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rothpie · 3 months ago

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❝FIDELITY❞ |part1

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: blood, mentioning pregnancy

English isn’t my first language, so I apologize if I make some mistakes. 💗

You're lying on your back, the faint light streaming through Rafe’s blinds casting long shadows across the room. The space feels familiar, as always, but now, there’s something different, something unsettling—wrinkled sheets, the sharp, expensive scent of his cologne lingering in the air, his jacket casually draped over the chair by the window… There’s an intense silence, broken only by the low hum of the ceiling fan. It’s hard to ignore the unease gnawing at your mind, that strange sense that something’s just… off.

You shift slightly, watching his silhouette move in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains; he barely spoke since he got home last night, pulling you into bed, his thoughts miles away.

“Where are you going?” he murmur, breaking the silence. He’s already looking at you, eyes half-open, following your movements with a lazy grin and the faint imprint of the pillow still visible on his cheek.

“Told you I have things to do today, babe,” you say with a smile, and he frowns, stretching as he turns onto his back to look around.

“Come back to bed,” he says, reaching out to touch the spot where you’d just been lying. The usual cold demeanor he wears has softened; now, he’s almost sulking, like a kid pouting. “What, feeling chilly?” you tease with a smirk, picking up your jeans from the floor. Rafe sits up, watching you, visibly unimpressed by your joke.

“I’d rather see you taking those off.” His eyes trace over you, his tongue sweeping over his lips like he’s ready to devour you for breakfast. “Too bad,” you reply with a playful edge, alluding to how he’d come straight home last night and just crashed. He doesn’t break his gaze as he slumps back down, watching you intently from the bed.

“Babe, you’re serious right now? Come on, get back here.” You roll your eyes and keep dressing while he lets out a frustrated sigh, realizing he’s not going to win this time.

Without saying anything more, he resigns himself to watching, clearly enjoying the show you’re unknowingly giving him. “You should wear those jeans more often—they do wonders for your ass.” His comment makes you laugh, and his grin grows wider, obviously pleased.

Once you’re fully dressed, you grab your bag from across the room and approach the bed. Leaning over, he meets you halfway, his mouth pressing onto yours as if that’s exactly where he belongs. A perfect, effortless fit.

“Stay,” he says as you pull back a bit, looking down into his eyes. His smile holds that look—he could make anyone do anything, but he’s using it on you because he already knows he can.

“I can’t.” The words leave your lips just before he kisses you again, pulling you back down onto him. You can’t help but giggle as he quickly moves, wrapping you into his arms. When his eyes and his words don’t work, he’ll use his mouth. Still grinning, he keeps his lips pressed to yours.

After your laughter dies down, his hands slide through your hair, and he kisses you deeply, savoring the moment until he’s satisfied. He releases you with a few final pecks, hands still resting by your face, studying you closely. “I wonder what’s so important you’d leave me,” he muses.

You place your hand on his cheek, giving him one last soft kiss. He doesn’t resist—he matches your calm, unhurried pace. When you pull back, you feel that little hint of tension at his question, but you fight the urge to look away.

“My mom.” You say it, biting down on the first lie you can think of, hoping it’s convincing. “She wants me at home for breakfast. No idea why, but apparently, it’s important.” Rafe has that faint smile again. He tuned out after the first sentence, just watching you, captivated. Sometimes he barely listens to what you say, preferring just to watch you. He knows you’ll do whatever you want anyway, so why waste time?

He leans in, planting a quick kiss on your lips. “Call me later,” he says, settling back down into the bed with that look still in his eyes. You nod and head to the door. As you leave, you hear him say, “Love you.”

You turn back to him. “Love you more!” You pull the door shut, and his laugh filters through. It makes you smile, but as you descend the stairs, that smile fades until it’s completely gone when you leave Tannyhill.

There’s an ache inside you that doesn’t go away. Every day, it presses tighter against your chest. You wish you could just chalk it up to being sick, but you need proof, something undeniable. When the familiar nausea hits again, you clutch your stomach, breathing deeply. Your eyes well up with panic, knowing you’re already too far gone to hold it in.

The smells are stronger than usual. You already hate hospitals, that medicinal scent, but today it’s overwhelming, suffocating even. You wipe your nose and try not to cry.

You scan the aisles.

Looking for a familiar face, a potential danger.

Hoping to find a way out, some kind of excuse. You pretend to browse a shelf, but you’re really just eyeing the store for anyone who might recognize you.

Finally convinced it’s safe, your trembling hand reaches for the pregnancy test on the shelf. You grab it and wrap your hand around it quickly. Embarrassment and dread roll over you.

Not remembering that night, that’s what gnaws at you. You and Rafe, sometimes you’d skip protection, just for the thrill of it. But you always had some backup. You can’t recall the details. Was it a drunk night? Did it happen in Topper’s bathroom, on the yacht? You can’t remember. Did you use anything? Did you take a pill? It’s all blank.

You place the pregnancy test on the counter and exhale, but the smell of disinfectant overwhelms you, making you pinch your nose. The cashier, a brown-haired guy, rings up your purchase, but just as he’s about to hand over the receipt, a voice from the back calls him. “Be right back,” he says with a polite smile, disappearing into the storeroom.

Then you sense someone beside you, and as you turn, your eyes lock onto him. Your hand instinctively pulls the test closer. Out of all people—of course, it’s him—JJ Maybank.

For once, he’s not covered in bruises; he’s downright bloody. His eyebrow and lip are split, blood streaking down his face, dried patches marking where he’d wiped his nose. And he’s got that stupid grin on his face as usual.

“You good?” JJ asks. His voice is casual, without a hint of concern. He doesn’t really care if you’re okay—he’s just curious.

Idiot.

“You,” the word slips out. You’re trying to hold yourself together, wiping away the tears and forcing yourself to sound casual. He looks at you like he hasn’t been punched in the face. Not just his face—his shirt’s got blood on it too. “A better question is, are you good?”

JJ laughs, pointing at himself as if the question is absurd. “Me? You should see the other guy.” His smug voice grates at you, and you roll your eyes. JJ laughs again, clearly amused by your reaction. You turn away, but he speaks up.

“Think you might have Covid?”

Your eyes dart back to him, trying to figure out if he’s joking or just delirious from the punches. Maybe he’s taken one too many hits to the head.

“What the hell are you talking about?” you snap. He’s an idiot, so you have to talk to him like one. You’re just one step away from snapping entirely, feeling the irritation practically radiate off you.

“The thing in your hand,” he starts, clearly unbothered by your tone, grinning away. But you’re tense, the tightness settling in your chest like a butterfly stuck there.

“Oh, thought it was a Covid test. Unless… it’s a pregnancy test.” His eyes drop to the test you’re trying to hide, glinting with mischief, then lifting to yours. He lifts his shirt, wiping the blood from his face with the hem, which somehow annoys you even more.

You look away, feeling your heart pound with anxiety. It’s dumb to think he won’t notice, but you’re too tense to think straight. You’ve always made the wrong choices, you know that.

“You’re babbling nonsense,” you retort, still unable to meet his gaze, hoping to shake him off. But JJ doesn’t look away; his gaze stays on your hands, that stupid smirk still plastered across his face.

“My bad, sorry,” he said, waiting like someone who had just walked in from the outside. Even though he claimed he was apologizing, his words were laced with sarcasm, and you could tell he was still grinning.

You’d handed him ammunition. To him. And of course, if you were actually pregnant, the first to know wouldn’t be Rafe. It’d be him. That idiot. JJ Maybank.

You lunged forward and snatched the receipt from behind the register with trembling hands, too anxious to wait for the brown-haired cashier to come back and worried you’d betray your unease if you stayed any longer.

When you turned to leave, another wave of anxiety hit. There was a very real chance that he’d spread this around, tell his stupid friends, the Pogues… JJ was the last person you’d trust with something like this, but he was also the last person you’d want to have blab about it, with that big, unstoppable mouth of his. You turned around and walked back over.

He was already watching you, his eyes following your every move. Without hesitating, you spoke. “If I hear even a single word about this from anyone, I swear to god—”

But JJ only grinned wider, clearly entertained. “Whoa, whoa,” he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Your secret’s safe with me, princess.” He leaned against the counter, wiping the dried blood from his cheek, still watching you with that infuriating smirk. “I promise not to tell the world you ‘might be Covid positive.’”

His mocking tone left you speechless, made you tense. He knew exactly what was in your hand—even if you told him to drop it, he wouldn’t. Of course not. You shot him one last look, spun on your heels, and made a break for the door.

As you left, you could still feel his eyes on you, that annoying smirk echoing in your mind. The idea that he might actually say something made your chest tighten. He wouldn’t need to yell it from the rooftops; even if one of those idiot friends of his overheard, you’d be done. For someone who usually faded into the background, JJ Maybank had a knack for making himself unforgettable.

He knew your biggest secret.

You prayed. At barely twenty years old, you prayed it wouldn’t be true. Begged yourself to just be fooling yourself. You even swore to never have sex again if that would help.

What would you do?

How would you tell Rafe, your family, that you had a baby growing inside you?

You fucked.

You fucked, and the double lines on that test proved it. Only you and God knew how deep into this mess you’d landed.

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m00neroni · 5 months ago

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prompt: patronus. @wolfstarmicrofic word count: 739 september 8th ao3 post

“This is impossible” Sirius huffs and sits back in one of the few scattered chairs around the DADA classroom, clearly defeated. “What’s that shit about happy memories? Fucking idiotic, it’s not even working.”

“Have we finally found a spell that not even the great Sirius Black can perform? Should we call the Prophet? Inform the Ministry?” James jokes from his seat at Remus’ right, and he only receives a glare in return, when any other person would have been hexed into the next year just before they finished the sentence.

Remus considers it a bit hypocritical, seeing as James is also struggling with it, only having managed to conjure a faint silvery mist, the same as Peter. Remus, for his part, hasn’t even tried yet, scared of its possible corporal form.

Still, he knows the drill and can help his friend.

“You’re thinking too much and too loud, Sirius.” He says, kindly, because the other boy’s frustration is too evident and it seems like the best approach. “Which memory are you using?”

“When the Hat sent me to Gryffindor.” Sirius replies, almost in a whisper, genuinely pouting like a baby.

“See? That’s the problem.” Remus says. “That memory isn’t good enough.”

“Why not?” His friend frowns, clearly confused but he doesn’t look hurt or offended. “It’s the happiest memory I can think of.”

“But it’s tainted, Pads.” He presses, not unkindly, and leans forward to touch Sirius’ forearm. “You were stressed and worried and your family were horrible just about twenty minutes later it happened. You need something without negative connotations.”

“Excellent piece of advice, Mr Lupin!” Professor Musgrove’s voice hollers from behind them. “Our chosen memories must be as pure as possible, free of bad feelings. Even if we think happiness is overruling them, sometimes the hurt is too sharp to be defeated. Please, my boy and resident assistant teacher, will you demonstrate the spell to the class?”

“Sir, I don’t–”

“I insist!” The man ignores him. “Your theoretical knowledge should be enough, and you clearly are in control of your feelings.”

Yeah, I wish I was, you twat.

Remus grimaces towards his friends, trying not to notice how Sirius is staring right into his eyes, and stands up. He should have shut up, but Sirius needed his help and he just… Whatever now, too late.

The werewolf closes his eyes and tries to find a good memory, quickly falling for the morning of the first Full Moon after his three mates knew what happened to him once a month, about the monster. After the moment they accepted him completely, and without asking anything in return. It might go against the idea of it not being tainted by bad sensations (the transformation is horrible on its own, obviously) but the happiness he felt when he woke up and saw Sirius sleeping in that uncomfortable chair right next to his bed.

The others have joined here and there, but Sirius has always been the constant feature. It is he who Remus thinks about for this.

“Expecto Patronum.”

He would have known it had worked even without the collective gasp of his classmates, just by how the air moves around him and the tip of his fingers tickle. It is a wonderful sensation, so, even if he is scared shitless of facing the reality and whatever comes next, Remus opens his eyes slowly.

The silvery figure is clearly and evidently canine and massive, but that is where the similarities with Moony end. The snout is different, the ears bigger and the paws less menacing. Even the doggy grin is an exact replica of Padfoot’s.

Remus’ hearts stop for a second there, but he can’t look anywhere else, too entranced and shocked by the implications.

“Amazing! Look at that–!”

“Expecto Patronum.”

Sirius’ deep voice cuts the air and the teacher’s praising, conjuring a mist that quickly takes form almost as big as the one in front of Remus, a shape that he hasn’t seen in front of him ever in his life but has been described enough to him that Remus could recognise anywhere. The eyes, though, are the exact same ones he sees in the mirror every day, and he has almost a full minute to be shocked before the impressive spirit of Moony joins Padfoot in a tackle game.

“Well, who could have expected this?” James chuckles, and Remus finally looks at Sirius.

Who could have expected this, indeed.

#marauders #harry potter #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #marauders microfic #wolfstar microfic #patronus #soulmates #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #remus x sirius #marauders era #marauders tumblr #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #mooneroni writes

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kafka-ish · 5 months ago

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I want to be Art’s dealer when he needs an eighth after one of his games. I want him to get my number from Patrick because he’s new to this & doesn’t know anyone or anywhere else to get it. Hey, u got any weed? He texts him.

Not on me.

Shit.

I know I’ve been going crazy

Do u know anyone?

The next message is your number. No name. No address. Nothing. But Art’s desperate for a cool down that doesn’t include a tub of ice or a communal sauna. He’s going out on a limb here—hitting send as soon as Patrick relays the message. Nothing too suspicious. You’re at home when you receive a text from an unknown sender.

Maybe Art: Hey, Patrick gave me ur number. This is Art

Come by around 9

You tell him which dorm.

Maybe Art: Okay

He’s at your door at nine sharp, still in his tennis uniform. He’s sweaty from practice, nervously gripping his racket bag and wondering if he should knock or text. Obviously he’s never done this.

He knocks. Doesn’t expect to be met with a girl half his size on the other side. Maybe you’re just the dude’s girlfriend and you happen to be over and end up answering. And in that case he really shouldn’t be looking but he can’t help it. Your hair is wet like you just got done showering. Your shorts ride up, or maybe he’s just imagining things. But he’s not imagining your shirt that’s see-through and barely covers your abdomen. He introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Art.” Maybe that’ll clear up the confusion.

“Yeah you texted me earlier. Come on in.” You leave the door open. You also leave Art dumbfounded.

Art makes sure to shut the door behind him but he doesn’t sit down. Stands awkwardly by the entrance, wondering what he should do with his bag, thumbing the strap.

“So Patrick sent you, huh?” Your voice comes from the kitchen and Art nods even though you can’t see him. He realizes this and dumbly says yes. You look up from the counter, sandwich bag in hand, and you smile at Art who’s fiddling his thumbs by the doorway. “You can sit down. Make yourself at home.”

"Cool." He settles down on your couch, looking around the place, trying not to be obvious even though it is. You smile, wanting to relax him. That's what he's here for, isn't it? His tennis bag is at his feet and he rests his hands on his knees, trying to take up as little space as possible.

"I won't bite, you know," you say, sitting next to him. You place a scale on the coffee table next to a tray of weed that's already been ground. About an ounce, though Art's never seen that much weed at one time. The only time he smokes is with Patrick every once in a while.

"Yeah, I know. I just--"

"What? Is this your first time or something?"

"No! I--I mean. Buying yes." His cheeks are red.

"Okay well don't worry. It's real easy." Art nods. Believes this. "Well."

"Well what?"

"Now I know why Patrick sent you to me."

"Sometimes it's easy." You laugh. Like an inside joke you have but only with yourself. "Sorry I shouldn't have said that."

"No it's fine." And Art gives you this look. Like it is fine. Keep going. Explain everything to me. He wants to know the basics, the hard stuff and everything in between. You just shake your head. Ask how much he needs. "How much do people usually get?"

"Depends on the person." You shrug.

"How much does Patrick get?"

"Like an ounce. Half if he's short on cash." Art raises his eyebrow, shocked he didn't know that about his friend.

"So I should get an ounce," Art says. More of a question than a statement. He's testing the waters. Putting himself out there.

"How much do you smoke?" You push back. You want him to be careful. You also can't risk putting a super hot new customer in danger.

"Honestly? Only with Patrick." He's bashful when he admits this. You probably think he's lame now and totally off your radar. You're never gonna let him step foot into this apartment let alone sell to him again.

"Yeah you don't need an ounce," you say smiling, thinking of how he came in all politely with his tennis racket just like a puppy, tail tucked nervously between its legs, not knowing if he should stand or sit, silently observing your things. He has a good head on his shoulder with a future ahead of him and here you are selling him weed. Who are you to take advantage of such a thing just because Patrick sent him?

"So what do I need?"

"Probably some melatonin and a really good massage. But I'll give you an eighth and pretend like this never happened." This is the first time you've felt bad about selling. You take a jar from a drawer. There's even more weed in it than on the table, but in clumps. Green wads with streaks of purple. You set each on the scale in individuals first before packaging his pile in the bag you grabbed from earlier. "Here."

"How much?"

"On me this time. Think of it as a sample. You got a grinder or you smoking with Patrick?" Art's at a loss for words. He wants to pay you. He has cash too. He'll take you out to dinner. Instead he just says

"No, I, uh. Don't."

"Want me to roll you a joint?"

But before he can say anything you already find yourself folding a zig-zag with the filter, scooping the weed you have out with your fake nail into the paper. Art watches your hands. An expert at work. He thinks how everyone has their own niche and this is yours, just like how he has the tennis court.

When you walk him out you tell him to be safe. You're still smiling. You've never been this happy to not get money. He's about to leave but says, "I can pay, you know. I want this to be an honest transaction and everything."

"Art, I'm a drug dealer."

"Yeah, well--"

"Bye, Artie."

#college!art #dealer!reader #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers

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kinda-super-hot · 5 months ago

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I Want More. (3)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, more coming soon

Pairing: Harvey Specter x F!Lawyer!Reader - friends to enemies to lovers <3

Part 3 Summary: Y/n joins Mike and Harvey when they go to see a client. The client flirts with Y/n, and she makes the best of it, hopefully landing some clients. Harvey is not happy.

Warnings: Reflecting on past relationship, some yelling

Word Count: 2570

A/N: Thank ya'll so much for the support! The more you comment and like, the faster I write. Love ya'll enjoy!

I’m typing away an email when my intercom goes off. “(Y/n), Harvey needs you in his office.” Donna’s voice rings out and I feel nauseous.

“Ok, thanks, Donna.” Wait. “Donna?”

“What’s up?” She asks in a sing-song voice, and I can hear her fingers click-clacking against her keyboard.

“How long has the intercom been on?” The click-clacking stops. I let out an incredulous laugh, “Have you been listening this whole time?” The intercom beeps and I know it’s been shut off, probably for the first time since I’ve been here.

I smile and stand from my desk, throwing on the black blazer that was previously sitting on the back of my chair. There’s a pastel pink handkerchief tucked in the breast pocket that matches my blouse.. that also matches Harvey’s tie. What a weird coincidence.

I walk the short distance from my office to Donna’s desk. “Good morning!” She hums all too happily at me. I give her a raised brow and cross my arms. “It’s nothing personal, I hear all around here. That’s why I’m so good at what I do. I’m Donna.” She flicks her hands in the air with flair.

“Of course.” I smile at her mischievously. “If you hear all around here, Donna, what have people been saying about me?” I’ve been wondering, but had no way of finding out, until now.

“Well, obviously I’ve heard the she’s smoking comment more times than I can count.” She laughs. “Louis thinks your one joke away from going to dinner with him.”

“Shoot, I don’t want to give him the wrong impression.” I scold myself and bite my lip.

“What, you don’t date anyone in the office?” She questions, but it’s off. Her tone, something about it… I lift my eyes to meet hers and she has a devious smile.

“You know.” I exhale and lean on the desk. “God, does everyone know?!” I whisper yell at her. I do a quick scan of my surroundings, and I don’t see anyone looking. I hesitantly take a quick peek into Harvey’s office.

I pause my frantic behavior when I see him. He’s sitting at his desk on the phone and Mike is on the couch. I can tell he’s charming whoever is on the other side of the phone, because even though they can’t see him, he has his prince-like smile on him. My heart swells for him.

“That’s how I know,” Donna whispers in my ear. I jump, I didn’t even see her get up. She gives me a pointed look. “Yesterday, I saw you look at him when you two were first ‘meeting’” she gives air quotes, “and I could see the way you look at him. You couldn’t keep your eyes off-”

“His puppy dog eyes.” I cut her off, but my eyes are still strained on him. I have to tear my eyes away from him to bashfully look at Donna.

She nods with a smile, “The rest I’ve put together from bits and pieces of everyone’s conversations.” She shrugs cockily. “You know,” She stops herself; I can tell she’s debating whether or not to say what she’s about to say, “This isn’t my first time hearing about you.”

My heart flips. I want to question her further, and I’m about to until I smell expensive cologne and a familiar musk. I turn my head to see Harvey just leaving his office with Mike in tow. He sees me and smiles, trying to charm me. Oh god, he’s trying to play me!

Back in the day, I knew Harvey better than I knew myself. So now I know he’s trying to get back in my good graces, what I don’t know is his end goal.

“G’morning, Donna,” He greets Donna and then his eyes slowly trail to mine. “(Y/n).” He has a close-lipped smirk on his face, one he knew made my knees weak in law school. This may be harder than I thought.

I give him a polite nod but don’t give him any more attention. He may still give me butterflies, but I’m still pissed. I turn my attention to the younger man beside him. “Mike.” I greet him with a smile but there’s some tension exuding from me. I haven’t forgotten what he said to me the other day. “Y’know, our conversation the other day inspired me,” I put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze it. “I think my next vacation might be in Paris…France.” I say bluntly and drop the smile I was faking as I side-eyed Harvey.

His eyes dart from my face to Mike accusingly. “Yeah, ha-ha,” Mike laughs nervously. “It’s a beautiful place. The architecture, the landscape-“

“The people?” I question in a demeaning way with a smile on my face. I see Harvey tense and he licks his lips. He’s uncomfortable. Good. Harvey’s hand goes to Mike’s back, and I can tell he’s probably giving him a hidden pinch. Ooh, I know that hurts.

There’s an awkward beat of silence. “Well.” Donna clears her throat, “You all should probably get going. Marshall is expecting you.” She urges.

“Ok, thank you, Donna.” I answer chipperly and turn in the direction of the elevators. In the reflection of one of the associate's monitors, I see Donna mouthing something demanding at Harvey. He mouths back something along the lines of ‘I know, I know!’.

I walk briskly to the elevators and press the button; I don’t even check if the boys are behind me. “So, where are we headed?” I ask, but I keep my head straight, facing the closed elevator doors.

They say nothing until I hear what I’m assuming is Mike giving Harvey a little arm shove. “Downtown-” Harvey starts, then clears his throat. I hear Mike stifle a chuckle. “-we’re meeting Donald Marshall. He’s the company lead for Shilton Suites.”

There’s a ding as the elevator doors open. I step onto the lift and stand close to the buttons. Both boys hesitate to enter. “Are you guys… coming?” They are being so awkward, ugh, boys.

Harvey shoves Mike into the elevator before him, he gets pushed into the wall. Harvey stands shoulder to shoulder with me. “How did you like your coffee?”

I think I’ve imagined his voice; he doesn’t move his torso to face me or even glance my way. I don’t answer right away, trying to process that Harvey is actually talking to me-not just a good morning. “It’s the best around.” He hums in a positive tone, and I see a small smile creep onto his face.

I hope he doesn’t think we’re going to be besties after apology coffee, but I might as well throw him a bone. “Louis wanted to go buy me one from Roaster Roos.”

“Roaster Roos?” Harvey finally turns his body to me and has an offended look on his face. My heart flutters and I wish I could beat it down with a hammer. “God, he has no idea what good coffee is.” He turns back to face the elevator doors, and I crave his gaze on me again.

I feel like I’m running out of time to talk to him away from prying eyes. The dinging of the elevator as we steadily drop feels like a doomsday clock. “He wants to take me to dinner.” I don’t know why I said that.

Harvey stops next to me, and I hear Mike’s strained breathing behind me. I forgot he was here. Once again, it’s quiet until he asks, “How would your boyfriend feel about that?” He’s playing the game- he wants to know if I’m seeing anybody. Touche Mr. Douchebag.

How do I tell him I’m single without being pathetic? “Let’s just say, Louis might have a fighting chance.” I shrug. “Why? Did Louis not ask you to dinner when you first came to the firm?” I tease with a smirk.

His demeanor changes and he has a playful smile on his face, just like the good old days. “Oh, please, Louis wishes he could handle all this.” He motions to himself. He still won’t look at me. I need him to look at me.

I smirk and eye him up and down till my gaze catches on his tie. It’s crooked, I notice. A quick fit of confidence comes over me and I reach for it. At first, both hands are on the knot, but then the other lays flat on his chest while the other straightens the tie out.

It’s just like it was in law school when I would get him ready for mock trials. Something so normal, so domestic, about fixing his tie. Finally, finally, he looks down at me. We’re all but inches apart. I look up into his dark eyes and I feel… odd. His warm breath fans my face and I have to force myself away.

Harvey’s eyes stay on me this time. I can sense Mike looking between the two of us and there’s another layer of awkwardness added to the lift again. “Sorry, I-”

“-Hate a crooked tie.” He finishes my sentence. Of course, he does. I can’t stop myself from looking up, and I know it’s a dumb thing to do before I even do it. Harvey is already looking down at me calmly with half-lidded eyes. I take a brisk look over the rest of his face (pause a little too long on his lips) and back up.

I move just a tad further away from him than I was when we first got in. What is wrong with me? I look towards the elevator buttons and keep my eyes strained there. My chest is rising up and down as I think about what I’ve done.

There’s a ding and the elevator doors open. I wait for him to step out so that I can collect myself, but he doesn’t budge. I side-eye him and motion towards the door, “Go ahead.”

I can feel him looking at me, “Ladies first.” He says and his voice makes my heart flutter. I look at him and he’s looking at me like I’m a sick dog on the side of the street that he feels bad for. I bite my cheek and step out.

The whole way to the meeting spot for the client, I’m a pace or two behind Harvey and Mike. Not just because they’re tall and have long legs, either. At one point, I could tell Harvey had slowed his walking pace so I wouldn’t be so far behind, but I resisted being any closer to him by slowing my pace as well.

I need to think. I’ve detested Harvey since we ‘broke up’, but I’m within his vicinity for TWO DAYS, and I can’t keep it in my pants! I watch his back as he walks and can picture the smooth skin beneath. That gets me thinking about his chest… the scratches I left on both… I shake my head, there is something seriously wrong with me.

We arrive at a parking garage and elevator up to the fifth floor. Luckily, this time I keep my mouth shut and my eyes far from his. The client is waiting for us on a fancy, cherry-red car.

“Harvey!” He shouts joyously. The guy is older with white hair, but he seems active and in good spirits. His gaze slides over to me and I feel like an object. My pace slows and I try to fade into the background despite his hungry eyes. “And who is this?” He looks his lips and I pray that it’s an unconscious habit.

“I’m Mike Ross.” Mike steps in the man’s line of sight. “I’m Harvey’s personal associate.” Thank God for Mike Ross.

But this guy’s determined. He nods boredly at Mike before motioning him to step to the side. Mike moves in stuttered motions and his eyes flicker between me and the client. I give him a face that says ‘What the fuck?’, and he gives me one back that says, ‘I don’t know!’

“You.” I look at the man and freeze. He smiles at me and goes back to leaning on his car, “What are you doing with this guy?” He nods his head to Harvey. I see his jaw clench out of the corner of my eye but otherwise doesn’t move a muscle. “With a face like yours, you could be on anyone’s arm.” The implication is clear.

Just as Harvey opens his mouth, I say, “He’s my boss.” I nod with a tight smile.

An idea floods into my brain and my previously uncomfortable posture straightens until it becomes arched. “Yep!” I pop my lips and sway my hips as I get closer to the car. “Until I get a client of my own, I’m gonna be stuck with this guy.” I point with my thumb to Harvey. “You wouldn’t know a guy who’d want to be my client… would you?” I bat my lashes down at him.

He's quiet for a second and I can feel him about to say something, but I want to make sure my answer is a yes. I slide onto the shiny hood of the car and partially lay on my hip. “Cool car by the way.” I bat my lashes once more, but now I’m looking up at him and I can tell he’s hooked.

“Love, I’m sure people would get in legal trouble just to work with you.” He flirts and scoots closer to me on the car. Play it cool.

“Y/n.” I hear Harvey’s stern voice behind me and slide off of the car.

The rest of the meeting goes without a hitch. The client, Donald Marshall, would occasionally throw in the flirty comment or look but Harvey would quickly interject. As soon as we got what we needed we headed out of the lot… Not fast enough to prevent Mr. Marshall from kissing my hand on the way out.

“What the hell was that?” Harvey asks as soon as we’re on the sidewalk. He puts his hands on his hips and appears to be fuming. “You’re gonna flirt with my client- in front of me? I should write you up.”

“Call it what you want, I’m going to have clients begging to have me represent them by the end of the week.” I pull out my cell to look up the nearest Ikea. I try to look unbothered, but my heart is racing.

“You can’t just flaunt yourself to get clients-“

I get in his face and shove my finger into his chest. “I can and I will do whatever I want to get me as far away from you as possible!” My words are laced with venom.

I hate him. Just because he still has those puppy dog eyes and sugary words doesn’t mean he didn’t lead me on and then tell me I was stupid to think there was something between us.

I breathe heavily and he does in return. There is fire in his eyes, and I don’t want him to look at me like that- but I know I’m looking at him the exact same way. “As soon as I get my first client I won’t have to look at your sorry face and I can pretend you’re not even there.” I turn on my heels to the street and raise my hand to signal a cab.

I am so over Harvey Specter.

Taglist: @technicallykawaiisoul @malfoys-demigod @notarobotipromise

If you want to be added, just let me know!

#harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter x reader smut #x reader #friends to enemies to lovers #suits #suits x reader #harvey spector x reader #harvey spector #angst #fluff #romance

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apute11as · 8 months ago

Text

Everything happens for a reason part 5 - Alexia Putellas x pregnant!reader

Summary: the world cup final holds some bumps and bruises.

Warnings: angst, blood, injury (all resolved don’t worry!!)

Notes: We pretend alexia played the full 90 of the final… and assisted the winner🤫and no R*biales situation. ALSO deepest apologies for how inactive i’ve been, i have been busy but… i’ve also been lazy i’ll try and be better from now on im sorry!! ❤️

⭐️My requests are open!

Other parts here!!

~~~~

Things had been a lot calmer since yours and Alexia’s phone call. The morning sickness and overall fatigue was ever present but the mind numbing arguing had subsided. Alexia still wasn’t overly impressed that you were still playing, as you were nearing the end of your first trimester. The management staff now knew about your pregnancy but after a medical checkup and lots of reassuring, they cleared you to complete the tournament.

The World Cup final was soon and you’d just finished the match that saw you get through. As the final whistle blew, relief flooded your system at the win.

“YES WE’RE THROUGH Y/N!” Screamed Mary, picking you up and hoisting you onto her back.

“I know I can’t believe it!!” You shouted back

The rest of the girls were celebrating as you remained on the goalkeeper’s back, her carrying you around like a carriage.

“Oi careful Mearps don’t want to damage the little princesa!” Bellowed Lucy, upon seeing you on her back.

You were pretty sure Alexia had threatened Lucy in some way in order for her to look out for you whilst Alexia couldn’t. You couldn’t go a day without the older brunette either piling extra food onto your plate, shouting at someone for touching you lightly or simply calling the baby “La princesa”.

——

Later that evening, you were splayed across Lucy’s bed, Alessia beside you as the two of you had decided to bombard the older girl until she agreed to let you come in. A Disney movie was playing in the background as you rested your head in Alessia’s lap, your hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on your small bump.

“Ughh why are my tits so sore!” You groaned

“I don’t think your wife would be too happy about me partaking in a conversation about your tits” joked Lucy sarcastically.

“oh shut up! Everything just hurts all the time now, my whole body just kills, especially after the matches” you whined.

“Old age feels the same” laughed Lucy.

“Well both of you are complaining an awful lot considering we only have the final to go, surely that’s exciting no?” added Alessia

“I mean sure it’s exciting but i’m not really looking forward to playing against my wife and half of our team”

“Yeah me neither honestly” agreed Lucy

“Ugh you’re both so miserable, we’ve made it to our first world cup final!” Alessia insisted

“I can’t wait to go home honestly” you began. “I mean obviously I’d love for us to win and this tournament has been incredible, but I just miss my wife and my dog” you explained, eyes filling with tears.

“Oh honey are you crying?” Alessia asked, pulling you into her embrace

“shut up i’m not crying” you huffed in disgust, causing alessia to squeeze you harder. “it’s the baby it’s not me” you sobbed

“look at that la reina is controlling you through her spawn even when she’s not here” bellowed lucy

“Piss off bronze” you sulked

———

Training leading up to the final was exhausting to say the least, and it really wasn’t helped by the helicopter parenting you got from half of the team, regarding the baby. The running joke of you “carrying the heir to the throne” caught on quick, even Sarina had played into it, which really didn’t help the teasing you were already receiving from the girls.

Alexia had managed to call you every day recently, inquiring after the health of her “princesas” and somehow managing to hover more than anyone, despite not even being there in person. That is how you found yourself, the day before the final on the phone to your wife, despite you both swearing not to speak to each other before the match.

“Yes Alexia i have been eating well” you huffed

“Are you sure mi amor? How is the sickness?” she replied

“Still exists but it’s definitely better now, it’s only in the morning so it’s not draining me quite as much.”

“That’s good bebita, how are you feeling about tomorrow?” Your wife questioned with a frown.

“Hey i thought we agreed, no football talk” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“sí but i couldn’t resist mi amor, it won’t leave my mind”

“i know Ale but just think, after tomorrow we’ll be together again, regardless of the result” you smiled

“i miss you so much” she sighed

“i miss you too baby” you agreed

———

Dinner that evening was tense, it was evident that despite the excitement in the air at the prospect of a world cup final, the anxiety levels were also high. Even Georgia who was infamous for her inability to keep quiet, was relatively subdued. A strange sense of dread overcame your body as you realised your little bubble would burst as soon as the World Cup was over. Which was not to say that that you didn’t miss your wife because you most definitely did but you knew that this would almost certainly be your last game of competitive football before the baby arrived which was bittersweet when you really thought about it.

“How you feeling darling?” Questions Mary, lightly bumping your hip as she passed her plate onto the chef to be loaded.

“Nervous but excited i think” you half laughed.

“You’ll be amazing, you’ve saved us multiple times in this tournament. I know how hard it’ll be to be up against her but you deserve it y/n! Celebrate that regardless of the result tomorrow”

“You always know what to say Mary” you smiled, bringing the older woman into a hug.

You hadn’t slept so well since the tournament has started, sometimes all that was needed was a friend.

The journey to the match saw you receiving a good luck text from many people, one of which being your mother in law. Although you knew she’d be supporting Spain, as would Alba, you knew that the pair would be proud of both you and Alexia regardless of the result.

——

The bus arrived at the ground after a short 30 minute drive, something you were thankful for as that pregnancy travel sickness was no joke. You were seated next to Alessia much to your delight, the younger girl had been nothing but supportive of you the entire tournament. Ella and Mary were sat opposite you two on the table, playing a rather competitive game of uno.

“You ready?” Alessia sighed as she stood up.

“As ready as i’ll ever be” you said, mirroring her sigh.

“LETS GO GIRLS!” Bellowed Ella, the brunette forever having no filter.

You stepped off the bus, only to be greeted by masses of fans behind the gates, waiting to cheer you in. Many of those fans were adorned in Spanish shirts, likely hoping to get a video of you, Lucy and Keira as you noticed a couple of them with Barça scarves around their necks.

You smiled as you high-fived the row of mascot children to your right, carrying a bottle of water in your other hand.

As you found your way to the changing room, the atmosphere started to sink in as you realised you were actually at a world cup final, something that 5 year-old you had dreamed of since the day your idols Ronaldinho and Rivaldo had stepped onto that same stage 21 years ago.

Pitch inspection was up next as you wandered beside your captain with her reminding you of formation and reassuring you of your importance to the team throughout the tournament. You looked across the pitch and saw the Spanish team doing the same thing, wondering whether or not it would be appropriate to go and greet them.

Lucy being Lucy, beat you to that thought as she bounded over in the direction of Ona and your recognisably pink-haired girlfriend. Alexia was adorned in a navy blue tracksuit that proudly (or rather not so) displayed the RFEF emblem on her heart.

You wandered over, slightly more carefully than your counterpart, locking eyes with your wife as she looked up from her phone. Her gaze softened as it met yours, the both of you knowing that a conversation would result in tears, no matter the nature of it. Instead, you chose a simple hug, a hug that said more than words ever could. One of her arms was settled on your back, the other reached gently over your hoodie to caress the small bump that formed there.

“I love you” she whispered softly in your ear.

“Te amo” you responded, before breaking the hug and wandering back over to join the rest of your teammates, knowing you both needed the focus before the match and any further interaction would have to wait for the sake of concentration.

Upon reaching the dressing room, you began to change into your warmup kit, placing your hands where your wife’s have been just moments ago and smiling.

“Starting to show are we?” Questioned Leah with a smirk

“Hmm yes a little” you smiled

“How do you feel seeing her?” She inquired after Alexia

“Honestly relieved to be with her again” you sighed

“Well that’s good darling, we’ve got a game to win now come on!” She cheered as she dragged you by the arm, onto the pitch.

——

You readied yourself into position, you spared a simple glance at your wife, knowing that regardless of the result today you would end up in her arms and that thought alone was enough to calm some of the nerves currently enveloping your body. You glanced into the stadium briefly, scanning the crowd where your gaze met your mother and sister in law, cheering frantically. You noticed that Alba was in fact wearing an England scarf on top of her Spain jersey, a detail that made you grin slightly at her love.

The game kicked off relatively fast paced with Spain holding much of possession but luckily the majority of that possession was through their defence and midfield and far from your backline. The actual tempo of the game was relatively calm with the majority of Spain’s attacking opportunities being closed down through the talented midfield and sharp defence that England possessed.

However this all but changed in the 29th minute as Lucy made a risky run out into the middle and you were torn between covering her and staying on Jenni as she’d positioned herself perfectly onside, ready to receive any loose ball that came her way and likely put it in the net, knowing the talented feet of the 33 year old. Ultimately you stood your ground with Jenni, calling on Georgia to come back and cover. Before Georgia could grasp what you were saying over the volume of the crowd, Spain had regained possession via Alexia as she slotted a pass of pin point accuracy across to Olga Carmona who running at full speed down the wing, the wing in which Lucy should reside. Damn Lucy Bronze and her spontaneous spurts of energy. Your legs moved faster than your mind as you raced across the pitch, attempting to thwart Spain’s promising attack but before you could get there, Carmona struck the ball with a perfection that many could only dream of. You watched as the ball soared across the goal, straight at the right post and hit the back of the net as Mary stretched out fully.

The save never came.

Everything went silent.

Spain had scored and there was nothing you could do about it.

Your ears tuned back into reality as you watched Olga lift her shirt to reveal a message in celebration, you watched as her teammates, including your wife, rushed to pile her into a group hug. You watched as your own teammates sauntered back to the half way line in despair, knowing that your decision to stick back could’ve been the decider that cost a goal in potentially the most important game of your career.

Despite all this, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth inside you as you saw Alexia, the look of pure passion and happiness on her face, a look you missed seeing when she played. Your wife had assisted the goal to put her team ahead in a World Cup final and despite it being against your beloved England, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of joy for the woman you loved.

——

Half time couldn’t have come any sooner as you wiped your brow and plodded off the field, exhausted from both the physical and emotional battles that the first half had brought.

The dressing room was tense, Sarina was in the centre of it offering a motivating team talk, a team talk you payed little attention to as all you could think about was how you selfishly hoped she’d pull you off at half time. You’d never ask to come off but if she did decide to take you off in that moment, you couldn’t help but feel you’d be happy for the rest as the pregnancy was seriously impacting your energy levels.

To your disappointment, your prayers were not answered and you were forced to likely endure another 45 minutes of football, despite the ache that persisted throughout your body. You gathered into the huddle of your teammates, just as the second half was about to commence.

“You alright y/n?” Asked Lucy, concern etched in her face

“Mhm just a little exhausted” you assured the older woman

“Well vamos chica let’s kick some Spanish ass!” Cheered Lucy, as the huddle broke up and everyone returned to their positions.

——

The second half started slowly with near enough no excitement, England has their chances throughout but none of them connected, hitting the crossbar or going just wide every time.

That didn’t stop Spain from fighting for a second all throughout, a second they might be coming close to.

Aitana dribbled through the English midfield as if they were cones in her training drill, leaving each one for dead and proceeding to boot in your direction. You met her run, using your body to shield your goal as she curved to the left, in an attempt to foil you but you stood your ground. Hands behind your back, body perfectly positioned as you blocked her powerful cross that would’ve found Jenni, unmarked in the box had it not been for your body. The ball went out for a corner as you let out a small sigh of relief which didn’t last long as you moved to mark none other than your wife on the edge of the box.

“Hola bebita” alexia grinned, in an attempt to distract you

“Shut up Putellas” you countered, causing her to roll her eyes and laugh from behind you, where her body was flush against your back, albeit a little softer than usual. Likely due to the precious cargo you carried.

Mariona aligned herself at an angle with the corner flag, holding one arm in the air to signal the corner routine.

A split second later she struck her foot to release the ball, a ball heading in your direction. You jumped and full power, in an attempt to beat a most definitely taller Alexia to the ball. Alexia jumper almost in sync, mind set on nothing but ensuring the ball reached the back of the net. However, neither of you made it to the ball and Alexia’s head collided sharply with the back of your head, causing a wave of pain to wash over you and your whole body to crumple forwards due to the shock, Alexia landing half on top of you.

You screamed out in pain as everything went black.

“Y/N!” Screamed Mary as she watched blood drip from your head.

“MEDIC NOW!” Yelled Lucy as the medical staff came rushing over to your unconscious form.

Alexia rubbed her head in pain as she sprung up at the commotion, met with the sight of her wife bleeding on the floor. Her pregnant wife, hurt, because if her. Reality kicked in at that moment.

“No no no no mi amor.” She pleaded “Lo siento, lo siento” she beckoned as she crouched down, eyes wide in horror at the sight in front of her.

She felt an arm grip her shoulder and pull her back and was met with the faces of Chloe Kelly and Lauren James as they shoved her away, screaming abuse in her face.

You’d regained consciousness as this point as the medics shone a light in your face and began assessing the wound.

“She’s pregnant” Mary announced to the medics, as they nodded with a look of pure worry that elicited a sinking feeling in the stomachs of those present.

Your teammates huddled close by, with concern present on all of their faces. Alexia fought her way back through pleading to you.

“Go away Alexia” was all you could manage before you slipped back out of consciousness.

Alexia’s heart broke at the sight, you blamed her, you thought she’d done it on purpose, shock set into her body as she watched in horror as the medical team loaded you onto a stretcher and stretched you off to medical.

“¡Quiero ir con ella!” Alexia demanded towards Vilda who shook his head and began lecturing her in Spanish. She protested consistently but eventually agreed to play the final 10 minutes, out of fear of punishment, not to herself by the younger players, should she argue any further.

The final whistle felt like an eternity later. Alexia having done nothing but fight the urge to run off the pitch in the final 10 minutes. Spain had won the World Cup but Alexia had no desire to celebrate with her team, all she wanted was to run to her wife and ensure you and the baby were okay. She was stopped by a firm grip on her hands as Vilda shoved her in the direction of the team. She shoved him right back, a moment she knew would be plastered all over social media later. A problem that could wait for the future.

As she was stopped again, Alexia spotted her mother in the crowd and signalled for her to find you and her mother did so, barging past security and into the tunnel.

Alexia slipped past everyone, ignoring the beckoning of the Spanish staff and bolted into the tunnel, knowing that the media would tear her apart later, calling her “cocky” “overrated” and “ungrateful” for her obvious disinterest in the trophy and general celebration but she did not care. The only thing on her mind in that moment was her family. No medal, trophy or football game was more important that you or her child.

After a frantic search she located you, accompanied by your medical staff and her mother and sister.

“Mi Estella, lo siento mucho” she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes

“I know Ale you didn’t mean it” you mumbled weakly

“No of course not amor! Are you okay? El bebé? Is the baby okay?” She rambled, ignoring the look of pure shock on her mother and sister’s face.

“We’re running tests now, just prepping an ultra sound machine” informed one of the doctors, as he squirted a blue gel across the gentle curve of your stomach.

“I’m so sorry querida” tears were streaming now “I hurt you! I hurt our bebita” she spluttered cupping your face as you felt the doctor begin to move the probe over your stomach.

“Ale no it’s okay, i’m okay look” you gestured towards the ultrasound machine

A steady heart beat filled the room.

A grainy image of your baby filled the screen.

The baby was okay.

“Oh, gracias a Dios” her mother exclaimed, relieved at the health of her grandchild that she’d only learnt existed moments ago.

“YOU’RE PREGNANT?!” Yelled Alba

“Sí lo siento for not telling you both, I found out during the tournament, we’ve been trying for months” you smiled, tears in your eyes.

The ultrasound technician wiped the gel with a tissue before printing out several copies of the image.

Your wife was unbelievably silent, staring, mouth wide at the ultrasound.

“Alexia” you called

“Te quiero más que a nada” she breathed. “I’m so sorry mi amor, I’ve missed you so much” she placed a gentle kiss to your lips, squeezing your hands firmly with her sweaty ones, before she placed a second kiss to your bump.

“I’m so glad we’re together again mi vida” you replied with a smile, touching your foreheads together.

“I so hope it’s a girl so she can be alba junior!” Raved the younger Putellas sister

“ALBA!” Alexia and Eli retorted simultaneously.

~~~~~

Thank you so much for reading this series, please send any requests in my inbox and any feedback too i love you all <3

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #fc barcelona

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rhiannonsknife · 1 month ago

Note

Hiya!! I thought since a lot of your anons loved Rhiannon with a breeding kink I would raise you to a higher pedestal! I give you….obssesive wife Rhiannon who is absolutely obsessed with getting you pregnant. She goes to all lengths….checking your calendar for ovulation days, sneaking in your vitamins for strength, making sure you eat all and healthy. She’s extra cautious. I imagine her to be the type that isn’t fond of children in general, but when she thinks of her baby, your baby immediately she’s willing to do late night feeds and nappie changes.

But Rhiannon who does all these things without you knowing? If that makes sense? She picks a date where she knows your ovulating. Buying you flowers on the way home and having to keep them from getting smushed on the tube. Having a list of how many people she’d like to throttle by the end of the trip. Coming home early to strewn flower petals on the floor, the bed, light the fireplace. Candles that she eagerly secured (she wants you pregnant but dead) she makes dinner or orders expensive take out. She takes out the essential oils you like to give you a back rub. All these are a false sense of security for you. To make you more submissive and willing to let her breed you. Not that you’re not willing, you are, you just haven’t had time to do the act.

But Rhiannon who does all this and when she finally has you where she wants, she’s begging, pleading for you to let her breed you. Saying she wants a baby, she’ll do anything and everything for you. How cute a little wife you’ll be pregnant with her baby. All these things.

But obsessive unhinged Rhiannon who purposely puts pills into your drink that make you extra salacious just for her. 🤭 I hope all these thoughts sit well with you! I have been here since your first Jackie post and have thought very highly of you! I know you must be bustling with anons, but would you be keen on letting me be 🖋️ anon?

lord have mercy…we must stay focused!! thank you for sharing your thoughts 🖋️ anon!! nsfw content. mdni!

rhiannon’s been planning this for weeks.

usually, the only times she’s as structured about something, it’s for taking a life, not -well- creating one. it all started with her obsessively tracking your calendar, paying extra attention to those little marks that indicated your ovulation days. suddenly, she’s an expert on your cycle.

vitamins are slipped into your morning smoothies and she’s extra insistent that you eat more greens, and every now and then, she sneaks into her phone to research the best fertility-boosting recipes when she knows you’re not looking.

rhiannon doesn’t tell you any of this, obviously.

the truth is, she doesn’t care about children in general. she never has. other people’s kids are loud and require more patience and attention than she’s ever had. but the idea of your baby? a little person who’s part you, part her? rhiannon can’t stop thinking about it.

it’s obsessive, maybe even a little unhinged, but that’s rhiannon for you: fiercely devoted, insanely unpredictable, and completely consumed by the idea of loving you and the life she wants to build with you.

and tonight? tonight is the culmination of all her planning.

the flowers are the first sign: you come home to the sight of her holding a massive bouquet of your favorite flowers, the stems slightly crushed from her efforts to keep them safe on the tube.

you barely have time to take off your shoes before she presses it into your hands and kisses you. “hi” she murmurs against your mouth, hands sneaking to your waist already.

“hi,” you greet, raising an eyebrow as you take in the sight. “what’s the occasion?”

“do i need a reason to spoil you?” rhiannon counters instantly, dragging you inside by the arm. “dinner’s on the table,” she adds, wrapping an arm around your hip and guiding you toward the dining room.

“you cooked?” you ask, half-joking.

she grins. “don’t push your luck now. i ordered from that fancy italian place you like”

rhiannon may not be the culinary genius of the relationship, but she knows your favorite meals and goes out of her way to make you feel special. still, the extravagance tonight feels almost too calculated.

dinner progresses perfectly, with rhiannon’s attention unwavering. she pours your wine, makes you laugh, and touches you constantly; light brushes of her fingers against yours, a hand on your thigh, a kiss at the corner of your mouth…by the time she leads you upstairs, her fingers laced with yours, your earlier suspicion is all but forgotten.

well, that’s until you see the state of the bedroom: it’s just as carefully prepared as the rest of the house, with candles lit and petals scattered across the bed in what would’ve been a comically cliché display under different circumstances.

“alright,” you say, turning to face her as she closes the door behind you. “what’s all this for, rhee? did you rob a bank or something?” (not that it would surprise you, given her murderous tendencies)

her laugh is low and husky, and she steps closer, pulling you into her arms. “can’t i just want to make you feel good?”

her lips brush against your neck as she speaks, and you feel yourself relax in her touch. you don’t know about the vitamins, or the research, or the way she’s been meticulously planning this exact night down to the smallest detail. all you know is that her touch feels too good to question any of this.

“lay down,” rhiannon murmurs, reluctant pulling back to reach for the bottle of oil she’d hidden in the nightstand. “you’ve been so stressed lately…let me take care of you…”

her hands are warm, yet firm as they move across your back, kneading away the tension you didn’t even realize you’d been holding all this time.

“you’re being awfully sweet tonight,” you tease, though your voice is muffled by the pillow beneath your cheek and cut off my a soft groan as her oiled up fingers work on a knot in your lower back.

“just in a good mood,” she replies casually, though there’s an edge of truth in her words. she is in a good mood, but not for the reasons you think. it’s because tonight is the night she’s going to make this happen.

the first time she says it, you genuinely think you’re hearing things.

rhiannon is on top of you, her mouth kissing and sucking on your neck while her hips roll at a gentle pace. you’ve got both arms draped over her neck to hold her close as she moves.

she nudges your earlobe with her nose, momentarily slowing down her thrusts. “i want a baby” she breathes, relishing in the way your breath catches when the words sink in.

you drop your hand to rhiannon’s cheek so she’s looking down at you and tilt your head. “w-what?”

rhiannon smiles. even though she’s breathless, holding back from cumming too soon already, she’s pleased with herself and the element of surprise. “i want a baby” she repeats between a groan as you accidentally squeeze her in tighter. as if that alone (plus all the work she’s done for you today) isn’t enough yet, rhiannon picks up the pace again, buries her face in the crook of your neck, and starts pleading: “please. you already know i’d- fuck- do anything for you” rhiannon pants, your fingers tightening against her skin. each of her thrusts goes right against your g-spot, making it hard to focus on what she’s actually proposing here.

it takes surprisingly little effort to convince you. perhaps it’s her timing and the fact that she’s bringing this possibility up whilst she’s already buried to the hilt. or that you can’t help but want her to, nearly gushing at the thought. either way, this and her ragged pleads to fuck you raw are enough to make up your mind.

the first time rhiannon sinks into you like that, she literally whines, her fingers tightening their hold on you so that she won’t start humping into you uselessly.

nothing, not even the hours she spent by herself, imagining you bare around her, could compare to the real deal.

“oh my god” she groans, her lashes fluttering as she holds onto your thighs, keeping you nice and open for her. “oh my god, you feel so good”

obviously rhiannon isn’t the only one affected: you can literally feel her twitch, already leaking from just being inside you, and that sensation alone is enough for your eyes to roll back in your head.

“fuck, rhee” you manage as she slides all the way inside easily; you’re embarrassingly wet, though rhiannon hardly notices.

any coherent thoughts go straight out of the window anyway the moment rhiannon starts moving, thrusting into you until the only sound echoing through the room is the one of skin slapping against skin, coming from between your thighs.

now, i know i’ve said it in this post already, but rhiannon, who cums so fast :((

she’s been fantasizing about this for so long, touching herself and imagining her hand as your bare cunt surrounding her, but truly nothing compares to this.

she lasts mere minutes before she tenses and releases.

rhiannon tries to hold back, she really does, but fails miserably. she had all these plans; positions to try, making you beg for her cum, watching it drip from you…none of it matters when she cums deep inside for the first time, crying out against your neck as she fills you up.

shoutout to the one person who knows me irl and somehow found this account. if you’re reading this: GET OUT. (honestly, writing this feels like the ultimate walk of shame, but hey, i gotta do what i gotta do to keep the anons happy 🤗)

#rhiannon lewis Ღ #˙🔞 ̟ !! mdni #🖋️ anon #rhiannon lewis x reader #rhiannon lewis x female reader #rhiannon lewis x you #sweetpea

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with-my-calamitous-love · 4 months ago

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KISS ME IN A WAY THATS GONNA SCREW ME UP FOREVER

rockstar! chuuya nakahara x pop star! reader

after acting in a music video of his right after a breakup, the media has many speculations about you two.

part 1/3

inspired by suburban legends

once the flight had flown, your feet touched down on the new, big city. it was a kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats, hidden underneath the fabric of fashion trends of large coats. the world in this corner smelled like want.

you weaved your way through the crowd before finally reaching the studio. you open the door, unpack your things with a hug and kiss to your manager, before finally seeing him.

chuuya nakahara was perhaps the most famous man in the world right now. a deep, gravelly voice with hands that slid across his guitar like skates on ice. he was the living, breathing definition of the word heartthrob.

right now, he’s tuning his guitar, his messy orange hair tied into a cute messy bun. he’s concentrated, the fabric of his black muscle shirt clinging to his obviously well toned muscles. you know you’re staring, but you can’t help it. and its not even just because he’s famous and talented.

you had been making a name for yourself in the music industry. slowly but surely, the name [Y/N] [L/N], the world’s new pop princess! had been making headlines. the general public considered you a sweetheart, with your fresh-faced beauty and edge paving the way for new found fame. the paparazzi adored your voice and your lyrics. you had only begun your receive the recognition you deserve.

upon winning best new artist at the vma’s, your song feather garnered billions of listeners. but perhaps the most shocking of them all, was gaining the attention of the one and only chuuya nakahara.

and thats how you ended up here. standing face to face with the embodiment of every women’s dream man.

“hey, [y/n].” he greets you, his sultry voice breaking through the mist of your fantastical mind. you snap out of it with an awkward laugh and a firm (but surely sweaty) handshake. he brushes it off, giving you a wink and thanking you for coming all this way.

“i love your studio.” you manage to compliment the rockstar despite your winded state. he hums a thank you, walking you towards the stage. his team works diligently, and you swear you can feel all his gratitude towards them. everyone in first name, high fave and shitty joke basis with each other. it was hard not to feel like an outsider.

“i don’t know if michizou gave you the run down on the video.. which he should have!” chuuya playfully jabs at his producer and good friend, who was currently fixing up the stage lights and blowing fat raspberries back at his boss. “basically, its for my new single. you’ll be playing my girlfriend.”

you wish you could hide the embarrassing scarlet tinge that blooms onto your cheeks at the mention of girlfriend. he seems so nonchalant, so casual about being so intimate.

once he’s distracted, your whisked away by a beautiful girl with a short black bob. her butterfly clip hung loosely just beside her bangs. she was the one person here who didn’t make you feel like a complete stranger on the outside looking in.

“hi, [y/n]! i’m yosano, i’ll just be doing your makeup.” she hums, and you happily take refuge in her cozy dressing room. the two of you hit it off almost immediately, allowing you to get your nerves out. however, something comes up that throws you off your game.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

“oh and.. i guess, someone should tell you, honey.” she says, making your eyeliner as sharp as humanly possible. “chuuya’s been… he’s having a hard time. a bad breakup.”

this information churns in your stomach. “how long ago..?”

“3 weeks ago, give or take.” yosano explains, applying the setting powder. on one hand, you were thankful someone had warned you. but on the other, it made you nervous that you would be playing a romantic partner to someone who had just gotten their heart broken.

“why did they break up?” you ask, cautiously looking over at yourself in the mirror to make sure you were hiding your anxiety well enough.

“i don’t know… the rockstar over there never really talked about it.” yosano huffs, sitting on the counter to get a better angle at applying your lip liner. “all i know is… he hates betrayal more than anything now.”

a million thoughts run through your head. who? when? why? but most of all, who in their right mind would cheat on chuuya nakahara?

but you lost all the time for your nervousness. next thing you know, yosano is rushing you onto the set with words of encouragement. there, you meet chuuya, who’s been waiting for you.

the first scene is simple. just two people dancing in the living room set.

he walks over to you, placing his hands on your hips like its second nature. he chuckles at your nervousness, the way you tense up as you instinctively place your hands on his chest.

“what? don’t know how to dance, doll?” he teases, that shit-eating smirk on his face.

“uhm… no.” you admit, sheepishly.

he looks surprised, before a genuine smile reappears on his face again. “thats okay, just follow my lead.”

and with that, you two start swaying. he takes the lead, using his body to direct your movements. and for the first time in your career, maybe ever, you actually feel comfortable. you gain your fluidity back, dancing with chuuya in a way that words couldn’t explain. like two figures in a snow globe, you acted out a miniature expression of love thaf spoke volumes.

the rest of the filming process goes on smoothly, your favourite of the bunch being the kitchen scene. chuuya washes dishes while you snuggle up to him from behind, the overflowing of the sink being unscripted but ultimately charming enough to keep in.

finally, it was the scene you were most nervous about. the infamous kiss scene, and the segment yosano had failed to warn you about.

“i’ll say this again.” chuuya says, his voice in a hush tone. “i am not gonna make you this, doll.”

you’re nervous to kiss him, but the thought of turning him down felt like a complete loss.

so you bite your lip, and give chuuya the greenlight.

“three…two…one… ACTION!”

the camera pans in a circle around the two of you, capturing every small detail. the moment he cups your face, the moment you lock eyes… before finally, you two kiss.

and its the kind of kiss that saves you and that screws you up forever. that day, chuuya nakahara kissed you like the most gorgeous rose you had ever hoped to pick, with a million thorns sticking out from the side.

it was as though just front that simple contact, you knew the kind of guy he was. a gentleman, a man polite too a fault. time seems to stop even as you two pull away. you honestly consider breaking your own heart so you can move on from the love of your life (aka the famous man you met just a few hours ago.)

“thats a wrap!” tachihara announces as the team celebrates. this song, though you hadn’t heard it yet, was sure to be a hit. and chuuya assures that the music video will bring so much of the spotlight you deserve.

after that, the team breaks with some cake and beer. you, however, sneak off to the balcony, getting some much needed fresh air. you’re almost granted the moment of peace you craved when suddenly, someone addresses you.

“hey pop star.” chuuya says, walking up behind you and offering you a beer. when you politely accept, he stares out at the city-scanning sunset. finally, you two were alone, away from the editors and cameras.

you ask whats been on your mind since the beginning.

“…what song was this for again?” you nervously ask.

chuuya lets out a hearty laugh, enamoured by your sincerity. he digresses, opting to take you to the rooftop instead. there, he picks up his guitar and begins playing a few notes. it seemed like such a douchebag move, but if it was, you loved douchebags.

“can i tell you a secret?” he asks, strumming the acoustic strings with calculated talent. you nod, fiddling with your fingers.

“..i don’t really have a title for it yet.” he chuckles. now its your turn to laugh at him, and he takes it.

“why’s that, rockstar?” you ask, sipping your beer.

chuuya ponders for a moment, his eyes never leaving his guitar. he shrugs, continuing to serenade you. a thought crosses your mind.

“why’d you choose me, anyway?”

though he can’t think of a song title, he seems to know the answer to that question.

“cause you’ve got edge, and talent.” he says. “the industries gonna want to ruin you. you can’t let that happen, alright?”

you nod apprehensively. you’ve heard the whispers, how female stars were held up to a higher standard. how one wrong move, one hair out of place, or one breath too loud could cost you your career. hearing it from an established star made your hands shake.

maybe this would screw you up forever.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

[chuuyaheartz]: new MV is out!! starring [y/n] [l/n]

[soukkvo]: pov me replaying the kiss scene:

[lovechna]: idk who i’d wanna be more 😍😍

[asagir1]: wait wtf he like just broke up with higuchi… don’t you think its a little soon??

[chzai09]: they’re my roman empire

new star [Y/N] [L/N] kisses chuuya nakahara and new music video!

who is [Y/N] [L/N]? meet the new pop princess:

[Y/N] [L/N] is chuuya’s new girlfriend? heres whats happening:

#[Y/N] [L/N] trending

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lovebugism · 2 years ago

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band!eddie and reader finally having some alone time in the tour bus *wink wink*

18+ rockstar!eddie universe <3

It was one of those rare occasions where the rest of the band wanted to go out and you wanted to stay in. There hadn’t even been a show that day, just interview after interview after interview. It left your social battery at an all time low. So when Jeff and Gareth wanted to barhop the night away, you lamented that you were way too tired to accompany them.

And Eddie, being the nice guy he was, opted to stay in with you. “Someone’s gotta make sure the lady stays safe. Wouldn’t want someone to steal ya,” he’d half-joked.

You scoffed. “Because, god forbid, you lose your bassist, right?”

“Well, if I lost you, I think I’d die, but… yeah, having to find a replacement would definitely be more emotionally taxing.”

Eddie Munson was the only person in the world who could rival your sarcasm. It was so easy for the both of you to cover up a sweet thing with something so playfully sour. The boy finishes his quip with a stupid, lovedrunk grin that nearly makes you melt.

“Obviously,” you retort.

The rest of the boys disappear for the next several hours, enough for the sun to have set and stars to sprinkle the sky. If you had to guess, they’ve probably got a running bet on how many bars they could get free drinks from. It’ll go on until they can’t see straight anymore, no winners or losers — unless you count your manager, who’ll no doubt have to escort them back to the bus.

With them gone, the bus is practically silent for the first time all tour. There is no boyish yelling or tuning guitars or video games. There’s not even the muffled sound of tires on gravel with the tour bus parked. It’s total silence filled only with the faint sounds of Charlie’s Angels coming from the common area. The episode is practically on mute, though, because Eddie knows you’re tired and doesn’t want to disturb you.

The soft quiet ushers you into its velvet arms. It almost lulls you to sleep several times over, but something in the back of your mind refuses to let you slumber. You were annoyed at first. You were squirming in your tiny bunk for nearly an hour until you realized you were filled with a need of a different kind.

You didn’t need sleep. You needed Eddie. Like a child needs their baby’s blanket — you can’t be without him for too long, or you might start screaming. The sudden ache to be close to him hits you like a freight train.

The sliding door of the bunks glides open with a mechanical schlick. You lean against the frame of it, clad only in a too big shirt that probably belonged to all the boys before it got to you, and admire your boy in his element.

He’s all spread out on the leather couch, curly hair untamed and in a messy chestnut halo on his head. He wears a piece of outdated Corroded Coffin merch from back when you only played gigs at The Hideout. The shirt clings to his torso while a pair of old pajama pants hang low on his hips.

Eddie’s eyes are firmly trained on the small television in the corner of the bus. The chocolate of them dart around the screen as Farrah Fawcett turns flips beneath a shoddy cable service. He barely acknowledges your presence, too engrossed in the climax of his show.

“Thought you were sleeping,” he says without looking at you.

“I’m too bored to sleep,” you practically whine.

Your feet shuffle along the carpeted floor as you walk the short distance to him. You all but flop onto the couch at his side, burying your face into the warmth of his neck.

“What do you mean you’re too bored to sleep?” he mocks with a soft laugh. He turns to press his lips to your head, not exactly kissing you there, just resting against you. His words are muffled: “Why didn’t you go out with Jeff and Gareth?”

“Didn’t want to,” you answer shortly.

“Solid answer,” he nods. “What do you wanna do then?”

He doesn’t necessarily mean it suggestively. He’d probably go lie in traffic if it’d make you less bored, he loves you so damn much — but fuck if a million dirty things don’t pop into your head all at once.

It’s practically the first time you’ve been alone all tour.

Now that you think about it, every time you’ve fucked Eddie, it’s been at the discretion of prying eyes just behind a door or in a room over. Hotels are few and far between, and you and your boys are the tightest clan the universe has ever seen, so it leaves little room for opportunity time for you and Eddie.

But here you were now, with no one around, and practically all the time in the world (or rather, until sunrise, when the rest of the band shuffled back onto the bus).

“I don’t know,” you lilt, though you’re already hooking a leg over his thighs.

Eddie feels like a teenage boy all over again as you settle onto his lap. A wide grin tugs slow at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. “What are ya doin’, doll?”

“Nothin’,” you shrug, feigning innocence, like you’re not slipping your fingers through the hem of his pants. The tips of them inch into his boxers and trail down the thin patch of coarse hair there with a touch that’s smoother than water.

His cock is already half-hard when you take him into your hands, warm and soft and stiffening in your grip. Eddie exhales deeply through his nose at your gentle caressing, his gaze now turned down to where work him harder.

“Keep watching your show, baby,” you tease with a knowing grin as you slip his dick from the confines of his pajamas.

“How can I—” he tries to joke, but the words get lost in his throat when you slide your panties to the side. He goes instantly stupid at the sight of your slick collecting along the manicured thatch of pubic hair just above your pussy. His brain all but ceases to function when you rub yourself along him, drenched folds parting to welcome the bulbous tip of his cock.

You feel like silk, he concludes, or maybe something somehow softer.

Eddie swallows thickly while his obedient hands settle on your hips to steady you. He continues, this time with a tremble in his voice. “How can I when you’re pullin’ this shit, huh?” his button eyes flit back up to look at you, a smirk forming on his pink lips. “You just wanna ride me, huh? That’s what you need?”

You don’t answer him. You’re barely listening, if you’re honest, too concentrated on positioning him at your opening. You gasp softly when you pierce yourself with him, then exhale low moans as you sink slowly onto his cock. The burn is a minimal one, somewhere in your lower tummy, that washes away with a flood of velvet-coated pleasure.

Eddie fills you so perfectly, just like he always does, like he was made to be seated inside you.

“Well, this is an excellent way to pass the time, if I do say so myself,” he manages to quip through bated exhales from where he’d been holding his breath. You rock your hips over his lap without warning. His pink lips form a tight line as something short of a growl bubbles in his throat and rumbles in his chest.

You watch with a proud grin as his eyes flutter shut and his head falls back. You push his curls over his shoulder to press open-mouthed kisses along the pale expanse of his neck, occasionally dragging your teeth along the milky white tendon there.

Eddie hums to himself when he feels you mewl softly against his skin. Your hips sway back and forth over his thighs, moving to a rhythm of their own accord — all slow and methodical. It’s a pace that always gets him pussy drunk. A steady rise and fall that forces him to feel all of you and makes him swear that you’re some kind of succubus.

“Oh my god,” he says within a dragged out exhale. He starts to babble to himself while you work yourself over his lap. “Fuck me… This is so… so fucking hot. Shit— your pussy is so good to be, doll…”

He forces himself to open his heavy eyes to watch you mount him. His chin tilts down towards his chest and he shifts his hips so he has the perfect view of you. Your honey coats his lap, leaving his cock and pubic hair glistening with your slick. The sight of him all shiny with you makes him dizzy.

His palm leaves your hip and seeks purchase on your ass, not really thinking about it, just gravitating to hold you there. He grips you with guitar-string calloused hands that encourage you to rock harder against him.

Your hand trails from his shoulder down to where the two of you meet. You start to rub your clit with a lust-fueled fervor that just about makes him implode. You whine when your fingers meet the sensitive button, clenching somehow tighter around him as your pleasure begins to crescendo.

“That feel good?” he wonders through bated breaths. His hand leaves your ass, rising for no more than a moment, only to come down again in a practiced slap that makes you jolt against him. The sting of his palm adds gasoline to the simmering embers of your impending orgasm.

You whine, louder this time, arching your back and keening shamelessly against him.

It makes him grin. “Huh? Feels good on your pretty little clit, doesn’t it, doll?”

“Fuck yes…” you cry through a tight throat. “Feels so good, Eddie— fuck.”

Your hips lose their rhythm as your body fights to find its own pleasure.

You’ve got his dick locked inside you with a grip so tight it’s got him seeing stars, and it makes him wonder if you’d stop. Like, if the boys barged in right now, would you keep going, too far gone and dumb on his cock not to see it through.

Something about that, you riding him for all he’s worth, whining while you come on his cock with your friends watching — seeing firsthand who you belong to — makes him want to burst all at wants.

“God, this pussy’s amazin’, baby… ’S gonna— holy fuck… You’re gonna make me come if you keep riding me like this... Shit, yeah, just like that, doll.”

When you come, you do it together.

It’s a borderline spiritual feeling, one that doesn’t happen very often because Eddie’s usually adamant about you coming twice before he has the first time. But now, both of you are sensitive and whining through your orgasms, heaving out incorrigible moans and grasping tightly onto one another.

Eddie takes to fucking up into you while you reach your simultaneous highs. He grips you hard enough to leave bruises while his thighs audibly slap slap slap against your more slick ones. You cry at the oversensitivity — electric shocks that contrasts heavily with the warm feeling of his come spitting into your fluttering walls.

You shake violently in his hold, moaning his name over and over like it’s the only word you can remember. Your orgasm comes and goes, and you’re left whining pathetic Eddie, Eddie, Eddie’s into the mostly silent tour bus.

The boy isn’t in much better shape either. He fights off a cramp in his foot from where he’d curled his toes too tightly and blinks away burning tears that sing the backs of his eyes from coming so suddenly.

Your hips come to a slow stop over his lap, too quickly and yet not soon enough. You rest your forehead over his own, knocking your nose with his before you lean in to press several lazy pecks upon his lax mouth.

“See?” you manage to tease through heavy pants. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I guess that wasn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Eddie quips with a wide grin and eyes that are still slightly glazed with dispersing pleasure. He rubs his hands over the skin of your ass to soothe where he’d held you too tight. It’s soft, too soft for what he’s about to tell you.

“Now, how about you spread yourself out on this couch and let me clean you up, ‘kay?”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #rockstar!eddie #eddie spaghetti drabble #st drabbles

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letmeoutofthebasementt · 2 months ago

Text

Hyunjin Jealousy

SKZ Jealousy series pt. 4: (when they're in a serious relationship do they get jealous at all? What makes them jealous if they get jealous? How do they act in a relationship? What's their response/behavior when jealous? How do they handle it?)

He’s jealous. EXTREMELY jealous. He is jealousy. Jealousy is him. Him and jealousy are like Bonnie and Clyde but more destructive and even CLOSER.

First off, this man is sensitive. He’s sensitive and he’s very emotionally mature since he’s been so in-tune with them all his life until he’s not. Until all of a sudden he’s having an existential crisis because his partner touched Chan’s arm so naturally the only sensible response is to end Chan’s entire bloodline. I’m exaggerating but you get the picture.

He gets very irrational when jealous. His jealousy stems from insecurity, pride, and being easily overwhelmed. He doesn’t like being jealous so he acts like he’s not. He puts up this facade of “Oh, you want my partner? Try and take them.” But inwardly he’s having an entire panic attack.

He’s also just very territorial and possessive on top of that which strokes the flames.

When he’s jealous he’s emotional. When he’s feeling territorial he gets jealous. When he’s feeling possessive he gets jealous. When he’s emotional he’s angry. When he gets angry he shows that D1 crashout I know for a fact is in there somewhere.

(Me and my bsf have decided Han is the Baby Kia to his Kendrick. If you get it you get it.)

He gets DEEPLY jealous. I’m talking this impacts his SOUL. When he gets jealous.

Oddly enough, when he gets jealous everything clears. He’s never patient. He’s not a patient person. But his jealousy is very patient. His territorial and possessiveness are all Aries. All mars. Fiery and loud and bright and quick to flare up but quick to go out.

But his jealousy? It’s an entirely different story. His jealousy is all Pisces and water and even has some Scorpio influences due to a few of his placements. His jealousy is quiet and all consuming.

He’s smart with his jealousy. Manipulative even.

Like oh, he sees his partner having a little too much fun with another guy. Laughing too much at their jokes and touching their arm a little too long during conversation.

So naturally, he comes up and doesn’t make it obvious he cares. If anything, it’s the opposite. He acts like everything’s fine and he’s confident and he doesn’t care. But he says little things.

Like “Oh, I didn’t know you were into charity now. Giving out free laughs for those who can’t work for them.” Or some BS like that in his S/O’s ear and they’re just like “😃😄😃”.

He’s very passive aggressive with the other person. He latches onto each insecurity he can sense and batters them in the nicest way possible.

Then he slowly gets worse and worse. Like; “You’re so brave for never succumbing to beauty standards. Like, you never got those braces you need so much. Or shaved your unibrow.”

He doesn’t act bothered. But he is bothered. Very bothered. He just smiles and laughs as if nothings wrong and he’s confident and normal and calm. But inside he’s a mess.

I think he’s particularly graceful when jealous. All ethereal and princely in a way that makes the other person feel like a worthless bum in comparison. And he knows it.

He tells himself that.

He tells himself he’s perfect and the best, and he’s obviously better than this person so really they’re not a threat. But he’s threatened. Because he’s insecure. Because he’s so scared of losing his partner to someone else. And that’s where all his jealousy stems back to.

His possessiveness and territorial ness are his nature. There’s no real root because they just are. His jealousy is a defense mechanism and a result of other things.

He gives them chances though. Opportunities to try to sway his partner. To prove he’s better even though he’s not sure himself and the entire time he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Jealousy exhausts him. He doesn’t like it. But he’s helpless to stop it. Hell, it actively makes him feel helpless. Jealousy makes him sad, borderline depressed even. And after he’s in that situation he probably cries a lot.

A lot.

He hates being put in situations like those.

He also gets horny. This isn’t even just me saying stuff the cards and the stars have spoken he gets so fucking horny. Jealous sex is a thing. Honestly, with Hyunjin there’s sex for everything at this point the little shit but that’s not the point we’re not getting into that today.

He has a lot of self-pity during and after getting jealous. He’ll blame his partner regardless of if it’s their fault. And he will DURING the…Devil’s tango too. Is it still slut shaming if it comes out as sexy degradation? Yes. And he’s a D1 slut shamer when he’s jealous.

Definitely a conspiracy theorist when jealous.

And more sex with these cards. Trying to keep this PG-13 at least but Hyunjin’s a little special. Still love him though.

He also has a weird jealousy fantasy I’m not gonna think about the implications of let alone get into.

Definitely anxious attachment style.

The type to send a “Damn what position y’all in?” Text if you leave him on delivered for too long except he genuinely means it.

He thinks it’s intuition. It’s just anxiety.

Also sucks up to his S/O after getting jealous.

He gets jealous over everything. No one thing in particular, but just… Everything. He gets jealous quick and like I’ve said he gets aggressively jealous.

Jealousy definitely starts a lot of arguments. He says cruel things, gets cruel things said back.

Also did I mention he’s a D1 crashout? I know FOR A FACT if he catches his partner cheating or even getting like fondled he is CRASHING. OUT.

But that’s for another day

May the force be with you if you have the misfortune of being the cause of a crashout.

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mythicmanuscripts · 5 months ago

Note

I keep thinking about how both Jace and Aemond must have some serious insecurities about how they look. For Jace obviously it’s tied to his dark hair and bastardry. For Aemond it’s his eye. Certainly nobody could go through that kind of horrific injury at such a young age and not have long lasting physical and mental trauma from it.

So anyway I just imagine you cuddling with Jace one evening in bed or finding him on the balcony of Dragonstone and coming up to him and wrapping your arms around him from behind as he’s pouting after a tiff with his mom. And you run your fingers through his curly hair and kiss his head and remind him that you love his beautiful dark hair. And maybe that can’t fix the issues that may come from his parentage, but hearing your praise definitely helps him accept himself a little more.

Meanwhile I feel like Aemond would be sooo bad at accepting praise over his looks at first. He’s fine at accepting compliments on his swordsmanship or his excellent high valyrian. He’s been trained by Cole in the former and plenty of people have lauded him for his skills before. He can accept that kind of praise because he’s worked hard on those skills for years so of course he’s good. (Of course, when you praise him for these things, he stands a little taller and a little prouder.) But when you compliment his looks he falters. It must be a joke right? And you have to assure him over a long period of time that you really mean it when you brush your fingers through his hair and call him handsome. Or trace his scar gently with your fingers and call him beautiful.

Uuuugh I just need these boys to feel loved and appreciated and valued :(

You’re so right anon!!! I love all of these thoughts.

There’s nothing too NSFW in my answers so I won’t add a cut but there is implied sub!jace and sub!Aemond so bare that in mind before scrolling :))

JACE:

So obviously we all know Jace’s insecurity stems from people doubting his parentage and saying he’s a bastard because of his appearance. The response he usually gets from others he’s close to when these insecurities or doubts arise is to tell him that he has his father’s name and no one can prove he’s a bastard and Rhaenyra certainly won’t admit it to him.

So I actually think the best way to help Jace might actually be to acknowledge it? Everyone else tries to convince him otherwise or dance around it. Instead, you tell him that he very well might be a Strong bastard but that changes absolutely nothing to you because he’s still the same person he’s always been and you still love him.

The first few times you do this jace just rolls his eyes and assumes you’re just trying to be nice. But then he starts to speak more to you and engage with you and be vulnerable and then he starts to realise that actually you’re completely serious.

When those insecurities rear their head, you always pull him into your arms first and promise him that you will always love him. Then you like to run your hands through his hair and tell him how pretty he is, how you have the best looking husband in all the seven kingdoms.

That last part always gets him to blush and then he sort of just collapses against you and wraps his arms around your shoulder to keep steady. You let him hide there, holding him around the waist and the moment he starts to stand up again you pull him back and tell him to take all the comfort he wants.

AEMOND:

Yeah I fully agree about the praise. Aemond wants to badly to be praised, especially about things he’s insecure about, but he can’t believe it. The first few times he actually thinks you’re mocking him because he just can’t understand how you could possibly find any part of him attractive.

I think the best way to start is to sandwich a compliment he’s not used to between two compliments he is used to, or at least between between two he might actually understand. Now this method works very well for helping him open up and accept your praise, but also you’re giving him three compliments in short succession so he may malfunction for a moment.

The first time you did this he drops the flagon of wine he was carrying. He came believe how many night things he just heard.

I also think he takes things better when you’re touching him at the same time? Like you don’t just call him pretty, you trace his father with your thumb and kiss his nose and jaw. He’s practically jelly when you do this, entirely overwhelmed.

Aemond really struggles to understand why anyone would ever compliment his appearance, so it definitely takes a long time to sink in. What really helps is consistency, telling him all the time and never wavering.

At the end of the day, no matter how insecure he is, he still wants to please and obey you and so if you tell him he’s pretty then he has to get it because he won’t fight fight you on it.

I also think a big stumbling block in this process is the fact that Aemond can actually be really affected by those around him and what they say to him? He’ll act like it doesn’t affect him but then the next time you’re complementing him, he can’t stop thinking about the way someone earlier had insulted or judged him.

You start a rule where he has to tell you whenever someone says something bad about him to him. At first he's shy about it, mumbling whatever was said so softly that you can barely understand what he's saying.

But after a while he actually starts to love being able to go to you to tell you these things because he always get praised and kissed and it makes him feel so good.

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tiredfox64 · 5 months ago

Note

Can you do a Tomas x chubby reader where the reader isn't insecure about her body at all, and Tomas is still just as obsessed.

The Bigger the Figure, The Better He Likes You

Yip notes: I need him to hold me so I can win over his heart this is not a joke I need him.

Pairing: Tomas x Chubby! Afab reader

Warnings‼️: NSFW, thigh fucking

Beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, lovable, kissable, these are all words that Tomas would use to describe you. But he doesn’t have to tell you all that to let you know that for yourself. You know you’re a catch even with that belly.

You’ll wear whatever you want, eat whatever you want, do whatever you want without feeling insecure. If someone wants to stare at you for wearing a tank top so be it. If you’re comfortable in it why should it matter? Your belly should not offend anyone and if it does offend someone then that is just plain stupid. God gave you a wonderful body you will love and appreciate every part of it. From the stretch marks to the rolls, all of that is loved. Thanks, Lord Liu Kang.

You’re not the only one who loves your plump body. Your boyfriend Tomas absolutely adores it. Some would say he is even obsessed. Look into his eyes and tell me he’s not obsessed with you. That’s right, you can’t! You can see how his pupils dilate at the sight of you. Add in the fact that he keeps eye contact no matter what you have to say, yup, that man is in love.

He’s been like that since the first time you two met at the teahouse. Tomas felt the need to talk to you the moment his eyes fell on you. Although he was nervous, he knew it wouldn’t hurt him to talk to a pretty girl like you. He doesn’t regret that decision one bit because it all worked out.

Talking to you was a real treat. It was nice to talk to someone who wasn’t as sour as a lemon or as blunt as a bullet. That wonderful personality of yours made you even more beautiful in his eyes. So did your smile, your eyes, your hair…what were we talking about again?

But what Tomas loved the most about you was your confidence. Tomas doesn’t really have a type when it comes to women, mostly because he doesn’t interact with them a lot. You were the one to make him realize he loves a woman with confidence. It doesn’t matter if it’s about their body or a certain skill they have, if they are confident he loves em. But most importantly, he loves you. And once again because he could never say this enough times he loves that body of yours.

As you two grew closer you also began to grow closer physically. The distance between you two dwindled until you were cheek to cheek. The first time he hugged you was a big moment for him because you were the softest thing ever. He wanted to take you home, introduce you to his brothers, and cuddle with you in his room. But that would be kidnap so he can’t. He relished that warm hug until you were the first to let go. Did you even realize the effect you had on that man? Your softness gave him butterflies in his stomach and surrounded his heart with the kind of warmth only a cuddly kitty could give.

Eventually, he gained the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend. Obviously, you said yes. You’d be an idiot to turn down a gorgeous, hunky man with silvery hair and gray eyes that only look at you. Have you seen the muscles on that man? Of course you have, you feel them every time he hugs you from behind.

Good on you. You have yourself a good man who can protect you and hold you. Try getting out of his grasp I dare you. Tomas will have you sit on his lap in front of others just to show you off. You are his magnificent girlfriend and the world needs to know you are with him. The weight you provide is surprisingly comforting which is why he is hesitant to let you go. Just one more minute, please!

Tomas is also the greatest hype man. He loves it when you come around to show him your cute outfit or the newest dress you bought. If you were unsure if an outfit was not working, he would shut that uncertainty down. You could make anything look good on yourself and he would eat it up. He also eats up those lingerie sets you buy, golly. Those babydoll ones you buy are gonna send him to an early grave because his heart is going crazy. So is his dick.

How could something so soft and huggable be so fuckable at the same time? Tomas has to hold himself back when you put something like a slip dress or booty shorts on to go to sleep. Your plush thighs are on display for him, your breasts are begging for his attention. You’re teasing the poor man and you know it. It’s why you wear all that. It makes you feel sexy and you drive your boyfriend insane. It works every time.

Like right…

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

…now

Tomas was spooning you all night long. His head rested on your shoulder while his arms were wrapped around your waist. You love the warmth he provides, and the skin-to-skin contact you get.

Usually, you are the first to wake up since the Arctika weather finds a way to sneak inside, causing you to shiver awake. But since Tomas was keeping you warm he was the first to wake up this time. And he woke up extremely horny. Morning wood is no joke and he learned that after meeting you.

He groaned once his mind comprehended the feeling down there. His cock was begging to be freed from the confinement of his pants. He wanted to do something about it but he didn’t want to bother you. He could use his hands but your thick ass was right there. It was pressing up against his crotch. If he knows what’s good for him he would turn away now and deal with this by himself. But he can’t! It wouldn’t be fulfilling.

There Tomas was, grumbling as he nuzzled his face into your neck. He just wants to show you his love but he won’t disturb you since you were asle—

“What is it?” You asked in a sleepy voice.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He apologized.

Half-awake, you tried to figure out what the problem was. When you adjusted yourself a little your ass rubbed against his crotch and you knew what the problem was. Hold on, check again. Try rubbing yourself against that hard and large object that “definitely isn’t his dick”.

You felt Tomas’ arms tighten around your waist as his breathing staggered. His hips thrusted into you as he let out a groan.

“Don’t tease me like that.” He begged. Wipe that smirk off your face you’re killing him right now.

Some may disagree but it may be too early in the morning to have sex. But you understand that Loverboy behind you needs to fix his situation, or you may never leave his bed. You lifted your slip dress up a little before sliding your panties off. You lifted your leg up and that let him know everything. Tomas knows what to do. It’s like giving a dog a ball they know what has to happen.

Tomas pulled down his pants, his hard cock springing out. His pinkish tip already had a bit of precum spilling out. He slid his cock in between your soft thighs. You closed them and he immediately had a reaction from having his cock be surrounded by warmth and plushness.

He slowly started sliding in and out, savoring every sensation your thighs give down to the base and up to the tip. Each stroke gets your pussy wetter as the tip rubs against your slit. Your wetness makes it easier for him to slide in and out. It encourages him to go faster. All you can hear now is his heavy breathing and the soft squishing sound that came from below.

Tomas lifted your slip dress so that your belly was exposed. His hands run over it as he continues thrusting between your thighs, occasionally grasping at the soft flesh of your belly. After a while his hand started to wander up until he grabbed your breasts. Fuck they were amazing to him. They fit so perfectly in his hand. They had a bit of weight to them with how large they were. He would look over your shoulder and watch as they jiggled from every thrust.

At this point you could feel the precum dripping onto your thigh and feel his cock slightly twitching. His thrusts became sloppier and his breathing hitched. He nuzzled his face against yours before he started cumming. Warm ropes of cum started splattering onto your thighs and the blankets that surrounded both of you. The squishing sound became louder with each little thrust he gave, dragging the cum in and out of your thighs. Once he was done he let out a sigh of relief. He finally let go of your poor breasts that he was squeezing roughly.

“Better?” You asked with a little chuckle.

“Much better,” Tomas replied before giving you a kiss on the cheek.

You tried to get up so you could grab a towel to clean up the mess but Tomas wasn’t having that. The moment you tried to move an inch away from him his arms wrapped around your waist and kept you in place.

“Tomas, we need to clean this up.”

“Later.” He replied bluntly.

Even with a mess between your thighs, he won’t let you go. He never even removed his cock from your thighs. It was becoming softer while being sandwiched between two pieces of heaven. You sighed as you accepted that you were stuck there

“I’m started to think you’re a little obsessed with me, or at least my body.” You joked.

“Is that really a bad thing? I think it’s good that I love my girlfriend so much.” He started peppering your face with kisses. You were all smiles after that.

See, I told you he’s obsessed with you. He loves ya. You can expect him to love you till his last breath which might be soon since he’s been meaning to ask you to sit on his face. Don’t hold back he can take your weight!

Yap notes: I'M NOT DEAD I JUST HAVE WRITERS BLOCK! I'M SORRY! DOES ANYONE WANT TO USE A TAZER TO MY HEAD THAT MIGHT KICKSTART ME! And yes I’m using a blinkie to warn I like to have some fun here. Adiós!

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trippinsorrows · 21 days ago

Text

through your eyes + au 5

authors note: it's been so long. omg. i'm sorry. thank you to my bestie @prettypynklemonade for essentially making me update this 😭

masterlist

words: 6.7k

**gif by @dejameflorecer

warnings: some fluff, roman being possessive/borderline stalkerish, and smut

It’s just a date. Just a low, non-commitment type of date.

At least, that’s what Solana keeps trying to tell herself. Keeps trying to remind herself. Keyword being trying, because of course, she decided to go the route of self-sabotage and self-harm by keying in Rhea on just what’s been going on, and more specifically, who she’s going on said date with.

“Are you out of your fawking mind?” Solana sighs while Kayden does her eyeshadow for her.

The shorter woman snorts, working to blend in the crease color. “Well, that went as expected."

“Is this a joke? It has to be a joke?” She walks over to the two women, her tall presence alone demanding their attention. “Please tell me this is a joke.”

Kayden bites on her lip. “I—I don’t think it’s a joke.”

Solana sighs. “Rhea—”

“Sola.” Nothing about her voice indicates anything about what she’s about to say is going to be nice. “You can’t do this.”

“It’s just a date, Rhea.”

“Yeah, with Roman fawking Reigns.” Solana winces at the disgust imbued in his name. “He’s a sociopath. Why the hell would you even want to go out with someone like that?”

“He’s not….” Solana stops, unsure of how to word it. “I think there’s more to him than people realize.”

“Yeah, more evil,” Rhea harshly rebuffs. “Whatever you think you see in him, I promise, is an act. If he’s being nice to you, it’s only because he wants to fuck you.”

Another wince from Solana as Rhea more or less reiterates what Kayden first hypothesized when Solana confided in her best friend about the man.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Kayden speaks up, turning to Rhea. “Regardless of how we may feel, Solana is a grown woman. She can make her own decisions.”

“This isn’t a decision. It’s a big ass mistake.” Rhea’s gazes soften for the first time, her tone almost pleading. “Solana, please don’t do this. You’re one of my best friends. I don’t want to see you get hurt, and Roman Reigns is the exact kind of person who would hurt you.”

It’s strange. Just a month ago, Solana would 100% agree. Would not even be in this situation, because she would have found a way to cut Roman off, get away from him, even if it meant leaving town for a little while.

But, that was before she got to know him. Well, as much as one can get to know a mafia head who seems insistent on making her his, not excluding breaking into her home to ask her out on a date.

Solana is especially happy she decided to leave that part out of the story.

“It’s just a date,” is the final answer she settles on, not missing the disappointment in Rhea’s pretty blue eyes. “I promise, I’ll be careful.”

It’s definitely not the answer her friend was looking for, and Rhea doesn’t hesitate to make her disagreement known. As well as her boundaries.

“Well, I don’t want him here. This is your home, but it’s ours too,” she gestures between herself and Kayden. “And if you want to play with fire, I don’t want the flames anywhere near us.”

It’s a bit hurtful but fair. Solana nods. “I understand.”

She can’t allow herself to think about how the flames have already entered their humble abode, partially because of Roman’s lack of boundaries, but mostly because she’s continued to allow the lack of said boundaries.

Rhea’s gaze is assessing. “Your family doesn’t know, do they?” Intended as a question. Comes out as a statement.

Solana’s answer is quiet. “No.”

Another pointed look. “I wonder why that is.”

“Okay,” Kayden cuts in, nervous chuckling a contrast to the tension building. “Obviously, we don’t necessarily agree with Solana’s actions, but again, we listen and we don’t judge.”

Rhea scoffs. “Speak for your fucking self.” She kicks off the door, turning to leave when Solana calls her name. A blown out breath followed by her turning around. “Yeah?”

It feels wrong to ask, but Solana doesn’t have much of a choice. “Please…..please don’t say anything to anyone.”

A small smile sets on Rhea’s face, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “You know, Sola, the fact that you even have to ask me that should tell you how fucked up this is.” The smile is wiped away, replaced with the disappointment. “Don’t worry. I have zero desire to tell anyone about this.”

—------

“You wanted to see me?”

Roman lifts his eyes from the contracts laid out in front of him. Right away, he can see his sister is annoyed. Unsurprising. Rosalia looks and is irritable on a daily basis, but considering her activewear, he’d bet she’s even more irked with him because he’s interrupted her training.

Slamming the door behind her, she walks in and props down on the sofa closest to said door. “It better be worth my fucking time, too.”

Her comment doesn’t bother him. Roman sits back in the chair, responding in a calm but steel voice, “I’m gonna right to the chase.”

She glares. “As you should.”

Roman’s smile is small and wry. “You’re interfering in my personal business, Rosie.” The smile is dropped. “You know I don’t like that shit.”

Rolling her eyes, his twin couldn’t be more unbothered. “You mind telling me what the fuck you’re talking about? Not that I care, but—”

“I know you said something to Solana,” he interrupts, gaze cutting. “Something that upset her.” Something that made her try to push him away, and that’s the part that really pisses him off.

His words seem to trigger something for his sister. “That little girl from the fight?” She scoffs, shaking her head. “She’s even more sensitive than I thought.”

“What did you say to her?”

“Nothing that wasn’t the truth.” Rosalia’s response is nonchalant as she casually admires her nails. “Just reminded her that she isn’t any different than your other hoes—”

Roman looks away, rolling his neck, doing his best to remind himself that Rosalia is his sister. She’s family. His response to her can’t be like it would to anyone else in this moment, where he’d already have pulled out his gun and lodged a bullet in their head.

He has to be…..mindful.

Running his hand through his beard, Roman manages a curt response. “Do me and yourself a favor, and stop fucking talking.” Because the more she does, the harder it will be to control his brewing temper. “Stay the fuck away from Solana.”

If he didn’t have her attention before, he most definitely has it now. “Excuse me? I don’t give a fuck about any of your little whores—”

He slams his fist on the desk, unable to taper his temper. “Call her out her name one more fucking time, Rosalia.”

His twin, however, is unbothered. Her eyes narrowing, assessing, studying. “Careful, brother, your feelings are showing.” Roman says nothing as his sister leans forward, head tilted. “You actually like this girl, don’t you?”

He doesn’t look away, but he doesn’t answer the question, either. “As I said, my personal life is none of your fucking business.”

Not answering the question is a bit of a necessity, because he doesn’t really know how to answer it. Saying he likes Solana feels a bit too much. He’s intrigued by her, massively so, intensely attracted to her and fantasizes about the day he can fuck her senseless. However, all of that can be true along with the fact that he doesn’t actually care about or like her.

Again, it’s just the intrigue of it all. She’s the first of many, many, women he’s entertained over the years that hasn’t fallen at his feet. Who he is, the power he holds, and the wealth he possesses doesn’t make her bat an eye. None of that means anything to her. In fact, she’s most definitely the first woman he’s had to pursue in his over thirty years on this earth, and while that may seem irksome and not worth it for most women, Solana is different. He doesn’t know how, but it and she just is. Hence him needing to put his sister in her place before she fucks up just whatever this is.

“And I as I told you, I don’t give a fuck about your personal life and who you decide to fuck. She was just there, and I told her the truth. Not my fault she couldn’t fucking handle it.”

“Rosalia.” He closes his eyes, that damn temptation to snap on her at an all time high. He’d never hit his sister, not unless they were training together, but he certainly isn’t above cussing her ass out and screaming at her. Right or not. “I’m only going to say it once. Leave Solana alone.”

His twin matches, meets, and maintains the stare-off. Sibling against sibling. Alpha vs Alpha. Naturally, she is the first to walk away, not back down. Never that. Just recognizes it isn’t worth it.

“Whatever.” She dismisses, standing up, hands on her hip. “Anything else you need to waste my time with?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, turning on her heel. “Didn’t think so.”

Anyone else would receive a much different response, especially as his sister slams the door, but as already stated, this is his sister. Rosalia drives him insane, but he loves her. It’s always been the two of them, and it always will be. Immediate family, at least. He just needed to establish some boundaries with her, and that’s been done. Should she decide to test them and test him, well, he’ll cross that bridge if and when they get there.

He doesn’t have time to focus on that.

He’s got a date tonight to focus on.

—--------

“Oh my gosh…..”

Solana has been on her fair share of dates. Most of which take place at a restaurant, from regular ole Red Lobster to restaurants with names so foreign and fancy that she can’t pronounce. Though the latter only happened once, and it was a disaster, resulting in her sneaking out halfway through the date.

But this, standing on the dock in front of the most stunning yacht she’s ever seen, she's certain that this takes the cake.

Solana is prompted by security to move so they can escort her onto said yacht, and she's so consumed by taking in everything majestic around her that she ends up completely oblivious to when she’s taken directly in front of the man himself.

Roman

He’s dressed appropriately given the setting and weather. Nice, short sleeved beige shirt with khaki shorts and matching shoes. Expensive watch on his wrist. Gold chain around his neck. Smoldering gaze on her, drinking her in from the bottom of her heels to the top of her head where her hair is pulled up in a nice updo.

He licks his lips. “Gotta admit, I was hoping you’d wear red.”

She refuses to tell him she considered it. “I—I like pink.”

He makes a sound and offers his hand. Solana takes a second to accept it, gasping quietly when he tugs her closer. “I like it.” His eyes flicker with something. “I think I’d like you better in nothing instead though.”

Solana tenses, hating the way she’s hit with something other than discomfort and is immensely grateful when he smiles. “Relax, sweetheart.” He starts to guide her behind him to where she realizes a table is set up for them, a romantic, beautiful dinner. “I’m a man of my word.” Solana tries not to think too much of him pulling out her chair for her. “I said no touching.”

Damn.

Embarrassment fills her at such a betraying thought, because why should she feel disappointed at that?

Roman sits across from her, staring almost. “God, you are breathtaking.”

It’s hard not to look away when God Himself bestows such a compliment. “Thank you.” And she means it, something warm and almost comforting brewing in her belly, replacing the abundance of nerves. “You—you look handsome.”

He always looks handsome though.

And judging by the smirk on his face, he knows it. “Thank you.” His gaze is studying, as he admits, “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Curious, she asks, “what would have happened if I didn’t?”

His smile is cheeky. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

She does. Solana knows this man would welcome himself into her home once more. Into her bedroom. And potentially, into her.

Thus, her showing up tonight truly was for the best, and the more she sits across from him, dialogue easy amongst them, something tells it was also the right thing to do.

Solana glances around, suddenly unnerved by him looking at her so much. It’s equally unsettling as it is flattering. “This is beautiful. You—you rented it out for us for tonight?”

He smiles again, but it’s more amusing than anything. “I own it.”

Her eyes widen. “You own it?”

“Bought it for tonight,” he answers, making her eyes widen even more as he reaches for the bottle of wine, popping it open and starting to pour some in her glass followed by his.

“Wait, you bought a yacht for our date?” Even saying it aloud sounds ludicrous. “An actual yacht?”

“Pretty sure I answered that already.”

“Roman, that’s…..” She trails off, unsure just what to say and make of that. “We—we could have went to a restaurant or something.” Solana would have preferred that over him spending an obscene amount of money for just one night.

He shrugs. “You said you wanted something private.”

“Restaurants have private rooms, Roman.”

His voice is dangerously calm and smooth. “But not a private bedroom.”

Oh, Jesus.

Solana shifts in her chair, looking away as he chuckles. “Are you always this wound up?”

“I’m not wound up” she replies, feeling an unfamiliar amount of defensiveness. “It’s just….you’re very bold.” And, you don’t take no for an answer.

“I see something I want, and I go for it.” Is his simple reply as he picks invisible lint off his shirt. “That’s extended to people as well.”

Solana doesn’t doubt that one bit.

Eager for a changing of subjects, she’s about to inquire about when the waiter—or whomever—will arrive when he takes her for yet another loop. “So, I was looking at your Instagram—”

“My Instagram?” She doesn’t mean to interrupt, but it’s hard not to. “H—how?” A valid question considering her page is private, and it’s been a couple weeks since she accepted any follow requests.

“I told you already. When I want something, I get it.” His answer objectively makes no sense but somehow answers her question. “I didn’t read your bio. Just looked at your pictures.”

Swallowing, she finds herself asking, curious almost, “and?”

His brow lifts, matching her curiosity. “And?”

Unsure why she's suddenly so nervous, Solana clears her throat, asking, “what did you think?”

The delay with his answer is the farthest thing from helpful with her anxiety. “I think there’s a lot more to you, Solana Miller, than I initially realized.”

Another almost vague answer that has her sitting forward in her seat, asking almost desperately, “is—is that a good or bad thing?”

The smile returns, and for the first time tonight, it doesn’t seem or even feel like there’s something underneath it. Just a genuine, authentic smile.

“Tell me the more, and I’ll let you know.”

Solana chews on the inside of her cheek, not wanting to mess up her lipstick by biting down on her bottom lip. "What do you want to know?"

His answer is instantaneous this round. "Everything."

It’s such a broad response, and off the top of her head, Solana is struggling to recall her posts. She’s shared photos of herself, obviously. Photos with friends and family. Photos of her bookstore and hobbies that include cooking, books, bible journaling, and even her horse, Rainbow.

But, all of that seems too much to dump on a man for the first date.

Maybe the last.

Thus, her settling on sticking with the major things.

"There's not much to me,” she answers with a shrug, taking a sip of her champagne before continuing. “I'm....I'm an RN, but I've been on sabbatical for almost two years now. I—" There's a type of sadness that bleeds into her voice. "I was working in the ER, but the things I saw...." She shakes her head. "I just needed a break, needed to not be surrounded by so much death.” An honest, truthful, almost vulnerable thing she’s grateful Roman doesn’t press her on despite the absolute intrigue in his expression as she shares pieces of herself.

A small smile falling on her face, she continues. “I've always found an escape in books and writing. Another passion I share with my mom, and we opened the bookstore and that....that's been it."

She’s not sure what she expected him to follow up with, but his question certainly isn’t it. "Does she work there with you?"

Ignoring the almost warmth that fills her at such an innocent, kind question, Solana shakes her head, "No, she's a cardiologist over at Central hospital." For whatever reason, even though he most definitely did not ask, Solana finds herself providing additional, unasked information, "she was a nurse back in Mexico, but when she married my dad and moved to the states, she went back to school and got her MD."

He sits forward, elbows on the table. "Did you ever want to do the same? Be a doctor?"

"I did, but...." Solana leans back in her seat, shrugging. "I was a gifted kid. I did all honors classes and a running start program, so when I graduated at 18, I already had my associates and was only in undergrad for 2 years. Did an accelerated program to get my RN, and by 20, I just felt burnt out from it all. I needed a break from school. Then I needed a break from nursing, and now I'm just....trying to enjoy the quiet."

An ironic thing considering there's nothing quiet about the man sitting across from her.

It’s what causes her to ask, voice soft, "Roman....what do you want from me?"

Because this can’t keep going on without her knowing just where they’re going. She needs some guidance, some insight into where his head is. Outside of the sexual aspect of this all.

That part is very clear.

Roman seems to really sit and mull over her question, his handsome face shifting into something serious and genuine. "Not sure, but I'm intrigued by you, and that doesn't happen. Ever. So, I want to see where this goes."

It’s an answer, so she can respect that much. But, the fact that specificity is lacking in his response bothers her. What about her intrigues him? Is it the fact that he’s been able to initiate some type of intimacy both times they’ve been alone? Does she seem easy to him? Because, if that’s the case, the line in the sand needs to be drawn here and now.

“Roman.” Solana is the one to take her time in figuring just how to word this. "You should know that I—I meant it when I said I'm not like that. I don't—I don't sleep around." Or at all, but he doesn't need to know that. Something tells her Roman knowing she's a virgin will only increase whatever interest he has in her. And, not in a good way. "I don't—”

His response arrives right away. “I know you don’t, and if that was what I was wanting, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.” Something tells her he’s being honest. If actual, full on sex is what he was after, he certainly wouldn’t be with her right now.

And it’s his honesty that creates that bridge for her. “Roman, I know we’ve….done things.” More him doing all the things to her. “But, I mean it. I—I don’t want to have sex with you.” And before he can press her, inquire just what and why, she explains, “sex means something to me. It’s not just a thing you do. It’s a bond and connection, and I only want that with someone I have a bond and connection with.” And, I don’t with you.

Might not ever.

“I’m fine with….other things.” She doesn’t feel the need to elaborate on that. He should know exactly what the ‘other things’ are. “But….penetration is where I draw the line.” And just where the next quiet part comes from, she hasn’t the slightest clue. But, she says it, and she says it loud enough for him to hear, whether intentional or not. “For now.”

It’s a stupid additive. One that makes his brow lift and Solana swallow. If she didn’t give up her virginity to her fiancé of all people, what chance does Roman have? It doesn’t even make any sense. He’s the last person she can see herself going that far with.

“For now….” And of course he settles on that part. Solana hates herself right about now. “I don’t really agree with you. On sex, I mean. We clearly have very different views on that, but regardless, I respect it. I will respect it.”

Oh.

That….that’s not exactly what she was expecting.

At all.

“So what…what does that mean?”

Because now she’s even more confused than before. Because she was convinced the minute she made it clear she has no intentions on sleeping with Roman tonight, or any other night, he’d shut the shit down. Would pull away.

That’s clearly not what's happening though.

Roman’s answer is clear, concise, and assertive. “It means that doesn’t change what I said earlier.” He reaches his hand across the table, turning hers over, fingers tracing her palm. “I’m still intrigued and still want to see where this goes.”

Solana is quiet, sitting on each word that leaves his mouth, trying her best to process it. All of it.

What the hell is even going on? How did she end up in this position? Roman represents everything she hates about the world she was born into. People like him are the reason she’s done her best to stay away and keep her distance.

And now, as Rhea pointed out, she’s playing with the fire God himself.

Yet there’s been zero effort on her part to extinguish the flames.

Even as they threaten to lap and consume her.

—--------

For all intents and purposes, dinner is enjoyable and not just the meal itself. Conversation between herself and the Head of the Table is normal, casual, their banter almost something natural and organic.

And she finds herself just as interested in him as he is in her. Finds herself asking more questions about him, wanting to know more about the man who seems to not exactly be what she always thought him to be.

Like the fact that he can cook. Or rather, claims that he can. Or that he makes an effort every Sunday to watch football with his cousins, his “best friends” as he calls them. Or even his interest in photography he shares with her, even a couple photos from his phone.

And with each tidbit shared, the normalization deepens. Roman feels less and less like a thing and more and more like a person.

The staff have just cleared the tables, Solana wiping her mouth when he asks, “where do you want to go for the next date?”

For the twentieth time tonight, she’s taken off guard. “Next date?” The small smile on her face betrays her as she teases him almost, “who said I agreed to one?”

Roman chuckles, once again reaching for her hand, holding it this time. “You did the second you stepped foot on this boat.” Her stomach drops, chest tightening for reasons unknown. “Agreed to this.”

Her heartbeat is in the danger zone as she asks in a low voice, “and what is this?”

He doesn’t skip a beat or take his eyes off her, answering so confidently, “us.”

Solana is a mess. What the hell has she gotten herself into?

Shifting, she moves into a new space of trying to set more ground rules with the man who has her questioning almost everything she thought she knew about herself. “Roman, there’s no—”

“Come here.”

Two words. So simple. Also challenging.

“Roman….”

He sits back in his chair, legs spreading just enough. “Solana, come here.”

Here would be his lap. Here would be a place that she absolutely should not be. But, it’s also the exact place she finds herself moving towards. Barely in front of him, Roman doesn’t hesitate to yank her down on his lap. She’s sideways, face angled down at him, hands on his shoulders.

"Let me help you understand." Roman’s fingers dance up the spine of her back, adjusting her position on his lap, Solana having to ignore the sizable bulge underneath pressing into her ass.

Why is he hard?

An unspoken question that’s drowned out by the alluring sound of his deep voice. "You're with me now. That means if someone looks at you, I'll kill them." His hand eventually moves to the side of her breast, applying just the lightest pressure, but enough to have her squeezing his thigh. "If they breathe too hard around you, I'll kill them." Solana has to bite on her bottom lip to retain what's bound to be a moan when he slides his hand to the front of her body, fingertips massaging her exposed skin through the cutouts of her skimpy dress. "And if they try to fucking touch you, they'll wish I had killed them when all is said and done."

Completely stunned, she isn’t sure how to respond to that. Isn't sure what to say. Her response is truly something that spills out her mouth….”you’re crazy.”

Roman, however, just chuckles. “I’ve been called much worse, sweetheart.” He then sits up a bit, her eyes closing as he ghosts his lips over her shoulder. “Regardless, you still came tonight, stayed, and now you’re sitting on my lap. You know why?” Solana gasps when he moves his hand between her legs. “Because you like this shit. You like how I make you feel. All flustered and discombobulated.” She swallows, and he hums against her, asking, “wanna know how I know?” He easily slides his fingers past her soaked panties, grazing her wet pussy lips and lifting his hand to show her the proof of her body betraying her.

Roman presents the undeniable evidence. “This is how.” And if the situation wasn’t already erotic enough, Solana can barely contain herself on his lap when he sticks his fingers in his mouth, sucking each off.

Her stomach is caving and twisting and doing all sorts of things. “Roman…”

This. All of this is the exact reason why Solana has wanted to stay far away from this life. Has wanted nothing to do with the mafia world. The violence. The carnage. The mayhem. And yet, her thighs press together at Roman's oath and his carnal act for reasons she can't decipher.

His gaze drops to her legs, and she curses inwardly. Once again, her reaction to him is out and in the open.

Roman smirks. "You're touch deprived...." His assessment is embarrassingly accurate. It's gross how Roman's inherently innocent touches seem to evoke more from her than her hand ever could. "I can't wait to fix that."

Solana swallows and taps into some deep rooted assertiveness as she asks, "what about you?"

Roman continues to lightly touch her through her dress. "What about me?"

Her stomach is doing all kinds of weird things, and her head clearly is several miles behind, because there's no logical basis for what comes out of her mouth next. "If—if I can't be with anyone else, then...then neither can you."

His eyes flicker with something akin to disapproval. “I can't fuck you, but you don’t want me fucking anyone else?” He makes a sound, finger moving circles around her thigh. “Doesn’t seem very fair now, does it?”

On one hand it doesn’t, but on the other, it makes sense to her. “You say…you say you want to get to know me, to see where this goes, well that’s….that’s my stipulation.” The only one she’s really set throughout this whole thing that probably shouldn’t even be a thing in the first place.

Roman is quiet for another good minute, finally answering. “Fine.” It’s painfully obvious he’s not excited about this caveat, but he agrees, nonetheless. “But, I meant what I said.” His voice and gaze darken again. “No one touches you but me.” His hand lifts to her neck, grasping just enough to evoke a gasp but not enough to restrict breathing. “Is that understood?”

Solana’s gaze is locked with his as she licks her lips, answering breathlessly, “yes.”

And just like that, the darkness settles into something easy. “Good,” he says it so simply, so casually, hand dropping from her neck.

Solana just looks at him.

It should be unsettling to her, at least a little, how easily he maneuvers between calm and charismatic and dark and intimidating.

But, it doesn’t.

It does a bit of the opposite.

Lord, what the hell is she getting herself into?

—-----------

After some coaxing, additional foreplay, and the reiteration of no penetration, Solana finds herself following Roman deeper into the yacht, headed toward the bedroom. The travel there is a nice distraction, Solana continuing to marvel at the luxury of it all. She wasn’t exactly raised poor, but this level of opulence is unfamiliar. But, something she most definitely could get used to.

It’s still up in the air if it’s something she should get used to though.

Finally arriving, Roman closes the door behind them and walks past her. Solana's eyes never leave him, especially when he starts to unbutton his shirt, discarding it to a nearby chair.

Her cheeks are warm and reddened watching him move onto the bed, sitting back against the headboard, legs spread just enough. She’s ready to remind him of her boundaries when he motions for her with his index finger. “Come here.”

Her chest tightens. “Roman…..”

He makes a sound. “I thought I told you I don’t like repeating myself.” He did. He most certainly did. “Come here.”

Solana swallows, partially unsure why she can’t stand her ground, can’t comprehend what causes her to pull her dress up her thighs just enough so she can crawl on the bed, over to him. Her heart races even more when he grabs her, positions her between his legs, back against his firm chest.

His lips hover against her temple. “Good girl.”

Her eyes shut, that racing heart of hers nearing dangerous territories. “Roman, wh—what—”

“Touch yourself.”

Solana’s eyes shoot open.

What did he just say?

And, she goes to express as such, “what do you—”

He moves his hands to her dress, dragging it up higher until her black thong is exposed. “I want you to show me how you touched yourself when I left that night.”

Immediate goosebumps sprout all over her damn body, her mouth dry, her brain struggling to process all of this. “Roman….”

“Because you did, didn’t you?” His taunts are accompanied by his hand slipping under the waistband of her thong, snapping it against her skin. “You fucked yourself thinking of daddy, didn’t you?”

Solana swallows, unable to answer. Horrified at just how he knows this. How he knows she most definitely laid up in her bed, using her hand and vibrator after he left her so flustered and needing a release.

Something freezes her more when an equally terrifying and erotic thought crosses her mind. Was he watching her?

“Roman, were you—” She’s silenced by his fingers dancing along her mons pubis, continuing to taunt and tease her, eager for compliance with his task.

“Shhh.” His lips are moving along the perimeter of her face as he travels his hand from downward to upward, palming her breast. “Too much talking.” She chews down on her bottom lip when his thumb flicks her pebbled nipple. Damn her for forgoing a bra. “Daddy’s ready to watch.”

It’s crazy. All of it. All of this. All of him. Solana should be running for the hills, should be seeing what resources she can utilize to disappear for a little while, just long enough for this infatuation he has with her to fizzle out.

But, that’s not what happens. What happens is quite the opposite. Lifting her lower half, she slides her thong down her legs, lightly tossing it on the other side of the bed, thus leaving her bare and exposed.

In more ways than one.

Almost nervously, her hand travels to that special space between her legs, a small moan leaving her mouth when she realizes just how wet she already is.

It’s not normal how aroused this man can make her with just words and light touches.

Three fingers gliding up her vagina evoke another moan from her and an almost grunt from the man behind her.

“Look how wet you are.” His voice is something of awe and intrigue, Solana moving her fingers back to her pussy, gathering more of her essence. “Just for me. Always for me.”

Her breath is ragged as she starts playing with herself, eyes closing, thinking back to that night. Thinking back to how good his fingers felt inside of her, working her in a way no man ever has.

Solana spreads her thighs, giving her more access to her swollen throbbing clit. “Oh, fuck….”

“That’s it,” he murmurs against her skin, slipping his hand into her dress, palming her breast. “Work yourself, baby. Show me how you take care of yourself when daddy’s not around.”

Solana’s head is thrown back against his chest as she moves her fingers from her clit, to her sticky, gushy opening. In and out, she thrusts her fingers in, all the while imagining it’s someone else touching her. Someone else making her thrash and moan the way she is.

And that someone else is the man behind her, the man whose name she finds herself moaning, “Roman…..”

“Hmmm.” Stll, that damn teasing voice of his, deep, baritone, and already knowing. “What do you need, sweetheart? Tell Daddy what his good girl needs.”

Oh, she hates him. Hates the way her pussy flutters every time he refers to himself as daddy. How her body responds in a way that defies all logic.

Same as her response.

“Touch me.” It’s embarrassing how needy and wanton she sounds in this moment, the way she nearly begs him, her other hand going to his thigh.

Solana would give anything to see whatever nonverbal response he has at this request. Something smug, no doubt. All knowing. Because there’s no way he can be surprised at such a plea with this situation they're in, how she’s finger fucking herself, leaned up against his chest, his big hands groping and feeling all on her titties.

The erotic of it all almost calls for his participation.

And his participation is exactly what happens.

“Oh my God,” Solana nearly jumps off the bed when Roman’s hand is over hers, his thick fingers gently moving hers to the side, the pad of his thumb hovering over her clit, two other fingers dipping inside her. “Shit, don’t stop.”

His deep voice chuckling against her nearly rocks her to her core. “Oh, I don’t plan to.”

Solana’s body moves in sync with his hand as he works her, so good, oh so good. Solana is a whimpering mess, her hand now on top of his, unable to move away, unable to do anything but sink into this all consuming hole of pleasure. “Yes. Oh my—just like that.”

“Look how needy you are. Fucking my hand like this.” His voice is deep, primal, laden with passion and sensuality that matches hers. “Do you have any idea how I’m going to ruin you?”

Yes. Yes, she absolutely does, because he already has. Just from his hand and mouth.

Roman’s ministrations are nearing the point of too much, Solana’s release right around the corner, something the man bringing her to heaven is clearly very privy to.

He practically growls, asking, “you gonna come all over daddy’s hand? Hmm?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, eyes clamped shut, hand moving to his wrist, squeezing when he quickens and intensifies his actions. “God, I’m gonna—ohhh.” She’s cut off by the orgasm that wrecks her body, her drenched cunt throbbing, body jerking against him, flashing, blinding white lights against her closed lids.

And minutes later, she’s limp, slightly panting, still holding onto him, still trying to settle herself.

Never has she come as hard as the man before her makes her come. It’s….overwhelming. In all of the right ways.

“You don’t think we’re done, do you?”

It’s that question that makes her eyes shoot open. What did he just say?

But before Solana can process anything, Roman is moving them, switching around their positions, and it’s when he goes to lift her, she realizes just what position he’s putting them in.

Trepidation consumes her. “Roman, I can’t—”

“I’ve been thinking about eating you out all day,” he groans. Solana hates how easy and natural it is for him to say and admit to the most filthiest things. “Come sit on daddy’s face, so I can suck that sweet pussy.”

And that’s exactly what he’s doing, positioning her, hiking her dress up even higher, holding it scrunched at her waist. “Roman—”

“Stop talking,” he murmurs, Solana finally straddling his face, her hands gripping the headboard. Roman’s eyes are entranced by the sight of her pussy, so wet and pretty, dripping and needing him. “Come here….”

“Roman!” She gasps, when his strong hands tug her down, his mouth completely covering her, his tongue thrusted inside her tight hole. “Oh shit.” Solana’s head falls against her forearm that’s across the headboard. She’s seen this position in porn, has heard her friends talk about it, but no one told her it felt this damn good.

And maybe it’s less the position and more the man.

Roman’s moan underneath her as he eats her out, feasting on her pussy like it’s his first meal of the day, seems to lean on the side of less the position and all the man.

There’s no concern in the world about suffocating him or too much of her weight bearing down on him when Roman’s grip on her thighs tighten as he pulls her even closer, his tongue circling around her engorged clit.

“God, it feels so good,” she moans, one hand reaching for her breast as she plays with her nipples, grinding down on his face. “Daddy….”

Roman’s groan underneath her is loud and unmistakable along with the way his left hand moves to her ass, giving a slap that echoes through the room and evokes another moan from her.

She’s not entirely sure what stamina is required for eating pussy, at least the way Roman does, but his seems above average. Because Solana is propped up on his face so long that she feels her thighs begin to cramp and tense, resulting in her sinking down farther on him. And for a brief second, she feels bad, worries that her weight is too much. But, it’s quickly shoved to the side when he once again tugs down on her, welcoming it, welcoming and wanting her cunt to completely suffocate him.

A torture he seems to be deeply enjoying.

It takes some time, what feels like hours, hours that are filled with nothing but pleasure and ecstasy, before Solana’s orgasm overtakes her. And once again, she’s a whining, moaning, writhing mess, coming all over his face and in his mouth. It’s too much, overstimulating in every sense. So much so that it’s Roman who has to carefully lift her from off his face. He moves her down so she’s straddling his lap, her hands going to his shoulders, head in the crook of his neck as she tries to settle herself.

And, it’s not helped by the massive bulge she feels pressing up against her ass.

Roman kisses her temple, applauding her, “such a good girl for me.” She feels it, every bit of it, even if nothing about this whole thing is good. The pleasure she’s getting out of it certainly is. “Look how you came for Daddy.”

And came she did, Solana can feel his damp beard scraping against her cheek, no doubt her essence being the cause of it. It’s better to focus on that feeling and sensation vs the strange sense of pride and accomplishment she feels at being his good girl.

It's just all so confusing.

She doesn’t know how to feel about this, about a lot of what’s happened since meeting a certain Roman Reigns. Or the way he just holds her, the way she holds onto him despite being fully descended from her orgasmic haze.

One thing’s for certain.

If Solana is in fact dancing with the devil, right now, in this moment, her only hope is that it’s a song that doesn’t end anytime soon.

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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love-anddeepression · 2 years ago

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Feel free to ignore this, but I saw you want Miguel requests soooo.

Platonic Miguel x teen spider reader. Preferably gn. And like, he sees his daughter in the reader or smth, idk how to explain it, but I think it would be cute to see it

ONGOSH THANK YOU I absolutely love this<33 I wrote this on my phone but Im honestly so hyped up I love father figure!miguel. I hope you don’t mind but I’m doing this in the form of headcanons.

Miguel O’Hara x teen!spider!Reader

-okay so your obviously one of the only people Miguel loves tolerates.

-your universe isn’t “home” to you, Miguel is. He’s like the father you never had and at first, the both of you absolutely detested one and other. In fact, Jessica was the one who convinced him to recruit you, way before Gwen or even Peter came into the picture.

-at first, he was stand-offish and a total dickhead to you, but slowly warmed up and began to humour you. He’d smirk at your horrible jokes and pretend to roll his eyes when you teased him.

-in fact, when you first laughed your ass off at one of his remarks, something in him knew that he’d do anything to protect you.

-he already lost one daughter, he wasn’t losing you.

-In all honesty, your relationship is very similar to Joel and Ellie from the Last of Us.

-you have inside jokes that even Lyla doesn’t understand, and she’s an AI.

-It takes all his strength to not snort when you make faces behind someone’s back, he knows you do it to make him laugh.

-he gives you tips on how to take care of yourself.

-a whole bottle of baby powder suddenly appears in your room in spider society. He says he knows nothing.

-lyla shows you the camera footage of him placing it on your bedside table.

-he’s close to tears when you specially make him empanadas. He’d been in a bad mood and when he went to his desk, there was a plate of empanadas with a post it note from you.

- “dont waste them I spent like two hoursmaking them for you”

-he scarfs them down of course.

-like all fathers, he can be strict sometimes, especially because you’re a kid. He doesn’t want you getting hurt. If you’re hurt he helps patch you up himself.

-“you fucking crazy? What were you thinking, trying to catch a car instead of dodging it?”

-your arguments are shushed by him shoving a spoon of soup into your mouth.

-“don’t waste it.” He says, “I spent some time making it while you were asleep.”

-he can’t pinpoint an exact moment from when he started seeing you as his daughter, but it’s probably from the time he got super protective around hobie.

-ain’t no kid coming near his daughter.

-almost snarls when hobie jokingly flirts with you.

-he subtly pushes hobie away when the guy walks behind you.

-you’re the only person other than lyla who can snark him and get away with it without an insult being jabbed at you.

-he’s hugged you a total of two times.

-the first was when you almost died, the second was when he almost died and you freaked out.

-you’d already lost your family, you could not lose him too.

“Miguel, get up.” You tearfully say to his sleeping form, “I can’t do this without you.”

-when he’d stirred, the first thing he saw was your shocked face and then you tackled him.

-he loves you. Like, a whole lot.

-he smiles at you when you walk around in his office, rambling about random stuff. He’s glad that you’re comfortable enough around him to stop masking your personality.

-his jokes are LAME. Like dad jokes are his jam and they’re just so bad.

-“why do sharks live in salt water? because pepper water makes them sneeze.” “Miguel PLEASE-”

-did I mention he’d probably die for you? Like fuck the universe(s) he’s not losing his baby daughter again.

-OOO IMAGINE THE BOTH OF YOU AS DRACULA AND MAVIS

-it’s weird but it’s funny.

-Gwen loses her shit when she sees you sitting next to him with your head on his shoulder.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv x Reader #miguel o'hara x reader

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onlyangel4 · 6 months ago

Text

desperate times call for desperate measures. toto wolff. part 2.

sugar daddy! toto wolff x reader

you are a struggling artist trying to live instead of just spending every moment worrying about money. toto wolff is the loneliest rich man in the world, when you find each other you are exactly what the other needs.

warnings- 18+, cursing, discussions of financial struggles. sugar daddy relationship. age gap relationship (reader is around twenty five. smut. Fingering in a private public place (I know it doesn’t make sense but trust me it will). for this toto has been divorced for three years.

part one // part three

“if you don’t stop pacing I’m going to get whiplash”, anna complained as she looked at your obviously worried form pacing back and forth in your tiny apartment. she was here for emotional support while you got ready for your first meeting with toto, something that caused an awful lot of anxiety to bubble up within you.

“i can’t help it, i’m just nervous”, you spoke as you looked at your friend hoping for some sympathy. anna stood from her place on your bed and placed a hand on your shoulder slowing you down to a halt.

“just focus, your hair and make up is done, what are you going to wear?”, anna questioned bringing your focus back to the here and now. you were forever grateful to have someone in your life that could ground you in the way that anna did. you would be lost without her.

“well, he sent me a box, he told me to only open it when i was ready to get dressed”, you explained and you could have sworn you watched anna’s jaw drop. “i told you, he is rich anna, he said he didn’t want me to worry about anything”, you explained but anna was already in your cupboard searching for the box that you had just mentioned before she thrusted it into your arms.

“come on open it”, she practically begged making you playfully roll your eyes at your friend before you did as you were told, pulling at the bows holding the box together. as it opened you were met with the most gorgeous pink satin material. on one of your first conversations with toto you had mentioned to him that your favourite colour was pink, so when he was picking you out a dress he knew exactly what to go with. you unfolded the dress, it was a figure hugging floor length gown with a high slight on your left leg, all held up by straps with the tiniest pink pearl details running along them.

this was quite possibly the nicest piece of clothing that you owned and it was clear that anna agreed, “fucking hell y/n, i’m this close to breaking up with tom and getting on that app”, she joked making both of you laugh. you quickly pulled the dress on with anna’s help to not ruin your already done hair and make up. once you were finally ready you looked at yourself in the mirror, this was the prettiest that you had felt in a long time. You felt first date ready, if this could even be considered a date.

“question”, anna piped up pulling you from your thoughts, “what the fuck are you going to wear on your feet, sketchers will not go with this”, she spoke. she was right, you didn’t really own nice shoes, you brought comfortable shoes that you knew would last a long time so you did not have to re buy them. but you did have an idea, you rooted through your closet and found a shoe box containing a pair of silver heels, these had been your prom shoes and you had hardly worn them since, but they were perfect for the dress.

anna left your apartment when you were all ready leaving you in front of the mirror just looking at yourself, it really didn’t feel like you but you liked it, the person in the mirror was just the rich version of you. a knock at the door alerted you that your ride was there and you grabbed your handbag and went over to the door. you were met with a man dress in a suit with a friendly smile on his lips, “y/n?”, he questioned and you nodded, “toto sent me to come and get you, follow me please” and once again you did as you were told.

///

spoiling you was toto’s number one priority, from his conversations with you he had learnt that you did not grow up with much and as an adult you lived with whatever you could afford but you never got to experience the luxury in life. toto had grown up with money, he was used to nice things. They were not special for him anymore. but watching someone else experience that luxury, now that would be special. especially if that person was you.

he may have gone a little overboard, but who could blame him? this was his first time having someone to spoil in three long years. he had spent hours online looking for the perfect dress to buy you. he had his personal driver pick you up in an incredibly nice car. and he had booked out the small private dining room at the ritz, asking to be left uninterrupted unless they were bringing foot. he wanted to be able to have this time with you in private, he wanted you two to be away from any prying eyes, so the private room was perfect. it may have cost a lot but that was nothing to toto, he would drop that money on you in a heartbeat.

toto was sat in the dining room at the single table that had been placed there. he had a bouquet of pink flowers at his side ready to give to you. he had planned it all perfectly it was going to be perfect but toto couldn’t help the nerves that he was feeling. these nerves than worse than those that he felt on an important race weekend. he was really nervous, he wanted to make sure this went well, he hoped that you would like him the way that he knew he would like you and then you would be able to continue this less than traditional relationship dynamic that he was desperate for. He would be able to look after you.

his head snapped in the direction of the door when he heard it open and sure enough he saw you stood there in the dress that looked a hundred times better on you than it did on the models on the website. he stood from his seat to approach you, “you look beautiful y/n”, he spoke offering you his arm to which you flashed him as smile and held onto it approaching the table.

“it is all this dress toto, i don’t think i have ever owned anything this nice. thank you”, toto couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his heart when he heard you thank him.

“anytime schatzi”, he spoke looking at you, “that is what I am here for”

seeing toto through a phone screen and seeing him in person were two very different things. ihis man was a giant, his towering height and broad shoulders gave him such a dominant vibe something that you found incredibly attractive and the way he looked at you made you weak at the knees. he looked at you like you were everything, his eyes trying to work out every single detail of your face and commit it to memory. yes, he was almost double your age but you did not care, he was one of the most attractive men that you had ever seen.

“i hope you don’t mind but i ordered a bit of a tasting selection for us that way you get to try everything”

“i don’t think i would have been able to pick if you asked me to order, i have no idea what half of this stuff is. i’m used to chicken nuggets and chips” you spoke and he chuckled softly finding your opposing lifestyles very endearing.

you and toto continued on this little meeting just talking about all sorts and drinking wine as you did so. You felt comfortable in his presence, like he could protect you from anything. you told him all about anna and your friendship with her and her boyfriend while he told you about his children. you listened intently enjoying learning about the man. yes you could have googled him but you saw no point in it. you wanted to learn who he really was. not who the internet thought he was.

there was a moment where the vibe between you switched from friendly to something a little different. you had been talking to him and using your hands as you talked, a quirk that you had whenever you were a little nervous. and one of your rings had fallen off your finger and onto the floor so naturally you bent down to grab it but toto had beaten you to it and gotten to the ring as it rolled to his feet. when you sat back up straight the strap on your dress had shifted down your shoulder revealing more of your breast to him and toto’s mind almost short circuited right there, you were pulled from his dreams. he was sure of it.

toto stood from his seat making his way over to you, his fingers gently ghosted over your shoulder reaching down from the strap of your dress, pulling it back to its previous place. he then reached for your hand, “here you go babygirl”, he spoke in a hushed voice as he slid the ring back onto your finger his eyes looking deeply into yours as he did. you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked at him, trying to control all of the not so family friendly thoughts that were currently racing around your mind. your eyes flicking down to his large hands for a moment, thinking about what it would feel like to have them roaming over your body, touching you in ways you could only imagine.

toto still had your hand in his and he decided to be bold, he pulled you to your feet and he then took a seat where you had been sat. he gently patted his lap, giving you the choice, if you were uncomfortable then he would just let it be call his driver and ask him to take you home. but you were not uncomfortable. instead, the idea of sitting in his lap made your heart race in your chest. you gently moved to perch on his lap, his hand on your lower back as your body rested against his toned chest. “this is where you belong darling”, he whispered into your ear as his free hand sat on your thing gently rubbing circles on your clothed skin.

toto continued talking to you, asking you questions about your life, your likes and dislikes, he wanted to know it all but your brain had gone to mush, you were sat on the lap of an incredibly attractive, powerful, older man. it was like all your dreams had come true and you did not know how to keep your composure.

“are you alright there darling”, he asked in between his questions and you nodded your head but it was clear that he was not satisfied with just a nod. his hand moved from your thigh to your chin tilting it upwards to look at him, “use your words doll, what are you thinking?”, he asked.

“i’m okay toto”, you spoke quietly, “this is just nice, i haven’t sat like this with anyone in a long time”

“i know darling”

his hand moved back to your thigh but this time on the one with the slit in your dress. his hand gently moved under the fabric and you gasped softly, you turned to look at him but he had craned his neck to kiss you. it took your breath away as you kissed him back just as passionately feeling his hand find your panties . he slowly pulled away to look at you, “you are beautiful doll”, he spoke as he moved his lips now moved to your neck kissing up and down your skin as his hand moved your panties to the side.

“please”, you whimpered.

“please, what?”

“please touch me”

that was all the invitation that toto needed as his fingers quickly found your clit, his knee had wedged in between your thighs to keep them apart and he used the slit in your dress to allow his hands entry to your sensitive spot. His fingers rubbed at your clit, soft moans falling from your lips. toto was taking it all in, watching over your shoulder seeing the way your cunt was already glistening for him. god it drove him crazy. he wished he could just fuck you right there but he had other plans. toto moved your dress up to bunch it around your waist allowing him to wrap his arm under your leg, this allowed him to be able to push a finger into you and he could feel the way you clenched around his hand, oh he wished he could feel that on his cock. toto knew exactly what to do to pull those delicious moans from your lips as your head laid back against his shoulder. you were in such an intense feeling of bliss as you felt your orgasm begin creeping up on you.

“toto”, you warned

“i know schatzi, just let go for me”

and you did just that, coming undone your chest heaving up and down as you turned to kiss him, much softer this time, gentle, almost loving. you slowly pulled away. toto pulled your panties back over and your dress down.

“what about you?”, you questioned and he chuckled softly. “as much as i would love to take you to a room upstairs, we have a plane waiting for us, we are going to spain to visit ares del maestrat, you said you wanted to go so i am going to take you. so we can’t get too carried away here”, he spoke and your jaw fell to floor, so this was what real princess treatment felt like.

#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #toto wolff smut #toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #mercedes f1

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soxcietyy · 15 days ago

Text

Trouble

Yuta x reader 18+

forbidden romance, enemy’s to lovers

You are now an instructor at Jujutsu tech because of your protective older brother Megumi. He’s seen your bad luck with romance so he sets one rule in place. "No dating sorcerers, especially the ones who are heads of clans." Sounded easy enough until one comes into your class. Yuta Okkotsu.

Part one - Part two

"Welcome back baby sister." Megumi says as he placed his hand over you head.

You smile at him seeing how he welcomed you warmly. Last time you saw him he was cold and ignored you. Too embarrassed to tell everyone that you guys were related. Which wasn’t that hard to tell because you two had many similar features. Same colored hair and the exact same eyes.

You’ve heard people joke about you being the girl version of him but nicer and more extroverted.

Handing your bags to him you go inside the property and go a 360 of the place. It was so nice compared to where Gojo decided to ship you off too.

"I see he had favorites." You roll your eyes.

Megumi didn’t say anything but lead . During your walk you admired every little thing. It was amazing seeing that he was now the owner of this property. He was the head of the Zenin clan after all.

"Stop exaggerating and listen up. You’ll be teaching a new curriculum in this school so you’ll be granted one of the new buildings. It has a built in studio with locker rooms and showers.

"Really?! That’s so exciting!! I can’t wait to meet everyone!" You say.

He nods with a soft smile and walks you to the front of a house. It was exactly four building way from his main estate. The pros of having a older brother that’s the head of a clan. A home that you didn’t have to pay rent for! You could just hug him right now but you knew your limits.

He set your luggage down inside and gave you a tour of the place. It was so huge for it to be only for you. A while family could live here. This was way too much, you weren’t expecting him to give you this.

"Before you settle in I want to talk to you about something." He says as you sit in the bed.

You let out a groan knowing exactly were this conversation was going. He’s been looking over you ever since he was informed about your situation in America.

You were dating sorcerers over in the states and well things would always end terribly for you. You’d call him drunk and crying over a breakup. Especially the last one. He was a very strong person and was very popular. You two hit it off when you met and even went as far as to get an apartment together. It was going great! You guys even spoke about getting married and having kids! That was until you came home late one day from your Yoga class to find him in bed with three women. You ended things with him but he kicked you out of the place and kept all your things.

That’s when Megumi told you to come back home. Which you did, kind of… you moved very far from him so he wouldn’t butt in your life but he was very overprotective. He’d want to know how the guy you were talking to was, there profession, family and if they were a sorcerer. Eventually another break up happened and he demanded you to come live here with him and he’d get you a job. Which he thankfully did.

Though now you had to live with an overprotective brother.

"No dating sorcerers, especially the ones that are head of clans. They’re nothing but trouble" he crosses his arms.

"Obviously!! Iv learned my lesson! No more sorcerers!" You smile at him.

He furrowed his brows not believing anything that just came out your mouth. He didn’t bother to say anything after. He simply just left you to settle in.

You woke up early in the morning the next day. You had class to teach and the higher ups thought it would be a great idea to having it be the students first class. They said that it would help them wake up and be alert for the other classes.

You had a hard time getting up but managed due to the thought of your brother scolding you for being late on the first day of the job.

At school you set your gym bag down and started cleaning the place a bit. It was still dusty since they finished constructing it a few days ago. So you found your self brooming up the place before your students got here. It didn’t take long for them to start coming in. Clearly they had just woken up and grabbed themselves to class by the look they were wearing.

"Welcome!" You cheerfully say as everyone sat on the mats.

It seemed like everyone was here now so you could officially start class.

You started off my introducing yourself and what this class was all about. The importance of stretching and flexibility. Not only was it important for combat but also for your health.

Instructing them to change into work out gear you decide to eat a snack while you waited. Taking a mandarin out of your lunch bag you begin to peal it carefully. To not make a mess you start in a spiral form so it could come off in one piece.

"Good morning"

You look up to see someone standing at the door. They stood leaning on the door frame but their whole body covered the entrance from his hight. It was a man with dark hair and dark blue eyes. He was one of the most good looking guys you’ve seen. He was totally your type! Just look at how buff he looked!

His gaze was on you as he observed you carefully.

"Good morning…" you say as you stare in awe.

It was okay to admire him right?

"My name is Yuta Okkotsu. I just wanted to stop by and check out this new class. I did invest a lot of money into it after all." He says.

He invested money into this class? You thought your older brother did this. Unless he called in some favors. That wasn’t really like him so you wondered how this happened.

"Welcome to my yoga class!" You say giving him a warm welcome. "I’m so glad you wanted to invest into these kids future. I heard so many higher ups and heads of family’s wanted to turn down this class." You say standing next to him.

Goodness how this man towered over you was crazy.

"I was one of them actually. I don’t see the importance of such a thing. They should get all of there stretches during training." He crossed his arms as his eyes wondered around the room. "I only ended up agreeing and funding because I owed Fushiguro a favor." He continued.

Wow every nice thing you thought about was now out the window. This dude was a total jerk! The audacity of him saying that infront of you!

"Actually it’s a quite important class that will help these students in battle and in health. It’s a skill everyone here should learn." You raise your brow.

Yuta looks at you with a tired expression.

"Right."

Your eye twitched as you looked at him. Your brother was right! These jujutsu sorcerers were jerks! No wonder he told you to stay away from them.

"Yes, actually I think I could take you down. Iv been doing yoga and pilates for years now. I don’t do hardcore training." You challenge him.

Knowing men he was going to bite the bait and that he did.

"I wouldn’t want to embarrass you. Your new and your students would loose respect for you." He laughs.

"Sounds like your scared Yuta." You grin.

He looked baffled by your comment for a second but quickly replaced it with a smile.

"Your on."

By the time he said that all the students were back. They looked at you wuddd eye seeing how you too bickered.

"Change of plans class. Today you’ll be observing what a normal fighter vs one that is also flexible." You smile at them.

The students ended up moving their mats all the way to the back so they wouldn’t get in your way. You could tell they were excited to see this go down. When do you see a teacher fighting someone important during class? At least you assume he was important during to him having a say about your class and then investing money into it.

Both of you take your place in your respective areas.

"Just a normal fight with no sorcery." You say.

He gives you a nod acknowledging the rules.

He starts by moving swiftly, his speed catching you off guard. He darts forward, attempting to land a quick jab aimed at your jaw, testing your reflexes.

You blocked him and swings fist to his abdomen

You could hear him grunt slightly as your fist connects with his abdomen, but he barely pauses, grinning wickedly. Solid hit. He retaliates with a quick roundhouse kick aimed at your ribs. But can you keep up this pace?

You lean all the way back to avoid being kicked stumbling back as you tried to avoid it.

He sees your stumble and takes advantage, closing the distance. He grabs your arm and twists it behind your back, pulling you into a hold. "You're a bit slow, aren't you?" his breath is hot against your ear as he holds you in place.

Oh please as of you trained every day to fight people! You did it here and there because Megumi would scold you about it but you mostly did yoga.

Somehow you turn around to face him breaking free just to tuck your knees in between you guys to kick him off.

He flies back from the force of your kick, hitting the ground hard but quickly regaining his composure. He gets back up, his expression now serious and determined, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. "You're more agile than I thought." He cracks his knuckles.

"Thanks?" You pull out a dagger that was strapped on your thigh and throws it towards him.

His eyes widen in surprise as he quickly dodges to the side, the dagger missing him by a hair's breadth and embedding itself in the wall behind him. He looks back at you, a mix of shock and admiration in his eyes. "A dagger?"

"We can use weapons, did you space out when I only called off abilities?"

He laughs, his eyes gleaming with a fierce intensity. "Oh, I was paying attention. I just didn't expect you to be so prepared." He pulls out a katana from behind his back, the blade gleaming in the dim light.

You pull out two other daggers but takes a defensive stance

He charges towards you, his katana slicing through the air with deadly precision. He swings it in wide arcs, forcing you to dodge and weave to avoid the attacks. You're quick, but you can't keep this up forever. Eventually, you'll tire.

"Of course you had to wield a huge Katana" you mumble.

He smirks, his breath heavy as he continues to press his attack. "It's the only weapon worthy of my skill." He leaps into the air, bringing the katana down in a powerful diagonal slash. The blade whooshes through the air, barely missing your head.

Maybe… just maybe this was a bad idea. Obviously this man years of experience compared to you. "Your gonna end up cutting my hair"

Yuta lands gracefully, his breathing now heavier from the prolonged fight. "You think too much about your appearance, shouldn't you be more worried about winning?" He shifts his grip on the katana. "Plus, your hair would look good shorter." He winks playfully.

"Definitely not worried if I’m going against you." You throw another dagger at him.

He catches the dagger mid-air with his free hand, the other still gripping his katana. Yuta throws the dagger back at you with surprising accuracy, forcing you to dodge once again.

You pull out another one that you had stored on you but this one was special compared to the others.

Yuta raises an eyebrow, slightly taken aback by your seemingly endless supply of weapons. "Just how many daggers do you have hidden on you?" he charges forward, his katana a blur as he slashes and stabs in quick succession, testing your defensive capabilities.

Grunts "plenty, can’t tell you how many though. I want it to be a surprise”

Yuta laughs, the sound echoing through the room as he dodges and parries your daggers with his katana. "A surprise, huh? Well, I love surprises." he suddenly stops his aggressive advance and holds his katana vertically in front of him, the tip pointed directly at your face. His eyes narrow, a smirk playing on his lips as he slowly lowers his katana, the point still aimed at your face. He lunges forward, his katana swinging in a wide arc towards your head.

You grab his arms and drags the dagger across his limb leaving a long cut.

"Fuck" he groans in pain as the dagger cuts into his arm, his eyes widening in shock. He pulls back instinctively, dropping his katana with a clang. "Damn it." He clutches his wounded arm, glaring at you intensely. "You're ruthless, you know that?"

"Oh common Yuta that’s not even the best part! The Dagger was coated with venom that can leave the your arm paralyzed for an hour."

his eyes widen in realization, his mind racing as he looks at the growing numbness spreading through his arm. "You... You can't be serious..." He tries to flex his hand, but it feels heavy and unresponsive.

"You’ll be fine, but you can always forfeit the fight so you won’t end up with all of your limbs paralyzed"

Yuta glances down at his paralyzed arm, then back up at you with a rueful grin, shaking his head in disbelief. "You fight dirty, don't you?" He leans heavily against the wall, trying to keep his balance as the numbness spreads.

"Common Yuta! The next cut won’t be so good, my other daggers have effects that can last the whole day."

His eyes flicker with anger and frustration as he realizes the gravity of his situation. "Alright, alright! I surrender!" He raises his good hand in defeat, his voice strained. "Just... Just call off your little attacks, okay?" He looks at you with a mixture of annoyance and respect.

You turn to your class and smile at them. "You see class you may not use flexibility during comeback but it comes in handy during defense!"

You could hear as he grumbles and leans against the wall, trying to maintain his balance as his arm remains limp and unresponsive. "Great, you win. Can I at least have some bandages or something for my arm?" He mutters but looks at you with a pout, his pride wounded more than his actual arm.

"Right! I have just the thing it, here take the drink and you should be back to normal." You hand him the drink. "Alright class over! Onto your next one." You dismiss your students a bit early to not embarrass Yuta.

He takes the drink cautiously, examining it before bringing it to his lips and taking a sip. As soon as the liquid touches his tongue, he feels a cold sensation spreading through his arm, and the numbness begins to spread. "Are you sure you have me the right thing?"

“What do you mea- oh no… I gave you the poison I use for my daggers. The stronger one with long lasting effects. I’m so sorry Yuta I didnt-“

His eyes widen in realization as the poison takes effect more rapidly, spreading through his arm and into his chest. He gasps for breath, his body beginning to feel heavy and uncoordinated.

"It wasn’t on purpose! uhhh let me see if I have the correct one!" You dig through your bag to find nothing "Dont panic but I have nothing. lucky for you this won’t kill you! you’ll just be paralyzed for the day!"

His body begins to slump as the paralysis sets in, his limbs feeling like dead weight. He glares at you with eyes that are slowly losing focus." You're telling me I'm going to be stuck like this for the entire day?" His voice is slurring slightly.

"Unfortunately."

Yuta struggles to maintain his balance, his legs now completely numb. "There has to be... some way.. to reverse it..." He stumbles forward slightly, catching himself on the wall.

You grab him and help him up by taking him home. "Don’t worry I’ll just take care of you until you feel better. don’t tell the higher ups or Megumi about this.

He turned to look at you with a wary face.

It didn’t take long for you to sneak him into the property. By this point his head had lost strength making him look down onto the floor. He collapses onto your bed, his body completely unresponsive now, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "You're lucky I can't move... Or else I'd tell them you poisoned me on purpose..."

"Nobody would believe you anyways." Only Megumi would and you’d never hear the end of it.

He lets out a weak laugh, his chest barely rising and falling with each breath. "Probably not... pauses, his voice growing softer. You're not so bad... for a yoga sorcerer..." His eyes start to droop, the poison's effects finally taking their toll. "Just..." his voice is barely a whisper now. "Don't... leave me alone..."

#yuta okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen #yuta okkotsu x you #yuta okkotsu x reader #jjk x y/n #yuta okkotsu x y/n #yuta okkotsu smut #yuuta x you #yuta x reader #yuuta x y/n #yuta jjk #yuta x y/n #yuta oneshot #jjk yuta #yuuta okkotsu #jjk anime #jjk scenarios #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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