care.

“Just answer the question. And it’s Detective.” The flare of anger in her eyes only spurs you on.

“Sorry, Detective Agnes,” you correct yourself, purposefully using her name this time, just to see that flash of heat again.

“If you were so curious about where I was tonight you could’ve just asked me out.” Now that you’ve opened the floodgates, the suggestive remarks just keep coming out.

For Agnes’ part, she remains still and draws in an angry breath. Her blue eyes blaze with irritation at your lack of cooperation more than the intrigue you were hoping for, but that just means you’ll have to turn up the dial on this improvised plan you’ve laid out for yourself. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway?

“Listen, if you’re going to keep wasting my time I’ll just lock you up now and wait ‘til morning.” She threatens with a glowering expression, voice raising every few words in an attempt to intimidate. It’s kind of cute, actually.

You think she might hear just how her phrasing comes out and anticipate your next response, because she almost looks remorseful. The slightest pink tone that rises to her cheeks and the way she pokes her tongue out to wet her bottom lip when her eyes flick down to your barely covered chest don’t escape your careful observations either.

“Ooo,” you start, falsely scandalized, “now you want me to spend the night?” A slight giggle escaping you at your own words and the way you lift your handcuffed wrists in front of you playfully.

With the action, you’re sure to press your biceps against either side of your body to even more obviously display your tits, and she can’t help but look down with the movement, eyes raking over your nipples that stand at attention beneath the thin fabric in the cold space.

Heat is practically rolling off her in waves and you can’t tell for sure if it’s arousal or fury that is threatening to boil over, or what will happen when it does, but you have always been the type to take risks. Why stop now?

“Can’t you just get me off with a warning? I mean- let me off…” You ask before she can recover from your last question, attempting a simper at the intentional slip up in your speech.

It seems that this is what finally pushes her over the edge as she slams her hands loudly against the metal table and stands up, causing it to vibrate with the impact. Her chair goes clattering to the ground behind her, but she doesn’t seem to care. The satisfied expression you wear drops for a second at the forceful display, maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

“Alright, that’s enough!” She shouts, leaning over so you can practically feel her breath on your face before she rounds the table quickly.

“Do you really wanna keep poking the bear?!” She asks, furious, now standing at your right side and heavily folding at the waist to shout into your ear.

You have to lean away slightly at the volume that threatens to burst your eardrum and it provides just enough space to look the detective up and down where she stands.

That’s when you see it.

Unmistakable and pressing against the zipper of her jeans so forcefully that it’s a wonder they haven’t burst; Detective O’Connor is hard.

You can’t drag your eyes away from the tented fabric, so obvious that it nearly casts a shadow onto the denim in the odd light of the room. As you are still seated, you’re practically at the perfect level to just lean over and mouth the length through her pants. It’s all you can do not to let your head dip where it wants to most, as if you’re a magnet being drawn by its opposite charge.

“I- uh.” You stutter, unsure of your words for the first time since she walked in. The amount of saliva that has accumulated in your mouth at the sight in front of you forces you to swallow before you speak again.

“I think I’d rather have the bear poke me.” You breathe, sounding wrecked just at the thought.

When you finally drag your gaze back up to hers, her face is burning red, but this time you can tell it is much more out of embarrassment than anger. She looks self conscious in a way you’ve never seen and it’s so, so pretty.

“It’s okay I c-” You start, reaching out uselessly in your confines, but you’re cut off from your attempt at a rare comforting word when Agnes seizes your right shoulder and lifts you to your feet. She then immediately folds you over and presses you against the table on your stomach, handcuffed hands pinned beneath your chest. You let out a grunt at the forceful action as well as the freezing cold metal that almost stings your skin that has warmed at your flirting.

The position is much like the one you were put in a few hours ago upon your arrest, only now it causes you to ache with desire instead of seeth with fury.

“You think this is funny?!” She questions, but it sounds strained and unsure. Your own hesitance at her intentions keeps you from muttering out that it’s actually not funny, it’s really fucking hot.

It dawns on you then that she probably turned you over like this so you aren’t able to see the blush that’s probably still spreading over her skin, or the bulge in her pants that’s no doubt only getting worse, especially with how you purposefully arch your back in her grasp.

She has you pinned beneath her hands, one still on your shoulder and the other holding your waist, the perfect placement for her to pull you back against her. Instead, a shaky breath sounds from behind you. It seems like she’s deciding what to do next and you can almost feel the heat radiating from between her hips that begs her to choose the option you’re hoping for too.

You start pressing back yourself, impatient and using any amount of leverage possible to reach your destination. To help her decide.

“Come on, detective. Let me help you out.” You nearly whisper in the most convincing and sweet voice you can muster. Her hands loosen ever so slightly at the soft sound and you use the opportunity to slide the last inch backwards, your ass just barely brushing her front, aware also that if she had wanted to stop you she would’ve easily been able to.

You feel the hardness and heat of her cock against you through both your clothing and nearly release a whimper at the sensation, at the idea of her finally being inside you like you’ve fantasized about so many times.

Just as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone again. Her hands release you entirely and she steps away without a word, leaving you feeling even colder than the steel table you’re slumped against. You drop your head to the metal in defeat. That’s it, you think. Your efforts haven't worked and you’re not only going to spend the night in a cell, but you’re going to do so while very uncomfortably wet and wound up. Plus, she’s probably going to try to add attempted bribery or harassment to your charge sheet. God, this was a dumb idea. Why couldn’t you have just gotten some old guy detective whose questions you would have dodged coldly and without a second thought?

All these thoughts flash through your head in the few seconds it takes Agnes to step away from the table and turn you by the hips to face her, the chain keeping you there being just long enough to allow such movement.

You look down immediately, as if out of instinct, to find the large bulge still present, possibly even more so somehow. A bolt of desire strikes through your core at the small dark spot you notice has formed on the crotch of the already dark jeans. The evidence of your effect threatens to turn your legs to jelly. Finally, your eyes raise to meet Agnes’ with a curiosity, who stands less than a foot from you, hands still holding your hips loosely. The thrill of not knowing what she’ll do next makes your already racing heart beat even faster.

You find that she looks as weak as you feel, drinking you in like you’re an ice cold glass of water she’s found in the middle of the sahara. It’s clear that she’s used up every last thread of restraint she has to resist your offer, and it still has proven to be insufficient. Her blue irises have nearly been swallowed by blown black pupils that bore into you as she speaks her resignation to her rapturous fate.

“If I’m gonna fuck you,” she breathes the words out like she’s just run a marathon, “it’s gonna be while looking at those pretty tits.”

You lean back into the table in favor of collapsing straight to the floor at those words. How is this actually happening?

Seeing you stumble into the table, her right hand shifts down to your thigh and lifts, helping you to sit on the ledge as she steps closer to let your knees bracket her body. She looks so much more confident in this moment, and not in the same stone-faced way she had while you prodded at her before. It brings a soft smile to your lips and she looks away, somewhat coyly, at your noticing. It’s hard to decide if you prefer her shy or assertive.

Blunt nails graze gently over your covered thighs, to your hips, then your waist, before finally settling over your scarcely contained breasts. Your own sharp intake of breath meets your ears as you lean into the warm touch and she squeezes them with a smirk playing on her lips.

“I might not remember your face…” she rasps, leaning to speak directly into your right ear, “but I definitely remember these.” Both thumbs move to brush over your already pebbled nipples, causing them to harden further. You roll your eyes, both at the comment and at the thread of pleasure that tugs right from where she touches you all the way down to your pulsing clit.

For all the humor in it, you can’t help but notice just how sincere her comment sounds and flashes run through your mind of every low cut top you’ve ever worn to work, wondering which one’s are her favorite.

“Shut up and fuck me already.” You exhale with a chuckle against her cheek, momentarily forgetting your binds and trying to reach around her shoulders to pull her closer. The chain rattles loudly and you jerk with the reminder of your limited movement.

Agnes shakes her head and laughs at your needy but firm command as well as your inability to move.

“Here, let me.” She continues laughing gently as she reaches for the key ring you somehow hadn’t yet noticed swinging from her hip.

“No.” You blurt before you can think better of it.

“Leave them.”

It’s a daring statement and you run your tongue across your teeth mischievously while the implication works its way through the woman’s mind. Her lower lip disappears into her mouth with how hard she bites into it, looking at you in disbelief and utter need.

“Fuck,” is all she says, dropping the keys back to her side and moving instead to undo her belt with a clumsy haste.

You would be scrambling to remove your own pants as well, not wanting to waste anymore time, but your own request has left you unable to do so. Instead, you’re left in awe as the black leather belt is unlatched and left hanging loosely open while Agnes works at her zipper. Even less is left to the imagination when denim is pulled aside to reveal cotton boxer briefs protruding with the tension of her arousal.

Her cock is pressing tautly against the soft, grey material and the way the underwear clings to her body causes you to gape at the implication of how much the secure garment is still concealing.

The dark spot you’d noticed on her jeans is even darker and more centralized to its origin on the grey cloth. Saliva fills your mouth again at the sight, the only thing better than seeing her from beneath that last layer of clothing will be when it is finally removed.

As if reading your mind and wanting you to suffer a moment long, she pauses her motions of undressing any further. Before you can argue or make a snide remark, her hands are on your own waistband, tugging the paint-covered article down as much as she can while you’re still seated. You can’t very well lift yourself with your hands at the moment, so you slip off the table quickly to help get them the rest of the way down, hopping back up just as swiftly and letting her pull them off your legs, shoes falling to the floor one by one in the process.

The cold table under your mostly bare ass draws the breath from you momentarily, only a black pair of boyshorts now protecting you from the metal.

“Do you ever wash these?” Agnes asks down at the rainbow vomit littering your clothing before dropping the pants to the floor, a real dry humor in her voice replacing the stern, mocking one from when she first entered the room.

“What’s the point?” You ask, because seriously, why would you wash them if you’re just going to get paint all over them again?

“Do you answer every question with a question?” She fires back, moving back between your knees from where she’d stepped back to help undress you. Her fingers play again at her own waistband, dipping into them slightly before meeting your eyes, waiting for your answer.

“Do you always stall like this when a girl wants you to fill her pussy?” You ask with an exaggerated expression of curiosity, as if you are genuinely awaiting the answer and not just communicating your impatience.

Her cheeks pink again at the response, any clever comebacks quickly forgotten. You remove your gaze from her face and shift it back to her arousal to allow her to blush in private.

In your peripheral vision, you see her eyes flick up to watch your face as she dips her left hand into her underwear and grasps herself so gently, right hand pushing the material down to reveal what you’ve been waiting for.

You’re first met with a mess of dark curls that trail all the way up to her belly button, which you only catch a quick glimpse of with the way her shirt momentarily gets caught by her arm. You stifle a moan at the reveal of her thick cock; rock hard, reddened and still beading pre-cum, as you saw evidenced on the front of her jeans and underwear.

Now you slightly regret having her leave the cuffs on, as you long to reach out and take the length in your hands, or better yet, your mouth. Heat takes your face at the idea of getting on your knees before the detective and gagging on her length, and now you’re the one blushing and biting your lip.

Painfully tearing your eyes from the beautiful sight to catch Agnes’ expression, you find her still looking for your reaction. She finds exactly what she’s looking for in the way your eyes soften and you use one finger, your hands still bound at the wrists and settled in front of your chest, to beckon her forward.

Loose strands of brown hair that have escaped her messily tied back tendrils brush the side of your face as she leans in close to catch your message.

“I need your cock inside me, detective.” You husk, more than speak, into her ear, the lust dripping from the title she insisted on minutes ago causing a physical and auditory shudder through the woman. Looking back down, you see Agnes stroke herself once, as if your words have rendered her unable to resist.

Maybe she notices that you’re about to make a comment about it, because in one swift motion Agnes’ right hand flies up to your left shoulder, shifting you fully to your back on the table. You let out a gasp at the sudden movement, metal tabletop clattering at the impact and drowning out the sound. Just as quickly as you’ve adjusted to your new position, you’re being pulled by the thighs to the very edge of the table and towards exactly what you want, Agnes then guiding you to wrap your spread legs around her hips for support.

“You need this, huh?” She asks, hungrily looking over your body from her new perspective. You’re about to answer her question with your own when she slowly and teasingly drags the head of her cock from your clit to your entrance, over your underwear. Her timing is getting a little too convenient.

You groan at the feeling of your own wetness being pressed against you by her hardness. It makes you ache knowing it’s so close to being consumed by your heat, only a thin shield of fabric left between you. If you had full range of motion of your hands, you would have already ripped the rest of your clothing off, but the quick and dirty way you’re both still mostly clothed almost turns you on more.

Desperate to maintain the dizzying contact, your hips grind upward as your legs become a vice, pulling her ever closer. The clear enthusiasm only spurs her on, gliding back up and down again, circling your clit three times with her cock on the last pass until you're squirming beneath her and hopelessly trying to contain your whimpering. You would rather wait a lifetime for your orgasm than beg a cop.

You’re so sopping wet, though, that when you look down between your bodies you can see the way her cock shines with your arousal despite not having yet made full contact. It’s almost too much to bear, your clit throbbing in time with your pounding pulse. Something has to give or you’re soon going to be a blabbering mess.

“Just fuck me, Agnes!” You bark out, hips rising insistently and your voice verging on a whine.

The room goes still for a moment, even the clock ticking away on the wall seems to pause for dramatic effect as she quirks an eyebrow and tilts her head dangerously at your outburst. That same feeling from before washes over you, when you thought you might’ve really fucked up, but it only lasts for half a second before a hand is shoving your ruined underwear to one side and you feel the tip of her resting at your entrance.

Your eyes meet her blue ones, which are actually still mostly black, especially in this light. They burn into you like before and you don’t know whether her silence is a good or bad thing.

You draw in your own shaky breath, waiting for her next move, and on the exhale she sheathes herself to the hilt inside of you.

Even she can’t contain her half of the guttural growl that comes from both of you at the perfect feeling. You don’t even have the wherewithal to feel embarrassed about just how fucking soaked you are that she was able to slide all the way in with one thrust, because the way her cock is filling you up so completely has rendered every other thought irrelevant.

A moment passes where you both breathe, adjusting to the stretch and squeeze respectively. You feel her throb once within you and think, at this point, with enough determination, you could come just from that small amount of friction.

You don’t need that determination, though. As if mocking that passing thought, Agnes skips any unnecessary build up and starts at a positively bruising pace. Just one moment ago she was panting over you, looking like she might not even make it two thrusts in before unraveling, and now she’s slamming into you with a literally breathtaking force.

No intelligible noises are able to come out of your throat at first, only broken, reedy gasps. Your eyes roll back in your head as the glorious, slapping sounds of your joining sexes fill your ears. Her length jabs over and over again at the perfect spot inside you, just where you need her.

Doing your best to focus your vision, you look up to see the red face of a woman clearly holding on to her composure for dear life. Her finger nails are short, but still able to bite into your hips ever so slightly as she practically slides you up and down along the table while also moving against you herself, which deepens her thrusts even more.

This also seemingly provides quite the show for Agnes, who you observe is splitting her time between watching your face contorting with pleasure, her cock sliding in and out of your pussy, and most of all, the way your tits are bouncing considerably with her every movement.

“You like these? You should fuck them.” You make out between gasping breaths, nodding down at your own chest.

Agnes takes a moment to respond, her laser focus causing her to not even register your words at first. When she does however, and notices your gesturing, her thrusting falters only for a moment, as if the idea alone has made her nearly swoon with desire. Crystal irises scan you over again and you can tell she’s thinking about it by the way her eyebrows knit together in a desperate sort of way.

“Maybe next time.” She decides, smirking down at you and ramming herself into you particularly hard once before returning to her rhythm, while her left hand comes up to grip your right breast greedily.

“Mmn- next time?” You ask around a moan, trying not to sound too hopeful, but it’s also such an unexpected sentiment from the detective you can’t help but question her further.

“I’d bet good money this won’t be your last arrest,” is all she says to satisfy your curiosity. While it’s also a subtle dig at your evading skills, your imagination still runs wild with the unspoken promise of how a future slip-up might turn out for you. It almost makes you want to get caught again.

“Right, because you’d love to f-fuck, fuck! Oh my god!” Your response turns into a moaning curse when her hand shoots down from playing with your tits so her thumb can land firmly on your clit and press down with flawless pressure, never letting up consistently filling you in the process.

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..” The mantra spills from your lips while your orgasm mounts within you and you know you’ll be toppling over the edge any minute now.

If your hands were free you would be locking your fingers behind her neck and pulling her even closer to you to ensure you get what you want, but the burn of the metal chafing your wrists is a delicious alternative. The pain only sharpens the pleasure you’re feeling everywhere else and you throb at the idea of waking up tomorrow and seeing angry red and purple bracelets of evidence.

At your emphatic request, she doesn’t stop. You’ve never been so full before and when Agnes’ cock throbs within you after every couple of pumps, stars explode behind your eyes. There’d better be a next time because you’re pretty sure nothing and nobody has or will ever make you feel like this.

“I’m so, so close. Fuck!” You shout, unsure what possesses you to tell her, but her response only drives you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, yeah, fucking come for me. Come on my cock, come on my c-cock…” She huffs, the exertion that you were already impressed with her maintaining finally shows in her voice, but she still never lets up. It almost sounds like she’s begging, a “please” barely contained behind her lips, and that’s what makes you really want to come for her.

Chasing your orgasm, you redouble your efforts of rocking your hips up and it makes her length press even more fully against your front wall until you’re practically screaming with pleasure. The new angle caused by your rocking coupled with the way your walls are tightening around her in anticipation of your release is also clearly doing something for Agnes.

Her breaths are coming in short puffs and she is completely unable to stifle the loud whimper that bursts out of her when you clench around her even harder, your orgasm just seconds away.

That’s what finally does it, that mewl that you were able to pull from the tough detective. It sends you flying, every muscle tenses and wave after wave of pleasure causes you to buck against the table and Agnes, but she holds you firmly in place, fucking you through it and moaning herself the whole time as she marvels at your release. The aftershocks go on for what feels like forever while you float in your euphoria, never wanting it to end.

After your release, Agnes’ thrusts quickly become short and frantic, almost rutting into you with a fervor. The throbs you’ve felt are coming on every pump and you’re content to lie back in your blissed out state and let her take whatever she wants, until she starts to pull out of you, one trembling hand releasing your hip and clearly intent on finishing herself off.

You’re suddenly more lucid than ever, quickly locking your ankles behind her from where they’d fallen limp, and shoving her back into you until she bottoms out. A surprised breath leaves her at the action, a sheen of sweat breaking across her forehead as she stutters out her reasoning.

“I-I’m gonna-” She can’t even get the words out and it’s the second time in so many minutes that you feel your heart squeeze at just how adorable this usually grave woman is.

“I know, I know. Come inside me, baby.” Your voice is thick with desire and you’re still lingering bliss, the pet name slipping out like water, but you need her to know just how badly you want it.

Her eyes widen slightly as a deeper blush somehow takes over her already red face, unsure but so very full of want. You feel her twitch within you despite herself and her hips roll just at the words.

You don’t break eye contact, making clear how serious you are to quell her doubt.

Tentatively, after a beat, she starts up a slower pace, pulling almost out of you before thrusting all the way back in, like she’s giving herself time to think again.

“You can do it baby, I know you want to. Fuck, you feel so good inside me.” You gasp out the words while she fucks back into your pussy and you think you could come again just from the way she looks at you when you say them.

You repeat your cooing encouragements and it doesn’t even take three more of those slow thrusts before she falters and stays sheathed inside you, rutting weakly.

“Come on, baby.” You repeat, and you know she’s done.

More of those beautiful whimpers fall from her lips as you feel one stronger throb and then warmth explodes into your walls. You can’t help but moan yourself at the feeling of being filled by her. Spurt after spurt of her cum coats your insides while she holds you tighter and tighter, as if you’ll float away if she lets go. Her desperate moans die down eventually and she slumps against you, still inside, and draws in one big breath before releasing it slowly. Her eyes are screwed shut and her head is now resting against your restrained hands on your chest.

It’s probably good they're restrained, you think, because if they weren’t you’d be having a very hard time resisting running your fingers through her long hair, tenderly scratching your nails against the nape of her neck.

Another beat passes where the two of you breath against one another and come down from your respective highs. The delicious mix of your and Agnes’ cum has started to drip out of you onto the table below and it’s a hot enough thought that your sensitive clit gives a weak twitch and you clench around Agnes unintentionally, causing her to crane her neck to look up at you.

Her eyes are clear again and softer than you’ve ever seen them; you let your coursing endorphins carry you away on a cloud of imagining leaning the six inches it would take to capture her lips in yours, but you don’t dare actually do it.

She starts to shift, maybe shaking herself from some similar thought, you can’t tell. Her soft sex pulls out of you slowly as she pushes up on her hands and waits for you to release her from the grip your legs still have her in. You unsteadily unravel yourself from her, shuddering slightly at the loss and trying not to think about how empty you feel without her.

Now free, she tucks herself back into her briefs and makes quick work of finally undoing your cuffs. Her hands rub at the raw skin absently, using her hold there to pull you into a seated position. She then reaches down for the balled-up mess you call a pair of pants and slides them back onto your trembling legs easily. After you’re relatively put back together, cum still leaking out and coating your already ruined underwear, she looks you over once more with hunger along with something else you can’t place.

She looks thoughtful, like she wants to say something else but thinks better of it, instead letting a sly smile pull at her mouth and a different comment sneak through with a soft laugh.

“Consider that your warning.”

#agatha harkness #agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha all along fanfic #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader smut #x reader smut #female reader #fem reader #x reader #agatha harkness fanfic #agatha harkness smut #smut #agatha all along smut #familiar requests #agatha x you #agatha smut

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hy6erion · 1 day ago

Note

Hiii! Could you write another piece about fem!artist reader x JayVik? LOVED it! xx

Imagine this. Viktor and Jayce are searching for something and they accidentally find her secret sketchbook. They open it and find it PACKED with nude sketches on them and all. And they tease her TO DEATH about it!

𝐃𝐫��𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 - 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫

✰⍣..𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲/𝐧'𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤- 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

⇢𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐯𝐢𝐤

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 (╥╯^╰╥), 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

It started with something innocent.

“I swear I left it around here,” Jayce muttered, rifling through the stack of papers on the workbench with increasing frustration.

Viktor barely looked up from his own search. “Have you considered the possibility that you misplaced it?”

Jayce groaned, raking a hand through his hair. “I don’t misplace things, Viktor.”

Viktor snorted. “Ah, of course. The esteemed Councilor Talis, master of organization.”

Jayce shot him a glare before turning his attention back to the desk. “It’s gotta be here somewhere. Y/n!” he called over his shoulder. “Have you seen the—?”

Silence.

Jayce turned to find the stool empty, Y/n nowhere in sight.

“She left, remember?” Viktor reminded him. “Something about running errands.”

“Oh. Right.” Jayce frowned, then shook it off, going back to his frantic search. “It has to be here. Help me look, would you?”

Viktor sighed but complied, leaning his cane against the table before pulling open one of the lower drawers.

A few moments passed.

“Oh?”

Jayce stilled, glancing up at Viktor’s tone. It was the sort of sound he made when he found something interesting.

“What?” Jayce asked, stepping closer.

Viktor tilted his head, lips curving into something amused as he pulled an unassuming sketchbook from the drawer.

“It would seem our dear artist has been hiding things from us.”

Jayce blinked. “Wait—that’s not mine.”

“No,” Viktor agreed, flipping it open. “It is not.”

Jayce leaned over his shoulder just in time to get a full view of the first page.

And immediately choked on air.

Viktor let out a low hum, flipping to the next page, utterly unfazed. “Well.”

Jayce was still too busy dying. “Oh my god.”

The sketchbook was packed—page after page of detailed, gorgeous charcoal work, and all of it was them.

Except not the casual kind of sketches Y/n usually showed them.

No. These were—

“Is that my ass?” Jayce demanded, pointing to a particularly bold sketch.

Viktor turned the book slightly, considering. “Mm. I believe so.” He flicked to the next page. “And here we have… you, shirtless. Ah, and here is another. And another.”

Jayce clutched his chest like he’d been personally attacked. “She’s been hoarding these.”

Viktor’s lips twitched, amusement creeping into his tone. “It would seem so.”

Jayce reached out, flipping wildly through the pages. “Oh my god, Viktor, there’s a lot of you in here.”

Viktor’s smirk deepened. “Naturally.”

Jayce shot him a look before turning back to the book.

“Oh.”

Viktor quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Jayce had gone very still, staring at a page near the middle.

Viktor leaned in to see what had finally shut him up—

Ah.

A new sketch. One far more intricate, more indulgent than the others.

All three of them.

Jayce, stretched out, half-draped over Viktor, completely at ease. Viktor, relaxed against him, fingers threaded loosely through Jayce’s hair, expression softened in a way that rarely existed outside of their quietest moments. And in the middle—

Y/n.

Nestled between them, bare skin against bare skin, eyes half-lidded with something unspoken, hands lost in their warmth, their presence.

It was—

“Damn.”

Viktor chuckled. “Indeed.”

Jayce flipped to the next page. Another. And another.

The intimacy in them was undeniable. Not just physical closeness, but the unguarded moments—the quiet affection, the way Y/n had captured them at their most themselves.

Jayce whistled low. “She’s obsessed with us.”

Viktor smirked. “Can you blame her?”

“I knew she liked drawing us, but this?” Jayce shook his head, grinning like an idiot. “She’s so down bad.”

Viktor hummed in agreement, tracing a finger along the edge of one particularly indulgent sketch. “And to think, she has been hiding these from us.”

Jayce clicked his tongue, mock disappointment lacing his tone. “How scandalous.”

“Oh, undoubtedly.”

A beat of silence.

“We have to tease her about this.”

Viktor chuckled. “Oh, absolutely.”

The sound of the lab door creaking open made them both snap their heads up.

And there she was.

Y/n, stepping inside, completely oblivious to what awaited her.

She only had time to blink before—

“Darling.” Viktor’s voice was smooth as silk, eyes gleaming with mischief. “We made a most interesting discovery in your absence.”

Jayce held up the sketchbook, open to one particularly bold page. “Care to explain?”

Y/n froze. Her eyes flicked to the book. To the pages. To them.

Jayce had never seen someone’s face turn red so fast.

“Oh,” she croaked.

Jayce grinned. “Oh, indeed.”

“I—” She swallowed. “That’s not— I mean—”

“Mm. So you didn’t spend hours sketching us in various compromising positions?” Viktor mused, flipping a page. “Ah, what a shame. And here I was, quite flattered.”

Jayce nudged him, grinning. “I told you she was obsessed with us.”

Viktor nodded sagely. “It is truly a remarkable level of devotion.”

Y/n made a noise somewhere between a strangled scream and a groan, burying her face in her hands. “I hate you both.”

“No you don’t“ Viktor deadpanned.

Jayce leaned against the table, chin resting in his palm, positively smug. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re dying to know—what exactly inspired these?”

Y/n shot him a withering glare. “You both walk around half-naked all the time! What did you think was going to happen?”

Viktor tapped a finger to his chin. “A fair point.”

Jayce smirked. “So you admit it.”

Y/n groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “I hate you.”

Jayce grinned, leaning in. “No, you love us. Very.”

Viktor smirked. “And, clearly, artistically.”

Y/n let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. “I should never have left you unsupervised.”

Jayce slung an arm around her, pressing a loud, exaggerated kiss to her temple. “Sweetheart, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to us.”

Viktor chuckled, flipping to another page. “I do wonder… what else have you been hiding?”

Y/n’s eyes went wide. “Don’t you dare—”

But it was too late.

Jayce and Viktor, now armed with knowledge and ammunition, were never letting her live this down.

#✰⍣ 𝐡𝐲𝟔𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane jayce x reader #jayce talis #x reader #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane jayce #arcane viktor #arcane jayvik #jayvik #arcane viktor x reader

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iamquiantrelle · 18 hours 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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somnus-lucis-caelum · 23 hours ago

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She was acting out games again. Somnus watched, though he crossed his arms and shook his head while still watching her, as if he was an adult not believing antics that a child presented to him.

So her childhood bedroom was right next door? Had this been part of her chambers, too?

Curiously he stepped through the door – and it was a similar feeling as when Gilgamesh hit him with a shield in training. But this was a mental shield. And it was colourful. And cluttered.

Somnus’ eyes widened a little and he did not know where to look at first. There was just… so much.

“That is all yours?”

How could one person own so many little things and trinkets? It was not even that everything was immeasurably valuable and only luxury. No. There were a lot of small bits and pieces that had no monetary value – but surely a sentimental one to Aerith.

Somnus sucked in his breath, turning in a circle and trying to take in more – though it seemed where ever he looked, things only multiplied.

It was… magical in its own way. But too much. He would never know how she even found sleep in here. Was her mind not constantly jumping from one thing to the next?

“That is… a lot.”

Maybe a vague comment like that was the best course. He did not want to insult her. He just was not at all used to this kind of decoration habits. The halls and corridors of Lucis were very straightlined and simple.

“… I think Gilgamesh will be quite alright here.”, he mused, throwing her another grin. The giant Shield would not want to stay here. And imagining him in this bed with all the pink and blankets and pillows… it would be a picture for the gods.

Though there was one wall that had Somnus stepping closer. This, he wanted to look at. Countless scrolls and pieces of parchment, drawn on and painted. With so many scenes and magical happenings… it looked as if the entire wall was a mural to tell the story of a life. Her life.

“Did you draw all of these?”, he asked, his fingers gingerly smoothing out one rolled in corner of a picture. If Somnus ha dto guess, it depicted Queen Ifalna, holding a smaller Aerith on her lap. It looked divine. “You are a master artist…”

There was little need to guess where Aerith was. As always, she found a reason to talk, and talk, and to talk and talk. Each room they breezed through, she managed to have something to say, alerting the guards of her returned presence long before their eyes sighted her.

She confidently led Somnus through to 'their' door, even swept out one of her arms in a flourish to invite him further inside. Her heel swept the door then and it closed with a soft click, a moment of silence spreading out, one that she finally didn't rush in to fill.

"Yeah, this is ours." Aerith echoed, allowing time for that sentiment to sink in. She glanced around. There were so many memories in this room... but it looked as though it had been wiped completely clean in the time that she had been gone. Now it stood as a blank slate. Ready to be filled with a new chapter.

His smirk only threw her for a moment. Her curiousity swiftly changing to amusement. "Oh?" she asked, as if that had been a challenge against her. Hands folded behind her back, Aerith approached the door that connected on their left, even pausing at it to politely knock.

"Hello? Gilgamesh? I hope you don't mind the imposition, Somnus wanted to inspect your temporary living quarters." It was just teasing, underlined by the look she threw over her shoulder to the Prince. "He isn't saying anything. I think he's amazed by the artwork."

Finally putting an end to the little charade, and to the build-up of what he must think her room must look like, Aerith grabbed for the door and gave it a simple push open. She strolled inside the bedroom so easily. It was, after all, her most familiar place in the world.

There was something set down upon every single surface. And, to her gentle amusement, there she found her travelling trunk. Her eyebrows shot up at the sight. "Ohh. Guess dad told them where they could shove this." she lightly commented, stepping around the trunk with a hum.

"Of course, I am a generous partner, if you would feel more comfortable in... your personal hell." Aerith offered with a laugh, unable to keep a straight face as she motioned around for him. "You're welcome to this bed should you want it."

#holyguardian #AU | Star Crossed

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peachiejeongin · 3 days ago

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ink and thorns part 2 | hyunjin

part 1

synopsis: hwang hyunjin is the tattoo artist you cannot stand for the life of you, always acting so smug, so horrendous, and always attempting to flirt with you. you hate him, but what happens when you end up in his arms after a traumatic night?

pairing: tattoo artist!hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

warnings: mature & sexually explicit content (18+ recommended), lower case letters intended, swearing, pet names (sweetheart, princess, etc.), mentions of anxiety, cheating (not hyunjin or reader), mentions of losing a parent

nsfw warnings: dom!hyunjin, sub!reader, making out, marking, oral (f!receiving), fingering, praise, light degradation, begging, unprotective penetrative sex (do not), creampie, aftercare

wc: 15.4k

notice: hello, my darlings! tumblr hates me, so here is part 2 of ink and thorns! make sure to check out part 1 before reading this one, and enjoy the longest story i have ever written :,)

divider by: @cafekitsune

it had been three days since the kiss. three days since you had started to replay the moment over and over in your head like a song you could not escape.

the feel of hyunjin's lips against yours, the way his hand cupped the back of your neck, the way he was so gentle yet purposeful in his actions—it all lingered in your mind, no matter how hard you tried to rid yourself of the thoughts.

you had ignored the text he had sent you the night after, heart hammering as you read the words:

fuckass: 'come to the shop after close. we need to talk about what happened.'

the message sat unanswered in your notifications for days on end, just staring back at you like a challenge. every time you thought about replying, doubt crept in, whispering all the reasons as to why you should not answer. you told yourself you had made the right choice in pulling away from him, that it was a mistake, a moment of weakness per se. letting go was the only way to protect yourself from getting hurt again.

right?

but then there were the nights when the memory of his eyes, soft and full of something you were terrified to admit, kept you awake. during the daytime, you sat hazed at work, unable to stop wondering about him—how he was doing, if he missed you, and most importantly, if he was thinking about the kiss just like you were.

the weight of uncertainty fell upon your shoulders, and it pushed you to the point where you found yourself standing outside of prism ink well after the moon had settled into the sky. the feeling had been eating away at you, gnawing at your gut.

you had to do something about it.

the lights were still on, though the neon sign perched on the corner of the indoor window seal flickered 'closed' in bright red letters. through the glass, you could see hyunjin bent over his sketchbook at the counter, his head resting in his hand. suddenly, the memories flooded over you once more, and doubt reached your limbs as you reached for the door handle. part of you wanted to turn around, to leave before he noticed anyone was there; however, the other part, which had brought you here in the first place, won out.

you pushed the door open, the soft jingle of the bell breaking through the quiet; you were surprised it was unlocked to begin with. hyunjin's head snapped up, surprise flashing across his face before it shifted into unreadability.

"y/n?" he called quietly, setting down his pencil. “what are you doing here?”

"i...i saw the light on." you hovered by the door, unsure of whether or not to approach him. he nodded, his gaze steady as he gestured towards the leather chair at his station.

"come sit. please. i want to talk to you."

you swallowed hard, feeling reluctant but obeying nevertheless. you crossed the room and sank into the chair. hyunjin did not move right away, watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

"where have you been?" he asked finally; his voice was low, deeper than usual, but nowhere near accusing. "why didn't you text back?"

"i didn't know what to say." you looked down fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve.

"i wish you would have said something." hyunjin sighed, running a hand through his buzzed follicles of blonde hair.

"what would it have changed?" you questioned, your voice more frustrated than you intended.

"everything," he retorted, leaning forward. "or maybe nothing. i don't know, but at least i wouldn't be sitting here wondering how you really felt about the other night."

you flinched at the honesty in his words, your throat tightening.

"i don't know, hyunjin," you admitted, your voice barely rising above a whisper. "i don't know what i feel."

hyunjin watched you for a moment, his expression undeterminable. then he stood, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the counter in front of you.

"i understand," he said softly. "if i’m being completely honest, i don’t know how i feel either, but it doesn’t mean i don’t want to…navigate, i guess, these feelings. together."

you looked up at him, your heart pounding through your ribcage.

"why?"

"why what?"

"why do you want to? and why do you care so much?"

"because that night," hyunjin began, “that kiss awakened something in me.” hyunjin's lips curved into a faint smirk, but his eyes stayed serious. his words knocked the air out of your lungs, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him.

“don’t-”

“don’t what? call it what it is? we can’t keep pretending like it didn’t happen, y/n. whether you want to admit it or not, we kissed. we fucking kissed. and like i said, we need to talk about it. we need to talk about us.”

"us? what us are you referring to exactly? you barely know me." you mirrored his words from the ramen restaurant, trembling as you spoke.

"maybe i don't," he replied, "but i know i want to."

the sincerity in his voice made your chest ache, but your mind began to wander to other subjects at hand. you looked at hyunjin, diverging from the matter at hand.

"why are you even here, hyunjin? like, at the studio after close? it doesn’t make sense.”

hyunjin hesitated at the question, his gaze dropping to the floor. "i…i’ve been staying late every night. i was hoping there was some chance you would see my text and show up, and well, here we are."

hyunjin ended the confession with a dry laugh, but the vulnerability in his admission sent a wave of warmth and guilt crashing over you.

"i’m sorry,” you finally apologized after a few moments of silence. “i didn't mean to hurt you," you told him, your fingers twisting together in your lap.

"i know," he responded, looking at you once more. "but you did, because you matter to me, whether you want to accept that or not." the weight of his words settled over you, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe them. to believe him.

believing him, however, was fucking scary.

"i don't know how to do this," you confessed, your manner cracking as you felt a deep pit rest in your gut. "i don't know if i can let somebody care about me on that level after…what happened last time. i don't want to get hurt again."

for the first time that night, hyunjin approached you, crouching in front of you so that you were eye level.

"let's get a couple things out of the way," he said gently. "first, i have absolutely no intention of hurting you. i'm not your ex, and i don't want to be. second, i can show you how to be loved. properly. we don't have to rush into things. we can take it one step at a time. no pressure, no expectations, no secrets. just me and you."

tears stung your eyes, but you blinked them away, nodding slowly at his words. hyunjin reached for your hand, his touch warm and steady. his fingers intertwined with yours, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. the warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you could not help but notice the closeness of his actions.

the air between you felt charged, heavy with an energy that neither of you dared to acknowledge aloud. his eyes scanned yours, flicking down to your lips and back again, as thought he was weighing a decision.

"can i," he started, almost whispering. "can i kiss you again?"

you did not answer with words; instead, you leaned in, closing the distance. the moment your lips met, it was as if the world melted away. the kiss was not like the first one. it was not hesitant, unsure, or slow; it was urgent, almost desperate, as if both of you had been waiting for this since the first time your lips had locked together.

hyunjin's free hand cupped your jaw, his thumb tracing the edge of your cheek as he deepened the kiss. you tilted your head, allowing him to press closer, his breath warm against your skin. your hands found their way to his shoulders, the firm muscle beneath the hoodie he was wearing grounding you as you let yourself fall into the moment. his touch was careful, but there was a hunger beneath it that made your pulse race.

when his lips left yours to trail along your jaw, you gasped softly, your fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie tightly. he chuckled against your skin, the sound low and satisfied, before moving to press a kiss just below your ear.

"hyun," you breathed, your voice barely audible.

"hmm?" he hummed, his lips ghosting over the upper region of your neck, just underneath your earlobe. "words, princess."

you did not know what you were going to say, but the way his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, made words impossible either way. the chair beneath you creaked slightly as you shifted, and hyunjin froze for a moment, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he let out a soft giggle.

"not here," he murmured, his voice thick with amusement.

"excuse me?" you asked, your voice dazed as you tried to process the sudden halt. hyunjin pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips curving into a teasing smile.

"i don't want to have to clean up the chair," he said, his tone light but his eyes still heavy with lingering heat. "plus, it's kind of weird tattooing other clients on a chair where you've fucked your girl." the comment snapped you out of your haze, and you swatted at his chest, your cheeks burning.

"first of all, you're unbelievable," you began, your cheeks burning with lingering anticipation. "second of all, your girl?"

"firstly," he started, mirroring your words, "you're the one who showed up after hours."

"you're the one who kissed me!"

"and you kissed me back," he replied smugly, pressing his pointer finger to your nose briefly to accentuate his words, "which leads me to point numero dos: friends don't make out in a tattoo parlor after hours. so, yes. my girl."

you could not argue with either of his points, so you just glared at him, though the corner of your mouth betrayed you by twitching upwards. hyunjin's expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes giving way to something more tender.

"i'm serious, though," he reaffirmed. "i don't want to rush you or this…interesting little relationship we have."

you studied him, your chest tightening at his sincerity.

"me neither." he leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

"good."

the days following that night felt different; the air between you and hyunjin had blossomed into an unexpected relationship; once the man you scrunched your nose in disgust at, hyunjin had morphed into the person you craved to be around. a subtle but growing trust had formed that made everything seem lighter.

you found yourself visiting the shop more often, lingering over the sketches hyunjin worked on, sometimes just talking and sometimes sitting in comfortable silence. you also began visiting each other more, whether it was just for a quick coffee run or an entire movie night together; spending time with him just felt right. over time, you had felt a certain fondness bloom in your heart for him; he was a beautiful person, inside and out, and you felt as if you could truly trust him.

which, in your mind, was absolutely terrifying.

one afternoon, you were sitting across from hyunjin at his work-desk, watching as he sketched; his pencil moved fluidly over the paper, his talent always surprising you. he did not have a client at the time, nor did he have one scheduled for a while, but he was still intensely absorbed into his work, almost seeming unreachable due to his concentration.

"i've been thinking," you said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"about what, sweetheart?" he paused, looking up from his paper with his eyebrows raised, his pencil still firmly placed upon the sketch.

"i want you to design my next tattoo."

he tilted his head slightly, his gaze studying you as if you were joking.

"okay..." he glanced at the designs pinned to the wall behind him, then back at you. "whatcha got in mind?" you hesitated to answer, the pressure of your decision pressing on your chest.

"i want something full," you explained. "another floral piece. a sleeve, to be more specific."

hyunjin's eyes lit up at the challenge, but he did not speak right away, as though he was contemplating your request.

"i want you to have full creative freedom," you continued, your voice sure of what you wanted. "i want you to design something you think would fit me."

hyunjin studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. then, he smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made your chest tighten with undeniable love.

"i won't disappoint you then, princess," he replied, his tone steady.

"good," you remarked, feeling a strange weight lift off of your shoulders. "take your time. i want to be sure about it." hyunjin nodded, his fingers drumming against the side of his desk as he processed your words. then, with a small grin, he responded.

"i've got an idea already. i'll start working on it tonight. trust me."

in a matter of a week or so, hyunjin sent over the final sketch. when you opened the message, you could not help but gasp.

the design was absolutely breathtaking. flowers of every kind, from roses to peonies and, of course, a daisy as the centerpiece, wrapped around the sketch paper in a fluid, graceful swirl. the shading was delicate, the lines bold yet soft, with each bloom seeming to tell its own story.

"you really did it," you whispered, your fingers tracing the image on your screen.

fuckass<3: 'you like it?" you: 'i love it."

you took a few moments before typing out another message to him.

you: 'come over so we can talk about it?'

the reply came faster than expected.

fuckass<3: 'be there in half an hour, sweetheart.'

you smiled at the response, a small sense of relief flooding through you. the next thirty minutes passed in a blur of excitement until you heard a soft knock at your door. you opened it to find hyunjin standing there, a familiar, small smile on his face.

"hey," he greeted, stepping inside. "i know i’m a little late. i’m honestly surprised you didn’t text me when the clock hit thirty-one minutes."

"didn't think much of it," you replied, giggling nervously. "didn't wanna bother you if you were still at work either."

"bother me?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes as he kicked off his shoes. "you? never."

you chuckled at the comment, and how his tone was somehow both sarcastic and genuine, as you led him to the living room, where you had cleared a spot on the coffee table for the sketch he had sent. the piece was printed out now, laid flat and looking more impressive than it did on your phone.

"i want to make sure this is exactly what i want," you admitted, sitting down on the couch, your eyes fixated on the paper. "i absolutely love it, don't get me wrong. i just know i'm asking for a lot, and that there's a lot of meaning behind getting an entire sleeve. i just want to be sure i'm not getting it for the sake of getting it."

hyunjin sat down next to you, his gaze moving from the tattoo to you. his expression softened, the teasing edge gone and replaced with understanding. he rested a gentle hand on your thigh, looking at you as he spoke.

"you don't have to get it, y'know," he responded firmly yet reassuringly. "i won't be offended. plus, i can always change it if you want me to."

"no," you shook your head, feeling the moment settle into your gut. "i do want it. it's just..."

"just what?" he prompted, his voice soothing as he moved his hand from your thigh to your upper back.

"i trust you a lot with this," you stated, your voice dropping to a whisper, "and doing so is…well, it’s kind of a big deal for me."

hyunjin did not say anything at first. he just let the silence sit, absorbing your words before his free hand found its way to yours. his fingers brushed against yours, a gentle touch that felt comforting.

"you trust me?" he asked quietly, a shake trembling in his words.

"yes," you responded without hesitation. "i really like you hyunjin...if that wasn't already obvious."

"no, not at all," he teased. "i have girls kiss me after hours in the shop all the time, and they feel absolutely nothing." he ended his sarcasm with a smirk, causing you to roll your eyes.

"this is why i didn't say anything," you sing-songedly replied, looking away from his gaze. "but, yes. i do trust you."

the air suddenly felt thick with unspoken tension. hyunjin turned fully toward you, sneaking a finger under your jaw in order to turn your head back towards him.

"you don't know how much that means to me," he whispered as his lips quivered into a small, knowing smile. without warning, he leaned a little closer, his breath ghosting over your cheek as he leaned into the crook of your neck. "you make me happy, y'know that?"

your heart raced, and your pulse quickened in response to his closeness, his words stirring something intense inside of you.

"i do?" you asked, your voice breathless, betraying the casualness you were trying to maintain.

"absolutely," he quietly murmured. his hand moved, brushing over the back of your neck, his fingers gently threading through your hair. the touch was light, almost tender, but there was a lust behind it that made your breathing hitch.

you glanced up at him, your chest rising and falling with each shaky breath, unsure of where this was leading but not wanting to stop it.

"hyun," you mumbled, almost in the audibility of a whine.

"yes, princess?" he removed his head from your neck and somehow leaned in even closer, his lips just a hair from yours.

"i uh..." you stuttered as you tried to speak, but hyunjin cut you off, finally closing the space in between the two of you as your lips pressed against each other's. his hand moved to cup your jaw as his tongue moved against yours, deliberate, erotic, and entirely unexpected.

your heart skipped a beat when he pushed you down, hovering over you on the couch. he pressed his body into yours by instinct, and you let out the softest of moans at the contact.

"not here," you whined, mirroring his words from just nights ago. "too uncomfortable."

"hmm," hyunjin hummed, his lips parting from yours as his face hovered mere inches away from yours. "show me to your bedroom then, sweetheart."

he swiftly climbed off of you and you snatched his hand in yours, running to the end of the right-side hallway in your home. as soon as you made it in, hyunjin took you in his arms, tossing you carefully backwards onto your comfortable, queen-sized bed. he mounted over top of you once again, his knee slotting in between your legs and pressing right where you needed him, eliciting another soft whimper from your end.

"so needy, sweetheart," he mumbled, his lips dipping down to your neck as he lightly kissed the skin. "barely done anything, and look at ya."

"shut up," you mumbled, becoming shy from the intensity of his stare.

"how about you make me? hm?"

with that, you caught him in another kiss, your hands grasping either side of his face and occasionally running through the blonde stubs of hair on his head.

"lift up your arms for me," he mumbled against your lips. "this shirt's not doing either of us any good." you obliged without hesitation and raised your arms above your head; hyunjin swiftly pulled your black, loosely-fitted t-shirt over your head and threw it somewhere on your bedroom floor, opting to worry about the mess later.

"you are so fucking beautiful, y'know that?" hyunjin did not alott time for a response before delving into the crook of your neck and kissing it lightly. he hummed against the column as he began to suck, bite, and kiss every exposed area of skin he could. it did not take long for him to find the sensitive spot below your ear once more, and he paid close attention to the spot, marking it in a darker shade of purple than the other bruises he had left.

"hyunnie, o-oh my gosh," you moaned out, desperate to have his mouth attached to other, more sensitive areas. he smirked against your neck, seemingly able to read your mind as he started to move lower. he left a light trail of kisses from your now assaulted neck, and down your chest and stomach until he reached your waistline, just above the hem of your jeans.

"you okay with taking this further?" hyunjin questioned, looking up at you with glossy eyes. you nodded desperately in response, and hyunjin made quick work of the button on your jeans, undoing it and the zipper before pulling down your pants and underwear. in true hyunjin fashion, his movements were not swift in the slightest; they were agonizingly slow and teasing, seeming as if he was trying to let his personality shine through in the moment.

you squirmed due to the unhurried movements, trying to wiggle your pants off yourself; this caused hyunjin to let out an amused giggle.

"relax, sweetheart." hyunjin teased. "we have all night." he finally snaked off the garments and threw them on the floor along with your shirt.

"fuck," was all he could say as he took the sight of you in. you were glistening, for lack of a better term; hyunjin's words, his marks, and everything in between that had happened moments prior had already caused a fair amount of arousal to pool in your core. absentmindedly, he ran a cool finger through your folds, coating the tip with your slick and using it to spread the arousal all over your pussy.

"so wet already," hyunjin breathed out as he continued his tantalizing movements. "need some help with that, princess?"

"please!" you yelped out, desperate for some sort of sensation to ease the throbbing lust.

your reactions only made hyunjin's ferality grow, and he wasted no time in getting to work on your pleasure. he first snagged the hem of his hoodie, shrugging it off of his shoulders and throwing it aside. he got to work shortly after, focusing first on your clit and alternating between licking and sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves, allowing his tongue to drag itself a bit lower down your core each time.

"you taste so sweet," he moaned. "better than i ever imagined you to." at his words, you let out a rough sigh blended between pleasure and relief, instinctively moving a hand up to cover your face from meekness.

"mm-mm," hyunjin hummed against you, gently moving the hiding arm down as he made intense, passionate eye contact with you. "wanna see you when i make you feel good."

hyunjin's vibrations against you sent a course of jolts through your body, causing your moans to pick up in pitch and pace. with the acceleration of your moans came the quickening of hyunjin's movements, as he gained a moderate rhythm to his movements against you. it was not long before a knot began to tighten in your stomach.

as if he knew your body's every signal, hyunjin's lips pulled away from your clit; before you could protest, you felt something chilled prodding at your entrance, causing you to flicker your gaze downwards through your entranced haze.

hyunjin slipped his middle finger through your entrance with ease, pumping the singular digit slowly but thoroughly in and out of you; occasionally, he curled it in order to brush against your g-spot. you watched the tattoos shift on his body as he worked, everything from hearts to flowers to symbols moving in perfect rhythm with his fingers. you felt a string of moans catch in your throat, too nervous to let them go in fear that the neighbors or an unexpected guest would hear.

"don't hold back," hyunjin commanded, never once breaking eye contact with you. "moan for me baby. let me hear those pretty noises."

as if to add emphasis to his demand, hyunjin inserted his ring-finger inside of you; with that, any embarrassment and hesitation caught in your body vanquished. every noise held within you tumbled out of your lips in broken whines, moans, and whimpers. your newfound confidence in your noises made hyunjin's arousal peak, and he quickened his pace, pumping in and out of you in accelerated sync.

"good fucking girl," he praised, moving his thumb up to brush against your clit, both motions feeling inhumanely paced as they synchronized.

"close," you whimpered out, your thighs trembling ever so slightly as the knot in your stomach became too much to bear.

"yeah? you wanna cum?" hyunjin asked in between languid movements of his fingers. "then beg for it."

"h-huh?" the words caught you entirely off guard, and you felt your cheeks heat up at hyunjin's command.

"what? you didn't think your first time with me was going to be easy, did you, sweetheart?" hyunjin sarcastically cooed, slowing his fingers down. "after the way you treated me when you first started coming to me for tats, i think i deserve a little vengeance."

"seriously?" you whined. "i thought that was behind us!"

"never assume, princess," his low voice answered, the dominance of it only turning you on further. "now, beg to cum or i'm the only one that gets to feel anything tonight."

you bit your lips in response, closing your eyes tightly from embarrassment.

"please..."

"please what, sweetheart?"

"please let me cum! please, please! i'm sorry for treating you like an ass! please let me cum, hyunnie, please!"

"attagirl. let go, princess."

hyunjin took your pleads as encouragement, swiftening his movements with ever 'please' as his fingers rapidly brushed against your g-spot. moans filled every corner of the room as you finally came undone. your hips stuttered, accidently pressing themselves into hyunjin's face as your fingers held onto hyunjin's shoulders to brace yourself. your arousal covered hyunjin’s fingers as he leisurely removed them, chuckling at the remnants still spilling out of you.

"you did so well for me, pretty," hyunjin breathed out, licking his fingers clean of your slick. "so, so sweet," he groaned as he lavished in the taste. you replied by sitting up, kissing hyunjin with much more hunger than you had previously. his hands found the supple skin of your waist, massaging it lightly as he kissed you.

you moved your hands down his torso, finally having time to drink the sight of him in. he was lean, fit, and toned, each muscle of his glimmering under the soft light in your bedroom. you traced each curve of his body, relishing in the way he shivered under your touch. your fingers sculpted over his abs before reaching the hem of his joggers, hooking under the waistband as you looked at him for approval.

"go for it, princess," hyunjin responded to your doe-gaze; with his help, you shimmied his pants and boxers down, allowing his cock to spring free from its prior entrapment. before you could verbalize your astoundment over his lengthy cock, hyunjin manhandled you into a new position to where he was over top of you once more.

"having fun?" he cheekily asked, eliciting a nervous giggle from you.

"loads," you genuinely replied.

"good," he answered. "now, spread those legs for me so the fun can continue."

you shifted your position to where you were doing just that, wrapping your legs around his middle and giving him just enough access to your entrance. hyunjin smirked, his gaze lustfully piercing as he used his hand to take your jaw in his grip.

"here's what's gonna happen," hyunjin lowly growled. "you're going to keep those pretty eyes on me while i fuck you, and you're going to be as loud as you can. make sense?" you nodded, only feening for his touch.

hyunjin smirked, lining himself up with your entrance and getting verbal confirmation that you were ready before slowly pushing himself inside of you. the stretch you felt was delicious, the pain of it quickly dissipating as you lost yourself in the fullness of the feeling. hyunjin was still for a moment, giving you time to adjust to his size. you gave him the go-ahead, and he slowly began to drag his length out of you before slightly thrusting back in.

"holy shit," hyunjin groaned out, developing a pace to his thrusts. "you're so warm. so tight. feels so good, sweetheart."

a plethora of noises filled the air as hyunjin sped up ever-so-slightly, containing moans, praises, and whimpers as you hazed from the pleasure. you felt tears well up in your eyes both from the intensity and from the sheer ecstasy of the moment.

"awe," hyunjin cooed as he used a finger to trace your jawline. "you're crying over my cock. how adorable."

"s-shut up!" you whimpered, bucking your hips up to meet his.

"as you wish, your majesty."

hyunjin's hips swiftened moreso, and your hips began a rhythm against his. with the quickened pace, it was not long until your second orgasm crept up on you. hyunjin began to stutter in his movements slightly, desperately determined to make you both finish.

"'m close," he repeated several times over, his fingers digging into your shoulders.

"me too," you responded in the tone of a whine. "j-just like that, hyunnie, keep going."

he thrusted faster than he had ever managed to before, his nails leaving slight indents on your upper body as his own climax snuck up on him.

"where do you want me to cum, sweetheart?" he inquired; in response, you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him in to signal that you wanted him to finish inside of you. the effort elicited a teasing chuckle from hyunjin as he neared his release.

you came undone first, your second orgasm much more intense than the shockwaves of the first. you rolled your eyes back as you shook against hyunjin's body, creaming all over his length. the sight alone was enough to bring hyunjin to his finish, and he let himself go, releasing his cum inside of you with a loud, guttural groan.

as both of you came down from the high of the moment, hyunjin let himself down slowly, laying on top of you as he let out a sigh of relief.

"you okay?" he asked quietly, wrapping his tattooed arms tightly around your middle.

"mhm," you hummed in the crook of his neck. "felt so good."

your incoherent, dazed mumbling allowed hyunjin to laugh; he retracted from your embrace, slowly pulling out of you as he stood up. he picked you up bridal style, carrying you to the bathroom.

"let's get you cleaned up, pretty girl."

the low hum of the tattoo machine filled the room, its light buzz mingling with the soft rock music playing inside of the parlor. the scent of antiseptic and ink hung in the air, but it was much more familiar than the first time you had stepped through the door.

you sat in hyunjin's chair, the final moments of your floral sleeve session underway. after countless days of endless outlining, shading, and coloring, hyunjin had declared he would be finishing the piece that very day. as such, you had arrived that morning with him as he opened the shop, as he told you it was going to be a long, excruciating session. hours upon hours had passed of slow, methodical work, with each remaining petal, leaf, and vine etched with care and precision. each design symbolized, to you, an act of trust and healing.

the piece sprawled gracefully along your arm, cascading from your shoulder to your wrist like a garden in full bloom. roses, lilies, and the daisy in the center, were carefully placed to symbolize the trials of your life, and furthermore the growth of a new person.

your boyfriend worked in silence, his brows furrowed in concentration, the light catching the sharp line of his jaw. his buzzed hair had grown slightly, softening his look but keeping the familiar intensity of his features. his free hand intertwined with yours, your thumb rubbing over the ink on his knuckles for comfort.

you watched him, a small smile tugging at your lips as you traced the lines of his face with your eyes. it was hard to believe how much the two of you had changed, and how much had changed between you, in such a short time.

"all done," hyunjin finally said, switching off the machine and leaning back to admire both his work and you. he reached for a mirror, angling it just over the tattoo so you could properly look at it. you took a deep breath, holding it up to examine the completed sleeve. the colors were vibrant, each floral design leaping off your skin with intricate detail. "what do you think?"

"it's beautiful," you whispered thickly with emotion. "it's so perfect."

"it's you." hyunjin smiled, his cocky grin replaced with a beam of sincerity. "it's your beauty mixed with everything you've been through. i knew this was going to symbolize you to a tee."

your chest tightened at his words, the genuineness in his voice making your heart swell. you set the mirror down and turned to him, suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of everything he had done for you; not just the tattoo, but the way he had been your rock, supported you, even when you had tried to push him away.

"thank you," you told him, your voice trembling slightly. "for everything."

"you don't have to thank me, sweetheart." hyunjin's gaze softened, and he reached out to softly cup your cheek. "think of this as my way of helping you see what i see: a strong, gorgeous flower that can stand any test of time."

your breath caught at his words, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned forward and kissed him. it was steady, sure, and appreciation you could not put into words. hyunjin kissed you back with equal gentleness, his hand cradling your face as he pulled you closer. when you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested against each other, and you could not help but smile.

"y’know, i think i'm falling for you, fuckass," you giggled out.

"i've been falling for you," hyunjin chuckled as he brushed a thumb over your cheek. "you’re mine, and i'm yours. no getting rid of me now."

you laughed, the sound light and carefree, and leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"i think i can live with that."

“just don’t think that being my girlfriend gets you out of paying.”

“oh, you!” you slapped at hyunjin’s chest, immediately wincing from the ever-present tenderness of your freshly-inked arm.

“mhm,” hyunjin smirked. “that’s what you get for bullying me.”

as you left the tattoo shop that evening, your new tattoo carefully protected after earlier’s wince, you could not help but glance at hyunjin, who was walking beside you with his hand resting on your lower back. the streetlights bathed everything in a golden glow, and for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful about the future. whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you had hyunjin by your side as you faced them.

your story was just beginning, and you could not wait to see where it would take you.

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght, @amararosesblog (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)

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xi-vz · 1 day ago

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Look at me back on my BS. HC—Shen Yuan looks like Mobei Jun.

•

Shen Yuan was a cute guy, at least his mom always said he was. He honestly didn’t care much for his looks. He was a teenage boy, and his interests lied with books, gaming, and trolling the comments section of the PIDW forums.

So maybe this whole thing was the forums fault?

Apparently Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was going to make his first ever public appearance at a convention—it was exciting stuff seeing as PIDW just received a live action TV deal. (Shen Yuan wondered if the TV show would be able to transform the utter garbage parts into gold.)

Shen Yuan, with the fervor only a true (anti) fan could muster, scrambled to get his hands on a convention ticket the moment they went on sale. His parents even encouraged him! Happy to see him excited for something other than the internet. Securing his place, he also entered the cosplay competition where Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky would be a judge. Because why not? When else would he get to dress like a xianxia character?

It took him a while to decide who he wanted to dress up as. Look, if it were up to Shen Yuan he’d have been Luo Binghe. But, one, he doubted he could pull it off. Two, there were probably going to be a ton of Luo Binghe’s.

“Be the ice king,” his younger sister suggested one evening while the two fo them were hanging out in Shen Yuan’s room. She was busy on her Switch while he was on his laptop.

“Mobei Jun?” He asked, a skeptical look on his face.

“Yeah! You look like him.”

Which was untrue but whatever. Since he didn’t have any other ideas, he spent weeks (months) perfecting his costume, studying every detail from the illustrations and fan art.

(Shen Yuan learned how to sew for this costume!)

(And spent way too much money on commissioning what he couldn’t make.)

“You need to bulk up a bit,” his second older brother suggested one night. “I read some of Proud Immortal Demon Way, and Mobei Jun isn’t a twig like you.”

“Ha, A-Yuan is more of a twink,” his eldest brother teased.

So…Shen Yuan began to work out. He still had a few months until the costume contest.

It was hard at first, but his doctor had been on board. Granted, Shen Yuan couldn’t really get buff within a few months, but he did wind up with the beginnings of abs, his shoulders broadened and his ass looked great. There were a bunch of girls (and some guys) who made eyes at him at school now. Not that Shen Yuan noticed. But, he did notice that for the first time in his 19 years, he felt healthy.

When the day of the convention finally arrived, Shen Yuan found himself subjected to his sister's meticulous and admittedly skilled hand. She styled his already long black hair, adding extensions to achieve the full, flowing mane of Mobei Jun. She also worked some magic with makeup, highlighting his naturally icy blue eyes, which he had always considered a genetic defect, but today they were his greatest asset.

When he looked in the mirror, he barely recognized himself. There stood Mobei Jun, the demon king, imposing and cold. Shen Yuan’s heart pounded with excitement and a tinge of apprehension as he made his way to the convention center. His siblings in tow, because they wanted to root for him. As embarrassing as that was.

Upon arrival, the crowd was bustling with anticipation. Shen Yuan attracted a lot of attention—both for his stunning costume and his uncanny resemblance to Mobei Jun. A lot of people called out “my king!” As he walked by them, his cloak billowing behind him.

Damn, he felt majestic as fuck.

As he stood before the judges—a voice actress, a manhua artist and Airplane himself—he couldn’t help but feel a mix of pride and anxiety.

That was until he saw Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky for the first time. And. Wow. Okay.

Airplane was younger than Shen Yuan thought. Maybe 20; handsome, which was so weird. Square-jawed, in great shape with his DanDaDan graphic tee stretched enticingly over his pecs and biceps. His hair was curly and kept in an attractive undercut. He wore glasses and had ear piercings and a lip piercing and dimples and a sleeve tattoo. What? What the fuck?

Was Shen Yuan experiencing heart palpitations?

Airplane looked exactly how Shen Yuan envisioned Luo Binghe to look.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky's dark eyes widened in surprise and delight at seeing a Mobei Jun cosplay. It wasn’t done often, the king was not a fan favorite. But, his jaw dropped as he stared.

Something happened when Shen Yuan and Airplane's eyes met. A zing went up Shen Yuan's spine. Airplane stopped the contest then and there and declared Shen Yuan the winner while jokingly (not really) asking for his phone number. They did get to chat later, one-on-one, when Airplane began to sign autographs into books.

“Well, My King,” Airplane smiled at Shen Yuan, and there went his heart again! Which was bad, and meant that Shen Yuan probably needed to see a doctor. “What name shall I write out as the receiver of this book?”

“Um,” Shen Yuan’s brain scrambled. Did he give his name? Did he coyly say Mobei Jun? Ah, he didn’t know what he was doing! That was his only excuse as he blurted out, “Peerless Cucumber.”

Airplane froze.

Shen Yuan froze.

And then Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky began to laugh.

#now they should kiss #this will forever be my SQH HC #svsss #Shen Yuan #the scum villain's self saving system #svsss cumplane #modern cumplane #cumplane #Shang Qinghua #shen yuan appreciation #airplane shooting towards the sky #svsss mobei jun #svsss luo binghe #Mobei Jun #Luo Binghe #kind of #peerless cucumber

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mysticdreamdrafts · 23 hours ago

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Satoru Gojo | Boyfriend Headcanons

Here we are again with more headcanons. I know, it's like all I do, shudDUP YOU DON'T NEED TO TELL ME BUT I LIKE IT. Here's some Gojo today because i wanted to. As always it's Pre-Trauma but my boy always has trauma ya feel? ---- -Shows up literally outta no where -Like you thought you had privacy? Not with him ya don’t -And I don't mean like invasion of privacy -- he's respectful -But outta everyone in the world, he chose you as his person so you're IT ya feel me? -He's sorta standoffish at first. I think because he doesn't really know how to be a boyfriend really -He thinks it's a homie but more -Be ready to teach him a lil bit -You like flowers? oh okay, here's flowers all the time -You like music? Okay, he bought you this vinyl of your favorite artist -Don't have a vinyl player? Let's go shopping for one -honestly it's cute i wanna throw up -He's very handsy - skinship is everything to him -He loves to hold your hand in public -Arm draped over you because look at his ass, he's tall so you're the PERFECT height for him to just hang off of -If you're tall, also a plus because seeing eye-to-eye would be just everything to him -Cute lil photos -Selfies out the ass bro be ready to have to pose every 20 seconds dawg -Ya'll can't go anywhere without his phone being out for a photo or to update the world on what yall are doing -He just loves you okay? -When he's away he wants to see your face -You're literally his lock screen -Idk he just always wants to feel you're close, seeing it isn't enough -Speaking of, his eyes linger a whole lot -Those beautiful ocean-eyes want to see you in full -No glasses, no bandages, no blindfold -Your beauty is worth every second his eyes might get a little overworked -He just needs to know you're real -Doesn't understand why you chose him, so looking into your eyes, and just being able to see you means a lot to him -He's a face tracer -NOW HOLD ON HEAR ME OUT LOL -Delicate fingers tracing every dip and curve of your beauty is important for him -Reminds him you're real -You're his -You chose to be his, even throughout this world -Sure, he has pride -But having pride is nothing to having love -And having you is something he never knew he needed -But found that, after everything he's been through, it's everything he ever wanted -And more.

#gojo satoru #jjk #jjk gojo #gojo reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu satoru #jutusu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #gojo headcanons #satoru headcanons #soft

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stxrsniolo · 15 hours ago

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ㅤִㅤㅤ ݁ ꉂ a little light in the darkness ᴖ ֽ ㅤᷭ

ㅤ﹙ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ﹚ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤaegan is typingㅤ˺⠀⠀gather round, for what you're about to read is as soft as a feather's touch: it's fluff, my lovelies, where hearts swell and smiles are sure to bloom. enjoy the warmth.

notes: i knew some of my babies here were having a rough few days and the stress, sadness, anxiety and frustration can feel overwhelming, so i made this for y'all. remember that i love you all so much.

the bond between y/n and the triplets was something special, a friendship that had woven itself deeply into the fabric of their lives, already feeling like more than friends; they were family by choice, each bringing something unique to the group. but lately, y/n had been a bit like a dimming lightbulb, her usual glow replaced by a shadow of sadness.

she'd been more about her thoughts than her usual chatter, her days spent writing, often being too hard on herself, and the triplets couldn't help but notice the quiet where her laughter used to echo, and they knew it was time for a rescue mission. back at their place, the air was thick with concern. "i miss y/n's giggle," chris pouted, his usual grin dimmed. "she's definitely in her feels," nick said, his voice soft, his eyes showing his worry. matt, always the empathetic one, suggested, "how about we go cheer her up? make today all about her?"

the idea was met with enthusiastic nods; they decided to hit the shops first, aiming to collect all the things that could possibly sprinkle some joy back into y/n's life. in the car, the energy was like a mini-party. "last time we did this, we ended up with more toys for ourselves than for y/n," chris laughed, navigating through traffic. "yeah, but this time, operation cheer-up is serious," nick declared, tapping away at his phone for ideas. "we're getting her the good stuff."

from the back, matt added, "don't forget those gummy bears, they're her happy button." at the store, they split up like a well-oiled machine: chris, the snack master, dove into the aisles with enthusiasm. "look at these! they've got mango and chili gummies!" he announced, his eyes wide with excitement. nick, the artist of the group, found the perfect set of pens and a sketchbook. "this'll give her something new to pour her heart into," he mused, adding them to their haul. he then grabbed a tiny rainbow flag pin. "for a little extra color and love." matt, the thoughtful one, picked out a small cat plushie, knowing it would wrap y/n in comfort. "this might just make her day," he said with a small smile. the drive to y/n's was like a rolling comedy show, with chris dj-ing, filling the car with feel-good tunes that had them all singing at the top of their lungs. "y/n's gonna flip for this," chris said, bopping to the beat. "but we gotta be sensitive," nick reminded, his voice a balance to their fun. "she might need some quiet time." matt nodded. "we'll go with the flow; if she needs calm, we'll be calm."

when they arrived, y/n answered the door looking like she hadn't laughed in days, but her eyes lit up like christmas lights at the sight of her friends and their bags of cheer. "what's all this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with gratitude. "operation cheer up y/n, at your service!" chris declared, dumping snacks on her table like he was revealing treasure. nick handed her the sketchbook with a flourish. "for all your creative vibes," he said, his eyes sparkling with affection. matt, with his gentle touch, took her hand. "we missed you, y/n, so we're here to remind you that you're not alone." they made her living room into a little party zone, with snacks, laughter, and stories. chris did his best impersonation of a dance move he'd seen online, making y/n laugh so hard she snorted. nick shared tales from his adventures at pride events, his stories like little sparks of joy. and matt, just being there, his presence like a warm hug as he played with her hair softly. as the night went on, they shared more than just laughs; they shared hearts.

y/n opened up, and they listened, each brother offering his unique brand of comfort - nick with his supportive stance, chris with his boundless optimism, and matt with his comforting ability of understanding people. "i'm sorry for being a bit of a ghost lately," she said, her voice catching. "no sorries needed, y/n. we're here because we love ya," matt reassured her, his words like a balm.

🐦‍⬛ ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤ whisper ㅤ˺ᅟ⠀ i appreciate the love shown through reposts, but let me be clear: my tales are not to be copied or adapted without a whisper to me first. my words are my treasure, and i guard them jealously.

my murder of crows: @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @blushsturns

in case that you desire to be tagged in future works, here's the taglist...

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npookie0 · 2 days ago

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Hiii, could we perhaps have some hcs for roning x artist!mc, so like their side hustle is drawing and stuffs and what he thinks of it? (and/or asks of them to maybe create something for him ^_^?)

Thank you for your time and stay hydrated <3

Sinner's Portrait.

Ronin x artist reader, headcanos, sweet and simple

Enjoy lovelies 🫶

Ronin was very interested in your artistry from the day he found out about it, he has a thing for creators after all. "You're a god on your own darling, a god who creates their own little worlds."

He is attentive to you whenever you show him your drawings or paintings, he asks about details and meanings behind every stroke of your brush.

When you paint he will stand behind you with his arms wrapped around you, chin resting on your shoulder while he watches your feelings and desires fill the blank canvas with colours and shapes

If there's a competition going around or if you're commissioned to make a big piece, Ronin will be there to keep you taking care of yourself, making sure you eat, drink and sleep. "As tragic as that would be, I can't have my lil artists pass out with their creation never finished."

Sometimes you doodle Ronin in your sketchbook or on your canvas before you cover them with paint, he finds it adorable how secretive you're trying to be with it.

You, obviously, give him paintings for his birthday, or Christmas, or any different occasion to give him anything - sometimes you don't even need an occasion, you just want to give him something. It makes him really happy, even if he's cocky about it and will always play his little nonchalant attitude with you. Your painting will now hang on his wall and he will brag about it to Angel, maybe be a little softie about them.

If you're in artblock, Ronin will offer himself as a model for you. "What? I kill people when I can't bring out any creative murder ideas, you can use a model when you can't get those creative thoughts to guide your brush."

Ronin doesn't ask you to paint him anything, at least not without making up an excuse for it. "Oh darlin', don'tcha want your lil creation to find their place in my home?" You know that he just wants to get a lil painting just dedicated to himself and you happily oblige, why wouldn't you make your edgelord of a boyfriend happy?

#killer chat #fanfic #killer chat ronin #gender neutral reader #fluff #asks #artist reader #character headcanons #headcanons #headcanon #relationship headcanons #ronin killer chat #ronin beaufort

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chronicallyonline101 · 2 days ago

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hiiii!!! if u feel like writing it i would love to request some rohan x fem reader headcanons or scenario where rohan's gf is also an artist but she's way more inexperienced than him. ty <3333

hi!!! i would love to do this it sounds so sweet! I am SO sorry for the wait, i've been pretty busy, BUT it's here now and i hope you enjoy!

Kishibe Rohan x Fem!Reader || Scenario + HCs - mostly scenario.

As much as it pains him to see you desecrate art in the way you do, I think Rohan would enjoy being with someone who is inexperienced in art.

Thanks to his career, and his stand, Rohan is naturally one of the best people there is at this kind of thing - people compliment him for it all the time, but it's special when it comes from someone he loves.

He wants your approval, and thanks to your inexperience, you're full of it; every time he creates something you're clapping your hands and singing praise and he devours it every single time.

However, it may be a little frustrating for him when you do start dabbling in the world of craft because wow, you really are new to this. That painting of a dog looks like a deformed cow.

He would offer to teach you, and you'd accept; but that would quickly fall down the drain because he has a very specific way of drawing - using Heavens Door - that literally no one else on Earth could achieve.

He also believes his art style is the best, and would try to convince you to use that instead of learning your own style.

But anyways, I can't think of any more HCs so lets just get on with what I'm good at - THE SCENARIO:

There was something so calming about art - the craft, the technique, the aptitude; each fine brush of paint against canvas, a blotch of ink to paper. It was soothing, and you felt silly for having only just picked up the hobby.

It was nice knowing that even with your inexperience, you could still create. And that's what you had been doing, that very afternoon - though late into the day, the sun continued to hang high in the air. Gentle golden rays of shimmering light flittered through your open window, splaying itself across your splattered canvas.

A smile settled across your lips at the sight, pressing a thin brush to the fabric for the last, small details. The lighting was perfect, displaying a visage of your boyfriend in the elegance he deserved - while you dipped your brush into a cup of water to clean it, you found yourself hoping that the sun would remain once you had made it to his place.

Yesterday, you had bought a fresh set of utensils; it had taken some brief self-encouragement, but in the late hours of the night you had picked them up and started sketching. With no real motif in mind, it hadn't surprised you to find a portrait of your partner sat before you. He had the face of a model; the kind of looks that were easy to detail, and though you hadn't slept a single wink last night, your efforts had paid off now that the work was done.

This was probably your best piece yet. Eagerly, you plucked the portrait from it's frame, wrapped it in thin, grease-proof paper to stop it from smudging, and tucked it into a large portfolio bag.

It took you no time at all to throw a jacket over your shoulders and slip out of the door - though the sun was high and the air was warm, there was a small breeze that flittered through the air, dragging along with it small, dry leaves and puffy clouds of pollen, a sign that soon, Spring would find itself curling around Morioh.

On a usual day, you'd likely find yourself bumping into a few friends or acquaintances on your way through the small town, but today you weren't bothered much. You supposed most of your friends would still be in work - blessed as you were to have a job that didn't involve a commute. It took you only a few minutes to reach your boyfriends house, and with a giddy smile held the large portfolio behind your back as you knocked at the door.

Kishibe Rohan didn't like being bothered.

Unless he was expecting someone, the likelihood of him opening his door to a random knocker was low; there was simply no need to. If it was urgent, they could call his landline.

When it came to you, however, he didn't mind being bothered. Living only a few minutes down the street from him, the two of you would frequently visit each others houses - you, more so coming to him than he did to you. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy visiting you, he was just always so busy during the day with his work and he knew that you would definitely come to him if you needed company.

Such is why you had a special knock - you would rap your first against the door in a particular rhythm, a melody unique to you, and he would recognise immediately who it was at his door.

Stuck in a block of what to do for his manga; hearing you knock at his door brought forth relief in his soul. As frustrating as it was to take a break from his important work, he at least at the restraint to recognise that perhaps a break was needed.

He wasn't sure what to expect when opening the front door to his house, but, seeing you try - and fail - to hide a rather large portfolio bag behind your back was not it. He eyed you up and down, growing sceptical.

"And what is that?" He inquired, tilting his body forward - a weak attempt at trying to see inside the bag. You quickly caught onto his snooping, and shifted the bag out of his view.

"Just wait," Was your gleeful chirp, ushering him aside so that you could flitter inside his house. Kicking off your shoes by the front door so that you could at least retain some semblance of respect, you quickly made your way past his stairs and into the main living area.

Startled, it took him a moment to clip the door shut once you had entered. He eyed you through his peripherals, before moving toward the kitchen.

"I'll put on some tea then."

"Oh, yes please!" You called out. With him distracted, you made swift work of unwrapping the portrait you had made - setting it up so that the fabric canvas was leant against the top of his coffee table.

It took a few seconds of setting up, but eventually, you had everything perfect. The canvas was angled in such a way that it bathed in the suns radiant glow. You stood in front of the picture, facing the doorway to the room; a cocky grin splayed itself across your lips when Rohan re-entered the room, a tray of tea clutched tightly in his hands.

He paused in the doorway. There was still a lilt of suspicion to his glare - he was unsure of what you were doing, but knew that you were up to something.

Slowly edging his way further into the room, Rohan placed the tray of tea on a table near the couch - a different one from the one you had been using for your artwork.

He crossed his arms over his chest, and with his brows furrowed, cocked his head to the side. "Can I see now?"

Giggling, you uttered out a jovial: "Yes!" And took a step to the side, allowing Rohan a full view of your artwork. "Look, I made you;"

Upon hearing that you had taken the time to make a portrait of him, Rohan's eyes lit up - he was a vain man, and the thought that you had been thinking of him enough to craft a portrait in his image pleased him greatly.

However, his excitement was quick to fade when he lay his gaze across the artwork. "Oh-!"

He gasped, his expression turning sour - the kind of sour where he had to bite his cheeks to stop himself from saying anything unsavoury. "Uh, that's... me?"

"Mhm! Do you like it?" You nodded your head, eager to hear his praises - It would be obvious that Rohan was exceptional at art, and so, you sought his approval more than anyone else's. His silence proved to be discouraging.

"It's certainly," He wanted to praise you, he really did. But, it was just so unflattering! Did you even look at a reference when you were making it, or were you doing it from memory? Or worse, did you have a pixelated polaroid? He couldn't even call it abstract, it was worse than that!

He swallowed thickly. "Well... it's,"

Your expression dropped, turning narrow the longer it took him to muster up a compliment. You crossed your arms over your chest, and with a huff, spoke out dully:

"I spent all night on it."

"Did you sleep last night?" His gaze flickered from the portrait to you. There wasn't concern in his tone, what you did in your spare time didn't bother him - you were an adult, and knew better than to stay awake late at night. He wasn't going to police you around like a parent.

When you shook your head, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Ah... that explains it,"

His attitude was infuriating you. You had spent an entire night on that painting, and he couldn't even think of one nice thing to say? You were sure if you took it to anyone else, they would compliment it - but of course, you just had to try and impress the great and amazing Kishibe Rohan.

"Explains what?" You grumbled, rolling your eyes to the side sarcastically. He didn't take kindly to your sass, but spoke nothing on the matter.

Instead, he walked to the other side of the room. Prying open a set of drawers to pull out a small, A-4 notebook and a thin ink-pen. Your eyes followed his lithe figure as he walked back toward you, narrowing in suspicion when he then sat on the couch; moving a pillow out the way so you could sit next to him. You didn't give in to what he wanted.

"You mustn't spent all night on these things," He reprimanded, frowning when he realised you were being petty. He was only trying to teach you: "It wears you out. You need to take breaks to ensure your skill doesn't deplete."

You said nothing on the matter. Huffing in disapproval. You didn't need to be taught, you just wanted appraisal - when he realised you weren't coming, he rolled his eyes and repeated a small:

"Look, come here," But offered no chance for you to move of your own accord. An invisible force seemed to push you forward, guiding you rather forcefully toward the couch where you were then plonked down.

Before you could even register what was happening, you found yourself flushing. His hand had coiled its way around your back and he held your hand with his, slipping the ink-pen between your fingers. He used your hand as a sort of puppet; pressing the tip of the pen to the paper gently.

With his lips close to your ear, Rohan murmured a quiet: "I'll show you how." You were flustered, but made no move to stop him - maybe your inexperience was a good thing after all.

#jjba #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojos bizarre adventure #Rohan Kishibe #Kishibe Rohan #Rohan Kishibe x reader #Kishibe Rohan x reader #Rohan x reader #JJBA Part 4 #diamond is unbreakable

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lilimaginebean · 20 hours ago

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five days — 五日

synopsis: In which Kaiser fell in love with his tattoo artist, or in which Kaiser has only five appointments to convince you to go on a date with him.

note: omg no comment on grammy’s

prev | next

🥀 Day 4

"I don't know what to do with your uncle anymore. I asked him, I begged him, do you know how humiliating that was?" Kaiser said, covering his face in embarrassment.

You chuckled.

When you finally accepted the Emperor's request, he was on cloud nine. But you were there to remind him that life would never be easy for him. After his session, you casually told him that you couldn't go on a date with him until after the sessions, as his uncle has a rule about not dating costumers.

The moment you told him, you could see his soul leaving his body. How could he have been so unlucky? From that day on, whenever he was free, he would visit the studio and ask your uncle.

“Why does it even exist that stupid norm?” he asked confused

"Well... there was a girl who fell in love with a client, they started dating but then she found out he was cheating on her. So in the end, while he was in a tattoo session, the girl just tattooed him with the quote 'useless pig' and we almost got into legal trouble," you admitted, still remembering those frustrating days.

“Oh, it kinda of makes sense” Kaiser admitted, nodding “Still, what shall I do?”

"Maybe just talk honestly, or you could just wait until the last session," you said indifferently as you worked on a detail of the tattoo.

You really hoped he would take the second choice, because you had your final exams this month and you needed to study. Fortunately, his reading on analysing people must have helped him, because he started to rethink everything.

"Yeah, I mean I've been waiting for almost 4 months, it's not so bad to wait another one," he said, noting that he had a match in the next two weeks so the coach would probably add more training sessions.

You smiled at him.

"Well, even if it takes that long, we can talk about it. What do you want to do?" you asked him with a smile, excited just to think about having a date "Maybe... we could do something like arcade? or reading? Oh, I know a reading cafe, you would love it".

Kaiser titled his head, confused.

“Liebling, what are you even saying? I have already planned it” he said firmly

“What?”

He nodded.

"I've got everything planned after the first date, and it's going to be so great that you'll regret not taking me on sooner," Kaiser added proudly.

"Well, tell me how much it cost, and I will pay you half. You know?" you said.

"Have you only gone out with broke guys?" he said, raising an eyebrow, "I'm the one who asked you out, then I'll be the one who invites you to everything".

"Aww, really?" you softened to this comment.

"Yes, and I doubt you would even have the money to pay me half of it," he said in a teasing tone.

You rolled your eyes.

“Such a gentleman you are, in your own way” you said to give a quick look to the clock and see it was already striking 8PM “Oh wow, it’s already time to close the shop

Kaiser stared at the clock.

"It's really late, we should end the session here so you can get home safely," he added as he stood up and helped you tidy up.

Once everything was cleaned up, you both left the studio. You turned off the lights and closed the door to stare at Kaiser.

"So I guess this is goodbye," Kaiser said, still staring at you. His gaze always softened when he stared at you.

"Just one more session, it's not that much," you said, trying to comfort Kaiser.

"Yes, I can already see you thanking me for giving you the best date ever." he said with his eyes closed as if he could imagine that scenario, you hit him softly

"We'll see," you said, coughing softly. The low temperature made your throat a bit sore. Before you could cover your throat with your coat, Kaiser was already wrapping his scarf around your neck, "Thanks… but what about you?"

"Can't you ever thank me and stop asking me? It's nothing, I live near this place, you have a longer walk," he said while tying up your scarf as if you were a child "Also... I won't be able to visit you until the next appointment either, I have work to do," Kaiser admitted while thinking about how he had to take a flight to play a match.

You shook your head to show that you were not bothered.

"Don't worry, we'll meet in a month and I'll give you the scarf that day," you added firmly, while touching the scarf "I'll even wash it."

"You'd better, it's Cashemire." he replied in a serious tone "Anyways, after the next and last session, I will take you in the date. You don't have to do anything, just be ready and pretty." Having said that, Kaiser left you.

But as always, after five steps, Kaiser turned to look at you who were leaving the studio. He stared at you until you faded into the distance. Once you were gone, Kaiser started walking again, thinking about how he really couldn't wait for the date to come.

#bllk imagines #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock imagines #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x you #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #kaiser x reader

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cordjefferson · 2 days ago

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Hi! Not sure if you still answer questions on here, but I feel lost as a screenwriter right now. In my final year of film school, I’m afraid the “industry” we are about to be let out into no longer exists. I don’t want to go back to journalism, but I also don’t want to fail at screenwriting in vain. I’ll keep going, but just wondering if you’ve ever found yourself in a similar place. Hope you’re well.

A few days after Trump was elected the first time, I called my dad to complain and commiserate. He listened to me worry for a few minutes and then he said, "You know, when I was a young man, it was common to wake up and find out that Medgar Evers had been killed or that Malcolm X had been killed or that Martin Luther King Jr. had been killed, or that another person had been lynched somewhere not too far from where I grew up. It was terrible, but we had to go on living our lives."

It was a helpful reminder that shit's always sucked -- in many ways it used to suck worse. That doesn't mean your fear is unfounded. You have every right to be afraid as all the world's ghouls circle their wagons in an effort to eternalize their wealth and influence, thus making our already intractable problems feel even more intractable. But the great news is that now is the perfect time for you to make your art.

Hard times can make for excellent work. Consider that punk rock and rap blossomed under Reagan. I'm currently in the middle of a novel called The Oppermanns, which follows a trio of German-Jewish brothers in 1933 Berlin dealing with the rise of Nazism. It's a great book on its face, but the whole piece becomes even more interesting when you discover that it was written by a German-Jew in real time as the Nazis rose to power.

Even if what you write isn't taken seriously at first, making art is never a failure. Artists aren't athletes, meaning you don't need to produce your best work before you turn 35 and your knees give out. Creativity is a lifelong pursuit. You'll only get better at it the more you live, learn, and grow. And because the winds of industries and the world are always changing, allowing their vagaries to scare you into inaction would be a death sentence.

I had a very long dry spell in the year 2014. I went to meeting after meeting trying to get into a TV writers' room and was rejected over and over again. After almost nine months of being told no, I finally emailed my manager one night to say that I was going to quit "working" in TV and go back to what was left of my journalism career. He asked me to stick it out for one more month, and two weeks later I got an interview with someone who hired me. Work has fortunately been pretty steady ever since. So, of course, stubborn persistence is also a valuable tool in all of this.

I can't imagine I'm saying anything that you don't already understand somewhere in your heart. You know that you've picked a challenging career. The arts are infamously cutthroat and chancy, and many of your contemporaries are going to quit somewhere along the line. It's a tough road to hoe, and the only thing that makes it at all tolerable is the ability to find value and joy in the making of your thing, whatever that may be. If writing something feels like it's been done in vain because you don't sell it or it doesn't become a hit TV show, I recommend you don't do this work. Only do it if the doing of it is what sustains you, because the doing of it may be what has to sustain you forever.

I'm rooting for you from afar. XO

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midnight--sadness · 3 days ago

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k-pop idol AU anon here ˭̡̞(◞⁎˃ᆺ˂)◞*✰ i'm glad you liked my idea!! ♡ and do not worry about intruding or anything like that i love & value your comments!!

here's what i'm thinking for inhun... we need to go back to the 90's for this one. ☾ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༘⋆𐦍⊹₊ ⋆｡˚

inho got an opportunity from a friend of his great uncle (and that friend is none other than the music executive of a famous record label in seoul, oh ilnam), leaving university behind and decided to pursue a music career instead. he didn't want a monotonous life as some office worker anyways.

people are in love with his looks, his music, his bad boy persona... wearing cutoff shirts and the like (SUN'S OUT GUN'S OUT ! 😤). as to which genre, that's up to you guys to decide! but his albums are selling like crazy and his songs are always up top on the charts, never second place. until...

oh ilnam scouted for new talents but to no avail. there is money to be made here! luckily for him, ilnam struck gold when he felt hungry and wanted some comfort food like tteokbokki. because then he saw the most prettiest and beautiful young man at a stall, helping his friend's mom with the orders. the young man is a bit clumsy (he almost dropped ilnam's soju bottle on the ground). his name is seong gihun. a little reserved, sweet eyes, beautiful lithe build. oh, what an angel. a smile that is worth more than diamonds and gold in the earth. KA-CHING! that's the sound of money pouring in!ilnam asked gihun if he can sing. "ah, well, i love going out for karaoke but i wouldn't say i'm excellent at it..." but that's not a problem, nothing a couple of vocal lessons that can't fix!

the next day gihun found himself in the studio along with ilnam and other important figures to brainstorm how to mold him into a superstar. everyone is complimenting his physique and gorgeous face, making gihun blush and play with the hem of shirt. one thing lead to another, and looks like the industry has another rising starlet!

i really love the sound of 90's R&B, so i think i'll choose this genre for gihun (づ˶•༝•˶)づ♡ what started out as playful, captivating, funky songs developed into very foxy, sultry, and smooth. gihun evolved as an artist and got out of his shell, becoming more sure of himself, going with concepts that he likes and what he feels like fits the most. and that is by being an artist portraying himself as both innocent little kitty and a sexy siren. he experiments with outfit too! does not matter if it's a skirt or jeans, clothes are clothes and he is here to look CUN-TY! women, men, no matter who - everyone wants gihun (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*

i think it would be funny if inho never got to meet gihun immediately because he himself is busy recording, touring, practicing choreo, attending award shows, etc. but he does notice there is competition around. on the top 10 charts for songs or album sales they are so close to each other. then he sees gihun on a cover of playboy ("i know he's not a girl, but he's pretty like the rest of 'em! believe me, those magazines will be flying off the shelves!" said gihun's manager. and she was RIGHT). inho's brain short circuits but he quickly snaps out of it has to focus on performing live on a late night show. fuck, gihun was attractive. beautiful curves and features. he needs to know more about him. he needs to have him.

inho and gihun eventually meet at a staff party, celebrating record-breaking profits. inho finds out that gihun might be older and slightly taller than, but he can wrap his strong arms around gihun's tiny waist and lift him up easily. they get to know each other very well, and ilnam sees the chemistry between both singers. he gets this brilliant idea - those two should tour together.

and it's a big success, there is an entire crowd of screaming fans waiting for them to perform solo and together. i'd imagine inho and gihun spending time with each other during the tour would make them fall head over heels in love. not just as artists, but for who they are (,,♡ᵕ♡,,) as people, as one nerdy guy interested in crime/detective books and a clumsy fellow who took in stray cats until his mother scolded him. amidst the singing and showbusiness, they found each other (╥﹏╥)💜💜💜

believe me when i tell you inhun would fuck like rabbits because they're two young men and gihun's hips are made to be gripped at, but because they're two high demand artists and under strict regiments they're not able to fully savor their relationship... i'd imagine there would be many fanservice moments on stage though. like inho holding gihun's waist or giving him a kiss ln the neck. making the audience go WILD. ilnam isn't opposed to this because money but he did tell them to keep it at that and don't go beyond unless they want his higher ups to chew him out (so PDA is not okay but making gihun pose for playboy? alright *rolls eyes*)

PART 2 COMING SOON, HWAIT FOR ME UNNIE~ ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

omggg 🥹🥹😩😩💖 this is incredible!!

i think inho could rap! that way when they are together the music flows since rap and r&b go great together!

maybe, gihun's manager could be geumja? and even when she has a baby boy she continues working and brings little yongsik with her! years later, he debuts in a boygroup!

and if inho raps then u know he was thanos' inspiration 🫶

omg inhun not being able to share their love with the world 😭😭 sleazy record producers working them like dogs and their only refuge is each other 💖

YES PLEASE GIVE ME ALL OF IT!!!😫😤

#k-pop idol au #asks #yapping 4ever #seong gi-hun #hwang in-ho #inhun #457 #ginho

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shawtylex09 · 14 hours ago

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⋆˙⟡ Falling. Izuku Midoriya x Fem!Reader ⟡⋆˙

⋆.˚✮Valentine’s Day story 3/14✮˚.⋆

I feel like cavetown is Izuku’s fav artist, so here you go, one of my fav songs from them.

Enjoy lovelies✧˖°.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

Izuku had no idea how he’d gotten to this point. He had no idea how he ended up here.

See, the thing was, Izuku was a fanboy at heart, and whenever he met someone with an amazing quirk or charming personality, he wanted to know more about them, and part of himself admired that person.

But this was different, and he didn’t know what it was.

He thought it was just admiring one of his friends, then he tried to blame his fanboy tendencies, but that never seemed to quell the flutter in his heart when you looked his way.

Whenever you so much as glanced at him, and gave him that toothy grin with your pearly whites, Izuku’s knees weakened and he found himself (sometimes literally) tripping over himself.

The worst part? He didn’t understand why.

Izuku was usually much better at handling his emotions or at least coming to realize his stance on things, but you flipped that on its head. It’s not like he had any problems with you! In fact, quite the opposite. He loved being around you, the casual way you two would make beaded bracelets and talk about nothing in particular made him feel at home.

The way you listened as he ranted about some video game or how you would ask him genuine questions about the hero he was talking about- he didn’t feel like a burden with you.

Izuku felt like you saw him for who he was, more than just a nerd and more than just a fanboy. He felt heard, he felt cared about.

He truly didn’t think much of the hugs, the affectionate ways you’d toy with his curls, the way you’d lean against him in the commons, or how you’d hold his hand as the two of you walked down the halls at school.

It wasn’t his fault he was so…oblivious, after all, he had no experience with girls, so he just figured this was one of the ways girls showed their value of their friends, he had seen you hug Mina, kissing each other on the cheek as you greeted each other, so maybe it was normal?

Izuku nodded to himself, it was definitely normal behavior, and it wasn’t like he was complaining, he didn’t exactly have a problem with you hugging around his middle, resting your head against him as you enjoyed the movie playing in the commons.

He lazily ran his fingers through your hair, not too focused on the movie as he thought about why his heart still sped up a bit thanks to your cuddling into his side.

Maybe he was just happy to have you around? But then why did his stomach flutter so lightly?

Izuku sighed softly and looked down at you, smiling a bit as he saw your head resting against his right peck, his arm around you and a blanket draped over your shoulders as his fingers combed through your silky locks.

He faintly felt his cheeks heat up as you closed your eyes, pressing your face to the muscle of his chest and letting out a heavy sigh, your eyes closed as you drank in his affection.

Izuku’s heart stuttered in his chest, and he felt a surge of affection wash over him. He smiled softly, feeling so incredibly lucky to have a friend like you trust him the way you did. It meant a lot to Izuku.

He was snapped out of his daze by your soft hum, and gentle voice. “Hey..Izuku?” You asked softly, your eyes half lidded and obviously tired. It made sense, the training from that day left a lot of the class worn and wary.

He felt his heart skip a beat. Your face was so cute-

What..? Cute..?

What a silly thought.

“Yeah?” He blinked away the odd thought that popped into his mind, smiling down at you warmly and trying to quell away the questionable blush on his cheeks.

You yawned and rested your head against the smooth plane of his shoulder “do you think you could walk me to my room?” You asked, your tone tired and soft.

Izuku smiled a little. In all honesty, he’d pretty much do anything you needed, and often he found himself a bit too eager to assist you. Need help carrying something? Izuku would offer. Did you need some help on the homework? Borrow Izuku’s notes. Need someone to rub your back? Izuku’s hands work the best.

He didn’t have a real reason why he loved assisting you, he didn’t feel like you were using his kindness for your personal gain, because he knew how much he meant to you (at least he thought he knew), and you knew how much you meant to him.

“Oh! Sure N/n, are you wanting to go now?” He asked, his cheeks warming slightly as you smiled up at him, the bleary look on your face rather.. no no no, not again, Izuku.

You nodded and yawned, tightening your arms around his middle “yeah..I’m getting pretty tired and am probably ready for bed..” you said quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone else who might have been watching the movie.

He felt that feeling rise in his chest once again, offering a nod to try and distract himself from the giddy feeling. “Kay, I’ll walk you. Cmon sleepyhead” he said softly, standing from the couch and gently taking your hand. Why did your touch always feel like the most pleasant electricity?

Kirishima looked up from his spot on the couch, his fingers slowly combing through Bakugou’s blonde locks. “Where are you goin’, Midoriya? You guys aren’t leaving already, are you?”

Izuku smiled and chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck as you sighed and wrapped your arms around his waist lazily.

“Oh, N/n is feeling tired, I’m gonna take her to her room and I’ll be back out when she gets laid down” he explained, gesturing to your clingy and tired form, basically asleep on your feet while holding onto him.

Kirishima nodded slowly, his mouth making a small ‘o’ shape in realization “oh, I see” he chuckled a bit and smiled up at Midoriya “okay cool, come back out whenever you’re done.”

Izuku nodded and looked down at you “cmon N/n, let’s get you laid down, sleepy head” he murmured, an affectionate smile on his face.

As the two of you walked out of the commons, Kirishima sighed and smiled “Midoriya is so manly.” He commented, glancing to where they disappeared, before looking back to the group.

Mina raised a brow “what do you mean?” She asked from her place on the other couch, Uraraka also glancing up, her attention caught by mentioning her friend.

Kirishima shrugged as he gently petted Bakugou’s blonde locks, the sleeping boy slouched against the redhead “I dunno, he just is such a good boyfriend, you know? He’s taking his girlfriend to bed, making sure she gets there without any problems. Seems like a gentleman to me.”

Mina blinked, before laughing, bringing a hand up to her mouth to stifle her laughter.

Kirishima raised a confused brow and looked to Uraraka, who was also smiling and giggling a little. “What’s so funny? I don’t get it?” He mumbled, glancing between both girls.

Mina paused her giggles long enough to get a sentence out “they’re not dating.” She managed to get out, letting out a breath as her lungs caught up from her laughter.

Kirishima blinked and gaped. Izuku and yourself weren’t dating!? How the hell was that even possible? The two of you were literally cuddling right next to him, the way he was cuddling with Bakugou. His boyfriend.

“Wait..are you being serious?” He asked, to which Mina and Uraraka nodded “yeah, Deku isn’t really good with social interactions, in a sense that he has no idea Y/n is crushing on him. He thinks it’s casual.” Uraraka explained with an exasperated sigh.

Kirishima let out a huff of laughter, then shook his head “oh great, so he has no idea that Y/n is falling for him? Lovely. Should we tell him? Or tell her to tell him?”

Mina shook her head and smiled, waving off his concern with a lazy hand “nah, don’t worry about them, I’ve got a feeling they’ll figure it out..” she glanced off to the hallway where the two of you walked off, a reassuring feeling warming her chest.

✮˚.⋆

You and Izuku slowly walked to your dorm, the walk was filled with comfortable silence and the occasional comment. Your hand was in his, and your blanket was draped over your shoulders.

You glanced at him, seeing him smiling to himself about who knows what.

A sigh left your lips, and a deadpan formed on your lips. You’d been trying to express your crush on Izuku since the sports festival, but the boy was more focused on his dreams of becoming a hero than he was on getting a girlfriend.

You smiled a little and rolled your eyes as the two of you walked side by side, hand in hand. You were sick of his ignorance, and so tonight you were determined to make it obvious to the boy that you liked him.

The two of you approached your dorm, where Izuku stopped in front of your door and turned to you, a smile on his lips “here you are, Y/n. Are you gonna get some sleep?”

You nodded and yawned, rubbing your eye with one hand, using the other to loosely wave him off “don’t worry, Zuku, I’ll get some rest.” You smiled at him sleepily and stepped forward, wrapping your arms around his middle in a warm embrace, which he happily returned.

“Good, you pushed yourself during training today, I’m very proud of you” he said softly, his hand on the small of your back and the plane between your shoulder blades.

You blushed and smiled, closing your eyes and basking in his praise “thank you Izuku…that means so much coming from you..” you murmured, your cheek resting on his shoulder.

He felt that feeling flutter in his chest again, to which he blushed a little, smiling as he spoke “please, you saying that, sounds like I’m some pro hero” he mumbled bashfully

You scoffed and clung to him a little tighter. This idiot was either down playing how strong and amazing he was, or genuinely didn’t think he was anything special. Both were not great scenarios, in your opinion.

You huffed and rolled your eyes “you’re practically as strong as one” you grumbled into his shoulder.

Izuku simply smiled, knowing how you loved to compliment and uplift his work and progress. He didn’t like to admit it, but hearing you praise him, actually made his blood rush to his face and his confidence swell.

The two of you stood like that, before Izuku reluctantly pulled away “I’m gonna go back to the commons, okay?” He asked, placing a hand on your shoulder “please get some rest, and if you need anything, call me.”

You paused.

You’d totally forgotten how you were going to make your crush a bit more obvious to him.

He bid you goodnight, and you dumbly replied, your brain on autopilot as you began to panic.

You were gonna miss your opportunity!

“Hey Izuku!” You called out after he made it about halfway down the hall.

He turned and raised a brow “yeah? Did you need something?” He asked, his head tilting to the side like an intrigued puppy.

You trotted up to him and grabbed his hand, standing on your tippy toes to do the first thing your brain thought of.

Your lips met with his cheek, the smooth skin feeling so perfect under your touch.

Izuku stiffened and erupted into a bright red blush.

He watched as you pulled from his cheek and smiled warmly at him. “Goodnight, Izuku..get some sleep” you spun on your heel and bolted to your dorm, quickly dashing into your room.

Izuku placed a hand on his cheek and watched with a dumbfounded expression as you ran back to your room.

He finally understood what that feeling in his chest was.

It was falling in love.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

Literally SPEED typing so I can get this out on the 3rd and not the 4th I procrastinated AAA

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