#what are you even suggesting? that I either get up before 7 or that I sleep more than 7 hours??

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty seven

authors note: none.

cw/tw: angst, threats of violence, csa survivor being triggered

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 13k

Solana gasps when the familiar scent of her husband’s cologne, strong yet subtle, invades her nostrils conjoined with the welcoming embrace of his strong arms around her body. Naturally, she turns around from the counter where she was putting away dishes, a small smile on her face as he rests his hands on the small of her back. 

However, her grin dims a bit when she sees he’s fully dressed. “You’re leaving already?”

Roman nods, explaining, “I need to get back on track. The sooner, the better.” 

His words, logically, make sense. But, they do nothing to abate her nerves. “What if you worked from home?” She then proposes in an almost selling manner. “I called off today anyway, so I’ll be here in case you need something.”

Something being a euphemism for the word anything. In the few days that have passed since the funeral, Solana has continued to stay with and watch her husband like a hawk. Ready to support him in any way that he needs, the memory of him breaking down in front of her, holding her while he cried into her stomach, something she will never forget.

Something he desperately needed.

And something he hasn’t outright spoken about. She gets it. Understands how both major and uncomfortable that had to have been for him. Emotions are tricky and confusing, and for someone who’s used to pushing them away, feeling them all at once can be….an experience.

His thick brows furrow slightly, as he asks the million dollar question. “Why’d you call off?”

Shit.

A couple of reasons. 

Beyond just the obvious of wanting to be physically present and available for him.

One, while her husband was in their home gym, trying to work off some of his still heavy emotions, she sat near the toilet for almost twenty minutes, vomiting twice and afraid of a third occurrence, hence her not leaving. Second, Solana still feels not the best—morning sickness attacking her with all the rage the past two days. Three, she has the appointment today. 

And none of these things can be said to the man before her who looks understandably confused. 

So, she goes with a not entirely untrue answer but not the full truth either. “Didn’t really feel up to it today.” Her fingers scrunch the soft material of his shirt. “Besides, I didn’t want to leave you alone….”

And that is not a lie. Solana has tried her best to keep reminding herself that she can’t be with her husband 24/7, but given how they have been together practically 24/7 for over a week straight, it’s kind of hard not to want that to continue.

She’s anxious at the thought of not being nearby in case he needs something.

In case he needs her.

Roman shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.” There’s a hint of concern etched in his handsome features as he asks, “are you sure you’re okay?” Solana does her best to remain with a neutral expression even as his shifts into something of a frown. “Feel like you’ve been sick a lot lately...”

“Stress,” she answers. Again, technically not a lie. “It’s just been…..a lot recently.” But then, she feels bad because she sees that he feels bad. “I’ll be fine. I promise. I just need to make sure you’re….okay enough.”

Because wanting him to be good is a ridiculous expectation. Not with what he’s just been through. She knows better than anyone how recovery from a major loss like that can take some time. 

A lot of time.

Roman’s still looking at her unconvinced. Like….like there’s something he’s not saying.

Or asking.

And, it’s unnerving, because sitting on a pile of secrets is always stressful enough. Adding in her overtly protective and possibly suspicious husband is even more unsettling and not anything she can tolerate right now.

“I’ll come see you at lunch then,” she suggests, partially wanting to actually check on him mid-day but also needing them to get off this subject. 

It seems to work, as he objects, “you don’t have to do that, Sol.”

“But, I want to,” she counters, lifting her palm to his cheek. “You’ve helped me get to the point where I’m okay….now it’s my turn.”

Solana is unsure what okay will look like for Roman, because everyone’s definition is different. But, whatever it is, whatever it requires, she’s willing and ready to walk with him, right by his side, the entire time.

Roman leans down and kisses her forehead, muttering, “come with me.” He straightens back up and goes to grab her hand, explaining, “I want to show you something.” 

Solana nods and allows him to walk them out the kitchen and past the living room where she sees Dulce sleeping peacefully in her bed. Roman guides them up the steps and into their bedroom only for her to gasp, turning to him with a small smile. “Roman? What is all of this?”

This referring to the more than several set of small to medium black, luxury shopping bags with a foreign word written in calligraphy sitting on the dresser. Moving closer, another gasp when she realizes they’re almost all filled with various sized jewelry boxes. 

“When did you even….” She trails off, grabbing a random box and opening it, mouth dropping at the stunning diamond necklace. “Roman, this is beautiful.” Because it is, and she’s certain every other piece he’s apparently purchased for her is just as stunning. 

He’s moved over towards her, arms crossed as he explains, “it’s handmade Italian jewelry. I wasn’t sure exactly what you’d like best, so I just got it all.” He says it so casually, Solana’s eyes widening at the thought of how much all of this could have cost. 

“How much did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismisses, pushing some of her hair out of her face. “You’re worth it all.”

His words warm her heart and make those butterflies form as her eyes land on something else. Carefully closing the box and placing it back inside the bag, she’s quick with grabbing the beautiful brown leathered book. “You got me journals!” It’s said with such elation, almost childlike, evoking a chuckle from Roman. The smile on her face widening as she runs her hand over the soft cover. Opening said journal, an engravement on the inside of the front cover catches her attention. It’s written in what she would guess is Italian.

Italian jewelry. Italian leather, most likely. Putting two and two together would indicate these are gifts he got her while he was away in Italy. A realization that makes her heart flutter. He was there on business yet still made time for her.

Always thinking of her.

Moved and now especially curious about the words she cannot read for herself, Solana asks, “what does it say?”

And without even reading it, Roman speaks in Italian, moving his hand to gently cup her face as he translates in a quiet voice, “you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Her heart swells, eyes shutting momentarily to bask in the moment. Love is such a beautiful, sacred thing, treasured and coveted. Something she’s found, so deeply and heavenly, with him.

Always with him. 

And it’s in that moment, as she leans up and kisses him, reciprocating her vow of love, that it hits her. 

Solana knows exactly what tattoo she wants to get for her husband.

————

The minute the backdoor is opened and Roman slides in the SUV, he’s met with Dwayne’s hulking frame, phone glued to his ear.

“I don’t fucking care if it’s impossible. Make it possible,” he barks. Roman chuckles. His cousins’s temper can rival his at times, and this aggression and irritation that fills the SUV makes it a bit easier for him to drift from sorrow to business. 

Emotions have always been…..weird for him. Something he’s always possessed but worked tirelessly to push away and suppress, only to ever really reveal and express around one woman before Solana.

Fetu.

She was always his safe space. His anchor. His safety.

Her being gone isn’t something that’s computed, that’s truly set in, that he’s accepted. Or, maybe he has. Maybe it was that crushing realization that not only is she gone but that he didn’t even get to see or speak to her one last time that made him break down in his wife’s arms.

Years.

It’s been years since Roman has cried. Not since the day of the funerals where he refused to leave the gravesite of his deceased family. Where he cried and apologized profusely for hours for not being able to save them.

For failing them and not being strong enough to do so.

That….that was the last day he’d allowed himself to shed a tear.

Until now.

It was both a strange, liberating experience. One he never wants to experience again but also…..needs.

Two opposing forces that make little sense and account for a shit ton of cognitive dissonance. 

The only thing that does make sense is his wife.

Solana.

That is the one thing, the one person he needs. Now more than ever.

And she’s been nothing but his rock throughout this whole thing. Even when he tried to push her away and ice her out, she stayed. Supported him. Helped him. Cared for him. Loved him. 

He wasn’t lying when he told her he couldn’t have made it through this without her.

He couldn’t.

At all. 

And as nice as being with her, not having to think or focus on anything but himself and all of his heavy ass emotions has been, it couldn’t last forever. 

Because as much as he still feels not okay, he’s gotta pull it together. 

One way or another. 

“Yeah….that’s what I fucking thought,” Dwayne snaps, pulling Roman from his thoughts, before snatching the phone from his ear and smashing the red end button. “Fucking incompetent pieces of shit.”

“Do I want to know?” Roman asks, even though he really wants to substitute want with need. Right now, essential information and problems is all he wants to tackle this day. It’s bad enough his Wise Man is out sick.

Paul is usually the buffer and filter for all the bullshit, something Roman truly has little patience for on most days, even more on a day like today.

“Naw.” Dwayne shakes his head. “I got it.” He turns to his cousin as Roman signals for the driver to start driving. “How you doing?”

A dumbass question in Roman’s mind, but he doesn’t say as such. “Fine.” He’s not, but as easy as Dwayne can be to talk to sometimes, if Roman is going to talk to someone about feelings and shit, it’s going to be his wife.

And, well, her. 

Maybe. 

“Bullshit,” Dwayne calls him out, lightly shoving his shoulder. “But, getting back into the swing of things might be helpful for you. You like yelling at people.”

“I shouldn’t have to though,” is the easy counter. “People should just do their fucking job.”

Dwayne gestures to his phone. “That’s what I just told this dumbass.” Roman snickers and shakes his head as his older cousin clears his throat and suddenly asks, “that wife of yours talk to you?”

Roman easily hides the way his shoulders tense at being asked about Solana. “About?”

Dwayne’s expression shifts into something a bit more serious, and this isn’t lost upon Roman. “About what went down with Rikishi?”

“Yes.” The answer to that is easy and simple. Solana did technically tell him something happened between her and his older cousin, but she did not say specifics. And he knows that was for a reason. “Now tell me what really happened.”

————

The conference room is already filled with the expected persons by the time Roman and Dwayne arrive. All but two chairs are occupied as Jimmy, Jey, Solo, Rikishi, and Matteo wait with various expressions. The sons and father seem to be engaged in quiet conversation while Matteo keeps to himself, preoccupied with the phone in his hand.

That dynamic is about all that Roman can make out as he marches right into said conference room, Dwayne not too far behind. The men are barely able to finish standing when Roman marches right over to Rikishi’s chair, grabbing him by his collar, snatching him out the chair and shoving him against the nearest wall. 

Roman is somewhat cognizant of the voices of shock and protest around him, but it doesn’t make a single fucking difference.

He’s seeing red.

Muscled forearm barred against Rikishi’s fat neck, he finds joy in the way the older man’s eyes are bulging and the almost desperate way his chubby fingers try to push him away. “If you ever in your fucking life raise your hand to her again, I’ll kill you! You understand me!” Roman relishes in the absolute fear emanating from the man before him. Good. “Don’t you ever fucking disrespect my wife!”

By now, Roman is a bit more cognizant to the hands grasping at him, trying to pull him away from his target.

“Ayo, Uce, what the hell you doing!” Jimmy’s voice makes it past the thick wall of anger that fills and consumes Roman as he thinks about this fucker having to audacity to try to hit his wife.

Over Roman’s dead fucking body will anyone disrespect Solana. Especially his family.

“Get the hell off him!” Roman is finally “pulled” away from a now gasping, coughing Rikishi. It’s truly Roman’s decision to let go, because ain’t no way in hell not a man in that room could stop him from killing this son of a bitch right now if he wanted to.

And a part of him does. He really does. But, it’s hard to tell how much of that desire is fueled by his grief vs logic. 

But, it’s when Roman realizes both Jey and Solo are standing in front of a reddened face Rikishi, while Jimmy tends to his dad, that he really gets pissed the fuck off. They have the audacity to look like they’re ready to jump him. “What ya’ll about to do, huh?” Roman challenges, ready for whatever. As he always is. “Ya’ll ain’t about to do shit!” 

And maybe, just maybe, they are. Doesn’t matter. He’ll kick both their asses and make their daddy watch. 

Jimmy then moves over after helping Rikishi to his feet. “Roman, what the hell are you even talking about?”

Chin jutted in Rikishi’s direction, his answer is cold and direct. “Ask him.”

Another harsh cough followed by an unexpected answer as he moves to the side, no longer completely obscured by the protective wall of two of his sons. “She hit me first. Did she tell you that?”

At that answer, both Jey and Jimmy look slightly taken back. Solo just continues to glare at Roman, who’s tempted to knock him out for that disrespect alone.

“She did,” Dwayne suddenly chimes, him and Matteo simply watching the scene unfold without a hint of interference. For now. “But, this was only after you made fun of her being abused and basically told her she was useless because she hasn’t produced an heir yet.” Just hearing it again has Roman’s eyes closing and hand fisting at his side. Rage. “Regardless, you know the rules. We don’t put our fucking hands on women.” And then an almost knowing comment/question. “Or have you forgotten?”

It’s a simple question, but it feels like there’s a story there. The way anger flashes in Rikishi’s face and eyes, something similar to what’s painted on his twins faces. Roman, however, is redirected from wondering if there was more to said comment by Jimmy and Jey switching their focus back to their dad.

“Dad, did you really do that?” Jimmy is the one to ask, shaking his head. “Tell me you ain’t say that shit.”

Rikishi doesn’t hesitate to defend himself. “The girl was out of line.”

“Aye,” Jimmy is the one to cut him off. “Her name is Solana, alright?”

“Just let him talk,” Jey interrupts. “Two sides to every story.”

“Not when it’s a man trying to hit a woman,” Jimmy counters. “Making fun of her trauma and shit.”

Jey is also not backing down. “Look, we weren’t there, alright?”

“But, I was, and I saw exactly what went down,” Dwayne reminds, crossing his arms. 

“And if I may,” Matteo suddenly enters the conversation, Jey only looking more irritated than before. “Under no circumstance should a man try to hit a woman. Ever.” 

Jey doesn’t hesitate to try to put Matteo in his place. “Aye, look, this don’t involve you, alright. This Bloodline business.” 

“I suggest you lower your voice.” Matteo’s own voice takes on an icy tone as he so chillingly threatens, “I’d hate to have to spill your blood in front of your family. On this otherwise lovely day, too. A shame.”

Matteo’s very real threat only further incenses Jey. “I know you not fucking threatening me.” He steps forward, Solo reaching to restrain his older brother. “Man, I’ll knock your ass out!”

Matteo smiles. “I look forward to seeing you try.”

Jey points to Roman, “you better get your fucking boy, Roman.”

Roman couldn’t care too much about that. “Tell your fucking dad to keep his hands off my wife.”

“Man, you overreacting! He ain’t even touch her!”

Roman growls, “just because you don’t give a fuck about your bitch of a wife—”

“What the hell you just say?” At that, Jey’s very paltry sense of resolve breaks. “I told you, you not gon’ keep disrespecting my wife, or we gon have problems!”

Roman goes to move toward Jey, never ever scared when both Matteo and Dwayne go to restrain him. “If you gon do something, do it!” It takes a great amount of strength from both men to hold back an irate, borderline unhinged Roman. “I’ll whoop you and your daddy’s ass, and if Solo keeps looking at me like he’s lost his goddamn mind, I’ll kick his ass too!”

“That’s enough!” Jimmy finally cuts in, also going to restrain Jey, standing between an almost standoff. Rikishi, Solo, and Jey vs Roman, Dwayne, and Matteo. “Everybody just needs to calm down!”

“Your anger is misplaced, Uce.” Rikishi sounds, Dwayne still holding onto Roman’s arm while Matteo has loosened his grip in favor of focusing on the other three, waiting to see if they’ll do something. “Especially considering I was the one who tried to plead on your behalf just this morning,” he taunts almost, as if trying to get under Roman's skin even further. 

And, it partially works. 

Roman doesn’t need anyone to do shit for him.

“Plead for what?” Dwayne is the one to ask, recognizing verbalizations are a much better alternative to the physical melee that’s on the horizon if de-escalation doesn’t start. And fast. 

Rikishi straightens up, adjusting his tie, almost as if he’s trying to act like his life didn’t just end suddenly and violently. “The Elders have grown tired of waiting for the Tribal Chief to produce an heir.” Dwayne tightens his grip ever so slightly, feeling Roman try to inch away from him. “You and your wife are to conceive by the end of the year….or else.”

It’s almost an instant thing, several sets of eyes all on Roman, most of which trying to anticipate and navigate his next move.

Meanwhile, Roman’s mouth shifts, his nose snarled as he finds himself shouting, Dwayne again having to hold him back from lunging. “Or else what!”

Rikishi’s voice is eerily calm as he answers in an even voice, “they will make you divorce Solana and take a new wife of their choosing this time.”

————

There’s an emptiness she feels sitting in the patient room, waiting for the nurse to walk in. Roman’s absence is noticeable and heavy, and she hates it. Hates that this is yet another thing that she has to keep from him.

That she’s chosen to keep from him, because at this point, these are choices she’s making. 

She chose to not tell him about her potentially being pregnant. Chose to not tell him once the pregnancy was confirmed. And chose to still not tell him even as she sits at her first OB-GYN appointment.

And yes, all of that may be for good reasons, for her wanting to protect and be mindful of where he is mentally and emotionally.

Still, it doesn’t negate the fact that it sucks.

And that it hurts.

It hurts a lot. 

Following a small knock and opening of the door, Solana looks up from her lap and wipes away at her blurry gaze, offering a small smile to the nurse who’s just walked in. “Hello.”

She’s young, probably close to Solana’s age, her scrubs revealing a slim, lithe figure. Her dark hair cascades down her shoulders and frames her features nicely. She’s a stunning woman. 

A woman, however, who fails to reciprocate Solana’s kind gesture. Not right away, at least. Awkwardly clearing her throat, she greets, “Mrs. Reigns. I didn’t—they didn’t tell me it was you…..give me just one minute?” The nurse doesn’t wait for a reply, just leaves a confused Solana sitting in the patient room wondering just what the hell is going on.

She’s just about ready to step out into the hallway when the nurse returns, quietly closing the door behind her. “I’m so sorry.” 

Solana has to ask, nails nervously tapping against the bed. “Is….is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she answers. Quickly. Too quickly. “Shit, no.” Closing her eyes for a few seconds, she walks over to Solana and offers one of the wildest introductions ever. “My name is Sasha, and I know you don’t know me, and I’m probably crazy as hell for even telling you this, but I—I used to sleep with your husband.”

Solana’s shoulders slump at the same time her chest tightens. “W–what?”

Sasha’s eyes go wide as she shakes her head and explains. “It’s been months. Like not since the beginning of this year, but I—I was one of the ones…..” She presses her fingers to her temples. “God, this is so messed up. I’m so sorry to do this to you. I tried to see if another nurse could handle you, but everyone is busy and…..fuck.”

Fuck is most definitely the right world. Of all the places. Of all the nurses. Solana just so happens to get the one nurse who used to be one of her husband’s fuck buddies.

Go fucking figure.

“I haven’t spoken or done anything with him in months. I swear.” She then lifts her left hand to show off a beautiful engagement ring. “Funnily enough, this is actually my last week working here. My fiance—long story— and I are from the same town, and he just got a job back home, so we’re moving next week.” She adds in a bitter tone, “kinda wish it was this week now.”

With the absence of Solana’s voice, Sasha proceeds to fill the silence. “Mrs. Reigns, I really am sorry. I know I had no business still sleeping with your husband after you two got married, but we’d been….intimate on and off for years, and he was just someone—”

“Please,” Solana finally speaks, voice low and soft. “Please don’t. I—I get it.”

Because with the shock worn off and the discomfort waning, as irritating as this is, it doesn’t necessarily matter. 

This Sasha woman was Roman’s past. Solana knows that she’s his present and future, so from that logic, what reason does she have to be upset?

At least with Sasha.

She does, however, have a reason to be nervous.

Hand naturally falling to her stomach, she says in a much more desperate voice than she’d like, “you can’t tell anyone—”

“Are you kidding me?” Her eyes widen once more as she shakes her head. “Outing the Tribal Chief’s wife’s pregnancy is a sure way for me to go missing, and I’d actually like to make it down the aisle.” Sasha visibly tenses, suddenly asking in a lowered voice. “Wait, is he he—”

“No.” That’s it. That’s the only answer Solana can bring herself to give. And it seems enough, Sasha nodding before the two settle into an awkward silence.

“Is it okay if…..if we get started?”

Solana nods, still a bit boggled by the whole situation but recognizing that it’s not the priority. 

“Of course,” she agrees. 

All things considered, Sasha is the epitome of professionalism. She asks her questions, takes down the information given to her, draws Solana’s blood and directs her to the bathroom where the pregnant woman gives a urine sample, all while maintaining a calm, friendly disposition.

There’s nothing, surprisingly, awkward about it. 

And that’s appreciated. Shocking, too, given who she is and who she was to Roman. 

It’s only when she’s wrapping up her portion that she clears her throat again. “I hope this doesn’t come across as an inappropriate question and feel free to tell me to mind my damn business, but can I ask why Roman isn’t here?”

Solana is tempted, almost ready to take Sasha up on her suggestion to tell her to mind her own damn business, but there’s something so genuine about her question. A sadness in her voice and sympathetic look in her eyes. It seems to come from a place of genuine concern. 

Solana finds herself answering honestly. “He doesn’t know yet.”

Sasha makes an ‘O’ with her mouth. “I’m sorry. I should have never asked. It’s just….with how much he must care about you—”

“What makes you say that?” Solana knows the words to be true. Knows that Roman cares about her. Loves her. But how and why the woman in front of her knows this is what makes her slightly suspicious.

Sasha sighs, answering almost nervously, “a man like Roman Reigns doesn’t just cut off his entire roster of women in exchange for one if she doesn’t mean something to him.” She shrugs, adding on, “and I mean, look at what he did to Sam’s uppity ass.”

If not for the confusion, Solana would maybe chuckled a bit. She’s not heard one good thing about Sam from a single person. Not one. “What do you mean?”

“Girl, you didn’t hear?” Sasha sucks her teeth, smiling a bit. “He had Nia whoop her ass. Well deserved, in my opinion.”

Solana gasps. “What?”

“Yup,” Sasha pops the ‘p.’ “Had her break that bitch jaw.”

Solana sits there stunned, briefly struggling to understand the reasons why only for it to come to her so easily.

The night of the fight. 

Sam’s cruel words to her in the bathroom. 

Solana told Roman. Roman said he’d handle it.

Clearly, that was how it was handled. 

“You be careful with that one though,” Sasha advises, expression shifting to something a bit serious. “She was always delusional believing Roman was gonna marry her ass. And a couple weeks ago, I saw her drunk in a bar lamenting about how much she hates you and can’t wait to—her words, not mine—give you exactly what you deserve.”

The words should bother her. Maybe even trigger a sense of concern. Solana recognizes that would be a normal reaction, especially given the world that they live in. However, concern and even fear are not the emotions that rise at Sasha’s information.

Anger.

Anger is the only thing she feels. 

Solana isn’t the same woman Sam cornered in the bathroom and talked down to.

She’s changed. Grown. Is better in so many ways and stronger in so many more.

So, Sam can try some shit if she wants to.

Solana is ready this time. 

“I’m not scared of her,” is all she says, hand falling protectively to her stomach. 

“I can see that,” Sasha says with a small smile, tapping on the screen a couple more times. “Well, I think that’s all I need from you. Dr. Sharmell will take over the rest.” She pauses. “Like I said, this is my last week here, so Alexa or Jakara will probably be your nurse moving forward, but I just wanna say congratulations. You seem like you’re gonna be a great mom.”

Eyes watering, Solana can only mumble a quiet, heartfelt, “thank you.” 

Sasha doesn’t say anything else before walking out the room, leaving Solana alone for not even five minutes before there’s a knock on the door followed by an entrance.

“Mrs. Reigns?” An African-American woman with smooth brown skin, a wrinkle free complexion and pearly whites. Her smile is amenable and her disposition warm. She walks over, extending her hand. “Hi, I’m Dr. Sharmell. I’ll be your OB-GYN. It’s so nice to meet you.”

Solana can only reciprocate the smile and gesture, shaking the older woman’s hand. “Thank you. It’s—it’s nice to meet you too. You….you can call me Solana.”

She looks a bit taken back but nods. “Solana, it is.” Moving over to the screen, she double checks a couple things that Sasha had already asked. Asks a couple more questions, mostly regarding if there’s been any concerns regarding the pregnancy thus far. The answer is no.

Solana prays it stays that way.

“Okay, well, I see you had a pap smear at the beginning of the year, so I won’t do one of those again. The labs I ordered are standard procedure just to make sure your levels are good, and from what I can see based off your hCG levels, it does look like this is a multiples pregnancy.” Solana has no major reaction to this, as it was already hinted/told to her by Dr. Michaels. “But, let’s do an ultrasound and double check, okay?” She gives Solana a look that’s of a questioning nature, like she wants to make sure this is an okay trajectory.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she answers in a quiet voice.

However, it’s when Dr. Sharmell starts to move the machine around that Solana notices something that zaps the comfort and calmness she was experiencing up until his point. “Wait, is that—do we have to do a transvaginal ultrasound?”

Just saying it aloud makes her stomach twist in all of the wrong ways.

Dr. Sharmell nods. “Based upon the date of your last menstrual cycle, you should be right at 10 weeks, and internal ultrasounds are best practices for pregnant women still in their first trimester.” Solana’s discomfort must be written all over her face, prompting the older woman to ask, “are you okay?”

Sniffling, Solana wipes at her now tearing eyes. “I’m sorry, I just—” She takes a deep breath, reluctantly sharing, “I was raped as a child and…..I just….things down there…..”

And this is why Solana would give anything to have Roman here with her, because she knows his presence, holding his hand, having him here reassuring her that she’s safe would help her be able to tolerate the exam.

But, he’s not here, and the thought of being penetrated, even if for medical reasons, is something that has her heart racing and anxiety spiking. 

Dr. Sharmell is nothing but sympathetic as her face morphs into something almost solemn. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” She shakes her head. “I can do a pelvic one instead. It may not show everything, but it’ll show enough for now. Okay?”

Solana can only nod and close her eyes as Dr.Sharmell shifts gears, handing her a sheet to cover up her lower half. Solana then proceeds to raise up the hospital gown to expose her belly. The gel is cool, a nice, chilling sensation to help settle her nerves. But, it’s when the doctor makes a sound that she opens her eyes and shifts her focus to the screen. 

“I was right.” She shoots Solana a small, comforting smile. “Twins.” Eyes continuing to water, Solana looks in awe as Dr. Sharmell points to the screen. “This is Baby A.” Her finger travels around as does the transducer roaming her belly. “And this is Baby B.” 

So early on in her pregnancy, it’s hard to make out anything significant like arms, legs, and a head, because none of those have developed just yet. However, none of that matters, because they’re still her babies.

Her children. 

Confirmation that they’re alive, growing, and healthy.

It makes the tears spill over, the emotionality of it all overwhelming her in a sense. 

He should be here.

Roman should be here, experiencing this with her. 

But he’s not.

And all she can seem to think about is how this is wrong. 

All so wrong. 

————

It’s not a good time to be doing this.

Not in the slightest. Roman knows this, has the wherewithal to see and know that he’s not in the best place to even try to be open to something he doesn’t even want to be doing in the first place.

But, he also knows that he needs to. That he needs to do this. Whether he wants to or not. 

It’s not about him.

It’s about her.

It’s about doing what’s best for their marriage, and truthfully, if she can find it in her to do it, then so can he.

Marriage…..

Roman’s fist forms at his side as he rolls his shoulders while trying to settle the anger growing again at Rikishi’s words he has no doubt came directly from the Elders.

There’s also lingering feelings towards Jey and Solo, toward their disrespectful, borderline challenging behavior. Unacceptable on all fronts, thus he regrets nothing except maybe not reminding them both why they answer to him and call him Tribal Chief.

However, that’s minimal compared to Rikishi and his actions both today and toward Solana.  

But, while a part of him wants to believe that the son of a bitch was just trying to fuck with him with his statement about the Elders, a result of his anger and pride at being attacked, the logical part of Roman knows that’s not the case.

He knows Rikishi isn’t lying about that much.

It makes sense. Roman sensed there was some shit they were planning before Fetu had passed. Sensed that they were up to something, and this is clearly it.

It’s not going to happen though.

It’s one thing for Roman to reconsider ending his marriage to Solana for her own safety. It’s another for those prehistoric fuckers to try to tell him he needs to end his marriage to her.

Over his dead fucking body will that ever happen.

Roman will kill them all before he lets them take her from him.

Murder is obviously the last resort. Maybe. But as of right now, he hasn’t got another plan. A less violent way to handle this, but he’ll figure it out. 

He always does.

Even though the solution is rather simple, something that is very much a possibility now that their marriage has been consummated. 

Many times.

Many….many times. 

And in full transparency…..Roman had started to wonder. Her sickness. The fatigue. The vomiting. 

Started to wonder if maybe, just maybe…..

And then he pushed it away. Has pushed it away, because stress would also explain all of that as well. But beyond that, he knows that if it was that, Solana would have said something. 

And, she hasn’t, thus it’s not even worth thinking about further. 

So, until then, he’ll come up with a plan.

But, not right now. 

Now he’s got a whole other issue he’s sort of—not really—ready to tackle.

Because Roman’s already paper thin patience is waning by the second every time he glances at the clock on his phone to see another minute pass. Three. She’s three minutes late. And for some people, that would be insignificant, but not for Roman. Because every minute of the day is precious for him, spoken and accounted for with tasks to be completed.

So every minute wasted waiting on her is deducted from the total time he has in a day to get everything done, thus, he’s already got one strike against this woman before ever even meeting her.

Thankfully, a text from Solana manages to briefly pull him from his growing frustration and temptation to just leave.

Solana: You’re not getting back until late, right?

Roman: Yes. 

Roman: Why? You alright?

Solana: Yes. It’s just Bayley and Naomi are “making” me go with them to dinner tonight, but I don’t want to not be there when you get home….

Roman: Solana, go. I’ll be fine. 

Because he will. Emotionally, he still feels…..not great, but he doesn’t feel as numb and overwhelmed as he’s been the past few days. Even beyond that, his wife has been by his side this entire time, putting her own life on hold to focus and cater to him. And he’s grateful. Immensely. But, she needs to also focus on herself.

His feelings about Bayley and Naomi are still…..not the best, but he knows what they mean to Solana, and she needs this.

So, he wants her to have it.

Solana: Are you sure?

Roman: Positive

“Well, shit.” 

Roman looks up from his phone, instantly irritated because why the fuck is someone talking to him when he’s trying to text his wife?

And he’s even more annoyed at the sight of the red headed woman wearing jeans, boots, and a white short sleeved shirt that shows off the tattooed sleeve on her right arm. Bag over shoulder, cup of coffee in one hand, and keys in the other, she scoffs. “Yeah…..Gail wasn’t kidding when she said she had a challenging referral for me.” 

But, it’s when she speaks again that his scowl drops. Roman asks, “you the therapist?”

She shrugs, answering, “that’s what my clinical license says.” Turning away from him, she prompts, “come on. Sorry I’m late. People don’t know how to fucking drive.”

There’s a lot to process in this moment. The lateness. The almost unprofessional attire. The profanity. 

What in the hell did Gail sign him up for?

Nevertheless, Roman follows this woman into the office once she unlocks and opens the door. And again, another culture shock. His wife’s therapist office is the traditional cool tones, plants hanging near the window, some mental health shit on the wall and whatnot. And this….person still has that, but there’s nothing neutral and traditional about her setup. The sofa is red, a kaleidoscope of colors plastered everywhere from the rug to the pillows to even the tye-dye curtains that are pulled back with a bright green tie. And it’s the framed poster on the wall above the computer that reads, “feelings are weird and uncomfortable and shit’ that makes him chuckle.

One thing he can give her is that it’s nice to not have that…..therapy shit shoved down his throat.

Not when he’s already extremely uncomfortable with this whole thing.

“Make yourself at therapy home,” she encourages, going to hang her bag on the hook behind the now closed door. Roman sits down, still on edge but feeling less annoyed. “Name’s Lita, by the way. Not sure if Gayle mentioned it.”

“She didn’t,” he answers, watching how she walks over and plops down in her chair, grabbing her coffee off the desk where she’d placed it while getting the room set up.

“Well, it is,” she shrugs. Taking a sip, she then informs, “I’ll call you Roman.”

Instantly, the irritation is reappearing. “Did I say you could call me by my first name?”

Lita gives him a look, asking in an even voice, “do you seriously expect me to call you My Tribal Chief?” She chuckles at her almost mocking tone, mumbling before snagging another sip. “That’s not happening.”

Roman finds himself asking, both rhetorically and literally, “what the hell kind of therapist are you?”

Because while his only experience with this profession has been through Solana, through Gail and even Stratus, the differences are stark. These women are day compared to Lita’s night.

“The kind who works with people. Not titles.” Reaching to place her coffee on the small table beside her, she explains. “The Tribal Chief is what you are. It’s not who you are. Who you are is Roman Reigns, and that’s who I’m interested in working with.” She gestures around her room. “In this space, you’re just a person, and something tells me that’s not a space you get to be in a lot in your life.”

He’s quiet. For a couple of reasons. The main one being that he’s having a bit of a hard time finding a point of disagreement. Her delivery is absurd, borderline disrespectful, but it’s not….it’s not entirely wrong. 

“So how’s this shit supposed to work?” He asks, allowing himself to lean back on the sofa, muscular arms crossed over one another.

Lita shrugs once more. “However you want it to work.” And before he can push back on her vague ass answer, she supplies, “my approach is I don’t make you do anything. I help you get to a point where you want to do things.”

“Like?” 

“Actually work on and process shit.”

“That’s probably not gonna happen.”

Lita chuckles, standing up and walking over to her desk. Roman watches her pull open a drawer where she grabs a notebook and pen. She then walks back over and reaches said items to him. “Here. Take these.”

Roman looks at her with disinterest but still accepts said items. “Alright, I want you to write down why you’re here right now. I’m not gonna see it, not gonna read it, not even gonna keep it. That’s for you. I just want you to be honest with yourself and preferably me, but we’ll get you there.”

Roman looks slightly confused but still understanding of what she’s asked of him. Lita grabs her coffee and falls back into the chair. “Get to writing.”

A scowl reappears. This demanding shit is gonna have to most definitely be addressed. 

Roman doesn’t get demanded.

Even though he most definitely finds himself writing shit down.

Control my anger/blackouts (around my wife—I don’t care about anyone else)

And that’s it.

“Done.”

Lita lifts a brow. “Seriously?”

“What?”

She scoffs, “you head the two biggest criminal organizations in the world and only need less than a minute to list things you want to work on?” She shakes her head, directing,“try again.”

Roman is irritated. This smart mouth of hers is getting old. “I don’t need—”

“I said try again,” Lita says in an almost softer voice. “Remember, be honest with yourself.”

There’s something both triggering and eye-opening about that latter statement. Honesty is something Roman has always valued, but when it’s directed toward and about himself, there seems to be difficulty. 

Solana….she’s helped a lot with that, and he’d probably feel less hesitant and more forthcoming if it was her he was talking to, but as great a support system his wife is for him, he knows he can’t put it all on her.

The same way, deep down, he knows he can’t continue to bottle shit up like he’s been doing.

Roman swallows before starting to list without thinking, refusing to allow his brain to interfere with what weighs his heart down when he strips back all the thick layers of protection.

Feeling guilty about Fetu’s death

Feeling guilty about my family’s murders

Feeling guilty about surviving

Feeling guilty about Solana’s attempt

Feelings towards my mom

Feelings about fatherhood someday

Not feeling good enough for Solana

Feeling like I have to be perfect to be loved

Being codependent with Solana

Matteo

Other shit

Roman can list it, but that’s it. Talking about or even thinking about what he wrote down is just….it’s too much right now.

“Done,” he mutters, taking it upon himself to fold up said paper that he stuffs in his pocket. 

“Good.” Lita nods. Standing up once more, she moves over to a bin near the bookshelf, pulling out a red, familiar box. “Now let’s play a game.”

“A game?” Roman is disgusted all over again when she walks over, holding the biggest box of fucking Uno he’s ever seen. “Do I look like a child?”

“Technically, there’s a child in all of us,” she counters. Roman watches her pull the massive stack of cards out of the box. “Now this is actually feelings Uno.”

“Feelings Uno?” It keeps getting worse. So much worse. “What the hell is that?”

Rolling her eyes while she expertly manages to shuffle through the giant cards, Lita explains, “Red is anger. Blue is sadness. Yellow is joy. And Green is a free for all, meaning you get to decide whatever emotion you want it to be on your turn. You play a card and then talk about whatever emotion goes with the card color.” The steps are clear and to the point, but Roman is still struggling with the fact that this woman seriously wants to play a whole ass game with him. “Considering it’s only our first session, I’ll take it easy on you. You only have to answer when you play a red card.”  She smirks, equally distributing cards to the both of them. “Something tells me anger won’t be too difficult for you to talk about.”

She’s not….not entirely wrong. 

Roman asks while looking over at his colorful cards. “You stack?” Playing a game is truly preferred than talking about….feelings and shit.

“You trying to talk about several different upsetting events at once?” She asks, laughing a little when he rolls his eyes. “No. No stacking. This time.” Leaning over, she plops the first card down for their pile. “And to show you I can sometimes be one of those overly nice therapists, I’ll go first.” Roman watches her lay down a matching red card, sharing so casually, “well, I felt angry as hell when I came home from school when I was thirteen and found out my abusive, piece of shit dad had not only offed himself but took my mom and little brother with him.” 

Silence. Almost everything about this woman in the less than twenty minutes that he’s known her has been unexpected, but that has to take the cake. The casualty in her voice is a stark contest to the weight of the confession. It has him partially stumped, cause what the fuck does one say to that?

He goes with the only thing he knows and can think to say in the moment. “Why the hell would you tell me that?”

There’s a bit of a shift in her countenance. Her voice softens as she explains, “it’s important you know when we’re working together and I say that I understand life can be a shitshow, I’m not talking about fucking Starbucks messing up my order.”

He doesn’t comment on her disclosure nor her follow up comment. He just lays down his own red card, sharing, “felt angry at my mom when she told me one time that my half brother was the son she wanted, not me.”

Lita makes a sound. “Parents are just wonderful, aren’t they?”

Roman says nothing, the two of them easily falling into this space of sharing and not really elaborating. Just putting it out there, building some strange form of rapport that feels almost natural to him.

And it’s through this process that Gail’s comment regarding this whole therapy thing returns to him. “I have someone in mind who will either be a perfect fit for you or the worst referral I’ve ever provided.”

And strangely enough, Roman is leaning toward the former of those two paths.

————

Solana has always felt deeply aligned with the saying, “if it ain’t one thing, it’s another.” Always felt that perfectly described many of her life experiences. It’s something that’s waned drastically since being married to Roman but has still popped up from time to time.

And sadly, this is one of those times.

Because now not only is she sitting on a letter given to her by Roman’s late aunt that she requested only be given to him when the time was “right,” a pregnancy that now her husband’s ex fuck buddy knows about before him, but now another letter addressed to Solana.

From her mother.

A letter Solana has never seen before today when she was trying to reorganize her library/art room after Roman canceled their lunch date, citing being unable to escape meetings.

She believes him, of course. It’s just that it would have been preferred to this.

Yet one more thing for her to work through.

In all actuality, it should be easy for Solana to just open the damn letter. Read it and get it over with. But the weight of it, the amount of pages she can feel through the envelope, and the fact that it’s in a separate letter instead of a journal, has her concerned.

Solana’s mom always wrote to her in journals, so the fact that this is not in a journal…..it has her worried.

Which is why it remains untouched, laid out on the bathroom counter with Fetu’s letter along with the sonogram photo she received just earlier today. Both pulled from their respective hiding spots in her art room/home library.

Solana is trying to figure all this out while doing her makeup for dinner. A nice, necessary distraction as she spends a little extra time covering up the bruise. The darkness and hyperpigmentation have gone down tremendously, which she’s immensely grateful for. Especially given the fact that Roman hasn’t commented on it in a while. She knows he sees it, can see the slight cringe he still does at the sight,  but his guilt seems to have dwindled moderately, which is deeply appreciated.

Even if it’s because he’s battling a different type of grief now. And it’s staring at the envelope from Fetu that Solana allows herself to really think about if the right time is now. It would be so easy to just give it to him, to not have to have that weight on her shoulders. And maybe she should have done it sooner, done it during his week of depression and dissociation.

But, she was just so worried that it could somehow make things worse. That it was too soon. 

And, it still feels too soon. Solana isn’t entirely sure what the right time is…..but, it doesn’t feel like now.

Maybe….maybe in another week or so. Besides, Fetu trusted her to give Roman the letter, so the older woman must have trusted her judgment….right?

What is and has been the right time for some time now, however, is this pregnancy. Solana can’t keep hiding this from him. He deserves to know. He always deserved to know, and while her intentions were always good, that doesn’t negate the fact that she’s in the wrong.

She needs to tell him.

And, she will.

Tonight.

It still doesn’t sit right with her to spring this on him while he’s still trying to process such a massive loss. But, it’s even more not right to tell his doctor, to attend these appointments, to be ten weeks along, almost three months along and him still be in the dark.

It’s not fair.

He doesn’t deserve that.

And as if on cue, her phone dings with a text from the man of the hour himself.

Roman: I love you

Such simple words that put the biggest, deepest smile on her face. She is quick to respond with reciprocation.

Solana: I love you, too. ❤️

Solana: Everything alright?

She taps her nails against the phone screen, staring at the three dots as he types.

Roman: Yeah.

Roman: Just wanted to say it.

And a sigh of awe leaves her, imagining him saying as such instead of texting it. A softness in his voice and gaze reserved only for her. 

Solana: Well, I’ll never get tired of hearing it. ☺️

Solana: I’m getting ready to head out.

Roman: Okay. Text me when you get there.

Solana: Will do.

Feeling slightly better at having some sense of direction moving forward as well as an unexpected, sweet exchange with her husband, Solana sends a text to Bayley and Naomi to let them know she’s on her way. Eyes glued to the phone, she isn’t paying much or enough attention to the fact that two items slide off the counter and onto the floor as she grabs a single envelope.

Bautista serves as her guard again, not that she has any issue with that. Solo is fine, has been fine, for the most part, since his apology at the gala, but Bautista….there’s something different about him.

Despite his intimidating, frightening presence, there’s a warmth in the older man that vastly contrasts Solo’s coldness. Not to mention his sage words regarding just who she is and the power that title gives her has truly been groundbreaking. It’s something she plans to never forget.

The drive leans on the side of shorter rather than longer, Solana walking into the restaurant, being escorted to the back where Bayley and Naomi wait. As soon as their eyes are on her, they’re standing up, each pulling her in for hugs.

“We’ve been so worried about you,” Naomi whispers in her ear, followed by Bayley’s hug as she straight up asks, “Solana, what the hell has been going on?”

But, it’s only after the waitress comes, takes their orders, and she texts Roman that she’s arrived that the words start to spill out. 

A heavy sigh leaves the mouth of the Tribal Chief’s wife as she sits down in the chair, placing her purse in the other empty chair. A quick glance to the left reveals Bautista sitting at a nearby table. Not too close but close enough where he could act if something were to go down.

“I know….I know I’ve been distant.” Distant seems like not a strong enough word, but it’s the best she’s got in this moment. “And, I’m sorry that I’ve been worrying ya’ll. That wasn’t my intention. There’s just been a lot going on.”

“Like what?” Naomi presses. “Solana, we don’t want to overstep, but the last time we’ve seen you was at training where you had a black eye. That was over two weeks ago with intermittent contact since. You’ve gotta give us something here.”

And Solana knows this. Knows that both of the women sitting across from her only mean well. From day one, they’ve been nothing but kind and supportive. Have only sought to help her as she reclaimed her voice and her life.

She owes them that much.

“I’m gonna tell you guys something, but you can’t say anything to anyone. Not a soul.” She focuses on Naomi. “Not even Jimmy.”

Bayley nods immediately. “Of course.” 

Naomi seems a bit reluctant. “I don’t like keeping things from my husband,” she admits. And Solana can’t and won’t fault her for that. “But, I can see this is important to you, so you have my word. I won’t say a thing.”

And Solana trusts it.

Trusts them.

Closing her eyes, she starts to answer, “Roman had…..he had a nightmare the night of his fight with Drew. Drew said something to him, and it messed with his head. I won’t say what. It’s not my place.” Because it isn’t. Nor is it relevant to the conversation at hand. “It was a bad nightmare, and I was trying to wake him up and when I finally did, he woke up swinging and accidentally hit me. He had no idea what he was doing, and he felt awful afterwards. He even…..he even compared himself to my dad and brother.”

The shocked expressions on their faces match the disgust Solana feels at Roman even being in the same sentence as those two men, let alone the same category.

“So yes, he did technically hit me, but it wasn’t intentional.” Solana finds herself adding, “and that’s why I got so upset, because for all that Roman is and can be, I was frustrated that you guys believed he could ever do something like that to me.”

“You’re right,” Bayley sighs, shaking her head. “I think we just saw the black eye and assumed it was because of what happened with Drew…..” She stops herself, correcting. “It was wrong though, and I’m sorry.”

“We both are,” Naomi agrees. “But, not for worrying about you.”

“Never that,” Bayley chuckles, lifting up her phone with a small smirk. “You’ve had the newbies hitting us up nonstop wondering if we’ve heard from you.”

“Girl, got us all in a group chat and everything called SOSlana.” Naomi proves this by pulling up her phone and sharing her screen where Solana can sure enough see the name of the group chat.

It makes her laugh. A much needed thing. “I know I need to catch up with them too, but ya’ll deserved to speak with me first.” Cause as amazing as Melina, Cam, and Mickie have been, Bayley and Naomi were there first.

The loyalty goes a lot deeper.

“Maybe we can reschedule the girls trip for all of us. Like in two weeks?” Bayley suggests. A glance at Naomi provides a nod of agreement. “Solana?”

Hesitation. On one hand, she’d like to say yes, but on the other, she just doesn’t know. Because something tells her when she tells Roman about the pregnancy tonight, he’s about to be a hell of a lot stricter regarding her outings. And she understands it fully. Understands why her being the pregnant wife of the Tribal Chief means a different layer of protectiveness.

“Let me run it by Roman first,” she finally answers. “He’s….he’s going through something right now, and I need to be there for him.” Not a lie. The absolute truth. 

“Yeah, Jimmy’s been acting kind of off too. I think something’s going on with the Bloodline.” She shakes her head and transitions into elaboration. “Just earlier today, I overheard him arguing with his brothers and dad.”

“Which brothers?” Bayley beats Solana to the punch by asking a very valid question.

“Jey and Solo,” Naomi answers. Solana does her best to maintain a neutral expression, but it’s hard. There’s something almost unsettling about that, though she can’t put her finger on the why. “It didn’t go well. They all ended up basically marching out the house, slamming my doors and everything.”

Curious, Solana can’t stop herself from asking, “did Jimmy tell you what the argument was about?”

A pause. A noticeable pause. “Not really. I’m sure they’ll get it together though.” As Naomi takes a sip of her champagne, Solana does her best not to look or think too deeply about the obvious deflection.

To be fair, Solana is firm about her boundaries regarding certain things discussed between herself and her husband. 

Why can’t Naomi get the same grace? 

Solana is grateful for the arrival of the food, appreciative of the diversion of topics, because Naomi is certainly right. Something is most definitely going on with the Bloodline. A major loss that’s mostly impacted Roman but Jimmy and Jey as well, most likely.

But, Solana can’t and won’t comment on that.

Providing her girls with some insight regarding a bit of what’s been going on is a nice distraction for Solana. Laughter is always good for the soul, and being around her sisters never ceases to bring about a healthy amount of that.

The merriment makes it hard for her to not imagine what their reaction will be to finding out she’s pregnant. The way they’ll absolutely gloat and squeal, especially when they learn that she’s having twins. The baby shower that they’ll plan is destined to be one for the ages. 

And she looks forward to it all. 

But first….. first she must talk to her husband. 

It’s about an hour into dinner when Solana feels her bladder screaming at her to be emptied. “I’ll be right back,” she excuses herself, taking her purse with her for good measure. Mouthing bathroom to Bautista, Solana makes her way to the back, pleased to see that the stalls are all empty. 

There’s such a weird relief at no longer having that pressured feeling, expelling her bladder like she didn’t use the bathroom shortly before leaving the house. 

Frequent urination.

It’s one of the symptoms Dr. Sharmell mentioned she might start seeing soon at this point in her pregnancy.

She wasn’t wrong. 

Flushing the toilet and walking over to the sink, Solana attempts to toss her purse on the counter only for it to go tumbling to the floor, some of the contents falling out. Cursing quietly, she washes her hands first before bending down to stuff the items back in her bag, grateful her phone wasn’t one of the tumbled objects. However, it’s something else that manages to capture her full attention. 

The envelope with her name written on the outside.

Slow hands reach for it, trembling fingers tracing over her name so beautifully signed, her mother’s penmanship something worthy of all the jealousy. But, jealousy isn’t what Solana is feeling in this moment. 

Curiosity is.

A growing feeling gnawing at her that whatever is contained within this envelope needs to be unveiled and read. Needs to be freed after so many years of confinement. And, it makes no sense how Solana went from avoiding doing such a thing to readying to do it in the public restroom at a restaurant.

She knows it’s not the best decision, that it’s bound to make her emotional, make her cry. 

And yet…..the right timing.

Roman is grieving and about to find out that he’s a father. There’s so many layered, complex emotions in that alone that she’s truly lost as to how he’s supposed to manage that and helping her sort through whatever emotions will follow the reading of this letter. It also seems unfair to put that on him when he’s dealing with so much.

But Bayley and Naomi…..they could. They could be her sources of support. They’ve been wanting to be said sources, and maybe, just maybe, it’s time to take them up on that offer.

Solana releases a deep, shaky breath while rising to her feet, taking her purse off the floor with her. Walking over to the door, she turns the lock and moves back over to the counter. Leaning back against the counter, Solana takes one more efficient breath before still trembling fingers carefully pry open the letter. Solana unfolds several sheets of paper.

And she begins to read. 

My Dearest Solana,

If you are reading this letter, then I am no longer living. I wish with everything in me that is not the case, and everything will go according to plan, so that what I am about to write will be told to you from my lips instead of read from this letter.

But, I cannot be naive. I must be realistic and prepare for all outcomes.

Solana, what I am about to tell you is going to be difficult, and you may never forgive me, may even hate me, but please know I never ever intended to hurt you, my sweet girl.

I was 23 years old when I met “Xavier Miller”. He claimed to be in Mexico on sabbatical from work. Said he was a “businessman.” I believed him. I believed everything he told me. All the false hopes he put in my head about bringing me to America and helping me get into medical school so I could become a doctor. Believed him when he said once we got settled, he’d pay for my parents to get passports so that they could visit. I believed it all. He was charming and handsome and kind, and I wanted so deeply to be in love that I fell for it all. 

After three months of us knowing each other, he proposed. I said yes. My parents did not agree. They believed we were rushing things. They were right, but I was too naive. I listened to my heart and only my heart. I fell in love with this man who promised me the world, promised to always love and take care of me. 

I spoke very little English, but he promised to help me learn once we moved to the States. He was adamant about me coming to America with him, said it would open up more doors, specifically helping me achieve my dream of being a doctor. 

And, I was determined, so I married him and came to America.

The decision will forever haunt me.

Our first night as “husband” and “wife” was the first time he raped and beat me. I woke up the next morning bruised and bloody. It was only then I saw the real him for the first time. He told me I would never see my family again, and if I ever tried to contact them or leave him, he would kill me. That same morning is when he informed me of who he really was.

A mafia man.

And right then and there, I knew my life was over.

I will not further traumatize you with details. But, it was...horrific. 

I thought once I gave him a son, which is what he eventually told me he what wanted from the very beginning—a “stupid woman” he could “control” and “breed”--- that he would lessen his cruelty. And, he did, to some extent. 

He allowed me to start volunteering at the hospital, which was truly only because he wanted me away from Wes. He said I would make him “soft.” The same hurtful thing he says about you. 

But, this ended up changing my life, because it was through volunteering that I met someone. His name was Darnell, and he was a medical student doing clinical rotations. Again, I do not wish to sully you with the details, so I will just say it.

I started an affair with Darnell, and I regret nothing, Solana. He was the first man I ever really loved who showed me what it meant to truly be loved by a man. It was dangerous for both of us, and I tried to break it off, tried to tell him what could happen if we were ever caught, but he didn’t care. He wanted to help me find a way out, because he loved me, and I loved him.

But then everything changed when I found out I was pregnant. Initially, I was distraught. Xavier was still raping me, trying to get me pregnant, and the thought of having his child again sickened me.

But, when I went to my appointment and learned how far along I was, I realized that the time I conceived was when Xavier was away on a business trip.

He wasn’t the father.

Darnell was.

And, I was so happy, so overjoyed, my love. You have no idea. 

Throughout the pregnancy, Darnell and I tried to come up with plans. Tried to figure out a way we could escape. Me, Him, Wes, and our babies.

I was pregnant with twins.

But, the closer the time came, the more fearful I became that even if we somehow escaped, Xavier would find us and kill us all. He always threatened to kill me if I tried to take Wes from him. 

So the plan changed to one that broke my heart and Darnell’s, but we agreed it was the safest thing for us to do. We were able to have some of the hospital staff assist us with this plan, which made a world of difference.

It truly did.

When I gave birth to you, I gave birth to your twin brother as well. A brother who Darnell took, while I kept you. And, I told Xavier, who did not come to the hospital until the next day, that my boy didn’t make it. 

He was livid. So angry that he forced the hospital to give me a hysterectomy.

He said I would not “fail” him again.

The plan was for me to wait until you were older, at least one, and then we would try to make the move, but what I didn’t expect was for Xavier’s cruelty towards me to increase. He became significantly worse to the point where it was impossible for me to do anything without him knowing. He refused to allow me to volunteer at the hospital, which cut me off from all the people who were going to help me reunite with Darnell and my other child.

And instead made my life even more of a living hell, but now he was subjecting you to the same treatment.

He always blamed you for the “death” of your brother. That’s why he’s always hated and resented you. Because you “lived” and the boy “did not.” He never wanted daughters. Only sons. 

Solana, I know this is a lot. I know that I am putting so much on you, and I am so sorry, my love. There is just so much you need and deserve to know, and I just have to make sure you know one way or another.

It was selfish of me to keep you. I should have let Darnell take the both of you, but I always wanted a daughter. Wanted to have a piece of him with me as well. But, my selfishness subjected you to all kinds of horror, and I’m so so sorry, mija. 

But, Darnell is your father. And, you have a twin brother. And if all goes to plan tomorrow, you, me, Wes, your real father and your other brother will finally be able to be a family. You’ll have the family you always deserved but I deprived you from.

And words cannot express how sorry I am, my sweet Sol. Because the fact of the matter is that I was being selfish. It was selfish and wrong of me to not let you go with your father, to keep you in an abusive household with an abusive man.

It was wrong, and I am sorry.

But…

In the event something goes wrong, I just needed you to know the truth. Because if something happens to me, I need to make sure you at least know where you really come from.

And that’s not Nina Miller and Xavier Miller. 

It’s Darnell Adams and Alma Escobar.

My name is not Nina.

It’s Alma.

Alma Escobar. 

Xavier made me change my identity when I came here to avoid my family finding me. And, it worked, because Xavier also lied about his name when we first met. He made it up. It was all a part of his plan to get me in America and make me his slave. 

It’s why my family was probably never able to find me. They were looking up one name that never existed and another name that would never exist again.

But, that brings me to my next part. 

My mother’s name is Paloma Escobar, and my father’s name is Ricardo Escobar. I have two uncles: Bernardo and Tomas.

If I have the chance and this plan works, I will finally take you and your brothers to Isla Mujeres to meet your family. You deserve that much and so much more. 

Again, this is so so much to drop on you, mija, but I don’t have much time. 

Solana, that is why I have always called you “my Sol.” Because phonetically, Sol sounds like “soul,” which is what my real name really means. YOU are my soul and an extension of myself, just infinitely better.

Never forget, my amazing girl, that you are smart and beautiful and kind and have such a pure soul. You must never forget any of that.

And one day, you are going to grow into a beautiful young woman, find a kind young man who loves and treats you the way you deserve, and you will be an amazing mother. 

And that, my love, will be your happy ending.

I pray to God that I will live to see all of this, be around for all of it, but if I am not, know that I loved you infinitely in this life and will continue to love you infinitely in the next.

Forever your Hummingbird,

Alma 

Breathing.

A simple, easy thing that’s suddenly impossible for Solana. She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t compute any of what she’s just read. Only one sentence of so many shell-shocking revelations circulates in her head, thudding against her consciousness.

Xavier wasn’t her father.

He wasn’t her father. 

There’s so many things embedded and included in this confession of sorts, but that’s the one thing Solana can’t seem to pull away from.

The man who was responsible for the murder of her mother and her attempted murder was not her real father.

The man who was responsible for her rape was not her real father.

The man who almost beat her to death and threatened to finish the job was not her real father. 

The man who she so desperately wanted to love her like fathers should love daughters but never could. And not just because he was incapable of love. No. It was because he wasn’t her real father.

Solana almost stumbles to the ground, one hand going behind her to hold onto the counter to keep her upright.

This….this was a mistake.

She should have never read this letter.  

Ever.

Feeling on the verge of a panic attack, she releases the papers and places a hand over her chest, closing her eyes, and working to regulate herself. She manages to pull from the coping skills learned in therapy as she tries to find some anchor of sorts to keep her grounded instead of drowning in the panic that threatens to overtake her.

Too much.

It’s just too much to process.

Too much to sit on. 

She just can’t.

Solana is sniffling, silent tears running down her face as she places her other free hand on her belly. She can’t fall apart. Not right now. Not like this. And not with the babies growing in her belly. 

They need her to pull it together. To be strong. 

Needing a reminder of sorts, she digs through her purse with wobbly hands for the photo that depicts the two tiny lives growing inside of her. 

There’s only one problem. 

The sonogram photo isn’t in her purse.

Solana’s glossy eyes scan the floor to see if she somehow missed it, only for that to come back a deadend given the emptiness of the pristine tile. 

Solana frantically digs through her purse once more realizing the photo isn’t the only thing missing.

So is Fetu’s letter.

And now yet another massive weight is dropped onto her chest with the terrifying realization of what she’s done.

“Oh no….” Trembling hands fold back up the sheets and stuff them back into the envelope that she shoves in her bag. Solana’s legs can’t move fast enough as she unlocks and rips the door open, making her way over to that table where Bayley and Naomi are laughing. 

It’s when their gaze lands on her, however, that the laughter dies down. “Solana, what’s—”

“I have to go,” she interrupts, unable and partially uninterested in offering the truth as to why. Because she can’t. She can barely fucking think straight right now, let alone try to explain the magnitude of what just happened.

What could happen if she doesn’t get home. 

Fast.

Bayley is the one to push. “Wait, Solana, you can’t just—”

“Please,” she begs, eyes watering. “It’s….it’s Roman. I have to get home.” Not a lie, just an answer that probably insinuates a severity that does not equate to the actuality of the situation. Or, maybe it does. “I’ll….I’ll explain later, but I have to go now.” 

Naomi and Bayley share a look, clearly not liking this sudden shift in energy, and Solana can’t blame them. However, she can’t focus on that right now. Not when her world has just been turned upside down.

“Okay,” Naomi concedes with a sigh, “but at least text us when you get home.”

“I will.” That much Solana can promise. Hopefully. “Thank you.” Both women only answer with a nod as Solana gestures to Bautista. “Come on.”

Wordlessly, he gets up and leads her out of the restaurant. 

Solana is a nervous wreck the entire drive home. Knee bouncing, heart racing, intermittent tears. This is not how she expected this day to go. It’s almost too unbelievable to be true.

There’s too many things for her to sit on and sift through. Her pregnancy. Fetu dying. Her mother’s letter. Now this?

Solana wipes at her eyes. It’s just all too much. And the fact that trying to call Roman only led to the phone ringing two times before going straight to voicemail only makes things infinitely worse.

Roman has never sent her to voicemail before. 

The drive to the mansion is really only a matter of fifteen minutes, but it feels so much longer. Torturously longer.

The SUV is barely in park before she’s whipping the door open and running towards the house, heels in one hand because she can’t have any sort of interference. 

“Roman!” She calls out his name the minute she steps foot inside of their home only to be met with silence.

And for that brief second, there’s relief. A respite from all the heaviness as she rushes up the stairs, ready to grab the letter and photo off the bathroom counter to hide them again before he gets home.

Before he finds out the two major secrets she’s been sitting on without her being able to tell him herself.

But, that’s a short lived fantasy, one that’s killed the moment she’s standing in the doorway of their master bedroom.

“No….”

Solana drops her shoes at the sight of her husband sitting on the side of their bed, facing the door, papers in hand, a now opened envelope beside him along with a photo.

The sonogram.

Her heart breaks.

“Roman, I—”

“Solana.” 

Never.

 Never has she heard her name leave his mouth with such anger and disgust. The same anger and disgust that’s written all over his handsome face as he asks, point, blank, period, “what the hell is going on?”

[a-b-riddle]

Part 7

Can't stop thinking about how the 141 met reader

(she's a long one. not entirely happy with it either so may edit later)

No harm done yet.

You never saw Simon actually hurt anyone. Johnny and Kyle would share stories about poor recruits who fucked around and eventually found out that Simon had no issue beating them within an inch of their life.

You knew he had a reputation and, like the rest of them, had blood on his hands. But it never bothered you. Didn't make you think twice about loving him or seeing him as the protector he had always been to you. To be frank, you could never actually picture any of them being violent.

But his voice... Fuck. His voice. It fucking rattled you. You actually feared for those fucking idiots now. Sure, they deserved to have their asses kicked, but an ass-kicking was probably going to be a welcomed after thought to whatever Simon would do.

You rinsed off, not bothering to wash your hair, but needing to wash up before getting in the bed. Hoping the scalding hot water washed away the uneasiness on your skin that had began to settle into your bones.

Even feeling fresh and laying in clean sheets, you still found yourself tossing and turning wondering exactly what did Simon do?

Did he walk away? Realizing you weren't worth the trouble, did he just tell them to knock it off?

You had stupidly expected Simon to check in. To check if you made it home alright or at least to let you know he was okay. So you waited... And you waited. You had half a mind to call him yourself before remembering it wasn't your place anymore to care. You had cared enough for the five of you.

It was well past two in the morning before you finally called it a night.

The next morning, still nothing from Mr. Riley. Not a 'did you home alright?' or 'are you okay?' text. Nada. Zilch.

Whatever.

Fuck him.

You had to open up shop, but luckily your Saturday mornings were much more relaxed. The shop wouldn't be open until 10, so you had the time to sleep in and enjoy the morning.

By noon, Mere had sent you several texts reminding you that you had promised to go out. You had tried to dissuade her. The encounter with those men last night had brought back sour memories. One involving handsome men coming to your rescue when it was most certainly needed.

You had tried to bail. Giving her any excuse you could: Last night put you on edge. You no longer wanted to go out. After last weekend, you just needed some down time.

Eventually you had realized she was not taking no for an answer after she had shown up to your apartment, already ready for a night out.

"You're not wearing that, are you?" Mere asked. Mere was in her usual Saturday femme-fatal attire. The black leather pants that accentuated her curves and red corset paired well with her freshly box dyed color black hair.

She looked more like a dominatrix than someone who worked at an attorney's office. Even if both professions included bending someone over and fucking them for all their worth. You wondered who would charge more by the hour....

You had pulled out a off white lace square neck top and a pair of high waisted medium washed baggy jeans. A perfectly cute outfit for a night out. Which was your defense when she had suggested you needed to change.

Tab had arrived later than expected (something about a system being down at work), but made up for it by bringing a pre-game snack. Yes, you had officially reached the age where you no longer starved yourself hours before going out to get more drunk quicker and cheaper. No you had to eat carbs or else you wouldn't be able to leave your room the next day as you pathetically nurse a hangover.

Tab wore a denim skirt. If you could even call it that. It paired well with the white tank top that you could make out the shape of her nipple piercing.

But they looked hot. Really hot.

"This is a perfectly acceptable outfit."

"For a day at market, not for trying to get laid."

"I don't want to get laid." You said, rummaging through your closet, yet again. "Getting laid is what got me in this mess in the first place."

A little over two years ago

"Fuck him." Tabitha wrapped her arms around your shaking body as you continued to sob. "He was a prick who didn't fucking deserve you."

"He couldn't even get you to cum." Mere felt the need to remind you as if that would somehow lessen the blow of your heartbreaking into a million shards. The shrapnel feeling like it would kill you.

"I loved him," your voice is small. "I fucking loved him." You had been dating for almost three years. You had his grandmother's ring on your fucking hand for God's sake. "I'm so stupid."

"You are not stupid." Tabitha gave you a squeeze. "He was a liar and a fucking coward." Meredith rubbed her thumb on you bare leg, offering physical reassure. Letting you know even if she wasn't the hugger Tabs was, she was still here.

"You can't keep locked up in this apartment." She was unfortunately right. You had not only barricaded yourself in your apartment for two weeks, but you hadn't returned to your bedroom. The scene of the crime. "You need to get out."

"Yeah," Tabitha rubbed your arm as if trying to coax you out your metaphorical shell. "Get some fresh air. We can go grab a treat. Maybe go out for some coffee." It didn't surprise you that Tabitha was offering a treat to entice you to leaving your sanctuary.

"I was thinking going to a bar." It also didn't surprise you that Mere offered her way of coping. Getting so drunk that you forgot what you even sad about. Or going out and finding someone to fuck the sadness out of her.

"Because getting alcohol in her system in this state is just what she needs." Tabitha was the mom of the group whereas Mere was the fun drunk aunt. They balanced one another out.

"Actually," you said, giving a pathetic sniffle. "Going out would be nice." Getting away from the apartment is what you need. And going out would be the excuse you would need to get yourself all dolled up.

What you hadn't planned for was getting so pissed that you had manage to breakaway from your friends. Searching for them in teh crowd of people. Failing and when you pulled out your phone were met with a completely black screen.

Dead. Perfect.

The same moment you swore the night couldn't get any worse, it did.

He looked the same. Same as he been four months ago when he asked you to become his wife. Same as he had been two weeks ago when you had caught him fucking another girl. The girl he told you not to worry about. The girl he insisted was just one of the guys. A girl you had told him time and time again would fuck him the moment she had the chance.

It wasn't always great to be right.

When your eyes connected, your body had went into immediate flight mode. Every neuron in your body was shooting out signals of RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN. So that's exactly what you did.

You fucking bolted.

Or felt like you bolted. But you could only scurry so fast in chunky heels while simultaneously pulling down your skirt that had decided to ride up. Aching to show your ass for all of London to see.

You had made it a quarter of the way back to your apartment. Your feet aching. Toes pinched together from the strap digging into them.

"Baby, please!" You heard him before you felt his arm clamp down on your shoulder. Hard. When did his touch become something heavy? Something that practically burned you.

You turned. Eyes brimming with unshed tears as you hissed at him to leave you the fuck alone. The begging came, but you turned around. Determined to go home. He didn't deserve the chance to explain himself and he could most certainly shove his apology up his ass.

He wouldn't shut up. Insisting it was a mistake. A one time thing her fault. How she seduced him. As if he were the victim in all of this. You weren't buying it. Not for one moment. One doesn't accidentally invite some slut over and fall balls deep into her while they are in the same bed he shares with his fiancée.

It wasn't until you were in a more dimly lit area that he had gotten the nerve to grab you. His grip was firm on your arms as he held you in place. "Listen to me!" His voice was panicked.

The feeling of anger slowly began to dim as something else began to rise.

Fear.

You were afraid.

You were in a part of town not many people were out and about in at this time of night. No bystanders to really take note of the scene, or at least not any caring enough to stand by and watch; even for entertainment.

Your friends didn't know where you were at and you were tipsy. And alone.

"Cardan," you swallowed, trying to steady your voice. "Please let me go."

"Not until you talk to me," his fingers dug into you. "We can work this out, okay? It was one mistake." He tried to argue, his voice rising, soaked in desperation. "What's one mistake compared to three years?"

"Cardan," you tried to pull away, his grip only tightening. "You're hurting me." It came out as a pathetic whimper. You were so close to crying, too afraid to scream.

"Hey!" A voice barked from behind you. It caused your whole body to stiffen."Get your fucking hands off her. Someone noticed. Someone was here. Someone was here. Someone was here.

"We are having a conversation." Cardan's eyes left you, looking at whoever stood behind you.

"The lass said to leave her be." Another voice. Someone else. Two (three if you counted yourself, but in that moment you couldn't) people against one. There was no a possibility of you getting the fuck out of this situation.

Cardan stood firm. His eyes looking past you. A silent refusal to back down.

"Either you let her go," another voice. Another accent different that the first two. "Or we fucking make you."

"One against four. Odds aren't in your favor, mate." Four. Four men stood behind you. Faceless strangers there to help you.

"This doesn't concern you." Cardan bit out.

"Aye," Scottish. The second guy was definitely Scottish. "I think it does if she's tellin' ye' to piss off and yer bein' a bawbag about it."

"So what'll it be?" The third voice, deep and threatening, yet still so... calming. As if the vibrations from his deep, rich pitch washed over you.

Cardan looked back at you, his eyes not as manic. He realized he didn't have a chance. This was a fight he had to walk away from or else he wouldn't be walking away from it at all. "I'll swing by tomorrow, okay?" He asked.

You couldn't do anything, but nod. Agree that you could talk tomorrow in the safety of the sunlight. Eventually he walked across the street before fading out into the night. Blending in with the shadows.

You turned around to meet your would-be saviors.

Four men. All slightly older than you and so handsome you felt foolish for gawking at them as if this were your first time seeing a man. Hell, maybe it was. At least specimens like this. All of them tall and broad. Towering over you.

No wonder Cardan got the fuck out of there. Tabs was right. He was a coward.

"You alright?" The one who first spoke up asked. You could place his voice. Now just needed to place the other three. He had a hearty mustache and mutton chops. A look on any one else would make you immediately get the ick. But for a moment you wondered if that mustache would tickle... "Do you need us to call anyone?"

You felt your cheeks flush with heat.

"I just want to go home." You said. "Thank you for stepping in. I don't know what would have-" You stopped. Too afraid to think about the possibilities. There was a time you would never believe that Cardan had the ability to hurt you.

There was also a time you believed he would never cheat. You weren't really sure what to believe anymore. "Anyway," you continued. "Thank you again." You turned on your heel before continuing your stride.

You had only made it several feet before you were stopped again. "Which way? One of us can walk you home." You weren't entirely sure. But with a dead cellphone and a unhinged ex probably lurking in the shadows, there was little time to weigh the pros and cons before giving them a general direction of where you lived.

Which just so happened to be the direction in which two of the four lived. The Scot and one of the two who had yet to speak. The first one, who had still yet to introduce himself instructed the two of them to drop you off and let him know you had made it home alright.

You had hoped that the rest of your night would be met with silence, but the Scot couldn't seem to help himself. "I'm Johnny." He introduced. "And the spooky, silent type is Simon." He gave a playful wink. You gave him your name, not wanting to be rude.

"Not my place to ask," he began. "But what was the deal with that fucker? Ex-boyfriend?"

"Johnny." Simon's tone held warning. You appreciated the defense, but frankly didn't care. These were strangers. Who cared what they thought.

"Ex-fiancée," you clarified. "One who decided to fuck another girl in my bed. Not even our bed. My bed."

"Jesus fucking Christ," the Scot swore. "I was right. He was a fucking bawbag." For whatever reason, that made you laugh. For the first time in two weeks you fucking laughed. And it felt like you were breathing again.

Simon was quiet, not contributing to the conversation and just letting Johnny babble. Talking your ear off in a short trek as if it were an olympic sport.

You were so distracted with his voice you hadn't realized how far you had made it until the sound of your keys clattering onto your kitchen counter brought you back.

Back to a situation you didn't know how the fuck you landed in.

Two men (who you don't know) are in your apartment. Your friends don't know where you are. You are a little bit too inebriated to plan and exit strategy. Doesn't exactly help your confidence in fighting them off since they are built like fucking brick houses.

"He won't come sniffin' around here botherin' ya, will he?" Simon asks, speaking for only the second time since he had threatened Cardan. You shake your head.

"No," you said. "I have him blocked on everything. So I think when he saw me tonight it was just kind of an opportunity, I suppose?" You offer. Cardan had showed up to your place one time with a random assortment of flowers and a useless apology you had to hear through the door as you covered your mouth. Concealing your cries. Too afraid to let him know you were there.

Too afraid that some part of you would be weak enough to take him back.

"We'll leave ye' be." Johnny said, nodding his head toward the door. "But if he comes bein' a shite to ye again, you can give us a call."

"Phones dead." You explain, holding up your phone as if you needed to prove yourself. Johnny offered the brilliant, yet simple solution of giving him your number. He sent off a text, knowing it would be there when you turned back on and promising to check in later.

They both gave subtle nods of goodbye before turning away.

And just like that, they left. The door clicking softly shut behind them. You stood, frozen for several beats before walking over and locking the door.

You plugged your phone into the charging cable, waiting until it lit back to life before shooting off a text in your group chat with Tab and Mere.

Sorry I took off. Ran into Cardan and fucking made a dash for it. Sorry if I worried you. I'm at home. I'm okay. Grab lunch tomorrow and we can talk about it? My treat?

You signed off the text with a heart emoji and turned your phone on do not disturb. Too afraid of your friends going all Mama Bear on you for running away while drunk. Even if your reasons were valid.

You had texted Johnny again. Not because Cardan dared to bother you again, but to thank him. Acknowledging that not many men would have done for you what he and his friend did. Johnny assured you it wasn't anything.

Before you knew it, the two of you were hanging out with Simon always tagging along. It took you a while to realize he did actually like you, but his stoic nature was just who he was. You had met Kyle and John, both as charming and respectful as Johnny and Simon.

John had been the first two mention wanting to take you on a date. It didn't go well with the other three. They all had the same intention and a rock, paper, scissors tournament seemed to juvenile to figure out who got the privilege in courting you. Eventually, they had decided to ask you.

Putting you on the spot to answer the question that had begun to tear them apart: which one of them will it be?

Johnny made you laugh. He was the first person you thought about calling when your day was a bit grey. He saw the positive in everything and was the one who made you feel like even the bad days weren't so terrible.

Then there was Simon. The one who you felt like was your safe place in body and mind. You would babble all day talking to him, thankful when he would let you rant. Your mind was able to go on auto-pilot in terms of safety because you knew Simon would handle it. He also gave the best hugs.

John was the one who instilled the confidence in you that you needed. Your bookstore, your writing, whatever aspirations you had, no matter how wild, John would support it. Nothing was too big. After you all started dating, he was the first person you ever let read your book. He gave you praise as well as critique, pointing out multiple plot holes and helping you craft it better. And never once taking credit for it, even when it was due.

Kyle was the most thoughtful one. He was the one who knew you liked trying knew things so he made an effort to always make date nights interesting. A new restaurant, a new activity or experience. He was the biggest giver of the group.

So when they did ask you, you answered honestly.

"I can't choose." They insisted that you didn't need to spare their feelings, but you stood firm in your decision. "No. I can't choose. I'm interested in all of you." When they pressed on why the fuck you didn't say anything earlier, you told them to avoid this kind of situation. Where you had to choose. You were fine continuing on as just friends if that meant you got to keep all of them.

Mere and Tabs were great friends, but they are the ones who helped pull you out of the slump. The ones who made you feel lovable. The ones who made you feel like a woman again.

"Helloooooo." Mere's hand waved in your face while another held something she had found in your closet. "So are you going to change or not?" Your eyes darted to the skimpy glittery black dress. The same one for your first date with them. Your stomach twisted as you took the sparkly dark fabric in your hand.

You nodded as if trying to shake the memory out of your mind. "I'll change and we can go." Better just to get it over with.

The place that Mere had dragged you to was a club that played music that you would only listen to while encapsulated in the aroma of cheap liquor and sweat. Your outfit form-fitting. The material too stiff to be comfortable, but it was cute. The hem of your dress coming to rest just below your ass cheeks. Hugging your body in a way that made you feel self conscious the moment you stepped out of your building.

Mere had run into some work colleagues. Names you couldn't and wouldn't remember. There had been a high profile divorce going on. Very messy. She had been so encapsulated by the gossip that she hadn't notice you and Tabitha had slipped off toward the bar.

Tabitha insisted on shots and you needed something to get your mind off the less than exciting night. Your expectations weren't high, but fuck. You would have been much more comfortable wearing the jeans. You felt like a piece of fucking meat. It would have been so bad if someone were gonna buy you a dr-

"This seat taken?" It was a cliche introduction attached to a slightly better than average face. Decent enough where it didn't hurt to look at him, but not attractive enough to be a seat.

"By all means," you said turning back to Tabitha who looked at the guy now sitting to your left and raising her eyebrows. Fucking hell. Not her too.

"It's pretty packed tonight." He commented, attempted to make small talk. You hated small talk. At least unless it came to Johnny who would get into discussion on politics, religion and why on the side was the best way to fuck because it gave him 'a perfect view of the front and back of ye.'

"You come here often?" You asked, not wanting to be a total bitch, but having absolutely zero desire to be entertaining him.

"When I can." He said. "I prefer the Artifact a couple of blocks down. Not many people heard of it. A bit of a hole-in-the-wall place." Oh cool. A fucking hipster who liked to act superior at knowing a place that is underground. You could feel any possibility of getting your pussy wet, dry at the thought of this man actually wanting to come onto you.

Jesus, when did you become so harsh.

I blame Simon.

"Oh," you say, no longer interested in entertaining the conversation. "Sounds lovely. My friend and I just came out for a bit of girl-" you turn to look at Tabitha who had somehow miraculously disappeared in the 45 fucking seconds that your back was turned....

Little bitch.

"Bathroom, I suppose." He laughed. It was the sincerity in his voice that irked you. God, why was he pissing you off just trying to start a conversation?

"I suppose." You gave a soft smile back, turning once the bartender had come over to grab your order. Which the stranger next to you had insisted buying. Nothing quite as arousing as obligated conversation.

"There's no need for that-"

"Percival." He introduced. "But my friends call me Percy." Your immediate thought was who the fuck names there kid Percival. The second was to offer him a fake name. Real enough to be believable, but fake enough where if he tried to search you up on any social media, you could just deny having any.

"I hate to be brash," he started. Then don't. "But I can't imagine a girl like you being single."

"Not really looking for anything romantic at the moment." You say, the first time you've been truthful this entire conversation. Percival leaned in closer, before asking in a low voice that he was doubt trying to convey as sexy, "Are you sure?"

And there it was. The final ick that nailed the coffin shut.

You offered in a soft smile before swallowing hard. "Percival,"

"My friends call me-"

"I'm going to be frank." Your voice is soft, as if explaining to a small child why we don't always get the things we want. "I just got of a very long and deep and meaningful relationship and the idea of being near another man in any intimate or emotional capacity wants me to cause very serious bodily harm to said man."

His expression fell.

"I appreciate your confidence in coming over here and making small talk, but if you're wanting to fuck me or even attempt to be friends, I must inform you that is no only not in the cards, but not in your best interest." You turned, downing the rest of your cocktail.

"Time for a trip to the bathroom myself, I suppose." You stood from your seat, having to readjust your dress.. "Have a good night."

You were washing your hands when a red-faced Mere walked into the bathroom. Tabitha on her heels with a concerned expression.

"What did you do?" Mere asked.

"What are you talking about?" You asked. You had half a mind to ask them why the fuck they pulled a disappearing act after insisting you go out.

"You told Percy you would castrate him?" You looked as if you had been slapped. The pieces falling into place to reveal a totally fucked up puzzle.

"You fucking tried to set me up." You seethed, a finger pointing accusingly.

"Well, fuck, what did you expect me to do?" She asked. "You were sulking."

"Listen to me!" You cried. "I want you to listen to me. I was with them for two years. It hasn't even been two weeks and you're going behind my fucking back and trying to set me up with fucking Percival? How the fuck do you even know him? Do you even know him?" She ignored your last question. How convenient.

"I thought it would be good to get it out of your system." She tried to defend, her pissyness now matching yours. "You always do this. I was just trying to help."

"What do you mean 'I always do this'?" Your eyes turned into slits.

"Why don't we just calm down and-" Tabitha tried to stop the escalation. Mere, very obviously, ignored that cue.

"You get so hung up on a guy, or in this case guys, it takes you fucking weeks to recover." You stare at her. Unsure if she was really comprehending the bullshit that had come out of her mouth.

"I'm certain you aren't trying to make me feel bad for grieving a relationship that I was in for over three years to a man I was engaged to. To find him fucking in my apartment, in my bed the same week I was going to get my wedding dress."

"It's not just Cardan," she went on. "Issac in our second year of school?" You gave a humorless chuckle.

"Oh yes," you said condescendingly, "the boy I had dated from 14-years old- until I was 19. The boy I gave my virginity two months before he told me he was not only not interested in me, but women in general." As if that somehow lessened the blow. "Absolutely shouldn't have bothered me a bit."

"You only went out for classes and food for two months!" She said as if you had hit a pedestrian with your car. As if you were a fool for being so distracted by a breakup you couldn't be bothered to carry on with life as normal.

"I'm sorry that I actually take the time to grieve my relationships." You said. "I forgot that it may be hard for either of you to comprehend what a relationship is like considering the only relationship either of you have is with your work or with each of us."

"Hey!" Tabitha said. "I understand your pissed, but there isn't need to attack us like this."

"Attack you?" You asked. "Attack you? This isn't me attacking you. This is me responding to an uncomfortable situation that you put me in. I told you I didn't want to even think about me. I didn't want to fuck someone else and you go and do this?"

"He seems like a decent guy." You roll your eyes.

"Probably why he's not your type, right?" Mere crossed her arms over chest. Eyebrow arched as if she were hoping the words enticed you to realize that you had a history of going after the wrong guys.

Unfortunately, it did not.

You sucked on your teeth, carefully choosing your words before World War III broke out in a nearly vacant bathroom in South London. You took a deep breath. Calming yourself as best as you could.

Before saying fuck it and letting it loose.

"Just because your idea of coping is getting drunk and fucking someone you plan on never speaking to again, quite literally discarding them like trash, doesn't mean the rest of us cope the same way." You hoped it hurt. You hope it stung the same way she had tried to sting you.

You had hoped that your word would be the final blow before both sides called a treaty.

"You mean like they did you?"

And just like that, you heart stuttered. A rapid dum dum dum in your chest as it had been tripped up by her words. The truth in them heavy. The shift in the air was almost immediate;.

"Sweetheart-" Tabitha had tried to reach out before you jerked away.

"Enjoy your night." You said, grabbing your purse where you had left it by the sink. "I'm going to go home and wallow in my self pity." You exited the bathroom, hearing your named called again before shifting it into gear and getting the fuck out of there.

Weaving through the sea of bodies like water flowing around rocks.

Who the fuck cares if you want to cry? To grieve? To be angry? To get closure? To move on? Who cares if you don't want to be the girl who gets her heart shattered and not fuck somone else? Who wants to feel the comfort of a familiar body, a touch that feels safe one last time before you go back into a world where you will only be touched by a stranger?

It didn't matter that you were the one to breakup with them, even if the relationship was broken. It's foundation cracked.

What did matter is that the people who should have supported you and in the way you were dealing with your loss in your own way, didn't. And that's the part that they seem to forget. It is a loss. It's mourning someone who hasn't died. Someone who is still living, yet still no longer there.

"Off already?" Percy cut in the way, blocking your escape. You weren't in the mood.

"Listen-" you started before he cut you off.

"Not anything romantic, I know," he raised his hands as if in defense, "but maybe like another drink or a dance?"

You closed your eyes, wanting to hold off starting a scene and tearing him a new asshole. "Like I said, not. interested." How much clearer could you spell it out?

"Come on." He said, his hand coming to rest on your hip. The grip on it weak. You were by no means the type of woman that could take on a man like the ones you still held in a chamber of your heart. But you could most certainly handle your own against Percival. "I'm asking for a dance. After what Meredith told me, I figured you'd be down for at a little more than that."

"I don't follow." Your blood ran cold. Your heart praying that any assumptions that were running through your mind were wrong, they were wrong.

"She mentioned you having a group of like guys you fucked, but stopped fucking." He shrugged, offering a coy smile that you ached to wipe off with the back of your hand. "I don't judge. It's kind of hot honest. Did they run train or-" You felt it then. His hand had traveled from your hip to the curve of your ass.

And you froze. You froze like a coward. Too afraid to speak or scream. Too ashamed to push him away, cause a scene.

But you didn't need to do any of that.

In an instant, Percy's hand was off of you. It took you a moment to realize that a figure dressed in black stood beside you. Your own personal grim reaper.

"Put him go!" You pleaded, breaking out of your trance. You took hold of his arm putting all of your body weight on his arm, trying to break his hold. He didn't falter.

You could handle you own against Percy.

But Simon could fucking kill him without breaking a sweat.

You looked at Simon's face. His eyes were darkened. The soft brown you had once loved staring into were now almost black. You could even make out the dark circles, even in the unsettling flickering of strobe lights in the club.

"You touch her again and I'll slit your fucking throat. Understood?" Pure venom fell from Simon's lips, but you knew he wasn't lying. Simon was the type of man who didn't say something he didn't mean.

You knew that all too well.

Percy choked out an ineligible, gurgled response as Simon's hand held firm on his throat. "He understands, goddammit, no let him down!" You ordered hitting at him as if it would stop him. "Simon, please!"

It was only when you said his name, did Simon loosen his grip. Letting Percy drop to a heap on the floor before he started a having a coughing fit, trying to suck in as much air as he could.

Simon looked down at you and the exit before scooping you up and hauling you over his shoulder like a sack of flower.

You wanted to die. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die and never show your face again.

"Get in the car." He at least had the decency to open the door for you. Simon wasn't a flashy man, by any means, but he was still a man. A men did love their cars.

He stood, waiting for you but you didn't move. You glared up at him. He had carried you out of there in the most humiliating way possible. You had to fight against the hemline of your dress or else everyone would have gotten an eyeful.

Hand still on the door, he leaned down, getting closer and closer to your height. "You get your ass in this car right now," his breath warm against your ear. "Or I'll have you over my fuckin' knee." His tone was sharp. It wasn't seduction in form of a threat. It wasn't even a threat.

It was a promise.

"We're over." You reminded.

"Do you think that'll fuckin' stop me from spankin' some sense into your bratty ass?"

"It doesn't give you the right to fucking do that to people, Simon!" You huffed. "You could have killed in."

"Could have," he agreed. "But didn't. You're welcome." he nodded toward the car. "Now, in you go or I'll do it here. You already know I don't mind an audience."

The heated seats were a bit to warm for your liking against your bare ass. The tension in the air was uncomfortable. Your hands ached to touch the radio. Anything to stop the silence between the two of you.

"I got home fine the other night by the way." You said, looking out the window, hoping to make him feel like shit for not checking in like he should have.

"I know you did."

"What do you mean you know I did?" You asked, turning to look at him. He shrugged as if it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, not stopping.

"Just did." Was his only answer.

"Are you fucking stalking me, Riley?" That made him laugh. You would have felt better if there was at least a sense of humor in it, but, instead, only disbelief.

"Oh, Riley now, is it?" He asked.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be." You caught it. A very small slip, but it was something... something you couldn't place.

"Then why?" You ask, your tone softening. "For someone who makes it very apparent to be done with me, you sure do show up at convenient times. Hard not to think your keeping tabs on me."

He didn't say anything. No explanation or excuse. Not evena smart ass comeback or remark.

His hands reached forward and turned on the radio, turning the volume just loud enough that if you were to try and continue the conversation, your words would be drowned out.

He pulled up in front of your building, yet you made no move to get out. You turned off the radio, soaking in the silence once more. You wanted to know why? Why was he appearing out of nowhere like a fucking ghost? Why was he helping you?

He sighed before putting the car in park and stepping out. Coming around to your side he opened the door. "Get inside. Go to bed." There he was again. Fucking bossing you around as if he still had a say.

You wanted to cuss him out. To spew hateful words just as he did you.

But you didn't.

You were tired.

So fucking tired. And the idea of going to bed did sound pretty good in that moment. You made it to the door of your building before he spoke again. "And if you need to out at this time at night call a goddamn cab."

"Why?" You asked, turning around. "Getting tired of having to follow me around on foot, Si?"

There was a pregnant pause. Neither of you speaking. His body shifted forward, as if contemplating getting closer to you. As if the pull you once had was still there.

With his eyes trained on you, you felt a chill run down your spine. Twice you had seen that look on Simon's face before. The look that he had given the figures concealed in the shadows last night. The same look he had given Percy.

Only this time, it was directed at you.

One that personified the saying, 'if looks could kill.'

"Because," he growled out, "the next time I find someone else touching you that way, I'll fucking kill them."

[as-rare-as-trees]

Why go to bed early, when you can't bring yourself to wake up early anyway

[chaoticace2005]

Rules for the Hazbin Hotel, authored by Vaggie:

1. No drugs.

2. No fights.

3. No pranks.

4. No problematic language.

5. No murder (OR TERRITORIAL GENOCIDE WHAT THE FUCK ANGEL)

6. No smuggling in of drugs. Not by sticking them up your ass. Or by hiding them in a pizza box. Or by slingshotting them to the roof. Or getting someone else to. Not at all.

7. No sexual rendezvous with outsiders in the hotel. No SHOWING sexual rendezvous with strangers to people of the hotel either.

8. Make sure the pig/future pets stay in the patron’s room. (This includes eggs!!)

9. No singing Limit singing to once twice per day

10. Stop flirting with the bartender Angel

11. Don’t call Husk “Husker” unless he allows it.

12. No harassing the staff at all. This includes asking who tops.

13. Don’t suggest anything sexual/romantic to Alastor unless you want your head cut off.

14. NO CUTTING OFF PEOPLE’S HEADS

15. NO EATING PEOPLE

16. NO MAKING CHARLIE CRY.

17. Don’t ask me to put my spear “inside you” Angel, what the fuck?

18. Don’t turn the interior of the hotel into a swamp?! Keep it contained in your room if you must!

19. No stabbing staff or residents. No matter how much they look like bugs! (OR IF THEYRE NAME IS ANGEL)

20. Don’t try and stab bugs if they’re within 10 feet of another demon.

21. Don’t call anyone a “bitch” OR TALK ABOUT HOW MY NAME SOUNDS LIKE “VAGINA”

22. Limit Niffty’s access to sharp objects.

23. NO DEALS ALASTOR

24. No drinking. Limit drinking at bar.

25. No mentioning the Stock Market Crash of 1929. For everyone’s benefit.

26. Don’t blow a hole in the wall.

27. Try to keep roast battles OUTSIDE the hotel. (Or stop picking fights?? Please Alastor I swear to God…)

28. No spying on the hotel for outside sources or putting technology that can be used against us.

29. No evil laughing in the middle of the night, what the fuck Alastor?

30. No building weapons/war machines.

31. No eggs! (Fine the eggs can stay.)

32. Someone please keep an eye on Niffty. (And the eggs.)

33. Stop touching people ANGEL.

34. Don’t make other people storm off HUSK.

35. Respect boundaries.

36a. If Angel looks like he’s about to pass out/cry don’t comment. Let him do his thing.

36b. Don’t try to talk to Angel if he’s on the phone with Valentino. Honestly don’t even mention his phone calls with Valentino.

37. Please don’t call Lucifer “Daddy”

38. Don’t turn into a 20 foot tall demon-eating creature unless absolutely necessary.

39. Don’t cause angry loan sharks to show up at the front door.

40. NO EXPLOSIONS!

41. Rule #2, “No fights” can be broken if the person you’re fighting is Valentino. Or Adam.

42. Don’t lie to your girlfriend or hide the fact you were secretly an angel.

43. DONT TALK ABOUT PEOPLE’S TITS (or lack of)

44. KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING A BEDROOM ESPECIALLY IF SOMEONE’S HAVING MAKEUP SEX

45. Don’t give people makeovers while they’re sleeping, ANGEL!

46. Don’t pretend to eat someone’s pet, ALASTOR

47. Don’t die.

48. I never want to hear the words “cum-plete” again.

49. STOP HAVING FIGHTS ACROSS THE BUILDING LUCIFER AND ALASTOR!!

50. If Charlie is passed out on the couch LET HER SLEEP

51. No making bombs in the hotel Cherri!

52. Stop breaking rules and then saying it’s “FOR SIR PENTIOUS!”

53. Angel don’t try to shoot someone if they break spaghetti.

54. Don’t break spaghetti. Or “ruin” Italian food. Whatever the fuck that means. This apparently includes pineapple on pizza.

55. Don’t mention Valentino unless Angel brings him up first.

56. Don’t comment on Angel and Husk’s flirting.

57. Only call Angel “Anthony” if things are serious (or if you’re Husk)

58. Don’t use any of the nicknames Husk and Angel use for each other. This includes but is not limited to: “Whiskers”, “Legs”, “Kitty”, “Webs”, “Tony”, “Love”, and “Baby.”

59. It’s better not to question whatever facts Husk gives about his past.

60. Family dinners at 6 pm unless you can’t make it due to prior obligation. Game nights after on Sundays.

61. No hunting people for sport and NO KNIFE MONOPOLY.

62. Don’t attach knives to a roomba so you can have a “boyfriend” Niffty.

63. Keep Niffty away from Roombas.

64. Alastor, treat people with decency. Really, it’s not that hard.

65. No making giant ducks that breathe fire to chase people around the hotel just because they call you short.

66. Therapy. Everyone.

67. DONT HAVE SEX ON THE BAR WHAT THE FUCK GUYS?!

68. If Valentino enters the property you have permission to stab him.

69. “Hell is forever” is bullshit. You guys aren’t. You can do this.

[helluvapoison]

jealousy, jealousy

˚✧₊⁎ The Vees ⁎⁺˳✧༚

warnings: violence, off page murdah, suggestive themes, possessive behavior

18+ only

watch out for red flags in real life and read at your own discretion ♡

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• The least jealous of the three, but that doesn’t say much, does it?

• Running an enterprise goes hand in hand with being an Overlord. Vox prides himself on being everywhere at once but he knows his limits. If wants to keep this cushy life he built, and you safe, he can’t spread himself too thin. That means occasionally cutting back on distractions

• So go out, have your fun— playtoys even! He’s not worried. Vox has literal eyes on you 24/7, access to your phone and all its contents, your lifeline is constantly synced to his peripherals. Really! He’s not worried!

• The problem arises when Vox feels threatened or undermined. If he’s in the same room, no one should even be looking at you! And if some sorry soul dared to touch you!? That’d be the last time they have hands

• “I’ve been looking for you!” He says from behind as his claws creep around your shoulders. He’ll ignore the Sinner, bringing your attention to him as security drags them away. You don’t need to know how jealous he can get

˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Sharing, shockingly, is not in her vocabulary! Not outfits, not credit, not the spotlight and fucking especially not you

• You’re her favorite project, she so lovingly calls you, which is a giant compliment. She dresses you every day so if— for some hellish reason— you left her side, she knows she has a visual claim on you. Vel quickly snaps and posts a pic of the two of you together before you go, just to remind her audience the fact you’re spoken for! Don’t you feel safe? And stylish?

• Unlike her partners, Velvette can multitask so having you around the studio can be an everyday treat! Unfortunately she has to split her focus, occasionally crashing the conversation to a stop so she can snap at someone

• Her eyes are sharp, they pick up on every little detail and seldom miss a thing. No one in her workshop would even think about approaching you, unless Vel asked, so it was all too easy to spot that new-nobody-model break his neck to check you out

• You’ve seen Velvette reduce even the oldest, most thick skinned to a puddle of piss in the street with her words. She doesn’t give anyone the chance to touch what’s hers. She’s shameless and loud, stopping the inappropriate behavior from across the room if she has to, “Oy! You! You’re fuckin’ fired, get the fuck out of here ‘fore I set you on fire!”

• As they run for the elevator, she debates if the clothes they’re wearing are worth keeping or not. With a glowing finger she swipes them off the model anyways, stripping them of her brand… and their dignity

• Velvette marks the occasion with a kiss to your cheek, stained with black lipstick, and another posted picture with a clever caption

˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Val invented jealousy

• He handles it as well as everyone expects

• It’s not limited to you, either! Business partners, employees, friends (if he has any left), play things, he’ll be up and arms about anything that belongs to him. There’s only one way to cut the cord tethered to him, and he’s always the one to decide how and when

• Val may have a lot of toys but you’re not one of them. You’re special— precious, actually!

• He has tabs on you at all times. Tracker in your phone, jewelry with his name on it, a bodyguard if he’s feeling particularly paranoid that day!

• Val also loves showing you off. Love bites are his favorite mark of ownership, he’ll show off wherever is most recent so be prepared to swat his hands away. Everyone can look, but only he can touch. He has four hands, one of them is on you at all times in public

• No one should manage to get in spitting distance of you— but if somehow they did and had the gall to talk to you… he’ll break their nose on the spot. He’d make quicker work with a gun, but then he’d get blood on you and he doesn’t want that

• “You’re so fuckin’ hot tonight, baby, look how clumsy you’ve made this idiot!” Val cackles, poorly masking his rage, “Seriously, I think you’re trying to get me riled up.” You open your mouth to deny it but he laughs again, carefully pulling you closer with both pairs of arms, “I’m only teasing!”

• Looming over you, Val shoots said idiot a murderous glare that gives them a five second head start. He’s yet to lose this game of chase. He always returns, clean as a crappy soap ad, to shower you in gifts in lieu of an apology for disappearing

[the-flaneur]

the worst attempt of nnn ever

pairing: f1 grid x gn!reader [headcanon]

ft. the whole 2024 grid

summary: technically everyone wins, aka who's most likely to fail nnn the quickest

warnings: shitpost/crack, very suggestive content and some 18+, MDNI, NSFW -> smut

[masterlist] [requests]

fail first

lewis

this man has zero discipline when it comes to you

absolute zero, zip, zilch, nada

normally he's on you 24/7

but when it comes to the end of the season and most things have been tied up and he dgaf, what better way to end each week than by fucking your brains out

aka 25/8 times a week

so when you attempt to propose to do nnn "for fun" on the 31st, he glares at you, calls you dumb before fucking you silly overnight (until the 1st) so that you never suggest it again that month/year

(he also bribes other drivers and wags to make sure that you are NOT included in their nnn plans)

zhou

shockingly in second place

but only cause he loves you too much, finds nnn a weird tradition (when you explained the basics) and just wants to snuggle with you and sweetcorn in bed

like why make yourself unconfortable and horny when he could just be happy and satisfied (and still horny) with you :D

lando

man is so fired up about the championship battle that he doesn't entertain the notion and just fucks you the minute november starts just to make sure you know not to fuck with him

he only manages to hang onto longer than lewis and zhou cause he was tired and forgot what time it was

carlos

had planned on competing with lando, since they had done it the year before, and the year before that (aka when they were teamates)

but when he found out from you (who found out from lando's partner) that they had already failed, he said to try for a few days

you said you didn't want to

"but it might be good for us" carlos had complained, saying something no one had ever said

and so you just like seduced him like five days later then BAM WHAM, he's back to blowing your back out

not that he needed that much encouragement

pierre

just wanted to fuck you in peace for halloween after you showed up in a very hot outfit

but then charles was like oohhhh we should try this

(f u charles)

but then almost cried in the shower when he realised he couldn't jerk off either

you heard him whimpering, laughed about it and then sucked him off

he tried to hide it, but charles found out anyways

max

is usually too busy to fuck you during race weekends so, he just failed when he like normally fucked you

cause he wanted to fuck you

cause yeah...

so....yeah...

oscar

likes to pretend he's disciplined and has lots of mental restraint

(he doesn't have restraint when it comes to you)

tried to keep some distance, aka by not arriving together at the paddock

but then failed after he saw you with franco, got jealous, said f this shit and then took you in his driver's room

checo

didn't give two flying fucks

only got interested cause evens was talking about it

but throws the challenge out the windoow the minute you insinuate that he seems "weak" about you

kmag

thinks its childish but still wanted to try it

got actually comfortable with it, until you made a sexy joke

hulk

lasts longer cause kmag found it childish

but still wanted to try it too after kmag told him about it

ocon

just wanted to beat gasly

lance

wanted to fuck you

so he complained to his father about the challenge and how you were going give him a reward at the end

so evil stepmum kdrama style, lawerence comes in and tries to give you envelopes of cash to get you to fuck stroll

you gleefully refuse

you manage to negotiate three ashton martins, a ferrari laferrari, and more, before still teasing him

to which he just gives up, and waits for you

george

for those actually dedicated to doing it, he set up the betting pool and "official" rules

(no charles...touching and edging yourself is not "illegal" but you're running the sPIrIt of the challenge)

but like lost out in the second week, when he saw you were having an amazing hair day

said ok i wanna pull on it *with grabby hands* and then gave up

(everyone mocked him relentlessly afterwards)

valterri

super chill about it

tried it only cause you wanted to try it for fun

actually found it hard to be away from you (only cause you love him so much too)

but you managed to reach the third week before simply saying

"that's enough"

franco

had never heard of it

but defs wanted to try after he learnt a about it

got really pissed off by the second week cause you were also teasing him sooooo much

but you kept refusing

basically had to beg his way into convincing you "near" it, and only seeing him get really pouty did you give in

yuki

swears and glares daggers at you the entire three weeks

but he's gotta prove that big things come in small packages

and actually makes it almost to week four before passing out from sheer horniness

fernando

actually lasts longer than most people thought he would

(liam spitefully calls out that he thought nando's blue balls would fall off)

is happy he is technically the best wdc at nnn (even moreso that lewis lost first)

makes it to like the last couple of days

you get bored and tired

so now fernando is bored and tired and just fucks you

alex

certified genz brainrotter

ofc know what it is, and is demandin to win it and prove he's at least NOT a lost in one area (his words not yours)

makes it to the last few days, before you trick into letting you give him a handjob

tries to argue technicalities with george

but by then nov its over and he just gives up

charles

used all his ferrari training in patience to last this long

wanted to tell you to kys when you suggested it

but eventually he got soooo into doing it, he was policing you

however he losses cause he was stupid

you're on his jet

he forgets time zones exist

thought he won

sent a gloating text message to the gc

and [redacted] beats him on the technicality

liam

this man is going all in no regrets, gambling style 😎

even if he didn't propose it, he's definetly the most eager to prove himself (especially to fernando and checo)

he's setting up strict rules to ensure that his dick does not get anywhere near you when sleeping, eating or breathing

(in the last few days he desperately asks you to sleep in the guest bedroom cause he's this close 🤏 to caving in)

however, he resists and gets bragging rights over everyone for the rest of the year.

fail last/succeed

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16 @tallrock35 @sweate-r-weathe-r @unlikelystay @alex-wotton

@daisyfreecs @euphorihan @louloucs @oikarma @dying-inside-but-its-classy

@fadingcloudballoon

© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[yourneighborlyweirdo]

The Easiest Way to Manifest/The Ultimate Beginner’s Guide to Manifesting! (My Personal Method)

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

What if I told you there was a way to instantly manifest whatever you’ve ever wanted?

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

I’m talking like, you think it and it appears minutes (or even seconds with practice) right before your eyes?

If you’re interested, this is how.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

Introduction:

So, let’s get into it. Hey, if you don’t know me, I’m kinda new here on Tumblr—new like I just started posting today type shit. (I literally set up my account hours ago.) I’ve been scrolling on this app for atleast a month now and I’ve been seeing some posts that are pretty helpful, so I just want to give my personal advice to any of those who are struggling. (Because that used to be me.) I wanna start this off with a warning…

Warning: If this doesn’t resonate with you, take what you like and leave the rest. If my advice doesn’t help you out it doesn’t have to! And don’t force yourself to use my technique if it feels weird to do or something you aren’t comfortable with. But if my method doesn’t work for you, (which I highly doubt because this can work with anyone and everyone) then maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. And also, I am not a professional. I am merely a vessel trying to pass my knowledge on to others. But, I do consider myself a Master at Manifesting, only because I’ve Mastered it. And my only goal is to help you Master it too. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to drop a comment or a DM. Thanks!

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The Law:

In this technique, I will be using the Law of Assumption. If you’re not sure what this is, let me explain…

The Law of Assumption is a universal Law for manifestation. As the name suggests, it means assuming. Everything you assume will become your reality. Practicing the Law of Assumption means realizing that the 4D (Your mental reality, your imagination) is the only thing that matters, not your 3D (Your physical reality, the thing you’re seeing right in front of your 2 eyes.)

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(Side Note: I use “LOA” to abbreviate/shorten “Law of Assumption.” Both of these terms will be highlighted in pink for your understanding. Also, the 4D is your imagination and the 3D is the physical world around you. I suggest you remember these terms.)

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An Example Scenario of Using The Law:

Example: Let’s say, I really want a soda. But I’m laying down in my bed, so obviously, I can’t see a soda in front of me. But, using the LOA, I can get my soda. Here’s how…

So, I’m sitting here in my bed really wishing I had a soda in my hands. To manifest a soda, I will use the LOA. To use the LOA, I will either think or speak out loud, whatever you want to do, to manifest. I will start thinking. “Damn. I really want a soda right now. I know I’ll get my soda. I want it so I can get it. I will have my soda, one way or another.” And a couple minutes later, I got a text from my parent saying they brought me a soda from the gas station. (Yes this example is a true story on how I started manifesting using the LOA for the first time.)

If you’re not picking up what I’m putting down, let me break it down. Here’s what just happened in that example:

1. I really wanted something (in this case the “something” was a soda)

2. I started to think about how I wanted it, then I assumed that I would get it, one way or another.

3. Boom! I got my desire. (Which was the soda in this case.)

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Breaking It Down:

See how easy that was? Within minutes I got my desire in only 3 easy steps. If you’re still confused, let me explain…

What happened there was I identified what I wanted (AKA: My desire being something I wanted.) Then, I used the LOA to manifest my desire to becoming my reality. Then naturally, the 3D followed what I thought in my 4D.

Literally the only thing I did was think what I wanted to happen and it happened in front of my eyes.

You: “But why? But how? How is that even possible—”

What happened was I thought something in my imagination (my 4D) and the physical world (the 3D) conformed because the 4D will always be in charge of the 3D.

Think of the 3D as a chief in a restaurant. The 4D is the waiter, and you are a customer in that restaurant. Let’s say you wanted to manifest a soda, so you’d say, “Waiter! I would like one soda please.” And the waiter, (The 4D) writes down in his notepad that you ordered a soda. The waiter would then go to the back and go tell the chief (The 3D) what you ordered, and then the chief would make it, and then you would get it.

That’s what the 3D and 4D are. You’d “tell the waiter what you want to order” (AKA: Think in your brain using your imagination/4D what you want to manifest) Then the “chief would cook up what you ordered and you’d get your order.” (AKA: The 3D will make what you manifested happen in your physical world and your manifestation would appear in front of your eyes.)

Hopefully now you understand what the LOA is, how to use it, and what happens when you do use it.

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What Happens When I Manifest Something and The 3D doesn’t conform?

Let me say this now: That is impossible. It is impossible for your 3D to not conform to the 4D. The 3D only will NOT conform when you ASSUME it won’t.

Your assumptions will become your reality. To change your assumptions, use your thoughts and imagination, (AKA: the 4D) and your 4D will become your 3D.

Assumptions are thoughts. Thoughts are your reality.

Read those 2 sentences again until they are memorized.

Don’t you see? Do you understand how easy it is?

So let’s say, you manifested something, imagined it (using the 4D) and it didn’t appear right infront of your eyes. Don’t panic. It’s okay. Take a breather, and tell yourself that you will get your desire. You imagined it in the 4D, and after reading this post, you’re sure that the 3D will conform because it WILL. Just persist in the fact that you WILL get your desire.

(Do you get what I’m saying here? Assume, assume, assume. Assume you will get your desire. Assume it will come quickly. Assume that it’s easy because it is! When in doubt, assume, assume, assume.)

If you don’t get your desire, it’s because you’re assuming (AKA: Thinking) that it won’t. Assume that you can and will manifest, and it will.

The 3D DOES NOT MATTER. You know why? Because, I’ll repeat,

Assumptions are thoughts. Thoughts are your reality.

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A Step By Step Tutorial:

1. Identify what you want to manifest.

2. Assume it will happen by thinking.

3. You get your desire.

You can assume things many ways. Here are my favorite ways in the form of sentences:

1. Assuming it will happen in the future. (Example: Using sentences containing “I Will.” Sentences in the future tense. “I know I will get desire one way or another.”)

2. Assuming it will happen in the present. (Example: You use sentences containing “I Am.”Sentences in the present tense. “I have my desire.”)

3. Assuming it already happened in the past. (Example: You use sentences containing “I Had.” Sentences in the past tense. This is also referred to as “Living in the End.” “I already have my desire.”)

Remember that all of these ways are ways to manifest. There is no better one than the other—use what works best for you! (I personally use all 3 ways all the time. They all work the same way and for me, not one is better then the other. They’re all great and they all work. Use what works best for you!!! Don’t let anyone tell you one works better then the other because that’s simply not true. I’ve manifested using all three and so can you!)

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Summary And Last Thoughts:

In order to manifest, you only need to figure out what you want to manifest, then think about it as an assumption, (one of the 3 ways I listed above, using a Past, Present, or Future sentence) and then just wait knowing you will get your desire.

Notice how in this post I never covered the “how” or the “when.” (The only “how” I covered was how manifestation works with the 4D and 3D, nothing beyond that.) Because you don’t need to focus on those things! Focus on manifesting, NOT how it happens or when. The only time you should be focusing on the when is when you are manifesting your desire to come quicker.

Also notice how in this post, it was a continuous cycle of…

Thoughts=Assumptions

Thoughts+Assumptions=Your Desired Reality

Anyone can manifest. And this isn’t the only way to manifest, this is one method of many. It’s easy when you assume it’s easy!

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I hope this post helped atleast someone. Have a good evening, morning, or afternoon. If you have a question or concern, feel free to drop a comment or send a DM.

The ultimate Law of Assumption song (You deserve your manifestation and that’s why you should get it!)

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Sincerely,

Your Neighborly Werido

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun 7•\

Former and further chapters can be found here.

You and Johnny kiss. With company. Ghoap/fem!reader, dry humping, kissing, handjobs, exhibitionism, suggestion of blowjobs.

-

Kissing Johnny only gets easier, and it was easy to begin with.

-

The next morning sees you running late for work. After your late night, you had forgotten to set your alarm and hadn’t awoken until the sun spilled in through your open curtains and you could hear the sound of Simon bustling around at the other end of the apartment. You had taken the quickest shower of your life, brushed your teeth, and done your best to make yourself presentable, rehearsing potential excuses in your head for your boss. There was a crash on I-57; my car broke down; a child fell down a well… 

You didn’t even have time to grab a cup of Simon’s coffee before you were wrenching the front door open, but when Johnny calls out sharply for you to halt, you are startled enough into stopping your frenzied rush, turning to blink at his careful, limping approach. He cups your jaw and brings your mouth to his, tasting like creamer and sugar, just the way you like your coffee. 

“Have a good day, hen,” he says when he pulls back, giving you an innocuous smile. 

Your eyes flitter to Simon, who is leaning with one hip against the kitchen island, coffee halfway to his mouth, brows raised—it’s reflexive to check on him, to make sure that Johnny hasn’t made him angry with this sudden show of affection. To make sure that you’re allowed to enjoy it. When Simon’s coffee finally completes its circuit to his mouth, you look back at Johnny and give him a shy smile. 

“You too,” you say for lack of better words. After you shut the door, you mouth to yourself, Oh my god. Then you remember your own lateness and rush down to the parking lot, praying for green lights all the way to work. 

Inside the apartment, Johnny fixes Simon with a smug expression. 

Simon shakes his head, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. 

-

When you get home from work, feet aching and a knot in your neck, it all seems to melt away as Johnny sits up from where he was slumped on the couch and draws you onto his lap. You’re careful not to put too much pressure on his bad thigh, gripping his shoulders tightly, eyes flickering around the apartment looking for the looming presence of Johnny’s other half once Johnny’s intent seems clear. 

“Where’s Simon?” you breathe. 

“Out,” says Johnny, taking your chin in his fingers and coaxing you down toward his mouth. He pauses, lips nearly brushing. “Should we wait so he can watch?” 

“What?” 

Johnny grins. He leans up the last few hairs’ breadths and kisses you, and Simon finds you in a similar place nearly an hour later. 

You’ve shifted of course, unable to kneel for so long without your legs falling asleep. Now Johnny lays with his bad thigh braced against the back of the couch, legs opened for you to be nestled between, your arms looped around his neck so you can play with the soft hairs at the back of his head. 

Your mouth feels numb from kissing, your thoughts syrupy and slow, focused only on the softness of Johnny’s mouth, the way his stubble rubs your cheeks raw (and your neck, when he gives your mouth a break and trails his lips down your jaw to the space between your neck and shoulder). Your head feels light and airy, your heart too, positively buoyant with all the affection. The only part of you that doesn’t feel sleepy and slow is that needy place between your legs; there you ache, slick enough for your panties to stick to you every time you shift. 

Johnny isn’t unaffected, either. He’s been hard since he dragged you onto his lap, but he seems completely content to do nothing about it. Anytime you try to escalate your kisses into something a little firmer, a little more satisfying, he drags you back to that soft and slow place where it feels like all your thoughts leak out your ears. 

“Johnny,” you breathe into the crook of his neck, resting your own sore one. He hums in answer. “Don’t you want—more?” 

“Got you in my lap,” he says, hands massaging your hips firmly. “What more could I possibly want?” 

You let your pelvis settle a little more firmly against his own, rocking against his hard cock. He can’t control the way his breath hitches at the stimulation, fingertips digging into your flesh. 

“Oh, him?” Johnny asks innocently. “Just ignore him.” 

“I don’t want to ignore him,” you mutter sulkily. “I want to sit on him.” 

Johnny guffaws. Beneath you, his cock twitches. 

The door opens and Simon enters. He’s dripping sweat from his run, and for the first time you notice the backpack he carries with him, the way it seems to droop against his back, like it’s filled with something heavy. All three of you freeze at the sight of the other. The moment is broken by a buzzing—Simon fishes his phone from his pocket and sighs, pressing it to his ear. 

“I’m listening,” he says, shutting the front door behind him. 

Johnny reaches out softly and turns your chin back towards him. There is something in his eyes, something mischievous, but all he does is coax your mouth back down to his and kiss you again. You sigh against his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as he sucks sweetly on your tongue. You hear the sound of Simon’s voice, but his words go in one ear and out the other, the warm rumble of his tenor doing nothing to help the ache between your thighs. 

Johnny grips your hips in his hands and—oh, oh god. He rocks you gently against him, his cock brushing against your soaked sex through your respective layers. It sends a jolt through you, even this small stimulation feeling good after denying yourself for so long. You can’t help the sound that slips out of your throat, the little whine that Johnny swallows whole and matches with a warm, pleased hum. 

You know what he’s doing now. Had he planned it to be like this? It’s hard to imagine that he hadn’t, not with his earlier flippant phrase of waiting for Simon to watch. Respectability wars with your own need, and you find that it’s far too easy to let your need win, to let Johnny’s hands guide you against his cock again and again, stoking that fire in your belly into something transcendental, something too big to be ignored. 

“Johnny?” you hear Simon say to whoever is on the other end of the phone, the name briefly breaking through your stupor. “Being a pain in my ass, as usual.” 

You break away from Johnny’s mouth but can’t seem to stop the gentle rolling of your hips. Instead you bury your face in his neck, hoping for some reprieve from the embarrassment that has your face aflame, from the shame that seems to be doing nothing but whetting the ache between your legs. 

“Johnny,” you whine quietly. “Be fair.” 

“What’s unfair?” he breathes. He jerks his hips up against you softly. “Oh—this? You want me to stop? Just say the word.” 

You chance a glance toward Simon and find that he still has the phone pressed to his ear, but his eyes are focused firmly on you and Johnny, his expression of greater intensity than usual: brows lower, eyes darker, scarred mouth barely parted, like he has something to say but can’t. He meets your eyes and hums something noncommittal into the phone. You wonder if he’s paying attention to the call at all. 

Simon turns his eyes away. He reaches down and grips the hem of his shirt, lifts it up to wipe at his dripping brow, and it gives you a glance of his body: pale and scarred, but so fucking strong, muscled with a nice layer of padding. Fuck, they are both so painfully beautiful. You realize that Johnny has stopped his gentle ministrations on your hips and that now all the movement is due to you: you’re the one grinding against his hard cock. You hide in his neck again, placing sloppy kisses against his steady pulse. 

“That’s it,” Johnny mutters, barely loud enough for you to hear. His hands slip around to cup your arse. “Does that feel good?” 

You nod. Anything would feel good after so much time spent on the most innocent of foreplay, anything would feel good with how swollen and wet you were. Johnny’s hands press against you, lengthening your strokes, turning your hasty, jerky movements into slow, sensual rolls of your hips, maximizing the contact between you both. 

“Sit up, I want to see you,” he whispers. Your head is so full of cotton that you do, forgetting for a moment that Simon is there. He’s watching you again, one hand braced against the countertop, dark eyes watching the way you grind against his husband’s cock, knuckles white where he grips the phone and presses it to his ear, giving the occasional grunt to whomever is on the other line. Johnny says: “Fuck, yer beautiful.” 

You ignore that, unwilling to let him fluster you any more than you already are. Instead you brace your hands against his chest and quicken your hips, feeling the coil inside your belly twist tight. You’ve needed to cum since last night, since Johnny first kissed you with Simon right there watching. All you want is to feel that sweet burst of pleasure, to let it rise up like high tide and drown you. Johnny’s hands smooth along your thighs and up your belly and cup the fullness of your breasts, and that’s all you need to cover your face, mouth falling open as a painfully embarrassing sound is torn from your throat. Your body is wracked with shivers as your pussy clenches tight around nothing, and you’d forgotten over the years just how unsatisfying these kinds of orgasms could be. You needed something inside you, something you could clench down on, if only Johnny had been willing to give it to you. 

A door clicks shut. Your misty eyes open to find that Simon is gone. 

“Beautiful,” Johnny says, drawing you back down into his arms for a kiss. Against your mouth, he mutters: “Yer perfect.” 

“We scared off Simon,” you groan, forehead resting against his own. Beneath you, his cock is still hard, reminding you that he still hasn’t cum yet—likely can’t with just this level of stimulation. 

“Yeah, he’s scared t’ death,” Johnny says, eyes rolling, his hands smoothing up and down the small of your back. “Probably already got his cock out in the next room.” 

You frown. That wouldn’t make any sense. You decide to focus on what does make sense—helping Johnny find his own pleasure. Reaching down, you lightly trail your fingers over his clothed cock, feeling positively electric when he gives a shaky sigh, cock jerking beneath your tentative touch. 

“Want some help?” you ask. 

He just gives you a soft smile. “Actually, I know just the person who’s going to help me.” 

-

When Johnny enters the bedroom, Simon is nowhere in sight. The light coming from beneath the ensuite door tells him all he needs to know. He raps his knuckles against the door and waits, unable to help the grin that stretches his mouth and the way his cock nudges at the fly of his denim. The door opens and a hand reaches out, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him in, pressing him back against the door with enough force to rattle the knob. 

“Hi love,” Johnny coos. “How was your run?” 

Simon kisses him, sucks on his full lower lips, licks into his open mouth like it is a cup he can drink his fill from. Johnny meets him with equal fervor, his hands falling to find Simon’s belt already undone, his cock already free and hard. It’s a warm, familiar weight in his palm as he strokes his lover and thumbs at the leaking head. 

“Not—not being subtle at all,” Johnny warns him. 

Simon just grunts in between kisses. 

“What, can you taste her on me?” Johnny teases. 

Simon groans and buries his face in the crook of Johnny’s neck where you had buried your own. He presses his mouth to every mark you left behind, teases your teeth marks with his own, hips thrusting into the tight fist of Johnny’s hand. 

“You’re not subtle either,” Simon grits out, palms placed flat on the oak door, pinning Johnny in place. “She’s going to catch on that you’re trying to play matchmaker.” 

“I’m not aiming for subtle,” Johnny breathes. He presses Simon back with a palm against his chest and drops to his knees, even as Simon’s eyes tighten with disapproval, knowing Johnny can’t remain in the position long. Johnny just grins, easy and lighter than he’s felt in weeks. “I’ve got about five minutes before my leg starts killin’ me…think you can cum before then?” 

“I think that depends on how good your mouth treats me,” Simon says. 

“I’d better get to work then, hadn’t I?”

[thestarrynightslover]

The Trials of Dating in Secrecy

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 2,374

Warnings: Discussion, yelling, some angst, workplace romance, nudity, and verbal sexual harassment (all very light).

Summary: Okay, so this one features a bit of work issues (workplace romance), and a bit of jealous!Harvey + Harvey taking care of his girl, as requested by Anon.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the show Suits, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way, or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Well this is the first request I took and I’ll admit that it was a bit challenging, not cause it was particularly hard but because I wasn’t super inspired at first, nor did I have the time. Though, now, I think it worked? Idk, don’t feel like this was my best work either but feel free to leave some feedback, and thanks for reading!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

“Seriously, Harvey!” You let out annoyed. “I think I should probably go home now,” you said, thinking that if you did go home you could keep yourself from saying something you might regret later. 

“Oh, really? So now you're mad at me because I’m simply asking a bit more of this relationship?” He asked, looking ready to have a full-on fight.

“No, Harvey! What I’m actually upset about is how you’re making today all about yourself and your needs, when I’m the one going through it all!” You really didn’t wanna shout but the little bit of patience you had left vanished when his questions reminded you of the little stunt he’d pulled today.

Earlier that day, at the firm, you had been giving a consult to a prospective client on an intellectual property lawsuit he may be looking at and the guy seemed a bit disinterested in his own situation, giving you — and by you, you mean your body — most of his attention. But that was fineish, it was a regular occurrence, being a young woman in that field, so you didn’t really mind it anymore, at this point — after all, ignoring the occasional sexual harassment was usually the easiest route to advancing in your career. The problem was that the man started interrupting your professional analysis to hit on you, and eventually, he reached for your forearm, caressing it as he spoke. And that was exactly when Harvey, the man you’d secretly been dating for about 7 months now, decided to walk into your office. As he entered your office, you yanked your arm out of the man’s grasp but you couldn’t shut him up just as quickly, so your boyfriend got there just in time to hear a “So, if you really like yourself a sturdy stallion,” he pointed at a framed picture of you riding a horse on the wall behind you, “you should ride mine, someday. If you know what I mean,” he finalized with a wink, and how on Earth could you — or anyone hearing that — not know what he meant when he had said it so suggestively? 

“What did you just say to her?” Harvey’s voice came sharply, indicating he was about to get into a fistfight with the man who was probably not going to be your client now.

“Oh, we’re just chatting about- uh, who are you, again?” The shorter guy had the nerve to ask.

After that, Harvey was so quick to hoist the man up from the chair in front of you, by the collar of his dress shirt, that you didn’t even have time to react before he started punching the guy right in the face.

“I’m her boyfriend, that’s who I am! And you will be out of here before I take you out myself.” The man didn’t fall backward solely because Harvey had a hold on him, still, so he just stared at the other attorney in shock. “What are you looking at? Get out!” Harvey shouted once again, tossing the man towards your office door.

After that, you tried calming Harvey down but you barely had any time for it before Jessica and Louis barged into your office, revolted by their partner’s behavior and asking what had gotten into him to attack a prospective client like that.

“The prick was propositioning my-” But you cut him off before he could complete his sentence.

“He was harassing me during the meeting, and Harvey walked in and heard it, and, as a good colleague, he wanted to defend my honor, I guess,” you said with a short, humorless laugh while making air quotes with your fingers.

“A good colleague?” The tall senior partner asked quietly, hurt pooling in his eyes.

“Well… That’s terrible but you know better than to do this, Harvey,” Jessica told him.

“You know, I’d never thought I’d see the day you would act like such a caring gentleman for anyone, Specter,” Louis added, as always, eager to make things worse. “And, (y/n), at the very least you need to reach out to that man and take him out to an apology dinner. Because you are well aware of how important it is for you to get more clients.”

“Yes, I-” You stopped what you were saying mid-sentence because the man you loved was storming out of your office and all you wanted to do was chase after him.

“And now you’re gonna let him get off with that shit he pulled this easy?” Louis shouted, obviously trying to be heard by Harvey too. “I mean, this firm is turning into a complete mess, Jessica! It’s like you can’t control your office anymore! A junior partner who barely has her own clients and a senior partner battering prospective clients? We’re gonna go bankrupt like this, if not sued for malpractice altogether! And-”

“Louis, will you shut up, for God’s sake? I’m the managing partner and I’ll deal with both of them. Now go and let me talk to (y/n) alone!” Your boss responded, making you apprehensive about the conversation you were about to have with her.

As he left the room, Jessica motioned for you to sit on the couch with her. “(y/n), first of all, are you okay? Because if that man did something to you, then…”

“No, no! The harassment was just verbal,” not that that made it any better, you thought to yourself. “Harvey intervened before it could get to that.”

“Right. Well, that’s a relief.” She paused for an instant, giving one of those smiles she used when she was going to convince you of something unpleasant. “Now, as much as it pains me to admit it, Louis is right. You need more clients. I didn’t think it’d be good to tell you this after our conversation but the board has been pressuring me about making personnel cuts. Directed mostly to the partners who aren’t producing much. And you know that I like your work, and see your value to the company but those old men in suits only care about numbers, so if you don’t manage to bring in a new client by the end of the week… I am going to push for you to go after that man’s account again. Using whatever means necessary.” She declared, still sporting that smile. “Are we clear?”

At that, a defeated “Yes, Jessica” was all you could mutter. And then she left. And all you could think about was how you’d somehow managed to screw up both your professional and personal life, all at once.

Leaving work that day, after setting up four meetings with potential clients for the following days, all you could think about was making up with Harvey, so you went to his place to talk. And that’s how you got to the argument you were having now. He was upset about the whole ‘good colleague’ thing and you were upset because you could have handled the situation without burning that bridge with the guy, which was multiplied by ten when you remembered that you were on deadline to get more clients — something you hadn’t told Harvey.

“Making it all about-” He’d started saying angrily but stopped himself and his voice instantly took on a soft, caring tone, “wait, what do you mean you’re going through it all?”

Now you realized what you’d said.

“Uh, I meant nothing. I was just being dramatic, is all,” you stated unconvincingly.

“No, that doesn’t make any sense. If anyone is dramatic in this relationship, it’s me and we both know it,” he said, making you crack a small smile, thinking of how right he was. “So tell me, honey, what’s going on?”

“I, um, I’m being encouraged, or, better said, ordered to expand my client list.” There, you’d said it.

“What? Why?”

“You know why, Harvey. You just can’t be a partner at the firm if you don’t bring enough money in.” You told him, defeated.

“But… but you’re so good! You bring such good attention to the company’s name, your clients might actually be more satisfied with your work than mine, and they are very satisfied with my work,” he said matter-of-factly with a grin on his face.

“Yeah, maybe. But you might not know this because you've always been a man and Jessica’s protégé but for the rest of us, women trying to be successful at Pearson, the bar is just much higher, babe. And they're threatening to take away my partnership, maybe even my job altogether, if I don't get it done,” you finally finished your confession with teary eyes, even though you didn’t want to cry about it.

“That’s… that’s just unacceptable!” He let out, running his hands through his hair, “Did- does Jessica know about that? Because I can-” He tried to go on with his speech but you cut him off.

“She knows, Harvey. She says she likes my work but her hands are tied.” You let him know, sighing a little.

“But… that’s not… that doesn’t make any sense! It’s just not like Jessica to give in like that…” Harvey commented, starting to look defeated as well.

“Maybe when it’s about someone like you. But with me? She might not even be trying all that hard.” To which he responded with a mischievous glint in his eyes, perking up.

“Then, I’ll talk to her! I’ll tell her that, if she doesn’t secure your place in the company, I’m going to start listening to those offers I get all the time!” He said smiling widely this time.

“Harvey! You can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’d be incredibly stupid, and unprofessional, and-” You didn’t wanna finish your sentence but you had to. “And, that way, she’ll know.”

“Know?”

“About us. That we’re dating,” you finished sighing again.

“She’ll kn-” he stopped mid-sentence, full of disbelief. “And what’s so wrong with that?”

“Harvey…”

“No, don’t ‘Harvey’ me, (y/n)! If you don’t want me to help because it’d be unprofessional, then that’s okay. I can understand that. But what exactly are you trying to tell me, huh? That our relationship’s never gonna see the light of day? Or are you trying to break up with me?” That last question came out of him in such a low tone you could barely believe had come from him.

“No! Of course I don’t wanna break up-”

“Then tell me what do you want? Because I don’t understand why I can’t tell the world that I’m your boyfriend. I don’t get what’s so wrong about your boyfriend telling off a prick who can’t keep his hands to himself around another man’s woman-”

“Do you seriously think now is a good time to be possessive?”

“Oh, honey, I am possessive by nature. Especially around you,” he stated coming closer to where you were standing. And you could do nothing but welcome his warmth, after all, it’d been a long day.

As you stepped fully into his embrace and rested your head on his chest, you told him “I love you, Harvey. I don’t wanna break up with you. And I want you to tell the world that I’m your girlfriend, even Jessica,” hearing that, his eyes lit up. “But, as much of a prick as that man was, you need to understand that I can handle myself and that you need to give me space to make my own way at work, just like you made yours.”

“You’re right.”

“I know,” you joked, trying to shrug your shoulders at him.

“And I won’t try to interfere at work anymore. But don’t think that I’m just gonna stand around doing nothing if I see someone trying to mess with my girl again.”

“Well, that-”

“I’m not done yet,” he said, silencing you in an instant, “you should also know that, when you’re home with me, you’re mine to take care of.”

“Yeah? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” You asked him with a smug smile.

His only response was swiftly picking you up and taking you to his suite’s bathroom, where he gently sat you down on the edge of the tub, just to start running the hot water into the bath he’d already filled with delicious-smelling bathing salts. “Wait here, baby.”

A bit later he came back carrying some candles he started lighting with one of the matches from a box he had in his other hand.

“What are you doing, Harv?”

“Just come over here,” he said after having spread the candles all throughout his spacious bathroom. They were scented too, you noticed. The second you reached him, though, instead of holding you close, he started taking off your clothes, slow and gentle, piece by piece. Which he followed up with little kisses all over your now bare skin. After being satisfied with his work of making you forget everything, he picked you up again and, this time, carefully dipped you into the bathtub. “Now, you just lay back and relax, darling.”

“You’re not joining me?” You asked him hopefully.

“No, I’m taking care of your dinner,” right after he left, though, one of your favorite songs started playing softly on a speaker he’d set somewhere.

You probably dozed off in that tub, because before you knew it you were being held by your boyfriend in his bed, still completely naked. “Hey.”

“Good morning beautiful,” he greeted you with a grin, “you know, you were taking so long to wake up, that I was starting to think that the breakfast I made you was gonna get cold.”

“Wait a second, last night you were making me dinner and this morning you made me breakfast… two for two! What’s happening to you?” You asked, giggling like a child.

“Nothing, nothing! It’s just… I told you, at home, I take care of you, that’s all.” He told you while he guided you out of the bed, handing you one of his shirts altogether. 

“You know, you keep saying ‘at home’ but this isn’t really our home…” As you put on his dress shirt, you followed him towards his living room. 

“It could be…” And that’s when you saw a set of keys at the dinner table by the cutlery.

[jarofstyles]

The Favor 7

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WC- 6.8k

Warnings- slight angst, cheating (But is it bc they technically have permission?), Possessive H, exhibitionism, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, cum play, daddy kink (finally), degradation, etc

Y/N was slightly nervous for tonight. 

Not only was she going to Harry’s house to spend the weekend there, but they were going out together to meet their friends. 

After following Harry’s advice, she had tried to talk to Danny and had talked about how she felt like he didn’t really care to ask about her. He’d immediately become defensive, blowing it off as ‘you could have talked about your week and I would have listened! Why do I have to ask? We’ve been in a relationship for a while now, it should just be common practice!” But ultimately agreed to trying harder. He’d suggested they all go with the rest of the group to the pub crawl, something Y/N didn’t want to do but felt obligated to since she’d brought up him not trying. Harry hadn’t seemed bothered by the suggestion, merely agreeing and asking what time they were going to get there.

She had no clue what the dynamic between the three of them was going to be, but even more so because she felt the want to stick around Harry. He was her comfort zone right now, and maybe going out with the group was a bit of a mistake but she had to try. Didn’t she? 

Sitting in the front seat of Harry’s car, she felt his hand tapping on the steering wheel. He had warmly received her, kissing her gently in the driveway before letting her get ready in his bathroom. But something was still a little off. She could feel it. She had to admit that she hadn’t expected him to be so okay with spending some of their allotted time together out and about, let alone with Danny, but she had figured he was just trying to stick to the agreement. Their Friday night hadn’t been appointed to anything specific. 

Harry wasn’t much looking forward to this considering there was the tiniest bit of him that was bitter. Maybe a little more than a tiny bit, but he was trying to deny that. Seeing Danny tonight was something he didn’t want to do, maybe ever again. Perhaps it was dramatic, but seeing how he was with Y/N had royally pissed him off. The more he thought about it, the shittier this arrangement was but unfortunately he was a bit too selfish to let go of Y/N. He liked her a little too much. But that was all he’d let himself think about it. 

The last thing he wanted to do was make Y/N feel bad for this considering he had been the one to tell her to try and talk this out. He’d had to say it, had to encourage her to mend relationships because she wasn’t truly his and he cared deeply about her happiness, but the selfish part of him had hoped she’d see through the feeble attempts to cover his own ass tonight. 

One of the hardest things to think of though, was the fact that he had to keep his hands to himself tonight. He couldn’t swing his arm around her or adjust her hair, couldn’t rest his hand on hers. Couldn’t drag her face over to kiss him like they’d done in the bathroom stall, blurring some lines. He had to try to put boundaries in place for his own heart, but it was so difficult when he could see the nerves on her face. Looking at him as they drove like she could sense his weird mood. 

“Are you drinking tonight?” He asked her softly, trying to diffuse some of the tension. 

“No. I don’t really love drinking at these things.” She admitted. “I’m a clingy and horny drunk anyways. I’d probably crawl all over you.” Her nose scrunched at the thought, but it wasn’t a bad thing to him. Harry wouldn’t mind that at all, tending to her needy drunken whims- but again, she couldn’t considering her actual boyfriend would be there. 

“Ah.” He nodded, flexing his hands on the wheel. “Well I’m not either. So we can pop in and stay for as long as you want before we head out.” He had no desire to go out with this group of people tonight. Really, he’d much rather introduce her to his other group of friends, the people he was far closer to, but that was crossing another boundary. Wasn’t it?

It wasn’t meant to be this complicated, lines weren’t supposed to be blurred but he found his hand twitching behind her back as she walked inside of the pub, restraining himself from placing the grip there to guide her. 

Apparently no one found it weird they’d arrived together, greeting the both of them with tipsy smiles. 

Jesus. Already drunk? It was barely past 9. 

It was another reason Harry sometimes skipped out on things with them. They weren’t bad people, no, but he wasn’t someone who was actively looking to get drunk all the time. He found as time went on that he preferred to spend nights in quieter settings if it wasn’t at the other club. One they’d be visiting tomorrow. 

That reminder improved his mood a bit as he let Y/N slide in to the booth next to Danny before taking up her other side. Her smile wasn’t the same one he usually got as Danny smeared a kiss to her cheek, pulling her in for a side hug that made Harry’s jaw click as he pulled away. It wasn’t fun to watch. It again raised the question in his brain of how the fuck he was okay with all of this? Knowing Y/N would leave with him tonight, sleep in his bed…. Harry would have been seething. 

Yeah, he’d shared a few times in scenes but it wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed with his own submissives. In his relationships he could be considered an exhibitionist, sure, but it was strictly look but don’t touch. Something in his head was miswired, feeling irritated that the other man rested his arm behind her. Realistically he knew he didn’t have any right to feel that way but it didn’t stop his chest from burning as he picked up his seltzer water and took a sip.

“Are you drunk?” Y/N’s sweet voice broke through his internal struggle, making his eyes cut to them as her smile had turned to a frown. 

“God, don’t nag me about it already.” The man groaned dramatically. “Yes, I’ve had a few. Were at a pub, babe. Don’t be a buzzkill, yeah? Thought you’d be loosened up by now.” 

Harry stiffened, turning his head to look at the man. It was a little pathetic in his opinion, being so undone on a Friday night so early on. With his hair a mess and sweat on him from the drinks, face flushed… it wasn’t a good look. What he didn’t like even more though was the way he’d spoken to her. 

“Watch it, mate.” Harry said lowly, not wanting to start a scene. Maybe Danny realized his error or didn’t want to get into it with Harry, seeing as his face paled a little before he raised his hand as if to motion he’ll back off before turning to converse with someone else. 

Under the table he felt something warm nudge his hand, gathering his attention to see her smallest finger rub slightly over his in appreciation before she dropped it. 

Y/N hadn’t expected to have Danny back off when Harry said it. Perhaps he was actually intimidated by him? He usually didn’t let things go easily and went on tipsy rants, usually about how women were ‘no fun’… but then again, she recalled Harry not being around for many of those.  She hadn’t expected Harry to defend her either, which… fuck, made her insides flutter and squish as she felt his thigh against her own. She could feel him before she heard him, lips close to her ear as he quickly checked in on her. 

“You alright?” He mumbled, trying not to get too close but failing a little bit. It was hard for her to complain when in reality she felt like she wanted to lean into him more than she wanted to cuddle her own boyfriend. 

“Mhm. Just don’t go anywhere.” 

Like he’d want to. It was hard to act normal in this circumstance, watching as she tried half heartedly to talk to Danny while he gave semi answers before turning back to talk sports stats. He stayed quiet, observing their dynamic under more of a microscope than he ever had before. 

He could see that she was trying, even if it was just a little. Could see her face brighten as she tapped him with something else she thought of saying only for it to fall and that glitter leave her eye as he only gave little nods or ‘mhm’s or shakes of the head. His eyes went from the tv to the other guys, patting her shoulder every once in a while. 

Had it always been like this? Truth be told, Harry hadn’t watched them much before. There was no reason to pay attention when Danny wasn’t talking to him and Y/N was off limits. He’d been attracted to her so he kept his distance, not wanting to interfere with a relationship.

Oh, the tables had fucking turned. 

Regardless, he didn’t like it. He could feel her start to rescind into herself as she fiddled with her bracelets, pulling out her phone to check the screen for messages, nibbling on her lip as she tried to think of other things to say- and he couldn’t stand it. 

It wasn’t a smart idea, no, but ever so slowly he slipped his hand over her thigh. Hidden by the table, he found her hot, bare skin under his fingertips as he slipped it under the hem of her skirt, curling over it and letting her feel him squeeze. Part of him relaxed a little bit at the ability to touch her, his hand hidden from view under the fabric, but he felt her stiffen up a bit as he did so. So under his breath, he muttered to her. “Relax.” 

Y/N did. Swallowing thickly, she placed her hands on the table and left her phone open as she felt fingertips graze her inner thigh, Harry’s eyes seemingly on the television. He didn’t look suspicious at all, but she knew she had to train her face or people would know. 

She’d been itching for his touch, but now that she had it she realized it was going to be a challenge to not react to him. Her body had already adjusted to craving him considering he’d shown her pleasure and safety in a way no one else had before. 

Harry kept quiet as he inched his hand up further, feeling the heat of her cunt radiating through her panties and close to his hand. Her breathing was a bit heavier, he could tell from the sounds of it and the glimpses he took at her. Only when his smallest finger brushed over the humid fabric did she make a noise, only being smart enough to disguise it with a cough. 

“Y’alright, babe?” Danny of course chose now to take interest in her, because of course. Y/N felt a bit fuzzy as she nodded, doing nothing to stop Harry as he applied more pressure to her cunt. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. Throat’s a bit dry.” She cleared her throat, trying to sound normal while the man next to her rubbed his knuckle over her slit. He didn’t make any move to acknowledge it besides a smirk, his eyes glued to the game. 

“Oh, are you gonna get another drink?” He asked, perking up. “Can you get me one? I’ll pay you back later, babe.” He smiled lazily. 

“In- In a minute. I just have to answer an email.” She swallowed again, spreading her legs a bit more to let Harry touch. She didn’t want it to stop. As completely fucked up as it was, she felt her stomach burning for more. Danny had no idea Harry’s fingers were teasing her cunt, getting her more wet than he ever could. Letting her head hang down as she looked at the repeated flashing of the next letters to type, she thanked the stars her face was slightly masked by her hair. The dominant had slipped his fingers under the gusset of her panties, his middle digit entering her. Shallow thrusts of it kept it from being noticeable, but she shakily typed on her phone, whatever the fuck it was saying, as she felt him touch her. 

Harry knew it was fucked too, but that didn’t stop him from enjoying this. Touching her in front of the man who clearly didn’t deserve her glittering eyes or her pouty lips, he’d take over then. He’d give her a good night she’d been hoping for. Hopefully she’d begin to see how much better she deserved, that he wasn’t going to change- but until she had that realization, he was going to help her get to it. 

Sliding his hand out of her panties he knew she was pouting about it, bringing his middle to his lips to suck it clean before standing up. “M’going to the toilets.” He whispered, knowing she’d follow. Of course she would.

She was his good fucking girl.

—-

Y/N took a moment to breathe before standing on shaky legs, excusing herself for the same reason and to get their ‘drinks’- though she had an idea that he’d never get it. Wobbly knees straightened as she made her way into the dimly lit hall in the back of the place, eyes only just adjusting as she saw him leaned up at the darkest end of the hallway. Back against the wall and arms crossed over his chest, he looked a bit intimidating in the best way. 

In any other scenario she’d run the other way. This was the picture of danger, walking in a dark hallway towards a tall, broad man with his arms flexed as he had them folded, but she’d never felt more inclined to take a walk on the wild side. He’d just fingered her under the table next to her boyfriend and she’d let him. Hell, she’d enjoyed it. It was wrong but it felt so fucking good that she couldn’t do anything but let him. 

Over the last few weeks her body and mind had become accustomed to him and wanting to listen. It felt natural, spreading her legs for him and letting him touch what he deemed as his. He’d proven it last weekend when she’d left his house with his cum tricking into her panties as a parting gift. Her body had never reacted to her boyfriend like this, never felt that prickle of anticipation or rush in her throat at what he’d do next. It was safe to say that Danny could never give it to her the way Harry could, and she’d probably spiral about how she was pretty sure she couldn’t go without this later, but right now she was going to reap the benefits of being a good girl and listening to him. 

She didn’t say a word, standing in front of him for only a second before his hand caught her hair and wrenched her head back, a growl leaving his throat as he caught her in a brutal kiss. Her toes curled in her shoes as she gasped against his mouth, fingers gripping his shirt as she caught herself on him. There was no hesitation, opening her mouth for him and whimpering at the taste of his tongue, melting into his body while his other hand grabbed a thick handful of her ass. Pressed up against her stomach, there was no question about if he was hard or not. 

He was aching. Arching into him, Y/N didn’t care if she ran out of air so long as he was touching her. “My good girl.” He whispered darkly, pulling off to give her a second. “Didn’t know y’had it in you. Did you like that?” His eyes bore into her own, her already wet cunt clenching around nothing. He owned her attention. 

“Uh huh.” She breathed, eyes rounded and bleary from the shock of the kiss, her body buzzing at his touch. It felt unreal, naughty, wrong but so fucking right. She hadn’t cared about Danny in that moment with his finger buried inside of her. All the girl cared about was Harry, how he touched her, if she was being good for him, if she was pleasing him. “Sir!” She quickly added on, realizing her mistake. 

“There we go. See… I dunno how you manage to be such a good girl when you’re a filthy fuckin’ slut.” His voice was low as he said the words with a smile. “Liked me fingering your cunt next to that pathetic excuse of a boyfriend, hm? Got all slippery and wet for me, let me touch you while you think no one’s looking…” A deep groan escaped his throat as he looked down at her face. Hazy eyes and eager mouth, slightly opened and wet from their kissing- he could help but think that in this moment, she was overwhelmingly his. 

He tested the waters at the table, giving her every chance to stop it if she wanted, but the minx wanted it. Encouraged it, even, with spreading those soft thighs open a little more for his hand to slip against her weeping cunt. His cock had filled right then, knowing that she was choosing him over Danny at that moment. It was fucked up, sure, but he was fingering his girl right under his nose and she had followed him back here for more. He had no idea that Harry was so possessive of her, so enamored that it had scared him a bit. 

Y/N only whined at his words, leaning up on her toes and buttoning their lips together once again. Harry’s overworking brain slowed as soon as he felt her wrap her arms around his shoulders, leaning up on her toes to get to him. It was his final straw. 

He released her hair and took liberty to cup her ass under the skirt, lifting her up and spinning them around so his body shielded her own. Pressing her against the wall, he returned her kisses, moaning under his breath as her fingers tangled in his hair. In reality, he knew he should scold her for doing it without asking, without having instruction, but the bleeding bit of his heart wanted her to feel comfortable enough to just touch him. So, he didn’t do anything but press his covered cock against her cunt, rutting against her slowly to give them both some relief. 

“I…” Y/N attempted to speak but her brain felt like it was in a cloud. Floating up higher away as his large hands held and squeezed her ass, the thin lace of her panties doing little to nothing to dull the feeling of his dick rubbing against her and nudging her swollen clit. “Fuck me. Fuck me here, H. Please.” Of course, she forgot the honorific but in this moment he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything other than giving her what she wanted. 

Keeping her pressed against the wall he used one hand to undo his belt, frantic to open his pants for her. He knew later he’d probably scold himself for being so impulsive, for abandoning his plans to use his first load in a proper scene but wasn’t this exploring too? Playing into her exhibitionism, a bit of degrading, he was helping her. Right? 

Finally, with his shaky hands making it a bit clumsier than normal, he got himself out of his pants. “You sure? You really want it?” Double checking in this instance to give her a minute to back out, she nodded hard. 

“Yes. Please- I’m not drunk, I didn’t drink, I just want… Please fuck me, I’ll make it up to you later, Sir.” She pleaded. Harry liked the sound of her begging, the whining tilt to her voice only making his cock throb in his hand. 

“Shhh, baby. Sh.” He scolded. “I’ll give it to you. Know you’re gagging for it, but if someone hears it’ll make me have to stop. Need you to keep those pretty noises quiet for me.” As much as it pained him, it was also fucking hot. Y/N was letting him fuck her in the dark corner of a dingy hallway, so needy that she can’t wait to go home. His fingers made quick work of her panties, tugging them to the side. There was a slight ripping sound but he didn’t concern himself with that as he ran the head of his cock over her slick slit. “Jesus… you’re soaked for me.” The awe was audible in his voice. He’d done that. No one else. “Remember your colors.” He felt drunk himself, even after being sober the whole night. “S’gonna be a stretch but I think you can take it. If you’re enough of a whore t’let me fuck you with your little boyfriend just meters away, you can take a bit of burn.” 

There was no other warning before his dick began to push into her. The girl mewled, head falling back onto the wall with a thump as she bit her lip to try to stop the louder noise from escaping. It was a stretch, but his words, his degrading before it had made her clit throb. Later on she would probably feel guilty, but that was tomorrow’s problem. Right now, she had the best dick in her life sinking into her and making her eyes water at how well he stretched her out, her nails digging into the back of his neck. “Oh my god.” She whispered, looking at the man in front of her. 

He was beautiful. Even in the dim light where it was hard to tell real features, she could see his eyes on her own, see his jaw clenched as he sunk into her hole. Y/N had only taken his cock a few times and that was last week. The last orgasm she had was in the bathroom stall at the cafe, and it was safe to say she’d been obsessing over the man filling her all week long. Even if she got an orgasm out of the lunch, it had made her more desperate for him to well and truly fuck her. “It’s so much, Sir.” She gave a wobbly whisper as the last bit sunk into her, finally balls deep in her. What she’d been craving since sunday evening. 

“I know it is, pet. But you’re a precious little slut, so I think you can take it.” He cooed softly, beginning to give short and shallow thrusts. “Your cunt is perfect. Y’know that? As filthy as it is… s’so fucking tight, swallowing me up. You’re quickly becoming my favorite set of holes.” 

And.. Oh. Fuck, that hard her moaning. Y/N wanted to be his favorite. She wanted to make all the other submissives he’s had in the past pale in comparison. Maybe it wasn’t very girlboss of her, but she wanted him to prefer her mouth, her moans, her cunt, every bit of her like he’d been haunting her mind. 

“Want to be that.” She whimpered, rocking her hips the best she could in the position. “You can, you can have any part of me.”

“I know I can, sweetheart. You’re my sweet little fucktoy, a pet for me to use.” He pulled out a bit more, feeling her slick walls try to tighten in protest. It was too good, and he had to be careful not to blow his load too early. “You don’t care about anything other than being fucked. I was gonna be real nice t’you, bring you home, play with that pretty ass… Got your plugs, was gonna train that little hole all weekend to make sure you could take my cock back there. But you’re a slut, got me hard and opened your legs for me right next to your boyfriend. What would he say, hm?” Lips brushed her ear as he fucked into her slowly, her head tilting up. “What would he say if he came back here and saw his sweet little girlfriend getting fucked raw? Desperate for it, too.” He grinned against her skin feeling a little drunk with power, knowing it was turning her on too. Her cunt was getting more and more wet around him, easing the slip he had to fuck her.  “Hm? Tell me.” 

“He’d… he’d be shocked sir.” She swallowed her moan, eyes fluttering shut as his lips pressed sloppy kisses over the expanse of her neck. Those perfect lips of his that she’d been thinking about all week. “Maybe mad. Cause he can’t…” There was a small debate in saying it, but they both knew it was the truth. Even said boyfriend himself knew it. “He can’t fuck me the way you can.” 

Fuck, if that didn’t work Harry up, he didn’t know what would. It played into his praise kink, yes, but that dark seed of possessiveness, that unhinged part of his brain that considered Y/N his own really fucking loved hearing that. “Fuck.” He drawled out the word as he thrust all the way inside of her again, stealing her breath as it jostled her. “You’re right. He can’t.” Harry growled. “He doesn’t know how to use a pretty pussy like this. Can’t give you the nasty fuck a slut like you needs.” There was no use in denying it. Something had shifted, something more animalistic in nature as he wrapped a hand around her throat, kissing her hard as he began to truly fuck her. 

Her cries were muffled with his lips while his prick fucked her open. The bite of her nails in his skin only added to his pleasure, the slight unhinged feeling breaking open as he fucked her like a doll. She was perfect, he thinks. Perfect in every fucking way. If that boyfriend was out of the way, he’d put a collar on her so fucking fast her head would spin. Not only was she getting trained to his exact wants, but she had the same interests. Played into his kinks, was so eager for him, for his cock and to learn. “Such a sweet girl… but if anyone comes back here… they’re gonna see what you really are.” He panted between thrusts, looking at her face as her brows furrowed and mouth opened in a soft ‘o���. 

The girl looked fucked out, used, and that’s exactly what she wants. “Fooled me at first. Shocked me… when I found out you wanted someone to rough you up, play with you. But now you’re my willing and eager puppy.” He laughed in disbelief, listening to the soft sounds of her being fucked. Sweat beaded on his brow, his cock fucking into her willing and soft pussy over and over again. She just took it so well. Like she was made for him. 

“I… I…” She stuttered before letting out a choked moan, hole fluttering around his cock as he got in deep and buried into her. Her clit rubbed against his torso making her gasp, nodding her head. “There. There, please, just like that. Like that, I’ll cum.” It was frantic, eyes widening as she pleaded with him. “Please let me cum, sir. I need it, I need to cum and I need your cum so bad. I’ll be so good all weekend, I promise, I just… I need it. Please, Please…” Her babbling was slightly embarrassing but it amused him. 

“Poor baby needs to cum so quickly…” He crooned. “Fuck, you’re incredible. Sucha good little puppy, eager to please the man who owns your holes.” Taunting her was fun, but he knew this couldn’t be a long fuck. Someone would come looking, and as hot as it could be in his mind, he didn’t know if Y/N would be alright with that out of the sexual haze. “Go on. Show me how my pet cums on a cock. Give me your eyes- look at me while you cum.” 

His pace stayed the same, his belly and groan wet with her arousal as he felt her breathing pick up again and the hole wrapped around him start to pulsate as she looked him in the eye as he watched her fall apart on him. 

Y/N felt the rush of heat over her body as she began to tremble in his arms, holding tight onto him as her brain fell back into that place he always got her to. Teetering between this dimension and the next, she let out a sob as she came on his cock. He didn’t stop, though, fucking her through the orgasm and extending it as fingers lightly pressed against the sides of her throat, giving that headrush that made it more intense. 

She was making a mess of him, but he didn’t seem able to hold back anymore. Making sure she was good, he kissed her lips and muttered softly. “Color, baby. Tell me a color.” 

“Green, green, please.” The submissive felt hazed. “Want your cum. Want it when we- when we say goodbye-” She was letting out the dirty bit of her mind, something she’d been afraid to say in the past few minutes but had fully come to fruition now. And it seemed to set the dominant off. 

“Oh, fuck me.” He growled, giving no second chance as soon as she said it. If she thought she was being fucked before, it was nothing compared to how he pounded into her now. Dropping her down a little bit, he released her throat and held both sides of her ass as he used her cunt. It was about his orgasm now, but she could feel another one rising. “You want my cum dripping down your thighs when you say goodbye? S’that what you were saying?” 

He’d never sounded like this before but Y/N liked it, biting her tongue to keep from crying out as she nodded. It’s exactly what she meant.  

“Nasty fuckin’ girl. God, m’obsessed with you.” it slipped without his permission but he didn’t realize it, feeling his cock fuck into the tight, sloppy cunt. One day he wanted to fuck multiple loads into her, watch it drip out, and she’d let him because she was perfect.  So perfect that she said what they were both thinking. Let her say goodbye to her boyfriend with his cum trickling down her legs and her pussy still wet from the fresh fuck. “You’re gonna be a good little girl and say goodbye smelling like me, full of me. Gonna come home with me to get fucked the way you need to while he sits and watches sports drunk off his ass.” He said through clenched teeth. “Because you’re my perfect girl. Aren’t you? Sweetest little sub I’ve ever taken. M’gonna cum so soon but I can feel it…” She was too. 

Y/N didn’t know what exactly about his words and the situation that made it so hot. Maybe it was because Harry truly cared about her, he took care of her, he was doing everything she needed and she felt increasingly disconnected from the man who had suggested this in the first place. He’d said he’d try but all he cared about was his beer and the game and his friends, barely sparing a look at her while Harry had given her all of his attention every single time she’d spoken to him. 

Maybe Harry was just better. 

It hit her hard and fast, a second orgasm washing over her as she clung to him and felt his fingers dig into the flesh of her ass. Maybe if she wasn’t so out of her mind from the perfect fuck that has her more aroused than she could imagine, it wouldn’t have slipped, but it did. “Daddy- Fuck, Daddy cum in me. Cum in me, cum in me, cum in-” Her moan was muffled by his neck as she buried her face in it, but it didn’t matter considering his groan was loud enough for the both of them to be caught if someone was around. 

Harry hadn’t seen it coming, literally and metaphorically. Her sweet, melodic, fucked out voice calling him a different honorific, one he hadn’t realized would make him feel as crazy as it did, it ended him. Made him want to hear that little voice call him that when he pumped her full of his load every single time. His balls pulsed as he filled her growling under his breath as he pinned her to the wall further with his body, trying to get his prick into her damn tummy. It stole his own air, hearing her little cries with each short thrust as he fucked his cum deeper inside of her. “Fuck, there it is. Take every drop of Daddy’s cum, my sweet girl.” the dominant whispered, shifting her weight to one hand so he could pull her face from his neck and kiss her. 

It was softer, but more passionate in a different way. Something had shifted since their time at the cafe and it was palpable. There was a difference in how he allowed himself to handle her. It wasn’t just like a submissive anymore. He cared far more than he was probably allowed but there was no way to stop it, even though he’d been trying. Thumbing over her cheek, the single tearstain wiped away as he pecked her lips over and over again. “S’my perfect girl. Eager pup.” He cooed, , nudging their noses. “Are you okay? Need anything from me, sweets?” The dominant headspace was still there but it was mixed with his normal one, doting on her but understanding they needed to get out of this hallway asap and go the fuck home. His cock was still twitching inside of her, giving her the last little bit of cum that he’d been saving all week for her. 

“No, I’m okay.” She smiled, that dazed look on her face. “It just feels really good.” There was a little giggle that could’ve gotten him hard again, but it stopped when she sobered up. His heart kicked up in panic as he saw the shift in her face, but she beat him to it when he went to ask her why. “Oh, god. Harry, I- I’m sorry I called you that. I don’t know why, we haven’t discussed if that was okay or-”

“It’s very okay.” He assured, placing a finger over her mouth to stop her from talking. “Made me cum, if m’being honest. I liked it.” A kiss of reassurance was given to her, but he knew that it was partially selfish too. The man found himself craving her lips a lot more than he should, and considering he hadn’t gotten a kiss from her before their escapade back here, he was the greedy one now. “We can talk about it later but there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.  Especially when it made me orgasm like that.” A lighthearted laugh followed. “But we do have t’go, sweetheart. I’m not done with you in the slightest.” 

There was an unspoken agreement in the air as he pulled out of her, hissing at the cool air. He didn’t bother to do much cleaning as he shoved himself back inside his pants, annoyed it was dark in the area now so he couldn't see much of his cum besides some that made a slight glisten from the light down the hall. “There’s so much.” She whispered, standing on wobbly feet. 

Y/N could feel it. Sticky and dribbling and spreading over her inner thighs, but it was a good feeling in this moment. Satisfying. Harry had quelled the ache he caused, and he did it perfectly.  Her skirt was adjusted by the man, and she let him fuss over her because it felt good. His tender touches made her feel cared for, fingers brushing messy hair back and out of her face and thumb wiping around her mouth. “Messy girl.” He hummed, giving a smile she could make out in the dark corner they’d retreated to. “We’re gonna tell them you feel a bit ill and m’gonna drive you home since I’m leaving anyway. Alright?” Her chin was caught by his finger, curled under it as he stared at her. “Are you comfortable with that?” 

Sure, they’d said so much during sex but he wasn’t about to force her into anything she didn’t want to do. 

“Mhm. Jus’ wanna go home with you.” She nodded, feeling the excitement rise again in her tummy. It felt like a big ‘fuck you’ to her boyfriend who had ignored her the whole night. 

“Alright, angel. Let’s go.” Resisting the urge to hold her hand, he settled on a touch on her lower back as they approached the table. He felt his cock’s weak twitch of interest as he saw her slight wobble in walking. He’d been the cause of that. “Hey, Y/N’s not feelin’ too hot and I was gonna head out so m’gonna take her with me.” He said easily as a few heads turned towards them. Danny’s was one of them, looking her over. 

“Yeah, you look a little sick. Go on home, I’ll talk to you later.” He turned his head back to the TV and it took everything in Harry not to snap at him. Though when he turned to see Y/N with her bag in hand, she looked more annoyed than anything else. If she had been teary eyed, he wouldn’t have been able to hold his tongue. 

Harry was still irritated though as he took Y/N’s bag for her, guiding her out of the place with a more solid hand on her back. Fuck it if people thought it was weird. 

It only made him more happy she had said goodbye to him with evidence of their passion between her legs. He didn’t fucking deserve her, and Y/N deserved better. 

Taking her hand, he helped her into the car and buckled her seatbelt for her. He didn’t have to, she was perfectly capable of doing it herself, but he wanted to do it for her. He liked taking care of her and making her feel appreciated because it was so clearly obvious she hasn’t been. 

Part of him wanted to ask how long he’s behaved like this. If she only realized it wasn’t normal when she got into this arrangement with him, or if she’d been feeling it before, but it just didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up. 

He knew it wasn’t right of him to get so deep, to allow his mind to wander as he drove them home with his hand on her knee and her fingers playing with his rings again. Thinking of what he should do, what it could be like if she was properly his and asking her if she really wanted to be with him after all of this. It was so difficult to work through in his brain, so many gray areas and blurred lines that seemed hard to even see the shape of anymore. 

The intention had been to show her the ropes, but she was the one wrapping them around his heart and tying him up. Tethering him to her. If he was a smarter man, a less selfish one, he’d tell her they couldn’t do this anymore. He’d take her home and sit her down to explain they needed a line of separation. But he wasn’t going to do that. Selfishly and hopefully, he’d take all he could get from her and show her how she should be treated, how he’d treat her if she left the other man and let herself truly belong to him. Give her a taste of the full thing. Harry could be good for her, even if he was kind of convinced she was too good for anyone else. 

“You okay?” Y/N’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, making his head turn to her with a gentler expression. She looked concerned and fuck if that didn’t do him in. The girl cared for him, but he needed to see how much.  “Mhm. M’fine, sweetheart. Just thinking.” Bringing her hand up to his mouth, his heart thudding in his chest at the casual intimacy, he placed a feather light kiss on her knuckles. One by one, he was letting another piece of the line they were supposed to have clearly defined blur into obscurity.

[citrustan]

slipping through my fingers [4] (myg)

title: and the hits keep coming 2.0

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!, fluff, smut summary: just when you thought yoongi couldn't surprise you anymore, it happens again. warnings: [other parts should be read before this one] a lot more feelings of insecurity and sad vibes, yoongi stepping over oc's boundaries, oc being disrespected yet again (nothing new nothing changed same old shit same old fucking shit)

You were tempted to ignore him, but with Nao involved, you couldn’t avoid dealing with him.

“You should go eat. I can just talk to him for you…?” Taehyung suggests as he watches you contemplate your next move.

That would be great help to you. While you couldn’t afford to avoid him forever, maybe a few days wouldn’t hurt. So, with an overwhelming and shaky sigh, you passed the phone to him.

He hurriedly motions for you to leave the room. And you reluctantly do so.

Taehyung scrunches his nose and shuts the door in your face.

Fighting the urge to hold a glass against the door, you forced yourself to wait in the kitchen till he was done.

On the other side of the door, Taehyung angrily exhales, taking his own sweet time to answer your phone. Then the call drops.

Not even a second later, the loud ringtone fills the room once again. It reeks of desperation.

“Hello?”

No response.

He tries again, “Hello?”

“…Taehyung?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

After another pause, the voice scoffs, “Figures.”

A bit taken aback, Taehyung bit his tongue, “What do you want?”

Taehyung hears nothing back. “Yoongi? Why’d you call?”

“I called _____, not you.”

“Well, she can’t talk now.”

Now it was Yoongi’s turn to bite back. “This has nothing to do with you, Tae. I just need to talk to her.”

“You can’t. You have me instead. What more do you have to say?”

There’s yet another long pause.

“How is she?”

Taehyung almost laughs in disbelief, “You can’t be serious. How do you think, Yoongi? Is the future Mrs. Min okay with you asking about your ex?”  

“Careful, Taehyung-”

“Does everyone else know already?”  

“Of course not, I went straight to _____’s. And nobody can know about it either. We’re not ready. I just…”

Taehyung grew more confused the longer Yoongi took to speak.

“I need to talk to her, Taehyung. I really… I messed up.”

“Did something more happen?”

Another pause.

“No. I just had to check in… Can I come by tomorrow? I still need to drop Mimi off.”

“Uh… right, about that. Listen…” Taehyung thinks for a second, “I think, maybe it’d be better if you just let her breathe for a moment. And I’ll come get Naomi.”

Another pause.

“Did she ask for that?”

Taehyung had half a mind to lie about it but he refrained, deciding that the truth would hurt him more. “You know she’d never. She’s too… stupid-” Stupidly in love with you. “-and you need to stop taking advantage of her; you need to hold back, Yoongi. You can’t go running to her for everything anymore.”

Yoongi knew he was in the wrong, but was annoyed that Taehyung was the one to tell him that.

Still a little in denial, he childishly spits, “Fine, bye. Get here before 7.”

Taehyung wanted to retaliate but he was immediately met with a little digital sound indicating that Yoongi had hung up on him.

A little bemused, Taehyung pulls your purple Samsung away from his ear and stares at it--- “So fucking typical.”

As Taehyung steps out of your room, he almost bulldozes you down.

“Jesus, _____.” Frowning, he asks, “Were you eavesdropping?”

You shook your head and wordlessly waved a jar of tiramisu in front of his nose.

Taehyung eyes you suspiciously, “I’m going to pick Naomi up tomorrow.”

When he says that, your face visibly drops. You didn’t actually expect Yoongi to pull away so fast. Was his girlfriend already keeping him from you now? You almost wanted to smack yourself in the head for thinking like you owned him.

Taehyung debates on whether he should elaborate or wait to see if you ask about it.

But you just gently and nonchalantly nod, “Right, of course. That’s okay. Please bring her here by 7.”

“He didn’t ask for this!” Taehyung blurts.

Your expression doesn’t change.

A little intimidated, he looked straight at his feet and explained, “I offered to pick her up. But Yoongi called because he wanted to talk to you. I just told him that I thought it was a bad idea.”

When he doesn’t hear you react, he slowly looks up at you, suddenly feeling miniscule. And he swore he could see steam coming out of your ears.

Taking a deep breath, you stare into his eyes, “You need to stop overstepping. You’ve done it once already. You need to stop.”

He almost felt the heat radiating from you.  

Almost as if he didn’t actually expect you to react so negatively, he asks, “_____... You’re really mad about this?”

You slam your jar on the coffee table and storm off into the kitchen.

“The first time you meddled, Yoongi left me. The second time, he happened to meet his future wife. What’s it going to be now?”

Taehyung was stunned, “Are you kidding me? Are you just mad that I’m looking out for you in ways you yourself wouldn’t or do you really believe that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you planned it all,” you glare at him accusingly.

Too stunned to digest what you accused him of, his eyes just widened in bewilderment. “_____. I- Planned what, _____?”

You tip your head forward in mockery, “Planned what? Take a guess.”

The room fills with silence once more.

Taehyung shook his head, “I’m going to ignore all of that. And fine, I’ll ask him to call you back then.”

“No!” – “No?” He parrots.

“I don’t want him to call me.” You almost whine. You don’t even know what you truly want. (Actually, you do.)

“Okay.” Taehyung nodded reassuringly, his hands grasping at your elbows, “He won’t. I’ll bring Naomi back tomorrow. Okay?” But you shook your head obstinately, “No, I want her back now.”

“Right now?” - “Now.”

“_____...” He looked at the grandfather clock on your wall.

Cringing a little, Taehyung attempts to reason with you, “_____, it’s Yoongi’s turn to have her.”

“Yeah, that’s a spoken agreement, not a written and notarized thing. He can’t stop me from wanting to spend time with my daughter.” You’re sure this is evil _____ speaking and it’s as if you can’t control her.  

Taehyung nervously cracks his knuckles. He doesn’t have a counter argument. You are Naomi’s mother and arguably the primary caretaker after all. He figures he owes you this.

“So, will you get her back for me?” You weren’t really giving him an option.

Taehyung knew your word was final. Either way, he wouldn’t police you on being a mother. “Let me give Yoongi a call, okay?”

“You do that. I’ll make you something to eat before you go!” You smile sweetly.

Not quite sure of your strategy here, all you knew was that you wanted your daughter with you. It was your way of gaining some control back in your life. You don’t have it in you to think of whether or not this was ethical or right. You just did not want to spiral.

From the kitchen, you could faintly hear Taehyung on the phone.

You take note of his assertiveness and slap some extra mortadella on his sandwich. He deserved it for putting up with you. You couldn’t think of anyone else who’d still be with you and handle your mood swings.

Was that normal or just sad? You do not want to think.

In your mind, you were satisfied in life. Sometimes you regret bringing up marriage with Yoongi. Maybe if you hadn’t forced the idea on him, you could’ve been in Hyejin’s place now.

The fact that you’re even in this position is ridiculous. Sooner or later you’d have to face… everything. The reason they’re getting married and you aren’t. The fact that they might have Nao be a part of their wedding and you’d just have to smile and nod, that Nao may have another parental figure, that you won’t be Yoongi’s bride or a bride at all, ever, and that maybe you’ve lost Yoongi’s companionship forever.

You had to step out for a bit.

Right at that moment, Taehyung emerges from the living room into the kitchen.

Sighing, he starts, “So, he agreed. He wants to know if everything’s okay. Of course, I know it isn’t but I told him he had nothing to worry about. And he didn’t buy it.” –

You push the little ceramic plate towards him, “Eat your sandwich.”

Taking a large bite out of it, Taehyung thanks you and adds, “--- by the way, your food is on the dining table, I didn’t actually give it away, you know?”

“I saw it,” you confirmed, “Jus’ not hungry.”

Quickly changing the topic back to Nao, you ask, “So, can Nao be back now or…?”

“Yeah. Here’s the thing…” He stalled. “Nao’s coming now.”

A gulp. You think he’s swallowing his food.

“Yoongi’s coming with.”

‘Why do you always bring me bad news?’ is what you wanted to ask. Instead, you squeak out a “When?”

“Twenty minutes? Told me Nao was already dolled up or something.” He finishes his sandwich and washes the plate.

In a soothing tone, Taehyung proposes, “Why don’t you head down to the pâtisserie? I’ll receive them. You don’t have to worry about seeing him, okay?”

You appreciated his offer but chose to decline it, “No. It’s okay. I need to tidy up anyway,” – “_____, I’ll do it for you. I know how you like it. Go take a walk or grab a sweet treat or something, yes?”

“No, it’ll take too long for you to do it by yourself. You can help me though. Just do my bed, please?” You’re already walking off.

Taehyung follows you into your room but doesn’t have a chance to stop you, you’re already stripping down and into your ‘serious cleaning’ clothes. It’s just an old dress and rubber gloves.

Sometimes, Taehyung mourns what you and Yoongi could have been. You’re perfect for each other. The two of you just needed to work on your communication a little. He’s thinking about how much of you Yoongi’s missing out on and can’t help but scoff. In pop culture terms, he really fumbled you.

Suddenly you gasp, “Did you watch me change?” Aimed at the man.

“No!” Vehemently shaking his head, he repeats, “Not intentionally! I was zoned out!”

“Wow, calm down, I don’t mind, you know that.” You smile sweetly once again.

Grabbing a pillow, he sighs. Sometimes, he thinks you toy with him on purpose. He really can’t tell.

 ₊˚ ‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Forty minutes go by yet there has been no sign of Nao or Yoongi. No calls or messages, no updates whatsoever.

You ought to get Nao a little phone for herself. How had you not thought of this before? It’ll probably be a lot more useful now.

You were nervously readjusting the doilies in a circle over and over again when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Taehyung’s resting figure suddenly snapped upright, “I’ll get it.”

However, you were closer to the door and got to it before he could take two steps.

When you open the door, you wished Taehyung would’ve beaten you to it. You wish you had taken that walk or chosen to buy yourself a sweet drink; because you couldn’t even have guessed what was waiting for you on the other side of the door.

Nothing could have prepared you to see your ex-boyfriend with his current girlfriend and your daughter. Together. All of them. Holding hands. In front of you for the very first time. All of them.

While Yoongi had the decency of looking literally anywhere but in your eyes, you couldn’t say the same about his girlfriend. Fiancée.

Hyejin, placed between your daughter and your ex, exhaled a dreamy smile. “I hope you don’t mind me intruding, _____! Nao-chan wanted to show you our matching hairstyle!”

Bewildered and wordless, all you could do was smile and nod. You mechanically turn your head to look at Nao, who sported a baby pink lock of hair amongst her regular, natural hair identical to Hyejin’s.

You nodded and stepped aside, briefly bumping into Taehyung who looked just as uncomfortable as Yoongi, making space for the lovely family to step into your home. Your eyes were glued to your feet.

Just like always, before you take a drastic step, your daughter grounds you as she runs to you and clings to your lower half. Although, the pink strands of hair brushing against you almost make you lose it all. Almost.

Following which Taehyung breaks the tension by awkwardly, yet warmly greeting the pair, taking a load off of you.

You needed to lie down.

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ how to disappear completely by radiohead ₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

note: sorry! it probably gets better! i think this one has a few edits pending but i couldn't waitttt

[cryptidghostgirl]

-Alastor x spouse!gn!reader:

Alastor and his Spouse had been together ever since they were alive and his spouse had always been his right hand in life and death. Just giving a helping hand if Alastor needed it, watching proudly as he became a powerful overlord. But then Alastor disappeared and no one knew where he had gone to, not even his beloved spouse. After a year or so of searching and waiting for their husband to come back, they accepted that he was gone and went on to become an overlord themselves, getting some tips from Rosie here and there. After a while they became isolated, only ever going out to gossip with Rosie or attend meetings with the other overlords. And they were never really a fan of the media or technology either. Only ever listening to their husbands radio, sometimes even joining in. So they weren’t aware of their husbands return, only seeing him for the first time in 7 years at one of the meetings with the other overlords. And they were pissed.

Sorry, that was really long.. my bad :[

Also, no pressure if you don’t want to go write this <3

A/N okay one, don’t apologize. Two, this ask is awesome. Three, I hope what I’ve done with it makes you happy :)

Wrath (Alastor x Overlord!Spouse!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Tame as heck for the most part, ngl.

Word Count: 1,820

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Y/n had never known life without Alastor. They had grown up together, shared a wild childhood in the back streets of New Orleans. Nothing can ever beat that type of love and so, when they were fifteen and terrified and he asked them on their first date, how could they say no?

One date turned into two and before either really had time to sit back and take stock of their lives, they were twenty and married. Alastor had a budding career as a radio host and Y/n found a simple joy in the life of a house-partner. Things had been happy, they had been good.

The pair had always been inseparable, attached at the hip. That first night Alastor had come home, eyes wide and suit soaked in blood? Y/n had handed him a damp towel. Even their entrance into death had been together, shot by a hunter while burying a body.

It had been a joy to watch him grow and change, to witness the way their husband built a life for them in the world of the living and nothing changed that when they entered Hell. They were his right hand, his everything. That was why it hurt so much when he disappeared one day without a trace.

Alastor had never done that before, not tell them what was going on. He'd been gone for days, weeks at a time on rare occasions, tracking some demon he was intent on killing or the like. This was different. They always talked before hand, he always made sure Y/n was safe and set up with their mutual friend Rosie for their protection. This time, there hadn't even been a note.

In tears, Y/n had wandered their way into Cannibal Town. Rosie's smile had slipped from her face upon welcoming them into the little shop she ran, quickly ushering the demon into the back room. Y/n, while they had been a right hand in their first life and this one, had never been an active part in Alastor's work. Sure, they leant a hand if he needed one, but the occasion he did was rare and most of them helping him was through making sure he had a hot meal to come home to and a loving environment to exist in. They had never had a life without him in it and refused to believe they were entering into one now.

The first weeks were rough. Y/n stayed with Rosie, in the same guest room they always did but, they barley left it. When Rosie suggested they start looking for her lost partner, Y/n had jumped up. It was a shred of hope, something to hold onto.

A year of searching went by. Rosie tried, did everything in her power to keep Y/n happy and hopeful, to keep her safe. Time is the cruelest master of all and not even Rosie could stop the doubt it brought to her friend.

"I can't do this anymore, Rose." Y/n admitted one day as they drank their coffee, "I... He's not coming back."

"You don't know that!" Rosie had insisted, grasping Y/n's hands across the table.

"We've been looking for a year. There hasn't been the slightest bit of evidence. I... I can't do it anymore. I have to move on."

And move on they did. With their husband gone, there were empty shoes to be filled among the overlords of Hell and who better to fill them than Y/n? They worked hard, training. They grew strong and it payed off at last when two and a half years after their husband's disappearance, Y/n managed to take down an overlord, officially indoctrinating them into their ranks.

The more time went on, the more feared of a figure they became. Y/n had hoped it would have been a distraction, carrying on Alastor's legacy. The loneliness ate away at them. He had always been there, and now he was suddenly gone. The more powerful they became, the more they retreated into themselves. They became a rumor, a name whispered behind closed doors.

Y/n still held out a spark of hope that one day, Alastor would return. As they hit the seven year line since his disappearance, that too fizzled out. Things were getting bad in Hell, the last extermination had been the most brutal in history. Just the other day, word had come in that Heaven wasn't even going to wait their normal year before the next one, only a meager six months. Even with Y/n's aversion to all things media, they were only a painful reminder of what they had lost, after all, they managed to hear about it. It was a big deal, and a terrifying one too.

Of course, in response to this, Carmilla had called a meeting. When Carmilla Carmine called a meeting, there wasn't an overlord in all of Hell who wasn't going to show up. It was serious, she meant buisness.

Y/n had dragged themselves out of the place that had become their home over the past seven years. One of the first things they had taught themselves how to do was to travel through shadows, the way their husband had. With a snap of their fingers, the shadows took them, spitting them back out in the waiting room of Carmilla's offices.

Looking around, Y/n caught sight of Rosie and approached their oldest friend.

"Hey, Rose." they hummed placidly.

"Oh! Y/n! What a pleasure to see you here." she smiled back, turning to face them, "I half expected you wouldn't show."

"You know me." Y/n shrugged, "I come when it's important."

"I'm worried about you." Rosie admitted after a moment, her smile faltering slightly, "You've been spotted out and about less and less."

"I'm fine, I promise." Y/n weakly reassured, "I'm drinking water and touching grass or whatever. I just... socializing isn't super my thing anymore."

"Yes but, you're putting a target on your back doing that." Rosie insisted, "People are going to start wondering, start questioning your power and authority. You should at least go rough someone up, or start a business! Establish your presence."

"Don't worry, Rose." Y/n smiled, their mouth full of razor sharp fangs, "Let 'em come. I can take care of myself now."

"That you can." she relented.

Y/n turned, surveying the room which held a handful of Hell's other top overlords. They recognized a couple, but there were a few they didn't know. They let out a sigh, eyes turning to the elevator doors as they slid open to reveal Zestial.

Y/n raised their hand, intending to wave a greeting to the oldest and most respected of their group as he entered the room, but froze. Their hand at chest level, their eyes went wide as they caught sight of a familiar shock of red hair.

"Fucking... Al?" they whispered, their arm falling to their side as they took half a step forward.

"What did you say?" Rosie asked.

It sounded like her voice was coming from somewhere underwater, the world was spinning.

"What's the matter?" Rosie asked, following the path of Y/n's gaze.

As her eyes landed on Alastor, standing clear as day at the other end of the room and casually conversing with Zestial, she gasped lightly.

"Oh my."

"I'll be back in a second, Rose." Y/n hissed through clenched teeth, their hands balled into tight fists.

With fluid, silent footfalls, they stormed across the room and came to a stop beside Alastor. The room fell silent at the sight. They all knew of the pair's story, had heard from Rosie about how long and how hard Y/n had searched for their husband. Hearing the silence, Alastor turned, his eyes locking with Y/n's.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, placing a hand gently on the top of their head, "How have you been, darling? Zestial was just telling me about what great strides you-"

Y/n harshly took his hand from their head, the strength with which they held his wrist cutting Alastor off. They took a step forward, now just an inch away from Alastor as they glared up at him. Fury coursed through their veins as he watched them in mild confusion.

"Seven years." Y/n scoffed.

Alastor made no reply, simply continuing to watch his spouse as they practically frothed at the mouth.

"Seven fucking years." they repeated, releasing the grip on his wrist.

"I'm here now."

The slap echoed through the silence like the crack of a whip. Alastor stumbled back to slightest bit, his hand raised to his cheek.

"You..." Y/n took a deep breath, trying to calm themselves, "Al, where the fuck were you? How... how long have you been back?"

"A few days." he admitted.

Y/n's eyes widened as they processed the information.

"A... a few days?" they scoffed, "A few days? You know what? You didn't tell me when you left, why should I have expected you'd tell me you were back."

Y/n turned away from him, rubbing their forehead in irritation. Alastor hesitated before taking a step forward, placing a hand gently on their shoulder.

"Lov-"

"What?" Y/n spat, spinning back around to face him.

Their teeth were sharp, elongated and dripping. Tears welled in their eyes. Alastor's breath caught in his chest.

"Fucking what?!"

"Please, let me make it up to you." his voice was soft and gentle, the same one he used when they were alone together.

"I..." Y/n took another deep breath, "I don't know if you can."

Tears were streaming down their cheeks now, falling thick and fast. Their body glitched, half transformed into their full demon state and half staying as their more human public face. It pained him to see. If he had had any other choice, he would have done something different. He had never wanted to hurt them. Alastor reached out, grabbing their hands in his.

"Please, let me try."

"Why should I!" Y/n screamed back at him, pulling their hands out of his reach, "Seven years! Seven fucking years! You promised me. You promised me we'd stick together."

The grief seemed to be winning in its battle over the anger as the glitches slowed. Their teeth shrunk back to normal and their voice faded, becoming softer, weaker.

"I'll explain everything just please, please give me a chance."

Y/n sighed. Lifting their hands to their face, they pressed their palms into their eyes. They stood like that for a moment, unmoving and silent. Alastor waited, tense with anticipation. At last, they looked up at him once again, their arms falling loosely to their sides.

"Fine." they sharply stated and Alastor's smile grew, "After the meeting. You get as much time as it takes me to drink a cup of coffee. Deal?"

"Deal."

----

A/N ngl I wasn't super sure how to end this fic but I really like it and this was such a fun request to write. I love and angry reader.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I would love to see Steve being really affectionate with shy reader? Maybe at the beginning of their relationship when everything is really „big” for reader? Only if it’s something that you like. Lots of love and thank you! 🩷

Thanks for requesting!

Steve Harrington x shy!reader ♡ 745 words

Selfishly, Steve has an easier time being brave when you’re so clearly the nervous one. 

“So this guy, he wasn’t being a dick or anything,” he says, fingers loosely intertwined with yours as you walk down to the 7-Eleven, “but he just wouldn’t leave Rob alone. Couldn’t take a hint, you know?” 

You hum. Your hand starts to slip in his, and you tighten your fingers almost imperceptibly. Steve adjusts, taking your hand more securely in his so it doesn’t happen again. A bit of pink tinges your cheeks that he doubts has much to do with the warm weather. 

Steve doesn’t mean to fluster you, but if he waited on you to make the first move there’d be no moving at all. That said, he doesn’t mind flustering you either. You get this sweet, startled look on your face and sometimes you try to hide behind your hair so that he gets to move it away. He sweeps his thumb over the back of your hand to soothe you, and you press your lips together like he’s done something far more brash. 

“What did she do?” you ask.

“She told him we were dating.” 

“What?” You laugh, the sound starting up a pleasant buzzing in Steve’s chest. “But she tells everyone else you’re ‘platonic with a capital P’.” 

“Exactly!” He shakes his head, grinning at you. You smile back for half a second before your gaze drops to his chest. “He’s gonna find out as soon as he brings it up to literally anyone, and then she’s gonna have to cover her ass all over again. I don’t know why she does this to herself.” 

“Maybe she’s panicking,” you muse. “Just, like, saying the first thing she can think of.” 

Steve guesses you’d know something about that. The first time he’d tried to ask you out, he’d suggested going to the drive-in and you’d blurted that you didn’t watch movies. 

“Maybe,” he says, unable to mask the amusement in his tone (and not trying very hard, if he’s being honest). 

You look at him curiously, then shy at whatever you see in his expression. “Oh, I forgot.” You duck away under the guise of digging through your bag. “I got this off my neighbor’s tree today.” 

You hold a peach out to him, and Steve thinks he’s going to melt on the spot. His heart feels all heavy and made of mush. “No way.” His voice is soft, reverent. “You stole from your neighbor for me?” 

He takes the peach from you, and you immediately turn from his gaze, pretending to adjust your bag over your shoulder. Steve knows you didn’t really forget to tell him earlier; you just hadn’t wanted this display in front of your roommates. It’s cool. He’s fine with adoring you in private. 

“I didn’t steal it.” The smile is evident in your voice, and Steve waits until you turn back to shoot you the best one he’s got in return. The pink spreads to your ears. “I asked. They always say they have too many to eat by themselves.” 

“Still.” He thinks about mushing a kiss into your temple, but even Steve’s not feeling bold enough for that yet. He settles for wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “It’s sweet, thanks.” 

“It was no problem,” you murmur, tilting your head so your hair curtains your face. 

Steve is gleeful at this development. He reaches forward with his other hand to brush it out of the way, hooking what he can behind your ear. Your eyes flit to him bashfully. He knows he’s smiling like an idiot, but he can’t help it. It’s just the way his face likes to be around you. 

“Well, I appreciate it,” he says, then decides to put you out of your misery. “So, what kind of slushee are you gonna get?” 

“Mm, dunno,” you reply softly. “You?” 

“Blue raspberry every time.” He nods certainly. “Never wavered since I was a kid.” 

“I don’t think I’ve tried that one,” you say. “I usually get a coke and cherry mix.” 

“You can try mine,” Steve offers. 

“You don’t mind if I sip from your straw?” 

“I mean, I was thinking you could just kiss me to taste it,” he says. And fine, now he might be stirring the pot a little bit. It’s worth it when you put your face in your hands. Steve squeezes you tighter against his side, affectionate. “But that works too, yeah.” 

[the-witch-of-one-piece]

Morning Sex 18+ Ft: Draken, Hakkai, Shuji, Taiju, and Ran Resident of @enchantedforest-network TW: Morning sex, suggestive theme, suggestive language, penetration, fingering, masturbating, making out, mutual masturbation

Taiju

 

Your dreams began sweet but ended a bit more sinfully when opening your eyes you could see your husband still sleeping. Seeing his chest rise up and down, he looked like a masterpiece. Biting your lower lip your hands began to rub his hard chiseled abs they began to travel lower and lower going underneath the band of his briefs finding his cock. You slowly began to stroke his cock. With just a few strokes you heard a low throat groan coming from him. His eyes half opened, his eyes fixated on you. “What do you think you're doing?” “Playing with what's mine.” you playfully spoke to him. Your lashes batting at him then back at the covers moving as you were stroking his cock. He looked at the time and Sunday services started in an hour and a half.  “Waking up with such sinner thoughts like the little slut you are.” letting out a lower growl. 

Pushing off the covers and removing the briefs from his lower extremities. “You love fucking this little slut. Doesn't that make you a sinner as well?” you cooed as you rub the tip of his cock that had pre-cum. 

“I guess we are lucky we have a little bit of time before the services. But it doesn’t give me enough time to fuck the sins out of you my way.” Taiju looked down at your hand reaching the back of your head gripping a fist full of your hair. “I wanna see how much of a little slut you can be before we have to get ready.”

Hanma

“Ba-be  I- I mmmm ngh shit~~~ i need to get ready.” you couldn't even get the words out of your lips. Your hands were pressed on your beds as you were bent over. “You think I could resist you walking all nice clean for me.” He trusted hard a few times making you gasp for air. “They wouldn’t mind you being an hour late or two.” 

Hanma was getting a good view of his cock sliding inside of you. He saw the ring of cum at the base of his cock. You were simply enjoying every ounce of his cock being rammed inside of you. This wouldn’t be the first time you were late because of him. It definitely wouldn’t be the last time either. He leaned over his tongue sliding up your back till he reached your shoulder placing a sweet kiss. The soft panting coming from him, his hands grasped onto your breast. His body was already glistening with sweat as his body pressed against your back. “Fuck it this your third time being late? You don’t need that job now, let daddy take care of you.” he purred in your living you could hear the menacing chuckle coming from him. “Your only job right now is to take all of my cock inside of you.” Draken

He is the first one to walk up but he is too comfortable to get out of bed. His head is buried into the back of your head. He got a whiff of your shampooed hair “Babe get up.” he grumbled with his eyes closed. “No” you mumbled in a groggy tone. “It's too early….” “It's 7, come one get up.” he slightly opened his eyes to see the time on the alarm. “You get up then I will get up.” you weren’t gonna get up not until he did. It was a bit hard at first because his arms were wrapped around you. 

You felt his hand sliding up your stomach passing your breast where his hand applied slight pressure to your neck. That woke you up instantly then heard his voice in a low husk tone “You can be such a brat sometimes” his hand traveling to your lips. His index finger parting your lips. You began sucking on his index finger. You shifted your body, turning your head around the lazy expression on his face. His hands rested on your hip before his hands began to travel to your lower extremities. He began to the fabric where your cunt was. “I’m up.” you softly moaned. “Oh you are now?” a cocky smirk on his lips as he continues to rub your covered cunt. The more he had friction he noticed you becoming damper.

“I need my dose of vitamin D kenny.” you cooed as his hand went into your bottoms and he began to rub your swollen lips. 

Ran

The king of sleeping was in dreamland before he felt some slight friction against his groin. You did tend to move a lot in your sleep you were not consciously knowing what you were doing. His cock started to become harder. He let a low groan out. “Shiiittt.”  He wanted you to wake up. “Honey.” 

“Hmmm?” you heard his voice close to your ear. “Ran what happened?” you yawned not fully being awake.

“You have woken my friend with all your movements in your sleep..” his cock pressed against your ass. “Don’t you think it’s fair to take care of the problem you created unconsciously or not?” his lazy voice echoed in your ear. “Your right Ran.” you turned around your hand reaching for his cock and began to stroke him. You felt his cock pulsating in your hand as you continued to stroke his girthy cock. Hearing the soft moaning coming from him as his hand caressed your cheek his press latched onto yours. His hands sliding into your panties, he did waste time as his two fingers began to fuck your cunt. You began to pump faster the more he began to finger fuck you. 

Hakkai

 Hakkai’s throbbing member slid deeper inside of you, your walls squeezing around his cock. On your side, you were gripping the sheets. One leg was lifted slightly supported by Hakkai’s hands as the other hand was around you, his fingers messing with your sensitive clit. Everything you were feeling was just intensified. “Kai~~~.” Moaning his name out loud you could hear his panting in your ear. As he slowed down his thrusting, he let out a low groan. He barely arrived early in the morning after being overseas the last few weeks. Not even an hour of being him your both ended up in the bed you both shared. 

 “I missed you so much .” Raspy tone feeling warm breath hits the shell of your ear.

“I -I missed you too Hakkai~~.” You said between each moan. “D-don’t stop just like that~~” whimpering as the tall slender man's cock still slid in and out of you.

“Fuck.”..letting a long groan out loud as his thrusting was becoming a bit sloppier. In your tone and the way your pussy was tightening around his cock you were close to coming.  Turning your head towards him you could see him flexing his jaw and just for him to see the lewd expression on your face the sound of his cock thrusting hard into you... The warm cum filled your pussy up once again as you both locked eyes with one another.

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[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Green| Part 01

A good idea not thought through.

Tags/Warnings: Rabbit hybrid!Jungkook, Fox hybrid!Reader, Single Dad!AU, strangers to lovers, Fluff, romance, angst, suggestive, mentioned smut but sfw

Length: 3.7k Words

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

When Jimin had set this whole date up, Jungkook had expected.. Nothing, really.  

As far as he knows, he’s supposed to meet you at the restaurant right here, and you supposedly know exactly which table he sits at- but what he did not expect, was for you to be so.. Pretty.  

You’re clearly a fox hybrid, distinctive hybrid features standing out, very much well taken care of. The second you sit down, he notices even the shape of your pupils being the same as a common fox’s, though they don’t make him feel intimidated at all. Not as they should, at least.  

Jungkook remembers the teasing jokes back in school, or the struggle to earn his spot even later in life as a prey hybrid. Many people still believe that he’s not a good fit for a leading position in his company as a rabbit, unable to apparently make important decisions with a realistic view on things or not mentally strong enough to withstand the stress of responsibility. But he’s not just a meek little bunny.  

And from the looks of it, you’re not a dangerous predator either.  

“Well, Jimin wasn’t lying when he told me you were.. Cute.” You say, and Jungkook takes in a deep breath- and you take it as a bad sign, instantly going back on your words. “Not as in, not-to-be-taken-seriously-cute, but like- uh.. Your ears just look.. Pretty?” You tell him, and at that, his eyes move to look at you from the rim of his wineglass, one of his mentioned black rabbit ears slowly standing up.  

Silver piercings are decorating it. It’s an uncommon sight- but you decide it fits him.  

“...thanks.” He nods, before he licks his lips, and averts his eyes. “I apologize, It’s been.. A while since I’ve been on a date.” He shamefully admits, but you wave him off.  

“It’s not a problem.” You deny. “I don’t go on dates often either.” 

“How come?” He wonders, seeing an opportunity to spark some smalltalk, so he can find out a little more about you.  

“Just.. Not the time. And no partner to go on one with.” You giggle, thanking the waitress for your glass of wine. “I’m usually pretty busy with work.”  

“Work?” He asks, and you nod, your pretty fox ears suddenly standing tall with pride, tail swinging behind you. It’s pretty cute, in his humble opinion.  

“I’m an author!” You beam happily. “I write children’s books, and fantasy novels.” You explain, and Jungkook’s thoughts instantly go back to his daughter, currently in the care of Jimin at his house. Did you write a book she’s seen before?  

“Children’s books?” He wonders, feeling a bit stupid for just asking you, and never giving you anything in return.  

“Yep.” You chirp. “Mostly.. Very simple one’s. Ages 4 to 7.” You explain. “And you? What do you do for a living if I may ask?” You wonder, resting your chin on your hands.  

“I’m.. The vice president of HLC at the moment. Hopefully I might get a promotion at some point.” He chuckles, and your eyes widen.  

“Wow.. That's. Okay, that’s huge.” You laugh a bit uneasy now.  

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” He wonders, a bit confused. Both of his ears are up now, his body becoming more and more comfortable with your presence.  

“A little?” You admit. You’re honest, it seems like. He already decides it’s a very positive point. “I feel a little.. Out of your league, so to say.” You say a bit jokingly, taking a sip from your wine. He shakes his head.  

“Don't worry about it.” He denies, reassuring you. “We both have our places in life.”  

“So it seems.” You nod, while you wait for your dinner to be served.  

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥ 

A place Jungkook had not seen you in his life, was beneath him, in his bed.  

But that’s exactly where you’ve ended up, most of your clothes already having been stripped from your bodies, lying somewhere in the bedroom. He honestly blamed his attraction to you on his hormones at first, and the fact that he’d neglected his natural need for physical intimacy for so long due to his single-father situation, but in this moment, he knows that it’s more than just that.  

And that just screams trouble.  

But right now, Jungkook can’t make himself think of anything other than you beneath his hands, skin warm as you push your bare behind right into him. He’d technically wanted to drive you home, a simple act of chivalry since your date had honestly been very nice, but somehow, you ended up agreeing to at least let the night come to an end in a more relaxed atmosphere at his apartment, since you told him that you’ve always dreamed to live in a apartment high up with a view of the city skyline.  

He really just wanted to show you the view. He really doesn’t know when you both started to make out.  

But he knows that it’s something you both clearly want- your hands holding onto his bedsheets almost impatiently, while he’s busy wrapping the condom over his length. If the situation was just a little different, Jungkook could see you both getting along a lot longer than for just this- but he’s got responsibilities, and he can’t just bring someone into his life without thinking about it long enough.  

And also, with his daughter still at such a vulnerable age, there’s just no way she’d accept you. 

Initially, he’d keep it at this. You’re in perfect breeding position, face in the pillows, behind pushed into him- but he has to see you. It’s not some magical connection type of thing, just simple attraction, and maybe, just maybe, his inner need to at least pretend for a moment that he’s just a young guy being together with his girlfriend- even though that’s never going to be the truth.  

Just for a moment, he wants to pretend.  

Just for one night.  

On your end, this is just an adventure you’ve never been on before. Jimin had told you to come out of your shell a little, be a bit wild for once, and meet his best friend who’s got a ‘just as dry’ intimate life as you did. And you can’t deny that this friend- Jungkook- is anything but charming, and attractive. Despite being a prey hybrid, he’s oozing a certain sense of confidence that’s not overbearing, but simply comfortable to be around.  

But all good things must come to an end- and to spare the poor young man the awkwardness, you get up in the middle of the night- early morning, barely three AM.  

Putting on your clothes, and somewhat fixing your hair, you carefully make sure to write a small note to leave on his kitchen table. Your face is already bare, since you both did shower yesterday before going to bed- so you don’t have to worry about that.  

Maybe he’d like to meet you again? Well, you surely left your number on the note for him to reach out to, if he so decides to do so.  

However, just as you try and walk out, you notice something.. Odd.  

A small, childrens-size pale green wintercoat, hanging on the wall next to the entrance. Tiny shoes, green, frog-themed rain boots, and an equally themed little umbrella hanging on the wall as well, next to what you assume must be Jungkook’s clothes. These things clearly belong to a child- and now that you pay more attention to it, you do smell the uniquely scent profile of a kid in the apartment.  

And the scents are too alike to deny that it must be his.  

Panic starts to bubble up inside you. If he has a child, there must be a mother to it as well, right? Maybe not, but the chance is too high for you to really take any chances. Jimin didn’t mention that at all- if he’d told you that this rabbit wanted to cheat and not just ‘go on a date’, you would’ve never agreed to it!  

Did you just become a homewrecker?  

You’re taking a step to take your note with you again, but you instead hear Jungkook move around in his bedroom, sleepily calling out your name- and that makes your instincts go haywire, as you instead basically rip the door open after somewhat slipping into your heels, and fetching your small handbag from the floor near the way too cute rainboots staring at you oh-so innocently.  

The door snaps shut behind you, and you don’t look back as you rush down and into the elevator, leaving the fancy apartment building and this whole mistake behind. 

Already fuming as you call Jimin, uncaring about the time. 

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥ 

“I’m so sorry!” Jimin apologizes to Jungkook, who just sighs as he washes Minji’s plastic dishes in the sink, while the little girl is occupied on the couch, watching her favorite show before bed. “I didn’t think you both would end up here though-” 

“It doesn’t matter anyways.” The young father denies, putting every piece of cutlery on the side to dry later. “It’s not like it would’ve worked out anyways. I just wish she knew that this was just a huge misunderstanding.” He clarifies, turning off the faucet before he grabs a towel to dry the dishes.  

“I tried explaining it to her, really.” Jimin whines, feeling incredibly guilty for screwing this up so badly for his friend. “But she doesn’t believe me at all.” He sighs, sitting down.  

“Like I said, it’s not like it would’ve worked out.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Minji already got nervous when Taehyung dropped her off this morning already just because her scent lingered.” 

“But.. Isn't there, like, any way of getting her used to it?” Jimin wonders. “Like, I swear I’ve seen predator-prey couples with a prey child, and they looked fine to me.”  

“Rare.” Jungkook just shrugs, putting the plastic cutlery and dishes away in their respective places. “It’s really fine. I just hope she doesn’t feel guilty about things, or believes that she was just some sort of.. Body for me to use.” He says, ears low against his head, simply flopping down. It’s obvious that Jungkook is upset about it all. Because from what Jimin had told him, you’d felt horrible, believing that you were some part in him cheating on the mother of his child- unaware that she’s not even in the picture, and hasn’t been for years.  

“I’m gonna try and convince her one way or another.” Jimin sighs. “Really, this is so fucked up. The main reason I tried setting you both up WAS Minji!” He whines to himself, thanking Jungkook for the glass of water he offers him, before the young father sits down across from him at the kitchen table. 

“What do you mean?” He wonders.  

“She loves kids!” The human reveals. “She really does, but she herself can’t have any. Which I think might be why she feels so strongly in this situation.” He explains, making Jungkook sigh.  

Well, that just makes him feel so much worse.  

“There’s got to be a way to make this right somehow.” Jimin complains to himself, while looking over at Minji, who’s busy watching the TV with her favourite plush toy in her lap keeping her company. “I’m really sorry. I thought.. I don’t know. I forgot that because you’re two different hybrids, you might not get along too well..” He says, but Jungkook shakes his head.  

“I.. We got along very well, actually. I really liked her. Or rather, still like her.” He chuckles a bit bitterly to himself. “But I guess finding a partner is out of the question for me, at least until Minnie is a bit older.”  

“A bit older? Jungkook, you said she probably will stay scared of predator hybrids until she’s what? Twelve?” His human friend reminds him.  

“...generally, yeah.” He shrugs.  

“Jungkook, no. That can’t.. I refuse to accept that.” He shakes his head. “I’ll explain it all to her, I promise, and you’ll try and make this work with Minji when the time comes. Please.” Jimin says. “I don’t want to see you so lonely all the time.” 

“I’m not lonely- I have Minji.” Jungkook refuses.  

“You know what I mean.” Jimin presses.  

“...alright.” Jungkook sighs. “If- IF- you somehow work it out with her, and she wants to.. Talk, give her my number. And not the office phone, please.” He runs a hand over his face, before he gets up with his friend to bring him to the door. “But don’t pressure her. If she doesn’t want to see me again, that’s fine too.”  

“I won’t.” Jimin promises. “Promise.” 

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥ 

You’re sitting in front of Jungkook again, in a public cafe, a hot cup of milky coffee in front of you, while he seems equally as nervous with his own iced americano in his hands, fingers tracing the pearling condensation a little.  

“So.” You start, looking at him, nervously licking your lips.  

“So.” He nods. “I have a child.”  

“So I’ve noticed.” You answer him, legs swinging a bit back and forth, due to the chair being a bit too high for you. 

“Her mother.. Left, pretty much a few weeks after she was born.” He explains in a neutral tone, staring down at his beverage. “No one really has an answer why. But she just.. It was as if she was disgusted with her own child, pretty much right after birth.” Jungkook recites the events. “Didn’t want to hold her, got angry when she cried, refused to take care of her. We thought it might just.. Be postpartum depression?” He leans his head to the side a little. “It happens more than one might think, after all. But it never got any better.” He shakes his head. “So.. We decided to split up, and I took care of Minji by myself.” 

“Did she ever.. Maybe reach out?” You wonder, but Jungkook shakes his head.  

“She re-married again. Lives in Italy now, with her new husband and stepchildren.” He chuckles a bit. “I’m happy she’s happy, you know? Just wish it went a little different.” He honestly reveals.  

“How old is Minji?” You wonder, dreading the answer. Because from both the scent and the size of the clothes and shoes in his home, she must be young. 

“She’s three and a half.” He reveals, and both of you become quiet.  

Oh. 

Well, it was nice while it lasted. With his daughter this young, there’s just no way you could ever move forward with your friendship even- considering you’re still a predator hybrid at the end of the day, something that surely will scare the poor little bunny half to death. Why do you always have to get crushes on the worst possible people? 

“Well, I’m sure.. She’s very lucky to have you as a dad.” You nod to yourself, swallowing hard. “And you’ll soon find a proper partner as well. You’re very likable after all.” You praise, praying that he can’t see the way your eyes begin to water.  

“I’m sorry.” He answers, and his voice sounds just as dissappointed as he feels. “I.. Wish we would’ve met under different circumstances.” 

“Then you wouldn’t have Minji.” You deny, spotting two drops of your tears having fallen onto the table. “Sorry, I’m a crybaby...” You say, fetching a tissue from your handbag.  

“We could still try-” He starts, but you shake your head.  

“No, she’s gonna be terrified of me, I don’t wanna scare her.” You refuse, drying your cheeks with a good amount of embarrassment, large fox ears pinned back in shame of it all.  

“Minji is a lot braver than one might think.” Jungkook chuckles, reaching out to help you wipe off your slightly smudged mascara from beneath your eyes. “She just.. She might just be a bit shy. Or very shy, most likely.” He adds, and you giggle a bit.  

“Jungkook.. I’m sorry I’m me.” You say, but he shakes his head, smiling at you.  

“Don’t ever apologize for something like that.”  

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥ 

You decide to meet up again at Jimin’s birthday party- the human having invited you both, and Minji as well for the dinner he’d organized at his favourite restaurant in town. You’ll have the whole venue for yourselves to make it both easier for the staff, and everyone attending.  

Jungkook is nervous in his seat, Minji next to him in her seat, happily coloring in her little book that he brought with him to keep her occupied, different shades of green crayons all over her spot at the table.  

It’s then that the door to the restaurant opens, and you step in, together with Min Yoongi- a coworker and fellow predator hybrid whom you’ve befriended a few years ago, or so Jimin said. The big cat hybrid is apparently a tiger- though his ears and tail aren’t even slightly orange, instead monochrome white and black, his light eyes proving the fact that he’s not a standard.  

But, Jungkook can’t look at him for too long, because he’s too busy blatantly staring at you instead, with your pretty face, dressed up for the occasion. So much so, that Minji has to pull on his sleeve to get his attention back, looking at him before she tilts her head, small bunny ears in between her hair moving on a constant, since so much is going on.  

This will be it. If she gets too scared, he’ll have to go home early- and basically bury his hope of ever building something with you.  

But even though she does seem nervous, she’s not yet scared- instead clinging to her father by instinct, who’s calm, mostly that is. “Come, let’s say hi to everyone, yeah?” He offers her, and she reluctantly gets up with him, clinging to his hand while they both walk towards Yoongi and you, who’s just hanging up your coat.  

“Long time no see.” Jungkook offers Yoongi, who nods and shakes his hand politely, before he leans down to make himself as small as he can, in hopes of maybe getting at least something out of the little girl- but she instead steps behind Jungkook, the predator hybrid too intimidating. “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh don’t be. She grew quite a lot in a year.” Yoongi dismisses, while you reluctantly walk closer, politely moving to shake Jungkook’s hand as well- but the rabbit hybrid instead moves to give you a hug, despite his daughter being so close. And much to your surprise, this action alone seems to spark Minji’s interest- her head poking around Jungkook’s legs, just to look at you curiously, especially your fluffy tail that’s nervously swaying from side to side behind you.  

“Say hello, Minji.” Jungkook urges her, but as if snapped out from her trance, she shakes her head, instead running back to her seat at the table where she picks up her crayons once more.  

“She’s cute.” You say, earning Jungkook’s attention back. “Looks.. A lot like you.” You mention, and he nods.  

“I know. A lot of people tell me she’s like.. A mini-version of me.” He chuckles, walking towards his own spot next to his daughter. “Do you.. Want to sit next to me?” He wonders, and you nod, accepting happily. Sitting next to him will get Minji used to your scent, while also putting a safety barrier between her and him, so she can figure you out from afar.  

Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea.  

Something you’re very much surprised about, is that throughout the entire evening, the little hybrid girl does not seem to complain whatsoever. Not once does she get fidgety, or whiny about sitting in one spot for too long- and once she does, Jungkook is quick and skilled in handling her well, calming her down or occupying her attention for a moment.  

Though, at some point, she does get up and roam around a little, under the watchful eye of her father of course.  

You’re currently talking to Jungkook about your work, when you notice something on your tail, one slight look from you revealing that it’s the little girl, carefully running her small hands over the fur, interest too great to really let her inner fear control her. You know she’s on high alert- ears standing tall and completely turned towards you, motions freezing entirely when she notices that you’ve noticed her.  

Jungkook smiles at his daughter. “It’s pretty, hm?” He asks her, and nods, before she reaches out to have him pick her up and sit her on his lap, where she stares at you, now a lot more bold in the arms of her father. She’s visibly taking your entire appearance in, before she looks at Jungkook again, attempting to pull one of his jet-black rabbit ears, making him laugh and gently prevent her from doing so. “What do you want with dad’s ears, huh?” He jokingly scolds. “You’ve got your own, right there!” He reminds her, gently pulling her own equally dark ears, which makes her laugh.  

You can’t help but smile fondly at the interaction.  

That is until suddenly, the little girl boldly reaches out for your ears now- something that makes you both surprised and excited- your head leaning closer so she can clumsily grab at your ears, laughing most likely at how soft they are. It clearly makes Jungkook hopeful, his own tail wiggling around without his own knowledge as he watches the short but warm interaction with you two.  

It’s obvious that while Jungkook is around, she feels comfortable and safe enough to interact with you- but as soon as his attention is somewhere else, she becomes more withdrawn and suspicious again, which is natural. But the fact that she’s not panicking at least, is already a great sign.  

Maybe there’s a chance.  

Maybe this could really work.  

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥ 

[bunnys-kisses]

Oh Bunny! I love your writing and while I’m not typically the 5-7 Aston Martin fans the Lance Stroll bug has also gotten to me!

I’d love to order ice cream bars, maple cream pie, flan, and sourdough bread with a side of hard lemonade and pina colada served by Lance Stroll!

bakery menu

the menu is open! after a little break from bakery items, i am happy to get back into doing them! they were fun before and i'm excited to see what has been suggested, so please keep the orders coming! i have grown a soft spot for lance stroll (canadian, eh?), so i'm happy to receive more requests for him. i hope you love this! thank you!!! <3

ice cream bars: “did you see the way he was eyeing you? he need to know you're mine." + maple cream pie: "either you wear the necklace with my name on it, or wear my bruises around your neck." + flan: "i'm not possessive... i'm obsessive." + sourdough bread: "i'm going to breed you." + hard lemonade: possessive behaviour + pina colada: pregnancy served by lance stroll (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, obsessive!lance, pregnancy, possessive behavior, jealousy, mean!lance,

"you look good in that." lance said as he pressed himself up against your back with his hands at your hips, "and while i love it on you.did you see the way he was eyeing you? he need to know you're mine."

"you're jealous of liam lawson?" you chuckled, but could feel the tightness in your chest from your lover's words. he pressed into you further.

"i wouldn't say jealous." his hand pushed up your skirt a little, "I just love you so much."

lance was your ideal man. tall, dark and handsome. he had a winner's smile and he loved you just as much as you loved him. expect he could be obsessive as he once told you, "ah, honey, i'm not possessive... i'm obsessive." and in a way, you loved it.

when lance wrapped a strong arm around you and held you close to him while he glared at the rookie, you felt protected. loved.

lance looked at liam and dragged a hand up the side of your thigh that made you shudder and cling to his green team shirt a little tighter. lance winked at liam before he flashed some of the bare skin of your thigh to the other driver. that included some of your panties.

liam could gawk and flirt all he wanted. but you'd always be lance's. the canadian driver kissed your head and you smiled against his chest. even back in the hotel room he kept you close and after you got your heels off, lance had his hand loosely around your throat.

"so pretty, fuck, all eyes on the future mrs. stroll. everyone is jealous, they want you. but you wouldn't leave me, would you?"

"never." you replied.

"i'm going to breed you." his other hand was up your skirt and you felt a shiver of want through you. you swallowed and he said, "make you all mind. hard for lawson to get a feel of you when you're carrying my baby." he bent against you and his jeans rubbed against your behind.

"lance." you shuddered as you felt him up against you, you moaned when he kissed your neck. you knew he was greedy for you.

"maybe you need a necklace." he kissed right at your push, he had fully invaded your space, "either you wear the necklace with my name on it, or wear my bruises around your neck."

"i'll always wear your name." you moaned. lance gave you enough room to get onto the bed. by the time you were close enough to the bed, he pushed you face first into the mattresses. your back arched as you pulled your skirt down.

he kissed your back as he pushed the t-shirt off of you. he could almost feel your heartbeat under his lips. he said, "i love you in my colours, but it all looks better on the floor." he chuckled.

he took his t-shirt off and rubbed himself up against you for a moment before he got out of jeans and briefs. your face found home on the soft pillows. you rolled your hips in anticipation. you knew what was to come, you could already feel the heat in your soul and between your legs. you swallowed when lance started to run his mouth.

"you look so good for me. you know exactly who you belong to. where you belong, under me. on your hands and knees like a good girl. fuck, i wish i could take photos of your naked body. rub it into lawson's face. he could never have you." lance groaned before he sank his cock into you.

lance was the jealous type. it was a huge red flag, but it was hard to see red flags when you were face first in the bed. it was hard to be alarmed when he knew exactly how to make you squirm. he wanted you close, he needed you in every was he could get you. he was so possessive he knew he lucked with you. he wanted to keep you close so he could love you for the rest of your days.

he licked his lips, as he thrusted against you. your cunt felt perfect, he it so easily inside of you. where he belonged. you were two pieces of the same puzzle. his heart raced for you as he worked you against his length. his cock hit against all the right areas. the noises made him hungry for you more. his appetite for you couldn't be filled. it was a never ending hungry for you. and that was how he liked it.

he continued to move rapidly, he felt the pleasure bloom in his chest and twist in his gut. he couldn't fully articulate how you made him feel. there were no words in any language that could fully express how he felt about you. he pressed his nose into your neck as he held your hips.

"lance."

"you don't have to worry about anything." he said, "no one will ever have what is mine. you, me and our baby." the thought of it excited him as he continued to thrust against you.

you felt hot all over, the fire in your belly burned. you were at a loss for words, nothing could come to mind as he continued to make a mess of your pretty pussy. his pretty pussy. after all you were his. the sex between you two was hot and heavy. it was bruising in a way that made your toes curl as he continued to fuck you.

you could barely form thoughts let alone words as he battered your sweet, wet cunt. you drooled against the pillows and arched your back to get the perfect angle. to let lance fuck you as deep as he could.

he thrusts were short and rough. it all came down on you, it was the type of moment that had you panting into the bed.

"lance, honey." you whined.

"you look so beautiful with my cock in you. and you'll look beautiful with my child. i know they'll look as beautiful as you." he continued to fuck you. his breathing increased, he could feel the sweat down his strong back.

you felt the pleasurable inferno climb your back, you breathing was heavy. you swore under your breath as you felt close to orgasm.

"my beautiful, girl. all mine." he moaned as he moved you on his cock. he continued to fuck your body until you came around his cock, your voice was tight as you called out his name in the heat of pleasure.

lance only got more aggressive as he moved against you. your noises were short and lance could feel the stammer in your chest as he moved. his breathing was heavy as he gave a few more rough thrusts. he finished inside of you and leaned in to kiss you on your warm back.

"i love you." he said with conviction.

"i love you too." you replied before you found comfort in his arms. he kissed your sweaty skin, promises of the future came from his lips.

-

the gold of the necklace glimmered in the soft afternoon light as you laid in bed with your husband. you became mrs. lance stroll a few months ago. you could see your baby bump in your wedding dress. you were finally lance's at the halfway part of your pregnancy.

you felt his warm touch as he pressed his face up against your bump. while it was hard to nap in such a position, you knew that lance wanted to feel close to you and the baby. your baby.

you played with his dark hair and felt his affection, even without words. his lingering touches were enough for you to know that he loved you. a love that was beyond words.

you were his, all his. now and forever. <3