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mrchiipchrome · 8 months ago

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Misophonia

W.C.- 2.7k

Happy birthday to meeeeee

——————

It was no secret in the world of women’s football that you and Kyra Cooney-Cross were everyone’s unofficial little sisters. The younger of the two, you, had been moved up from the Arsenal academy at the same time that Kyra joined, and the unfamiliarity of the new team that you were suddenly thrown into made you two bond fast. Really fast.

Within 5 minutes of meeting the other, you had managed to plan at least 4 pranks to perform on the girls. Through Kyra, you also became much closer to the aussies of the team, just a sort of natural consequence of hanging around the Aussie all day. She was like your older, but just as mature as you, sister.

By month 3 of knowing each other, you and Kyra had managed to find every single button to press to make the other go completely mad. For Kyra, the main thing that set her off was when you tapped your feet against the floor repeatedly. For you it was whenever anyone made any type of noise with their mouths, with the obvious exception of speaking.

It just made you so irrationally mad, especially when someone was chewing all up in your ear, the sound so revolting that you often shouted for them to get away. Most of the team had learned their lessons already and knew not to even try to chew loudly near you, as you’d put your headphones on and ignore them for most of the day.

Kyra however, being the annoying little shit (lovingly) that she was, continued to do it every single second that she could, her favourite being when she knew that you couldn’t do anything about it, like in meetings.

She’d sit in the seat right behind you, leaning her head forward so that her chin would rest against your shoulder, and start to snack loudly on a granola bar or smacking her gum. The only thing you could do was sit there and take it, clenching your fist and wondering what it was you’d send in the text to Mini later that evening.

When Kyra would get told off by her team mom later that night she always looked at you, moving her thumb over her throat, telling you that you were dead.

But yet she kept on doing it, and you kept on telling Mini, it happened so often in fact that you too created a special bond with the older woman, her becoming a somewhat mother to you too. You always joined in on their facetime calls, Harper greatly appreciating you too.

Mini liked that Kyra had someone to goof around with at Arsenal, even if it did happen to be a 16 year old kid.

And as much as you liked and worked well with Kyra, not a single adult at Arsenal thought it was a good idea for you two to live with each other, no matter how much you begged and pleaded with them. Instead you were sent to live with Beth and Viv, whilst Kyra got her own apartment. That didn’t stop you from having sleepovers once a week however.

—------

Kyra breathing loudly directly beside your ear is the first thing you notice as you wake up from your nap in the community room at Arsenal, all groggy and confused, yet already annoyed by the girl’s incessant need to irritate you.

“Man, get the fuck out my ear!” Your voice is all scratchy and deep as you shout at the other girl, annoyance at her actions showing clearly on your face. More than a few heads snap up to look in your direction, quickly looking away when they notice the situation you find yourself in, many of them already knowing what the Aussie was doing.

“Awe is wittle baby Y/n a bit cranky from their nap?” Kyra antagonizes, trying to fuel the fire that was sure to start if she continued.

“You do remember that I know where you live? I can easily smother you in your sleep.” The girl’s knew to separate the two of you when the threats started flying, knowing that it could end with you two on the floor, wrestling or trying to strangle the other.

Alessia put her arm around a smiling Kyra’s waist, pulling her away from you even as she continued to breathe loudly, annoying you all the way from across the room. Viv sat down next to you on the bean bag, looking slightly irritated at your little outburst. She knew it wasn’t really your fault, but you’d been working with her on how to regulate your feelings.

“Y/n, we don’t threaten our friends, even when they’re being annoying. How about you go and apologise to Kyra and we’ll go get you some ice cream?” The dutchie was one of your many adoptive mothers in the squad, one of the more prominent ones as she knew exactly the pressure put on you as a young superstar in the making. She just wanted to help, often doing so by coming over with dinner for you and Kyra when you have your sleepovers, making sure that you didn’t trash your diets too much.

Looking down to the floor as you walk over to the older girl, she smiles at you mischievously like she knew exactly what it was you were doing. She knew that you’d been forced by your mom to apologize to her and she was enjoying the process of you going through all the stages of grief before getting to her.

Looking her in the eye, she sees the playful hate in your gaze, she already knew that you didn’t hate her but instead having to apologize for something that she caused.

“I’m sorry Kyra” Lowering your voice, she sees you look down at her in amusement. “I hope you know that I’m only doing this for the ice cream.” The Australian gasps in mock shock at your statement, but mostly at the fact that you’re allowed to get ice cream when she isn’t.

“VIV?! Why is Y/n getting ice cream and not me?” She catches the attention of the entire team with her bold accusation, most if not all of them rolling their eyes at her actions.

“Because Y/n doesn’t start fights, and she’s apologizing for threatening you.” Viv joins the others in rolling their eyes, taking hold of your shoulders as you make your way over to her, pulling you into a side hug.

With your backs to the young Aussie, neither of you notice the way she’s rushing towards you two, ready to absolutely throw herself onto you. She comes in with an awkward angle, her legs wrapping around both you and Vic’s waists, her arms locking around your necks, nearly choking you both out. Her head slots into the space between you and Viv’s heads.

Luckily enough for every Arsenal women’s fan ever, there’s a photographer there to capture the looks of absolute horror on you and the Dutch woman’s face and the unignorable grin on the Australian’s.

“Kyra Cooney-Cross get off right this second or I swear to god I will contact Katrina personally.” Viv comes off more than a little threatening, her voice deadly calm as she speaks to the younger girl. Kyra frowns playfully and slides down you and Viv’s excessively tall bodies, her feet touching the floor after a few seconds.

“What do they feed you dutchies? You need to stop being so tall, it’s annoying.” The short girl looks at you angrily when you pat her head like she was some sort of dog, waiting for a treat. She slaps your hand away when it comes down to pet her again and the only response she gets is a shrug from you as Viv drags you away to her car.

Only minutes later Kyra’s phone pings with a notification from instagram, seeing the ‘yourinstagram tagged you in a post’ had her stressing out. When she looked at the story you had tagged her in, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes, it was a selfie of you and Viv with ice creams in your hands, you with the biggest smile ever on your face and Viv looking slightly fed up with you.

The caption you’d typed out was ‘revenge is best served cold, right @/kyracooneyx’, she reposted your story to her own, typing out a simple ‘I hate you’. But with your quick thinking and amazing humor, you quickly reply with your own story, a caption reading ‘tell that to the ice cream you didn’t get’.

Kyra couldn’t even lie and say that it wasn’t funny, the little giggle she let out an indicator of how she enjoyed the little back and forth.

————————————————

Everyone in the team agreed that the decision to put you and Kyra in the same car on the road-trip across the country was a bad idea. They knew that it would be torture, Kyra would chew in your ear, or simply just breathe loudly next to you, making you really fucking irritated. You would constantly touch her, poking at her like you weren’t afraid of losing your fingers.

The unfortunate person having to sit next to you and Kyra during the entire ride this time was none other than Alessia Russo, someone who really just wanted to sleep the entire 8 hour ride and skip your bullshit, obviously that didn’t happen.

“WHO LET KYRA HAVE SNACKS? I’m going to kill you.” Alessia sat to your left, rubbing her temples at the already growing headache, Kyra sat to your right, a sucker in her mouth and three loud crinkly bags of crisps in her lap. You were in the middle seat, a frankly uncomfortable seat seeing as you were the tallest in the entire car, knees bent inwards trying to fit your long legs between the seats.

“Yeah, Viv did you not ban snacks so that this wouldn’t happen?” Beth questions the forward, who meets Kyra’s guilty gaze in the rearview mirror, looking at her sternly. Viv sighs like she knew it would happen before reaching her hand back and asking for Kyra’s snacks. When she begrudgingly hands them over, you look at her with a huge grin on your face.

“Thank you pa, you’re my hero, saving me from the evil supervillain ready to chew in my ear.” Viv gets a little embarrassed and emotional at you calling her pa, the Dutch name for father you had nicknamed her was something you only called her in private.

“Aww Vivi, did you get a bit embarrassed?” Beth teases her girlfriend gently, tugging lightly at her dark red cheek. It was lucky you’d stopped at a red light, otherwise Viv would’ve probably crashed the car.

All of a sudden, when you’re distracted by Beth and Viv interacting, you hear a couple of loud chews of what sounds like at least 6 sticks of gum. The way you recoil is almost instant, throwing your body into Alessia’s open arms, the woman glaring at Kyra for doing that, AGAIN. Alessia liked cuddling you though so it wasn’t all that bad.

She definitely can’t complain when you fall asleep in less than 5 minutes either, though having to give Kyra a stare down as she tried to tickle your sides definitely wasn’t a highlight of her day.

Within 25 minutes of your departure from the training grounds, Kyra was already complaining about needing to pee, only answering with a shrug and a simple ‘I didn’t need to go then’ when asked why she didn’t go at home.

Viv sighs as she stops at the gas station in the middle of nowhere, Alessia waking you up so that you too could go to the toilet.

“Oh for fucks sake Kyra, you don’t need all that candy. I swear I’m more of an adult than you are.” You told the Australian girl as you came into the gas station, moving towards the bathroom. It looked like you could get every STD possible from simply being in there.

When you exited it was with a grossed out expression, that was until you spotted the slushy machines lined up against the wall. You lit up like a child on christmas morning when you spotted it, quickly filling a cup whilst you commanded her to get you a sprite, the cashier taking a quick peek at you bouncing up and down in anticipation of your drink.

After you paid, you instructed Kyra to pour about half the sprite into the slushy cup, letting her taste it after she’d promised on her mothers life not to make any sound.

“That’s delicious, where did you learn to do that?” She questions you, moving to buy her own slushy and sprite.

“I don’t know, I just did it once and it tasted great. Now you better hurry up because I think Viv is going to kill us if we’re not in the car soon.” With that, Kyra hurries up.

You’re both in the car in record time, all the actual adults in the car’s eyes widening at the half full slushy glasses in your hands.

Only a few minutes later, both you and Kyra are in full on sugar rush mode, singing along with the song on the radio loudly, swaying in your seats as you pretend you’re on the big stage somewhere. They’re all pleasantly surprised when you belt out the riff to Keyshia Cole’s Love, it being legitimately good.

As were Alessia’s instagram followers, the girl posting a video of you singing like you’d just had your heart broken, well that was until you were interrupted by Kyra snacking loudly right next to your ear.

“LOOOOOOVE NEVER KNEW WHAT I WAS MISS- KYRA GET THE FUCK OUT MY EAR.” She does look a little sheepish as she does it this time, pretty clearly not even registering that she was chewing with her mouth open.

Though she doesn’t stay sheepish for long, just like you don’t stay mad for long, because ‘I want it that way’ by the backstreet boys suddenly came on the radio, and that was always you and Kyra’s karaoke song.

It only took you a few more songs for the sugar crash to hit, you and Kyra suddenly going from duetting on songs to snoring loudly in the backseat.

Luckily enough for everyone in the car you managed to stay asleep through the whole ride, only waking up a few times to tell Kyra to ‘get the fuck out my ear’.

Literally everyone is confused when you turn up to the camping site, half asleep and clinging to Kyra tightly, Beth soon taking you from the younger girl so that she could start helping to set up the tents.

“They didn’t cause too much trouble, did they? I know how they can be.” Kim comes up to stand beside Beth, who shakes her head diligently.

“No, they slept most of the ride, they were both drinking some slushy and then had a sugar crash after singing for half an hour.” Beth smiles at you tenderly, the motherly affection clearly something she’d picked up from her own mother.

“Aw well that’s good then.” Kim says quietly, noticing you drooling slightly with your eyes half open, looking like those orange cats you always showed her.

———————

“Kyra if you don’t get the fuck out my ear I will kill you.” It wasn’t even her fault that she was sniffly, she’d caught something from Harper at camp and when you asked if you could come over for your sleepover, she didn’t hesitate.

She looked at you sadly, like she was heartbroken by your insensitive words. It makes you sad to see her like that, so you quickly bring her into your arms, asking for forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry Ky Ky, how about I make you some soup yk feel better?” She nodded wholeheartedly at your words, sitting on the counter as you made your famous soup.

And even though you had to keep yourself from being angry at her every single second, you wouldn’t trade being at Kyra’s home cooking for her for anything.

#woso #alessia russo #woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #arsenal wfc #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross #vivianne miedema x reader #beth mead x reader #vivianne miedema #beth mead

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futbolfatale · 5 months ago

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Our Omega

Pairing: Select Lionesses x reader

Tags: Omegaverse, Sight Kidnapping, Fast burn, Love at first Smell.

Summary: large packs are normal but you never expected to be in a pack with players from the England lionesses. I hate this but I needed to expel my demons.

WordCount: 2.6K

You weren't ever really interested in Fútbol well in the women yes but not so much in the logistics and rules. So one time when your new Alpha coworker Amber offered to bring you to an England lionesses game you were really just interested in seeing pretty girls. Which is how you are here is a sweaty crowded stadium watching England play France. The weather was almost as hot as the players, meaning you were sweating out your eyeballs. But it's worth it for the front row view you are getting. “ Do you think they are going to win?” Amber asks, leaning slightly into your space. You've only worked with her a couple of times and she definitely likes you more than you like her.

She seems to be confident in herself as if everyone owes her something. “They're going to win”.You don't move your eyes off of the pitch. The whole game she has been asking you technical questions you don't know the answer to. She doesn’t understand that just enjoying the view she has to know everything. It is more than a little frustrating.

You by some grace of god manage to zone out for the remainder of the match only nodding and humming as she talks beside you. Once the match is over the wind picks up rather drastically blowing from behind you and across the pitch meaning anyone standing close can smell the sweat on your skin.”You smell good “ Amber whispers her voice deeper than usual. You really should have told her you weren’t interested. “Thanks” you try to gather your bag and wrestle your coat back onto your body. You're so focused on getting everything together so you can get out of this crowded place that you don't notice someone jogging up to the barrier.

”Hey you” A alpha voice growls from below you. You whip around in surprise. Millie Bright is standing on the other side of the barrier pointing directly at you. You point to yourself with a curious look surely she couldn't mean you. “Yes you come here” she curls her finger and it is like some part of your omega brain is triggered as you shuffle to be right against the barrier. “Smell me” You do a double take because there is no way in hell she is insinuating what you think she is. Mates can recognize each other by scent and she seems to think you are fated. Who are you to deny this beautiful woman's claims? So Of course you lean over the barrier smelling the junction of her neck and should deeply. She smells strongly of bergamot and vanilla; it's almost intoxicating. You pull back slightly dizzying from the overpowering smell. “I knew it was you. Did you come here with anyone.” Millie questions your head still spinning, you only point to Amber. “Who is that?” Her growl is only low enough you can hear it but it is still terrifying. “A coworker, I think she was trying to get me to go out with her.” You mumble leaning in for more of Millie's scent. “That's not happening “You yelp as you are pulled over the barrier. “Hey that's my date you can’t just go off stealing her”Amber shouts but Millie doesn't even offer her a glance back.

Millie shifts you to rest comfortably on her back. You can’t seem to bring yourself to care about the full stadium of people around you watching or videoing you. “Who is that? '' You recognize Lucy bronze in her accent alone. Her voice is just as intoxicating as Millie's scent. “Smell her” Mllie prompts as Lucy circles around her to get a better look at you.you can't help the giggle that escapes you when she nuzzles her face into your neck. “I am jealous of Your nose mill Never would have smelled her from over here.”Lucy has appreciation clear in her voice. “‘I think I should go home” Your mind starts to clear and suddenly all of this is hitting you really hard. “baby you're going to be alright Mills And I will take great care of you and just wait till Leah Hears about you she will be ecstatic.”Lucy's hand rubs over your back as Millie's purr fills the air around you again pulling you back into a manipulatable state.

When you mind finally returns to you you are in the back of a car tucked into someones lap.”Hello love” Its leah fucking williamson holding tucked to her chest like her favorite teddy bear. “Love you need to calm down or I will start Purring” Leah runs her hand over your back in soft circles. “You are safe we are going to get you home and get you fed. How does that sound.” Leah asks, wiggling her eyebrows for added effect. ”I was thinking Ham sandwiches,” Leah offers with a smile on her face. Now that she says it you are hungry. “She doesn’t want a ham sandwich Lee” You peek up from Leah to see Mary Earps navigate the car through traffic. “She seemed to think a ham Sandwich sounded pretty good, didn't you love it?” She asks softly, nuzzling at you. “A ham sandwich is okay. Whatever is easy, I don't want to be a bother.” You smile at Mary in the rearview. “You're never a bother, love your omega . We will do anything we can to take care of you.” Mary's tone is softer than you've ever heard in any interview ever. “Thank you”

“You don’t have to thank us. Love , we want to take care of you and do nice things for you.'' Leah smiles, pulling you close into her.``Were Here” Mary sings songs pulling into a gravel driveway. “Is that her?” You hear someone call as Mary opens the door and walks around to help Leah out. Mary opens the door and reaches out for you”You can walk if you want but you might still be drowsy and the gravel is sharp if you fall.” Mary explains as you let her lift you out of the car. ”Hi Im Ella that's Less over there with the blonde hair. She is a little nervous” Ella laughs as Less sheepishly jogs to catch up with Mary. “Mary kicks the door open and slips her shoes off. “Less Tooney Why don't you two go get the bags from the car” Mary is more telling then asking and the girls complain but still surender and go back to the car.

“Georgia Go straighten up the nest please” Mary asks the girl resting on the sofa. “It's really her” Georgia’s voice. “You can Gawk over her later go get the nest sorted” Mary ushers her up stairs and sets you down in the spot Georgia vacated. “Stay Here Mills is in the kitchen. I want to make sure she is making you something other than a ham sandwich. “Mary says with a roll of her eyes. She clicks the tv on to a random channel and walks off leaving you alone and questioning everything going on around you. Surely this has to be some kind of weird dream. There is no way Some of the most famous football players in the world are mated to you.

“What are you so stressed about? I can Smell you from all the way across the house” Lucy Collapses into the sofa next to you. “It's just a little Sudden I go from no mates to I don't even know” You run hand through your sweaty hair. “Seven. you have Seven Mates.” Lucy sets her Head down in your lap and you can't help the wave of calmness that overtakes your body simply from having your Alpha This close. “Ten is so many” You groan slouching back into the arm of the sofa. “Ten makes for a healthy pack. You have your alpha prime, that's Mills. Then you Alphas Leah, Mary, and Me. Then Your Delta Rachel You have your betas. Ella Alessia and Georgia.Then you are a beautiful sweet image.`` ''You guys don't even know me” you run a hand through Lucy's impossible soft hair. “Not yet but The girls will remedy that at dinner always a million and one questions.” You can practically hear Luce's eye roll.

“Dinner is ready” Marys sings songs from what you can assume is the kitchen. “We should get you some food before there isn't any left.” Lucy's stands and pulls you up behind her. You tail after her and she doesn't let go of your hands. The table is set and the room is empty save for Mary. “ Mills wanted to get changed, just sit and I'll get dinner dished out” Mary gestures to the table before retreating back into the kitchen. “Sit here” Lucy pushes you into a chair and pushes you flush with the table not leaving any room for argument. “I'm going to help Mary stay here” Luce presses a kiss to the top of your head before evicting the room. You're barely alone a second before Rachel comes barrelling into the room. “Ahh there you are. Those girls have been hiding you away from me” She slides in “Hey” It feels so surreal to be talking to these women as if they are everyday people and not super famous. “I'm Rachel but you probably knew that considering you were at our game” She has a slight teasing tone to her voice that you find yourself really enjoying. ”how do you feel? I know the girls can be a little too much when they are all together” Her voice has such genuine concern in it that your heart hurts. ”I feel A little overwhelmed. It's just so sudden one moment I am watching a football game and the next minute freaking millie bright is pulling me over the barricade and telling me I am her mate. I just don’t know how we move forward from this.” It feels nice to tell someone about the thoughts that have been racing around your head for the past couple of Hours. ”First we decide if you want to keep your job. Then if you want to move in with us which I think is best but you can do whatever you think is best for now. That's all the decisions that need to be made right now.” Rach sounds like she has done this a time or too before. “And Mating bonds' ' That was the real problem here. You wanted to mate them to have them inside of you with their teeth on your skin but how could you even know what they expect. “If you want to do it today we will or the girls will wait. They might not be ecstatic about it but they will get over it.” Rachels hand finds itself wrapped around the back of your chair, her hand resting on your shoulder. “I think I would like to at least start tonight. I might not want to go all the way through but I want to try. I want to be mated to you guys. All I have ever wanted was to have a pack of my own. ''You let out a shriek as the door bursts open and ella and less fall into a pile on the floor.

“Girls you know how rude it is to eavesdrop.”Rache looks mock aghast as the girls scramble to make themselves presentable. “Who has been eavesdropping” Millie comes in behind less and ella and they at least have the heart to look embarrassed.” I was trying to have a healthy conversation about the emotions our omega was going through but these two decided to drop in.” Rachel Eplains as millie finds her spot at the head of the table. “You two know better than to eavesdrop you're on dishes” Mille scolds her alpha voice coming through slightly due to her frustration. “But we were on dishes last night,” Ella complains, sinking into her seat. “And the night before” Less adds with a pout. “Sounds Like you two are in a whole lot of trouble” You can't help the words as they escape your mouth. “How dare you we are the sweetest nicest girls you could ever be graced with the presence of” Ella argues making direct eye contact with you as if daring you to challenge her claim. “You can’t be in here lying to our omega she doesn't know any better yet” Mary enters the room with a large glass pan full of lasagna cradled in her arms. Luce enters behind her a salad and dresses in her arms. “Where did Georgia and Leah run Off too.”Millie questions cutting into the lasagna. “I think they were making sure the nest is clean for her” Luce starts putting salad on people's plates. “I can get my own food Luce” You are trying to pull away your plate. “Do you see any of these girls making their plates?” Luce raises an eyebrow as you look down into your lap. “No” You mumble not bringing yourself to look her in the eyes. “Let Me make your plate for you” Luce prys the plate out of your hand and sets it back on the table in front of you after there is an adequate amount of food on it. Georgia and Leah come running into the room just as all of the plates are dished up. “Georgia, would you mind grabbing the pop?” Georgia rolls her eyes but hurries down the hall in search of the pop.

Once dinner and all two hundred and one questions are done a bath is a welcome relaxation. Until you realize Georgia is intent on joining you in said bath. “ Just get in, I'll go you in a minute” Georgia leaves before you have the chance to say anything. Leaving you to strip and sink into the seamting bath all by yourself.You almost find yourself falling asleep as the comforting smells of the bath oils georgia used fill your nose. “I have snacks' ' Georgia hurries into the bathroom startling you out for your thoughts. “I have ice cream and pop” Georgia sets the ice cream and a red beverage that must be the pop down next to the bath before stripping off her clothes. “Lean forward so I can Get Behind ya” Georgia barley utters the words before you're moving to comply. She slips into the bath behind you and pulls you to her chest as soon as she is settled. “Here luv” Georgia presses the ice cream into your hands and sets about washing your hair. You would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it. Plus that ice cream is good cherry Garcia is truly the way to a girl's heart. I mean who could deny such a sweet woman.

By the time you're done with your bath all you want to do is curl up in your nest well. If they even have a nest I mean what pack wouldn’t have a nest. Georgia wraps you in a fluffy towel and carries you into a bedroom. There is a large circle bed built into the floor while their nest building skills could you word it was habitable at least for the night. “Here Baby” Alessia handed you a shirt and a soft pair of boxers. You change into them and crawl into the net, your body sinking into the plush material. Soon after you lay down the rest join and a blanket is tossed over you. You can't help yourself as you drift off to sleep surrounded by your soon to be mates.

#woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #woso one shot #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #woso #millie bright x reader #mary earps x reader #mary earps imagine #ella toone #alessia russo #rachel daly

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damiansgoodgirll · 8 months ago

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hello, can you write about damian priest x reader where she just got into the main roster on RAW and she felt left out in the women's lockerroom (except becky and liv) and a impossible crush with the archer of infamy but he is the one who ask her out

love this request!

‼️a little angst and rhea’s a little mean, sorry

damian priest x reader

my birdie

you were a shy person.

always been. but when it came to wrestling, you were an animal, everyone knew about your abilities and they loved you for it. that’s why you went from nxt to smackdown and from smackdown to raw in less than two years.

people wanted to see you doing big things and big things came when hunter placed you in a completely different roaster.

you made some friends in nxt, you’ve been there the most so your colleagues got to know you better. it’s not that you were rude, you didn’t like being on your own either but you were shy.

some of your colleagues got to know this side of you and tried to involve you in more activities together, others didn’t care as they all wanted to focus on themselves.

when you spent a few months on smackdown, everyone apart from bayley ignored you. she immediately understood what you were feeling. fear of being alone and starting in a roaster where you didn’t know anybody and the fact that you weren’t talkative at all was making it 100% harder.

you were grateful for bayley and for her patience with you, that’s why you cried to her when you were being shifted on raw.

you wanted to be on raw, you were just scared of how you were going to be treated. it wasn’t easy on smackdown but at least you made a friend.

the first two weeks were hard. bayley was constantly checking on you, making sure you were okay and doing good. she even said to the other girls that you were shy and needed a little time to open up but it felt like they didn’t care.

liv and becky were the only two people who never made you feel unwanted. they took times to introduce you to the rest of the raw squad.

basically, everyone was ignoring you.

shayna tried to get to know you, and in fact she liked your shy and calm persona but she was too focused on her goals to have time to get to know you better. still, you appreciated her efforts. she still spent time eating lunch with you and you were really grateful for that.

but, apart from the three girls, it was clear that you were unwanted. other girls saw you as a threat.

especially rhea. you would describe the meeting with the judgment day “the most scary day of your life”. liv introduced you to them and you felt like an animal in a cage when you felt all of their eyes on you.

dom and finn didn’t really care about you. rhea ignored you but kept watching you. damian, well, damian had the audacity to make some stupid jokes about your shy persona.

“what is a scared birdie like you doing in a place like this?” he joked making everyone but liv laugh “cat really got your tongue birdie? be safe out there, you’re a little bird in a room full of cats ready to eat you alive”

“and the one right here” dom said pointing at rhea “is the scariest cat you’ll ever meet” and with that they all left.

you remember crying that night.

you also knew that becky and liv had a conversation with them because they stopped poking at you. they just watched you from afar. especially damian. who you got a little crush on but could never tell him. you couldn’t really understand why he was constantly watching you. when you were training. when you were on live television. when you were basically doing nothing. he was watching you and his beautiful but firm eyes made you a little scared.

“what is she doing here?” you heard rhea saying to finn, one time you were all training together. she didn’t know you were listening but you were. and her words hurt you “she looks like a lost princess from disneyland” she said making finn laugh.

you excused yourself from training with becky and seth and they immediately knew something was wrong. they took you under their protective wing, training with you and teaching you new moves.

“jeez rhea, was that necessary?” becky said with an angry look on her face.

“what?” she said like nothing happened.

“why do you all hate her so much? what has she ever done to you?” seth said to finn and the rest of the judgment day.

silence.

they had no reason to hate her “like i thought” seth said.

“she’s in the wrong place” rhea said, not making eye contact with becky.

“wrong place? she kicked your ass last week” becky said laughing “just because she’s shy doesn’t mean she isn’t capable, she’s just as smart and strong as you rhea…she just has more difficulty to open up to people…you guys should help her instead of making fun of her, or at least, if you don’t feel that kind to get to know her, ignore her…for her own sake, stop making fun of her” becky said very annoyed before leaving with seth.

that night you kept thinking about rhea’s words. maybe you really were in the wrong place. maybe you didn’t belong with them. maybe you really should be doing something different. and those thoughts made you cry because wrestling was all you ever wanted to do in your entire life.

but before you could overthink again, a soft knock on your hotel room awaked you from your wandering mind.

you weren’t definitely expecting to see damian priest in front of you.

“hey…” he smiled at you.

“you should at least wait until tomorrow to make fun of me” you said, looking at the ground “again…”

damian felt guilty.

he saw how you quickly wiped your tears away. he also knew he fucked up.

he felt guilty because in reality he was in love with you. you caught his attention the moment liv introduced you to them. he was watching every move you made, making sure you were being safe but he didn’t want to let you know what he was feeling.

“i’m here to apologise…”

“sure” you still weren’t looking at him.

“i’m serious y/n…i’m so sorry for how i made you feel, for how me and my team made you feel…” he began apologising and you let him in the room before you could catch other’s attention “we thought it was funny at first but…we clearly weren’t thinking and for that i’m so sorry, we didn’t mean to hurt you” he said truthfully but still you weren’t looking at him.

his eyes had a different effect on you.

“can you please look at me?” he said moving closer to your body “are you scared of me birdie?”

“i’m not scared…” you said raising your eyes.

now you were both looking into each other’s eyes.

“i’m sorry…really, so so sorry for hurting you…” he apologised again.

“it’s okay damian…thank you for your apology, uhm…it’s okay now i guess” you shyly smiled at him.

“and if you’re okay…i would like to get to know you a little bit more…only if you’re okay with that” he said a little awkwardly.

“yes…it’s okay for me”

“perfect” he smiled “what about tomorrow? i’ll take you somewhere nice for lunch, if you’re free of course” he rambled.

“i’m free” you smiled, seeing how funny he was being.

“then i’ll see you tomorrow birdie” he smirked before leaving your room.

“would you ever stop calling me that?” you asked him.

“i don’t think so” he smiled at you closing your hotel door.

you looked at the door for about ten minutes before moving into your bed, smiling like a teen who just got asked out.

now, all you had to do was to get a nice sleep and waiting for tomorrow to come.

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imjustasimpxd · 3 months ago

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Something Old, Something New

(Chapter One)

➬ Ken Sato x Fem reader

Summary : At first glance, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. With money, fame, and success surrounding his name, there was nothing he couldn’t get his hands on. They say money can buy happiness. That may be true to an extent, however, can money buy forgiveness? Unfortunately for Ken, no amount of money and influence can turn back time and change the past. No amount of bribery can erase the fact that he had chosen to abandon his wife in favor of pursuing his baseball career. That awful decision he made took place five years ago, when he was just starting out as a professional athlete. But now that he’s matured and had time to reflect on his actions, can he hope for a chance to rekindle his marriage? Or should he accept defeat and live with the consequences of letting the only woman he’s ever truly loved slip away from him?

Word count : around 2,500 words

Warnings : mentions of abandonment and neglect, arrogant Sato, sad reader, mentions of regret, angst

Author’s notes : comments and reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on

Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

Side Note : This fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or stela my work.

Ken Sato. Looks, wealth, talent, charisma, and confidence rolled into one good looking package.

The mere mention of his name was enough to cause an uproar of fanatics screaming and shouting in excitement, as if they were a pack of wolves howling at the moon.

Though he was mostly known for his impressive baseball career, being named one of the most eligible bachelors in sports didn’t hurt his credibility either. If anything, playing the part of the charming ladies’ man only increased his popularity, especially to any of his adoring fans that were women, which most of them were.

After becoming one the biggest celebrities in both Japan and American sports, there weren’t many people who were ignorant of a household name such as his. Every man wanted to be him, and every woman wanted to be with him.

To the public eye, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. But looks can be deceiving, can’t they? Especially when it comes to a man who’s spent years hiding his true feelings behind a veil of humor and charisma.

No one could know how much he was struggling to keep it all together, or the depths of the affliction eating away at his heart. He was Ken Sato after all, and Ken Sato wasn’t weak, he was a legend, and legends never died, they prevailed. So, he must too.

No matter how much the reporters hounded him, using every possible tactic they could think of to pry into his personal life, Kenji never gave them more than a shred of minuscule details. Feeding them like rats, giving them only the bare necessities to satisfy their hunger for a short while before they came crawling back, demanding more.

He never let them know more than he wanted, more than he felt like sharing, and frankly, there was a plethora of details he didn’t feel like sharing.

His reputation of perfection probably wouldn’t uphold itself that well if the media knew about all the things he was wrestling with. Between being a newfound parent to a kaiju infant by day and a masked vigilante known as Ultraman by night, Ken didn’t exactly fit the cookie cutter version of “having it all together.”

And if that wasn’t enough, then the shame he harbored towards a decision he made almost five years ago would definitely topple the pedestal he comfortably built his identity on.

The press loved gossip, and they’d fight tooth and nail for even the smallest scintilla of drama. Twisting innocent words and blowing frivolous details out of proportions was the job of reporters. So, imagine the headlines they’d make if those reporters found out any real insiders on the life of the world-famous baseball player.

Imagine the sales they’d make if a journalist ever got ahold of the information about his past, the same past he’s been hiding away from during his time back in Japan.

He’s thought about calling, maybe writing a letter to express some form of condolences, but what if word got out? What if the press found out about the woman he used to be married to, the same one he abandoned five years ago in order to pursue his baseball career.

Forget his most recent batting record, a scandalous story such as that would make headlines from both sides of the Pacific Ocean, and then there really would be nowhere else for him to hide from his past, lest he fancied moving somewhere more remote and secluded.

If that day came, if Ken Sato was exposed for the decisions he made before becoming famous, then his reputation might take some irreparable damage.

That’s why he was so closed off towards reporters, towards his teammates, towards everyone.

Never let anyone close to you and they can never betray you. That’s how Ken Sato lives.

At least, how he did live, before a little reptilian creature crawled into his life, forcing him to realize there were things that mattered more than wealth and fame.

Before taking care of a kaiju infant became the priority in his life, Ken Sato had rooted his worth in the success of his career. So once that career took off, offering him all the success and affluence he could ever want, he began to realize just how little he really had.

Despite the riches, the popularity, all of it felt meaningless with no one to share it with. He could’ve held a party with hundreds of guests, surrounding himself with countless people all desperate to please him. Nevertheless, none of it would fill the emptiness engulfing his heart; knowing that no one he interacted with would ever see him as more than a means to financial gain and an increase in social status.

He had a world full of convenience and opportunities at his fingertips, and yet, he never felt more detached from reality.

His family was complicated, his friends were more like business partners who benefitted from their relations to him, and the one person he had ever felt truly comfortable around probably hated him now, after being dismissed in favor of baseball.

In the end, even in a room full of dedicated fans, Ken Sato felt alone.

However, then that little kaiju infant came along, and everything started to get better. Caring for a child, though tiring at first, gave Kenji something to work towards; a purpose that mattered more than advertising for energy drinks or scoring another record breaking hit at home plate.

Emi finally gave him the one thing he always wanted, the same thing he always pretended not to need: family.

After that, baseball didn’t seem to matter as much as it used to, unless he was teaching it to Emi. And all the wealth he had acquired over the years didn’t hold the same value as before, unless he was spending it on his adopted daughter. His lifestyle remained the same, but his heart was in a different place, a more peaceful one.

Winning championships were more rewarding when he had someone to win for, someone to celebrate with afterwards. And now that he’d repaired the relationship between him and his father, things were looking promising for his future.

But there was still one more roadblock, one last regret preventing him from moving forward completely.

You. The woman he’d been married to for a whole year, and, regretfully, the same woman who asked for a divorce due to his neglectful and inconsiderate disregard for her.

He was young and immature back then, foolishly believing the pursuit of his baseball career was more important than maintaining a healthy marriage. He was arrogant, thinking that extravagant gifts and vacations would keep you happy and secure his role as a provider.

But he was ignorant to think that being married to you meant he no longer had to earn your affection. All the money and gifts in the world couldn’t make up for the fact that he was never home, and that you were never his priority back then.

Every morning he’d wake up early, well before you, just to attend practice. And every night he’d come home late, just after dinner, claiming he had needed to stay longer than normal to practice more.

You’d set out a plate for him, but after his baseball career started taking off, he didn’t really have the time for things such as family dinners or game nights; or so he said.

He’d usually come home and skip dinner, taking a shower or going to sleep instead. You didn’t necessarily blame him for that, it was only natural for him to be tired from practice. But as the days of barely seeing him turned into months, and he started traveling consistently for his games, you started to feel more like a stranger to him than his wife. He was your husband on paper, but, in the confines of your home, you barely knew how to keep a conversation with him anymore. If you were being honest, you didn’t even really know him that well anymore.

At least, not as much as you used to. Things were different when you first got married, he wasn’t always so arrogant and inconsiderate. Instead, he was passionate and playful, always knowing how to make you laugh after crying. Even on your first date, he was romantic and charming, making you blush to yourself every time a compliment slipped past his lips.

But I guess the honeymoon phase people always warn you about before marriage was real; at least, it was for you and Kenji.

Once his baseball career started taking off, the fame must’ve gotten to his head, and he forgot about the one woman who had been supporting him from the sidelines all along. You had gone to every game, recorded all his winning homeruns, supported his career even though it meant holding off on pursuing yours. And yet, he repaid you with neglect, with a one-sided marriage.

You held on for a while, convinced that he would come around, that his behavior would change and he would reflect on his actions. But after the one-year anniversary of your marriage arrived and he wasn’t even in town to celebrate with you, that’s when you made your decision. You were done being a second choice.

You got in contact with a lawyer, gathered divorce papers and waited with bated breath till he got home from his trip. And the moment he walked in the door, you practically shoved the papers in his face, all the emotions you’d kept bottled up for so long suddenly coming out in a volcanic eruption of shouting and sobbing.

And surprisingly enough, he stayed quiet through the majority of it, just watching with a hollow stare as you unleashed all the frustration you’d been harboring towards him. And without a word, he took the papers from you and fished out a pen from his desk drawer, signing them in silence.

Maybe he had realized from your onslaught of emotions that you were better off without him, that he was clearly causing you pain, and you’d be happier once he set you free of him. Or maybe he really was just that heartless and figured now was the perfect opportunity to get rid of you. Either way, your stomach seemed to twist into a knot at the way he so casually signed those divorce papers and handed them back to you.

This was what you had wanted, wasn’t it? You’re the one who had gathered the papers in the first place, you should’ve been happy that he was finally ending it, finally setting you free. And yet, you felt yourself holding back tears at his lack of emotion. He didn’t try to argue, he didn’t plead with you to give him another chance like you had expected him too. He just admitted defeat, giving up on trying to fix your marriage and taking off for Japan two days later.

He left, leaving you back in America while he returned to his home country to continue baseball there; abandoning his American team in the middle of their journey to the championships.

He had given you an opportunity to move on, to become the person he always prevented you from being, and so you took it.

You cut all forms of communication, threw out everything of his that he didn’t take when he left, and moved into your own apartment. It was a fresh start, a clean slate, and you finally had the chance to chase after your dream career, just like he had been doing.

So, you did, and you didn’t give up. You refused to, you owed this to yourself, and you weren’t going to waste any more time pouring effort into someone who didn’t appreciate it.

So, you worked, tirelessly, anxiously, until the day came when your newest novel finally become a bestseller all around the nation, and you were officially titled a successful author.

Now it was your turn, to stand in front of a crowd of adoring fans, to sign autographs and attend fan events. It almost reminded you of your ex-husband, how people used to scream his name and cheer for his success. But now they were cheering for you, supporting you like he hadn’t. You almost laughed at the irony of it all. Five years ago, you would’ve never imagined the life you’d made for yourself now, celebrating your fourth bestselling novel in a row and becoming a well-known author like you always dreamed of.

And yet, looking back, none of this would’ve been possible had you not been set free from the restraints your marriage to Ken Sato had bound you to. Without him and the neglect he subjected you to, you wouldn’t have worked as hard as you did. So really, in a way, you had him to thank for how far you’ve come and all the success you’ve accomplished. Because if he never signed those papers five years ago, you would still be tied down to a one-sided marriage.

But you weren’t, and thank God for that.

Now you had moved on, and so had he.

Or so you thought.

Little did you know, Ken Sato was on a mission, and not as Ultraman this time. After undergoing the change and maturity necessary to become a parent to a kaiju infant, Kenji realized he needed to make things right between the two of you. Even if it had been five years since he last saw you.

He wasn’t looking to ask you to take him back and rekindle your marriage, though he wouldn’t have minded if that ended up happening. Instead, he simply wanted to apologize for his actions, for being such a crappy husband back then. He had reflected a lot on the subject of your marriage over the past couple years, but, he never reached out in fear of your reaction to seeing him again.

Although, after avoiding it for long enough, and getting a lecture about taking responsibility from his dad, he finally decided to go through with it and booked a flight back to America.

He was nervous to say the least, but he knew he couldn’t back out. Even if you screamed and yelled at him, he had to take accountability for his past actions and apologize for the pain he’d caused you, for pushing you to the back burner while he allowed baseball to take priority in his life.

He’d made peace with himself and his father already, thanks to the help of his adoptive daughter. So now it was time to make peace with you. And as he watched the plane lift off the ground from his window seat, he held his breath, wondering how you would react to seeing him again after so many years.

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emjayewrites · 4 days ago

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in between the lines • jules kounde (2/4)

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules, instant attraction/fast development. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @saturnville @sinflowersugar @hotfudgeslug @muglermami @serpenttines-library @sucredreamer @julescpu @tchouathon @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2 @peyiswriting @shelovesfootie @127hydrangeas @rosiesdior

A/N: This is the last 'book' of the "football baes universe". Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. Gif by @tchouathon

Barcelona's streets hummed with late afternoon energy as Jules left training, his body pleasantly sore and his mind, as usual, drifting to Senait. Her latest text sat unanswered on his phone:

Just booked the flight.

A smile played on his lips as he slid into his Lamborghini Urus. Everything with Senait felt like a delicate dance – one step forward, two steps back, but always moving to some rhythm only they understood.

The drive home gave him time to appreciate how different she was from anyone else he'd pursued. Her unpredictability should have frustrated him, but instead, it only made him more intrigued. Where other women were an open book, Senait was a story that revealed itself one carefully guarded page at a time.

Their late-night conversations had become something he looked forward to, not just for the content but for those rare moments when her guard dropped completely. Beyond the sass and witty comebacks was someone thoughtful, complex, and surprisingly vulnerable.

Pulling into his driveway, Jules checked his phone again. The flight details still seemed surreal – as if he'd somehow managed to convince a wild bird to willingly fly into his hands. His mind wandered to all the places in Barcelona he wanted to show her, though he knew she'd probably resist half his suggestions just on principle.

Inside his house, he dropped his training bag and headed straight for the shower. The hot water soothed his muscles as anticipation built in his chest. Everything about Senait challenged him – her sharp mind, her fierce independence, the way she matched him stride for stride without backing down.

His phone rang just as he was stepping out of the shower. Zuri's name flashed on the screen.

"Your best friend is impossible," he said by way of greeting.

Zuri's laugh crackled through the speaker. "She's coming to Barcelona, isn't she?"

"How did you—"

"She called to complain about how pushy you are." He could hear the amusement in Zuri's voice. "Said something about you being 'criminally dominant' and 'annoyingly persuasive.'"

Jules grinned, toweling off his hair. "She's not wrong."

"Just... be careful with her, okay?" Zuri's tone turned serious. "Senait's independent to a fault. She's been hurt before."

"I know." Jules sat on his bed, sobering. "I'm not trying to cage her, Zuri. I just want..."

"Want what?"

Good question, he thought. What did he want with Senait? "I want to know her," he said finally. "The real her, not just the walls she puts up."

Zuri was quiet for a moment. "You really like her, don't you?"

"She's... different." It felt like an inadequate description, but it was the best he could do.

After hanging up with Zuri, Jules checked his messages again. Senait had sent another text:

This is crazy. I have meetings.

I have excellent wifi, he typed back.

S: That's not the point. J: What is the point?

There was a long pause before her reply:

You're too much.

Jules smirked. You haven't seen anything yet.

He could almost see her rolling her eyes. Another message came through:

S: I have to go. Some of us have actual work to do. J: Have dinner with me when you land Thursday. S: We'll see. J: That wasn't a question, chérie. Her response was immediate: You're so fucking bossy. J: You love it. S: I tolerate it. Barely.

Jules laughed, settling back against his pillows. This was what he enjoyed most – their back-and-forth, the way she pushed back against his dominance while simultaneously responding to it.

The rest of the week passed in a blur of training sessions and match preparation. Jules found himself checking flight trackers, making sure Senait's flight was still on schedule. He'd arranged for a car to pick her up from the airport, knowing she'd protest but do it anyway.

Thursday evening found him pacing his living room, checking his phone every few minutes. Her flight had landed twenty minutes ago. She should be through customs soon.

Landed, came her text. Then: Your driver is very persistent.

J: Good. Let him take you to the hotel. S: I could have gotten an Uber. J: But you didn't need to. Stop arguing and get in the car.

There was a pause, then: So bossy.

Jules smiled, knowing he'd won this round. He gave her time to check into the hotel before calling.

"Hello?" Her voice was tired but carried that edge of amusement he'd come to recognize.

"Dinner in an hour," he said without preamble. "Wear something nice."

"I just got here. I'm jet-lagged."

"Perfect time for dinner then. One hour, Senait."

He heard her intake of breath, could picture her preparing to argue. But then she surprised him: "Fine. Text me the address."

"No need. I'll pick you up."

"Jules—"

"One hour," he repeated, then hung up before she could protest further.

Exactly fifty-eight minutes later, Jules stood in the hotel lobby, ignoring the appreciative glances from other guests. He'd chosen dark blue pants and a Jacquemus men's horse-print camp shirt that he knew looked good on him, though he suspected Senait would roll her eyes at his effort.

The elevator dinged, and there she was. His breath caught slightly – she wore a fitted spaghetti-strap pink mini dress that hugged every curve, her hair falling in tight curls around her shoulders. She looked incredible, and from the slight smirk on her lips, she knew it.

"You clean up nice," she said, approaching him.

Jules let his eyes roam over her deliberately, enjoying the way her breath hitched slightly. "You look edible," he replied, his voice low.

A faint flush colored her cheeks, but her voice remained steady. "You're impossible."

"So you keep saying." He placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the exit. "Yet here you are."

"Against my better judgment."

"Your judgment isn't as good as you think it is."

She laughed despite herself, the sound making something warm unfurl in his chest. "Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see."

The restaurant he'd chosen was one of Barcelona's hidden gems – intimate without being overwhelming, elegant without being stuffy. He'd called ahead, ensuring they had a private corner table with a view of the city lights.

Senait took in the space with appreciative eyes. "Trying to impress me?"

"Always." He pulled out her chair, his hand brushing her shoulder as she sat. "Is it working?"

"Maybe." She picked up the menu, then frowned. "It's in Catalan."

"That's why you have me." Jules settled across from her, enjoying the way the candlelight played across her features. "Let me order for you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Bossy as fuck."

"You knew that in Paris."

"Paris was different."

"Was it?" He leaned forward slightly. "Or are you just scared it wasn't?"

Senait met his gaze, something vulnerable flickering in her eyes before her walls came back up. "I'm not doing relationships right now, Jules."

"Why do you keep saying that? Maybe I just enjoy your company. And the way you moan when I—"

"Jules!" She glanced around, but no one was paying them any attention.

He grinned, unrepentant. "Just stating facts."

The waiter approached, and Jules ordered in fluid Catalan, including a bottle of wine he knew she'd love. When they were alone again, he studied her face.

"What?" she asked, fidgeting slightly under his gaze.

"Just thinking about how beautiful you look when you're pretending not to be affected by me."

"Your ego is astronomical."

"It's well-earned."

She rolled her eyes, but he caught the smile she tried to hide behind her wine glass. "Tell me about your week," he said, genuinely interested in her life beyond their charged exchanges.

To his surprise, she did. She told him about work drama, about a funny incident with her neighbor's cat. He listened, offering input when needed but mostly just enjoying seeing her gradually relax.

"What?" she asked again, catching him watching her.

"Nothing. I just like seeing you like this. Real."

"As opposed to fake?"

"As opposed to guarded." He reached across the table, taking her hand before she could pull away. "You don't have to protect yourself from me, Senait."

She stared at their joined hands, something uncertain crossing her face. "I don't know how to do this."

"Do what?"

"This. Whatever this is. I'm not good at... letting people in."

Jules squeezed her hand gently. "Good thing I'm patient then."

She looked up at him, and for a moment, her walls completely dropped. The vulnerability in her eyes made his chest tight. Then she blinked, and her usual sass returned.

"Patient? You literally demanded I come to Barcelona."

He laughed, accepting her need to lighten the moment. "And you came. What does that say about you?"

"That I have questionable judgment?"

"That you want this too." His voice dropped lower. "Even if you're not ready to admit it."

The rest of dinner passed in a blend of comfortable conversation and charged silences. Jules paid the bill despite her protests ("Let me be a gentleman, Senait") and led her back to his car.

"Taking me back to the hotel?" she asked as they drove through Barcelona's lit streets.

"Eventually." He glanced at her, enjoying the way the city lights played across her profile. "But first, I want to show you something."

He drove them up to one of his favorite viewpoints, where the whole city spread out below them like a carpet of stars. Senait's soft intake of breath was worth the detour.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, stepping out of the car.

Jules moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. To his surprise, she didn't resist, instead leaning back against his chest.

"Thank you for coming," he murmured against her hair.

"Thank you for being annoyingly persistent."

He laughed softly. "Stay with me this weekend. At my place."

"Jules..."

"If you're not comfortable with that, let me know. But let me show you my city. Let me have some quality time with you."

She was quiet for a long moment, and he let her think, content to hold her while she processed.

"Okay," she said finally, so quietly he almost missed it.

"Okay?"

She turned in his arms, looking up at him with a mix of uncertainty and determination. "Okay. But I have conditions."

"Name them."

"I need to work at times during the day. And... and I need you to understand that this doesn't mean..."

"I know what it doesn't mean," he interrupted gently. "Let's focus on what it does mean. You're here. With me. The rest we'll figure out."

She studied his face for a moment, then nodded. "You're still annoying."

"And you're still pretending not to like it." He bent down, capturing her lips in a kiss before she could argue further.

Above them, Barcelona's stars twinkled, witnesses to whatever this was becoming. Jules didn't know where it would lead, but for now, he was content to have her here, in his arms, gradually letting her walls down.

The drive back to her hotel was charged with possibility. Jules found himself hyperaware of every small movement Senait made – the way her fingers tapped lightly against her thigh, how she kept stealing glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking.

"Stop analyzing me," he said without taking his eyes off the road.

"I'm not—"

"You are." He reached over, placing his hand on her knee. "Still trying to figure out your escape route?"

She didn't immediately brush his hand away, which he counted as progress. "Maybe I'm just wondering why you're so intent on... whatever this is."

Jules squeezed her knee gently. "Because you intrigue me."

"That's a dangerous word."

"I like dangerous." He glanced at her then, taking in her profile against the passing city lights. "And you like that I like it."

Senait turned to face him, challenge sparking in her eyes. "You think you've got me all figured out?"

"Not even close." Jules smiled, genuine rather than cocky. "That's part of the appeal."

When they reached her hotel, he killed the engine but made no move to get out. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

"Coming up?" Senait finally asked, her voice carrying a note of something almost like nervousness.

"Not tonight."

That got her attention. She turned to him sharply, brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

Jules enjoyed the flash of indignation in her eyes. "You heard me." He leaned across the console, close enough to feel her breath hitch. "You're still settling in. Get some rest."

"I don't need you to—"

"I know you don't need anything from me," he interrupted smoothly. "But I want you fully present when I have you again."

The way her pupils dilated told him his words had hit their mark. "You're infuriating," she muttered.

"So you keep saying." He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. "Dinner tomorrow night. I'll pick you up at eight."

"What if I made plans?"

"Cancel them."

She narrowed her eyes. "You can't just—"

Jules cut her off with a kiss, deep enough to make her grab his shirt but brief enough to leave her wanting more. When he pulled back, her eyes were slightly glazed.

"Eight o'clock," he repeated, enjoying the flush in her cheeks. "Don't be late."

Senait gathered herself, trying to regain her composure. "You're not as irresistible as you think you are."

"No?" He traced her jawline with his finger. "Then why are you still sitting in my car?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile as she got out. Jules watched her walk into the hotel, admiring the sway of her hips that he knew was at least partially for his benefit.

His phone buzzed as he pulled away from the curb: This doesn't mean anything.

J: Keep telling yourself that, chérie. S: I mean it, Jules. J: Get some rest. Dream of me. S: I fucking hate you.

Jules grinned, imagining her expression as she read his texts. He'd learned that Senait's protests were often directly proportional to how much something affected her. And tonight? Tonight she'd been affected.

Back at his place, he found himself restless with unused energy. The thought of Senait, just a few miles away in her hotel room, was maddening. But he meant what he said – he wanted her fully present, not jet-lagged and guarded.

His phone lit up one more time before bed: I don't dream about annoying men.

J: Liar. S: Goodnight, Jules. J: Bonne nuit, ma belle. Don't fight it too hard.

He could practically hear her scoff through the phone, but she didn't respond. Progress, he thought. Small steps.

Just as he was drifting off, another text came through: Thank you for dinner. And the view.

Jules smiled into his pillow. Senait offering genuine gratitude without a sarcastic comment? Definitely progress.

J: Thank you for letting me show you. S: Don't get used to it. J: Too late.

Tomorrow, he thought as sleep pulled at him. Tomorrow he'd show her more of his city, more of himself. And maybe, if he played his cards right, she'd show him more of herself too.

Sleep had eventually claimed Senait, but it wasn't Jules who invaded her dreams. Instead, her subconscious dragged her back to a moment she'd tried hard to forget:

Tymir, lounging on their college apartment couch, barely looking up from his phone as she confronted him about another girl.

"You really don't care, do you?" Dream-Senait had asked, her voice cracking.

Tymir had just shrugged, the gesture so casual it cut deeper than any words could. The same shoulders she'd massaged countless times after his basketball practices, the same nonchalance that had once seemed cool back in high school now just felt cruel.

Senait woke with a start, her heart racing. Fucking perfect timing, brain, she thought, glancing at her phone. 6 AM. No point trying to sleep now.

As she made coffee in her hotel room, memories she'd carefully tucked away began surfacing. High school Senait – glasses, braces, always first to raise her hand in AP classes. The kind of girl who spent lunch periods in the library, who tutored other students in calculus, who had a ten-year plan before she even hit puberty.

Then came Tymir. Star shooting guard, dreads always perfectly maintained, smile that made every girl's head turn. When he'd first started showing interest in her junior year, she'd thought it was a joke. Guys like him didn't go for girls like her.

But he had. He'd wait for her after her tutoring sessions, charm her with that easy confidence of his. "My smart girl," he'd call her, and she'd melt every time.

God, I was so naive, Senait thought, settling at the desk with her laptop. Work would be a good distraction from this unwanted trip down memory lane.

Her phone buzzed: Morning, chérie. Sleep well?

Jules. Of course he'd text first thing. She stared at the message, suddenly hyper-aware of the similarities. The confidence, the natural authority in their bearing. Hell, they even both had dreads, though Jules wore his longer.

Fine, she typed back, not wanting to engage too much. Her mind was too full of ghosts.

They'd followed Tymir to college – her on an academic scholarship, him on a basketball scholarship. That's where she'd met Zuri, in their freshman orientation. They'd bonded over being some of the only Black girls in their communications seminar, and soon became inseparable.

Zuri had never liked Tymir. "He doesn't deserve you," she'd say, especially after the first time she caught him with another girl at a party. But Senait had forgiven him. And the second time. And the third.

Her phone buzzed again: You're quieter than usual.

Working, she responded, though she'd been staring at the same email for ten minutes.

It had been the injury that changed everything. A bad landing during a game their junior year – torn ACL, shattered dreams of going pro. The coach had been kind, allowed him to keep his scholarship, even offered him a position as student assistant coach.

But Tymir's pride couldn't take it. He'd spiraled, started partying more, caring less before eventually dropping out. And through it all, Senait had tried to be there, to be understanding. Even when understanding meant turning a blind eye to lipstick stains and late-night texts from unknown numbers.

Stay focused, she told herself, forcing her attention back to work. But memories kept intruding.

Senior year. The final straw. Not even finding out about his latest cheating from another girl, but the casual way she'd mentioned her pregnancy. As if Senait was the afterthought, the footnote in someone else's love story.

Her phone lit up: You're in your head today. Tell me.

Senait stared at Jules' message. That was another similarity – the way they both seemed to read her so easily.

Just tired, she lied.

J: Liar.

She almost smiled despite herself. Almost.

The hours ticked by, a blend of actual work and unwanted reminiscence. Jules checked in periodically, each message carrying that same quiet authority that both attracted and unnerved her.

By 7 PM, she felt wrung out, but somewhat happy to be able to log off work early. The emotional toll of the memories, combined with jet lag and the lingering effects of the dream, left her wanting nothing more than to curl up alone.

Not feeling up for dinner, she texted Jules. Rain check?

His response came quickly: You can rest. But you're still coming over.

S: Jules… J: What snacks do you like?

The question caught her off guard.

S: What?

J: Snacks, chérie. Simple question.

She found herself listing her favorites, almost on autopilot. Salt and vinegar chips, dark chocolate, Swedish fish candies, peanut M&M’s…

At 8 PM sharp, a knock on her door announced Jules' arrival. He stood there, looking unfairly good in casual clothes, eyeing her oversized sweater and leggings with amusement.

"Comfortable," he commented, picking up her weekender bag before she could protest.

"I told you I wasn't feeling up for—"

"You can rest at my place just as well as here." His tone brooked no argument as he guided her to his car.

The drive to his house was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Jules seemed to sense her mood, not pushing for conversation. His hand found its way to her thigh though, thumb stroking absent patterns that somehow managed to both soothe and unsettle her.

His house was exactly what she'd expect from a bachelor athlete – modern, minimalist, but with personal touches that made her smile despite herself. Action figures lined the soundboard beneath a massive TV, various gaming consoles neatly arranged below.

"Very adult," she commented, gesturing to what looked like a limited edition Naruto figure.

"Judge all you want, but that's worth more than your monthly rent."

She rolled her eyes, but found herself relaxing slightly. This was better than being alone with her thoughts in the hotel room.

Jules disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a bowl of her favorite chips and the exact candy she'd mentioned. "Bathroom's through there if you want to change," he said, nodding toward a hallway. "Make yourself comfortable."

The casualness of it all – him providing comfort food, not pushing for conversation – made something twist in her chest. It was thoughtful in a way Tymir had never been, even in their best moments.

Don't, she warned herself. Don't compare them. Don't fall into old patterns.

But her traitorous mind kept pointing out the differences. How Jules noticed when she was off-balance but didn't demand explanations. How he managed to be commanding without being controlling.

When she emerged from the bathroom in sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, Jules had set up what looked like every pillow in the house on his massive couch. He patted the space next to him, and she went, telling herself it was just because she was tired.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked as she settled in.

"No."

"Want me to distract you?"

She glanced at him sharply, but his expression was innocent. Well, mostly innocent.

"Not like that," he said, though his small smirk suggested he wouldn't object if she changed her mind. "I have every Studio Ghibli film ever made. Your choice."

His thoughtfulness – remembering she'd mentioned loving these films during one of their late-night calls – made her throat tight.

"Howl's Moving Castle," she said finally, her voice smaller than she intended.

Jules pulled her closer as the movie started, and Senait found herself gradually relaxing into his warmth. This was dangerous territory – this comfort, this ease. She'd been here before, let herself believe in the security of strong arms and gentle touches.

But as Jules's fingers played absently with her hair, as the familiar story unfolded on screen, her inner voice spoke up: He's not Tymir.

It was a dangerous thought. More dangerous than any physical attraction, any heated moment. Because physical she could handle. Physical was safe, contained.

This… this quiet intimacy, this understanding without demands… this was what had broken her before.

"Stop thinking so loud," Jules murmured against her hair.

"I'm not—"

"You are." His arms tightened slightly around her. "Whatever ghost you're wrestling with, let it rest. Just be here."

Senait closed her eyes, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. Just be here, she repeated to herself. Don't overthink it.

But as she drifted off to the sound of Sophie and Howl's adventure, one last thought slipped through: He's not Tymir. And maybe… maybe that's exactly why I should be worried.

______________________________________________

Consciousness came to Senait slowly, her mind registering sensations one by one: soft sheets that weren't hotel-issued, a mattress that cradled her body just right, and the gentle sound of a spoon clinking against china. The last detail made her eyes flutter open.

She was in Jules' bedroom – presumably having been carried here at some point during the movie – and beside her, propped up against the headboard and wearing his durag, was Jules himself. He held a delicate teacup in one hand while his other worked steady circles into her shoulder, touch firm but gentle.

"Tea?" she mumbled, voice rough with sleep. "In pitch black darkness while watching..." She squinted at the massive TV mounted on the wall. "Is that The Dark Knight Rises?"

Jules' chuckle rumbled through his chest. "Don't judge my nighttime rituals, chérie."

"Oh, I'm definitely judging." But she made no move to escape his touch as his fingers found a particularly tight knot in her shoulder. "Professional footballer drinking tea like a British grandmother."

"It's chamomile," he defended, setting the cup aside to use both hands on her shoulders. "And you're incredibly tense."

Senait bit back a moan as his thumbs dug into a spot that had been bothering her for weeks. "Occupational hazard. Hunching over laptops isn't great for posture."

"When's the last time you had a proper massage?"

She had to think about it. "Before graduation maybe? Zuri treated me to a spa day after..."

After finding out about Tymir's baby mama, her mind helpfully supplied. She felt Jules' hands pause momentarily, sensing the weight in her unfinished sentence.

"That's too long," he said simply, resuming his ministrations. "I'll arrange for someone to come by tomorrow while I'm at training. My regular masseuse is excellent."

"Jules—"

"This isn't a discussion." His fingers found another knot, making her gasp. "You're carrying too much tension. It's not healthy."

"You're bossy even about self-care," she muttered, but there was no real bite to it.

"Someone has to be." He worked his way up to her neck, touch careful but firm. "You're too busy taking care of everyone else's PR nightmares to look after yourself."

The accuracy of that observation made her uncomfortable. "I take care of myself just fine."

"Is that why you're wound tighter than Aurélien before a Clásico?"

She wanted to argue, but between his skilled hands and the late hour, she found herself drifting off again, lulled by the quiet sounds of Gotham's reckoning and Jules' steady breathing.

An unfamiliar sound jolted Senait awake. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, and she found herself alone in Jules' massive bed. The sound came again – was that... a rooster?

Confusion drew her from the warmth of the sheets. She spotted one of Jules' hoodies draped over a chair and pulled it on, inhaling the lingering scent of his cologne as she went to investigate.

She followed the sound through the house, down the staircase, and onto a beautifully landscaped patio. There, in what appeared to be a luxury chicken coop that probably cost more than her first car, stood a proud rooster.

"Ah, I see you've met Maurice."

Senait turned to find Jules leaning against the doorframe, looking unfairly good in training clothes.

"Maurice," she repeated flatly. "You have a rooster named Maurice."

"Technically, Aurélien has a sense of humor and I have a rooster named Maurice."

The absurdity of it made her laugh despite herself. "Explain."

"Aurélien gave him to me as a housewarming gift," Jules explained, looking far too fond of the preening bird. "Said every proper Frenchman needs a rooster. You know, since it's our national symbol."

Maurice strutted over to the edge of his enclosure, eyeing Senait with what she could have sworn was judgment.

"So naturally, you kept him."

"Of course. Look at him – he has excellent posture."

Senait turned to stare at Jules, trying to reconcile this image – the elite athlete who kept a gift rooster – with the dominant man who'd commanded her to Barcelona. The contrast shouldn't have been charming, but somehow it was.

"You're ridiculous," she informed him.

"You like it." He guided her back inside, toward the kitchen. "Breakfast?"

She watched as he moved efficiently inside his kitchen, beating eggs with the same precision he probably used on the pitch. There was something domestic about it all – the morning light streaming through windows, the sounds of Maurice greeting the day, Jules cooking while explaining his training schedule.

"I'll be done around three," he was saying, sliding a perfect omelet onto her plate. "The masseuse will come at four. Then dinner?"

"You just assume I'll still be here?"

He set a cup of coffee in front of her – prepared exactly how she liked it, because of course he'd noticed that detail too. "You will be."

"Awful confident there."

"Just observant." He leaned against the counter, studying her face. "You slept better here than at the hotel."

She wanted to argue, but he was right. Despite the emotional turbulence of yesterday, she'd slept more soundly in his bed than she had in weeks.

"That's because your mattress probably costs more than my yearly salary."

"Among other reasons." His smile was knowing. "Eat. The food will get cold."

They ate in comfortable silence, interrupted occasionally by Maurice's commentary on the morning. Jules' phone buzzed with messages – probably from teammates – but he ignored them, focusing instead on her.

It should have made her uncomfortable, that focused attention. It had with Tymir, eventually. His gaze had gone from admiring to possessive, from protective to controlling.

But Jules... Jules watched her like he was trying to solve a puzzle, not own it.

Dangerous thoughts, she warned herself. Very dangerous thoughts.

"There you go again," Jules murmured. "Thinking too much."

"Some of us have to think. Can't all coast by on good looks and football skills."

He laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "You think I'm good looking?"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

The challenge in his voice sent heat pooling in her belly, but before she could respond, his phone buzzed again.

"Time for training," he sighed, standing. He bent to kiss her temple, the gesture so casual it made her heart stutter. "Rest. Let the masseuse work her magic. I'll bring dinner."

"I didn't agree to—"

"Senait." His voice dropped to that tone that seemed to bypass her brain and go straight to her nerve endings. "Stay. Let yourself be taken care of, just for today."

She wanted to argue. Wanted to maintain some semblance of the control she usually clung to. But something in his eyes – concern mixed with that quiet authority – made her pause.

"Fine," she conceded. "But I'm not promising to be here when you get back."

His smile said he knew better. "Whatever you say, chérie." He grabbed his training bag, pausing at the door. "Oh, and feed Maurice around noon. He likes classical music with his lunch."

"You're joking."

"Am I?" With a wink, he was gone, leaving Senait to stare after him.

Through the window, she watched him get into his car. The morning sun caught his dreads, and highlighted the easy grace of his movements.

He's not Tymir, her mind whispered again. Not even close.

That thought should have been comforting. Instead, it terrified her. Because Tymir she knew how to handle. Tymir was a familiar hurt, a known quantity.

But Jules? Jules with his tea and his rooster and his gentle hands that could so easily command her? Jules who noticed everything but demanded nothing?

Jules was uncharted territory.

And as Maurice continued to crow his morning opinions to the world, as the scent of Jules' cologne lingered on the hoodie she wore, Senait realized she was already in deeper than she'd planned.

Fuck, she thought, but couldn't quite tell if it was despair or anticipation coloring the word.

Only time will tell.

_______________________________________________

Training had been intense, the Barcelona sun unforgiving even in the cooler months. Jules wiped sweat from his forehead as he headed toward his car, his muscles pleasantly sore from the session.

"¡Julio! ¡Hola, Julio!"

He turned to see Lamine Yamal jogging toward him, still full of energy despite the grueling practice. At seventeen, the kid seemed to have endless reserves.

"¿Puedo practicar conducir en tu coche de nuevo?" Lamine asked, flashing his most winning smile. "He estado mejorando!" (“Can I practice driving in your car again? I've been getting better!”)

Jules snorted. "¿Quieres decir que es mejor casi estrellarse?" He nodded toward the parking lot where he spotted Lamine's mother waiting. "Además, parece que tu viaje está aquí." (“Better at almost crashing, you mean? Besides, looks like your ride's here”.)

"Vamos, ¿solo una vez alrededor del lote?" ("Come on, just once around the lot?")

"No después de la última vez. Todavía tengo pesadillas sobre mi transmisión.” (“Not after last time. I still have nightmares about my transmission.")

Lamine rolled his eyes. "No fue tan malo." ("It wasn't that bad.")

"Confundiste el freno con el acelerador”. (“You confused the brake with the accelerator.")

“Menor detalle”. ("Minor detail.")

Jules ruffled the teenager's hair, earning a protest. “Vete a casa, chico. Tal vez cuando tengas dieciocho años”. ("Go home, kid. Maybe when you're eightteen.")

“¡Seré mejor conductor que tú para entonces!” ("I'll be a better driver than you by then!")

“¡Establezca metas realistas, Lamine!” ("Set realistic goals, Lamine!")

Sliding into his car, Jules couldn't help but smile at the exchange. But as he started the engine, his thoughts drifted back to Senait. Something had been off since last night – beyond just the usual walls she put up. The way she'd tensed when mentioning that spa day with Zuri, the shadows that had crossed her face…

He checked his phone before pulling out. She'd answered his texts throughout the day, but sporadically:

J: Masseuse coming at 4. Don't overthink it. S: I know how massages work, Jules.

And later:

S: Maurice is judging my lunch choices. J: He has refined taste. S: He's a rooster. J: A sophisticated one.

J. Cole's voice filled the car as Jules navigated Barcelona's streets. He'd been surprised to learn Senait liked Cole too – another little detail he'd filed away during their late-night talks.

A thought nagged at him – what if she'd left? But no, she wouldn't. Not without saying goodbye at least. Besides, he'd seen how she melted under his touch last night, how she'd curled into him despite her usual aversion to cuddling.

He pulled into his favorite restaurant, one that made the best paella in the city. The owner, Maria, greeted him warmly.

"Lo de siempre, Julio? (The usual, Jules?)"

"Y alga extra gambas al ajillo (And some extra garlic shrimp)," he added, thinking of how Senait had mentioned loving garlic shrimp once.

While waiting for the food, he sent another text: Bringing dinner. Hope you're hungry.

Her response came quickly this time: Can't move. Your masseuse is a sadist.

He grinned. Good. You needed it.

I hate that you're right.

The drive home was filled with anticipation. Jules found himself thinking about how natural it had felt, waking up with Senait in his bed. How she'd looked wearing his clothes, sleep-soft and unguarded.

Don't push too fast, he reminded himself. He could sense her skittishness, knew there was a story behind her careful distance. But patience was one of his strengths – on and off the pitch.

The house was quiet when he entered, but he could hear soft voices from his home gym. Following the sound, he found his masseuse, Clara, instructing Senait through what looked like some final stretches.

"Breathe through it," Clara was saying as Senait winced. "These knots didn't form overnight."

Jules leaned against the doorframe, taking in the scene. Senait lay on the massage table, face down, looking both relaxed and slightly murderous.

"I'll let you finish," he said, enjoying Senait's half-hearted glare. "Dinner's getting set up."

In the kitchen, he arranged the food, opened a bottle of wine to breathe, and tried not to think too hard about Senait's bare skin under Clara's expert hands.

Twenty minutes later, Clara emerged. "She'll need another session," she told Jules as he walked her out, accepting his generous tip. "Lot of old tension there."

"I'll set it up," he promised.

Senait appeared in the kitchen, wearing his hoodie again, her hair piled messily on top of her head. She looked soft, relaxed in a way he had come to enjoy.

"Your masseuse tried to kill me," she accused, but her voice was languid.

"You'll thank me later." He guided her to sit, placing a full plate in front of her. "Eat."

The appreciative sound she made at the first bite sent heat through his veins. "Okay, maybe I'll thank you now."

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, Jules watching as some of her usual sharpness returned with each bite.

"Stop analyzing me," she said without looking up.

"Can't help it. You're interesting."

"I'm really not."

"Disagree." He topped off her wine. "Want to tell me what was bothering you last night?"

She tensed slightly, then consciously relaxed – probably feeling the ghost of Clara's warning about tension. "Not particularly."

"Okay." He let it drop, knowing pushing wouldn't help.

Senait looked surprised at his easy acceptance. "That's it? No interrogation?"

"You'll tell me when you're ready." He shrugged. "Or you won't. But I'm here either way."

Something flickered in her eyes – surprise, vulnerability, maybe both. She covered it by taking another bite, but Jules caught the slight tremor in her hand.

"Tell me about your day instead," he offered. "Did Maurice actually judge your lunch choices?"

That got a laugh out of her. "He turned his back on my sandwich. Literally turned around and ignored me."

"He prefers a proper meal. Very French that way."

"He's a bird, Jules."

"A French bird."

She rolled her eyes, but he could see her smile. This was what he loved – how easily they fell into banter, how her wit matched his step for step.

Loved. Dangerous word. He filed that thought away for later examination.

As they finished eating, Senait seemed to relax more fully. Whether from the wine, the massage, or just the comfort of the moment, her usual guardedness had softened around the edges.

"Thank you," she said suddenly. "For… this. All of it."

Jules reached across the table, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "My pleasure, chérie."

She leaned into his touch, just slightly, but it was enough. He stood and drew her up against him.

"Jules…"

"Shh." He traced her jawline with his thumb.

When he kissed her, she tasted like wine and possibility. Her hands fisted in his shirt as he backed her against the counter, deepening the kiss. She made a small sound in the back of her throat that drove him crazy.

"Still planning to leave?" he murmured against her lips.

"Shut up," she breathed, pulling him back down.

Jules smiled into the kiss. They both knew she wasn't going anywhere – at least not tonight.

And tonight was all he was asking for. For now.

Jules guided Senait over to the couch, his touch gentle but insistent. He sank down, settling her on his lap, her legs straddling his thighs. His hands slipped beneath her hoodie, pushing the fabric up and over her head, revealing bare, beautiful skin.

He paused, taking in the sight of her breasts. A low, appreciative groan rumbled in his chest, and he leaned forward, pressing kisses to her collarbone before his mouth found one sensitive nipple. His tongue swirled and flicked, and she let out a soft, breathy moan, arching into him. His large hands cupped her breasts, kneading and teasing as he lavished attention on her, making her squirm and press herself even closer.

"Jules," she whimpered, her voice cracking under the pressure of his touch.

He looked up, his lips curving into a wicked smile. "Mm, I like the way you say my name." His thumbs brushed over her hardened nipples before he helped her shimmy out of the rest of her clothes. Each piece fell to the floor, leaving her bare and flushed under his intense gaze.

Her eyes fell to the bulge straining beneath his pants. Senait slid off his lap and dropped to her knees between his legs, her fingers working on the waistband of his pants. Jules lifted his hips to help her, and she peeled the fabric away, followed by his boxers, freeing his dick. He was already hard for her, the head flushed and glistening with precum. The sheer size of him made her bite her lip in anticipation.

She leaned forward, her tongue darting out to taste him. She ran it along the length of his shaft, swirling around the tip, savoring his reaction. Jules let his head fall back against the couch, a deep groan spilling from his lips. His hands found their way into her hair, fingers tangling as he watched her work.

"Merde," he muttered, a smile pulling at his lips when she tried to take more of him into her mouth. She had gotten better since their last time in Paris, but even now, she could barely fit him in. The way her mouth stretched around him, though, was enough to send a jolt of pleasure through his body. Senait’s hands moved to play with his balls, and he hissed in pleasure, his hips bucking slightly.

She hollowed her cheeks, doing her best to take him deeper, but he was still too thick, too overwhelming. The challenge of it only made him harder.

Jules tugged gently at her hair, guiding her off of him, and his eyes were dark, filled with need. "Come here," he instructed. "I want you to ride me."

Senait climbed back onto his lap, but not before grabbing a condom from the sideboard. She tore it open and rolled it over his length with practiced ease. He watched her with hooded eyes, hands steadying her hips as she positioned herself above him.

Slowly, she sank down onto his dick, and both of them moaned as he filled her inch by inch. The stretch made her head spin, a delicious ache that left her gasping. Jules groaned, his fingers digging into her hips as she took him all the way.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he growled, his hands guiding her as she began to move. Senait’s hips rocked against his, her movements slow at first, savoring the friction. But as the tension built, she quickened her pace, riding him with growing desperation.

Jules’s hands slid up her sides, one coming to wrap around her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her whimper. "Look at you," he whispered, thrusting up into her. "Taking me so well."

The dirty talk spurred her on, her nails digging into his chest as she bounced on him, her moans growing louder. His grip on her throat tightened, sending sparks of pleasure through her. He thrust up to meet her movements, their bodies colliding in a frenzy of need.

"You like that?" he taunted, his voice low and rough. "Like me fucking you like this?"

"Yes," she gasped, her voice breathless. "God, yes."

The room filled with their sounds—moans, grunts, and the slap of skin against skin. Jules’s control was slipping, his thrusts growing more erratic as he chased his release. The feel of her, the way she moved on top of him, was almost too much. He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close, his other hand still lightly squeezing her throat.

Senait’s head fell back, her entire body trembling as she came, her walls tightening around him. Her orgasm sent him over the edge, and with one last thrust, he followed, spilling into the condom as he groaned her name.

They stayed there, tangled together, catching their breath. Jules finally let his hand drop from her throat, cupping her cheek instead and pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

"Crazy," she whispered, a smile curving her lips.

He chuckled, his thumb brushing over her flushed skin. "Yeah. But you liked it."

She laughed softly, leaning into him, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

Senait was curled up in Jules' home office, half-listening to a virtual meeting, when her phone buzzed with the news alert. The headline made her stomach drop: "Police Visit Real Madrid Star's Home Amid Domestic Dispute Claims."

"Fuck," she breathed, quickly unmuting herself to make an excuse about technical difficulties before dropping from the call. Her fingers flew over her phone screen, pulling up the article.

The tabloid's tone was deliberately salacious, painting Aurélien as some kind of monster. But Senait knew better. She could see Ernest's fingerprints all over this – the strategic leaks, the twisted narrative. Her PR brain picked apart the story even as her heart ached for her friend.

I should have been there, she thought, guilt gnawing at her. Here she was, playing house with Jules in Barcelona while Zuri dealt with this nightmare alone.

Before she could spiral further, she hit call on Zuri's contact.

"Hey," Zuri answered, sounding tired but steady. "I guess you saw?"

"Why didn't you tell me it had gotten this bad?" Senait demanded, already pulling up flight searches on her laptop. "I can be in Madrid in two hours."

"Sen, breathe. We've got it handled." There was a rustling sound, like Zuri was settling somewhere comfortable. "The police visit was just a wellness check. My father's accusations were so obviously false they didn't even need to do a full investigation."

"Still—"

"Still nothing. We're actually moving forward with a restraining order. And…" Zuri paused. "We're planning a trip to New York. Going to handle this face to face."

Senait sat back, processing this. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"Probably not. But necessary." Zuri's tone shifted, becoming lighter. "Now, enough about my drama. Tell me about Jules."

"Zuri…"

"Come on, give me something good. I need the distraction."

Senait couldn't help but smile, even as she rolled her eyes. "He's… attentive."

"Attentive how?"

"Like, I can barely walk some mornings attentive."

Zuri's delighted laugh filled the line. "Get it, girl! Though I have to say, I'm surprised you're still there. Wasn't this supposed to be just a weekend thing?"

The question hit a nerve Senait had been trying to ignore. "Yeah, well…" She glanced around the office she'd somehow claimed as her workspace. "His team lost to Osasuna last night. He needed cheering up."

"Mhmm. Very selfless of you."

"Shut up."

They chatted a bit longer before hanging up, but Zuri's question lingered. What was Senait still doing here? She should be back at her hotel, maintaining some semblance of boundaries. Instead, she'd seamlessly integrated into Jules' space – her laptop on his desk, her toiletries in his bathroom, her clothes hanging next to his.

This is getting to be too much, she thought, eyeing her hotel app. She should check out, stop wasting money on a room she wasn't using. But that thought felt even crazier – actually moving into Jules' house?

"You're thinking too loud again."

Senait jumped. Jules stood in the doorway holding a plate of what smelled like his signature chicken and rice.

"Just work stuff," she lied, accepting the plate. He gave her a look that said he didn't believe her but wouldn't push.

"Eat," he said simply, dropping a kiss on her head before leaving her to her 'work stuff.'

Soon the sound of his PS5 drifted down the hall, his voice mixing with his friends' as they played some shooting game. The rapid-fire French was oddly soothing, domestic in a way that made her chest tight.

Stop it, she chided herself. This isn't real life. You're going back to New York on Wednesday.

But even as she thought it, she knew the truth – she'd be back. Jules would make sure of it, with his quiet commands and knowing smiles. And worse, she'd want to come back.

Her mind drifted to this morning, how she'd woken to find him watching game footage, absently stroking her hair. How natural it had felt to curl into his side, offer observations about the opposing team's defense. How he'd listened, actually considered her amateur analysis.

"Putain!" Jules' curse carried through the house, followed by laughter from his gaming friends. Senait found herself smiling before she caught herself.

This was exactly the problem. She was getting too comfortable, too attached. What had started as a steamy weekend fling was morphing into something… else. Something that made her think about time zones and flight schedules, about whether her company had a Barcelona office — it did not, but still.

Absolutely not, she told herself firmly. You are not reorganizing your life for a man. Not again.

But Jules wasn't Tymir. The thought snuck in before she could stop it. Jules noticed things – like how she took her coffee, which shoulder carried more tension, what made her laugh genuinely versus when she was deflecting.

More dangerous still, he noticed but didn't use it against her. He just… stored the information away, used it to take care of her in ways so subtle she often didn't realize until later.

Like now – she'd mentioned once, offhandedly, that she struggled to eat during workdays. So he'd started bringing her lunch, never making a big deal of it, just ensuring she was nourished.

"Merde!" Another French exclamation, followed by what sounded like good-natured trash talk.

Senait stabbed at her chicken, annoyed with herself. This was exactly how it started with Tymir – the small comforts, the easy intimacy, the gradual entanglement until she couldn't imagine her life without him. Until she'd lost herself trying to keep him.

She had to leave Wednesday. Had to go back to New York, back to her carefully constructed independence. Back to late-night calls with Jules that felt safer, more controlled.

Her phone lit up with a text from him, even though he was just down the hall: Stop overthinking and eat.

Stop bossing me around, she sent back.

Never. You like it too much.

And that was the real problem, wasn't it? She did like it. Liked how he took charge without taking over. Liked how he pushed without pressuring. Liked him.

Fuck, she thought, not for the first time since arriving in Barcelona. But this time, there was definitely more despair than anticipation in the word.

Because this thing with Jules? It wasn't just fun anymore. It wasn't just physical. It was becoming real, with all the terrifying possibilities that entailed.

And Senait wasn't sure she was ready for that. Wasn't sure she'd ever be ready for that.

But as Jules' laugh echoed through the house, as she sat in his office eating food he'd prepared just for her, she had to admit – ready or not, it was already happening.

The only question was: would she let it?

A week of silence from Senait felt different this time. Jules found himself checking his phone more often than he'd like to admit, even while being photographed at the Messika show during Paris Fashion Week. The flashing cameras caught him adjusting his cuffs, but missed him checking for messages beneath the table.

Nothing.

His texts had gone from casual to concerned: Miss your morning sass. Maurice is depressed. He needs his daily judgment. Chérie, talk to me.

Even his calls went straight to voicemail. This wasn't like her usual ghosting – something felt off.

It wasn't until he was back in his hotel room, fashion week obligations finally complete, that his FaceTime call connected. The sight of her face made his chest tight – eyes puffy, dark circles beneath them barely concealed.

"Senait," he said softly, all his prepared lectures dying at the sight of her obvious distress.

"Hey." Her voice was rough, like she hadn't used it much lately. "Sorry I've been... away."

"What happened?"

She shook her head, trying to deflect, but Jules wasn't having it. "Don't shut me out," he said, his tone carrying that authority he knew affected her. "What's scaring you?"

"I'm not scared," she snapped, but it lacked her usual fire.

"Liar."

They stared at each other through the screen until Senait finally broke. "I ran into my ex at Whole Foods," she said, the words coming out in a rush. "Him and his... them. With the baby."

Jules felt his jaw clench. "And?"

"And nothing. It just..." She gestured vaguely. "Triggered some stuff."

"You want that nigga back?"

That got a reaction. "What? No! God no." Her eyes flashed with genuine anger. "That's not... I don't want him. I just..." She deflated slightly. "It brought up a lot. About choices. Mistakes."

Jules studied her face through the screen. "You took time off?"

"A few days. Then threw myself into this new project." She rubbed her eyes. "Deadlines don't care about emotional breakdowns."

"Your anxiety is through the roof," he observed. "Take more time."

"Can't. Unless I quit—" She cut herself off at his expression. "Don't look at me like that. I have bills, Jules. Rent in New York isn't exactly cheap."

"That job is killing you." He leaned forward. "What about your calligraphy? The Etsy shop?"

Senait laughed, but it was hollow. "That barely covers my coffee habit. I can't support myself on—"

"You could expand it," he interrupted. "Make it a lifestyle brand. Manifestation journals, wedding invitations, calendar books—"

"Jules, stop." She looked tired. "I can't do that right now."

"Do you enjoy it? The calligraphy?"

"Of course I do, but—"

"Let me help you start up."

"Absolutely not." Her response was immediate, sharp.

"Senait—"

"I have to get back to work." She was shutting down, he could see it happening. "I'll talk to you later."

"Don't do this," he warned, but she was already reaching for the disconnect button.

"Bye, Jules."

The screen went dark. Jules slammed his hand against the hotel desk, frustration coursing through him. She was running – not from him, he realized, but from the possibility of change. From letting anyone help her.

But he wasn't about to let her push him away. Not when he'd seen how well they fit together, how she came alive when she felt safe enough to be herself.

His phone lit up with a text from Aurélien: How's Senait?

Stubborn, he typed back. Scared.

A: Sounds familiar. Zuri was the same way.

Jules thought about that. About how Zuri and Aurélien had found their way despite the arranged marriage, despite family drama. About how sometimes the best things in life required fighting through the fear.

I'm not letting her run, he sent to Aurélien.

A: Good. Zuri says she needs someone as stubborn as she is.

Jules smiled slightly, already forming plans. Senait could try to push him away all she wanted. But he'd seen the real her – curled up with Maurice, lost in her calligraphy, laughing freely in his kitchen.

That was the woman he... that was the woman he wasn't letting go. Not without a fight.

His fingers hovered over his phone, considering his next move. Finally, he typed:

I know you're scared. I know you're trying to protect yourself. But I'm not him, chérie. And I'm not going anywhere.

He sent it before he could second-guess himself. Then, after a moment:

Maurice misses you. He's playing Chopin to cope with his depression.

Let her try to resist that. His stubborn, beautiful, frustrating woman who thought she had to carry the world alone.

She'd learn. He'd show her.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

#emjayewrites #jules lore #jules kounde #jules kounde x black oc #jules kounde x black reader #footballer x reader #footballer x black reader #fc barcelona fanfic #fc barcelona fanfiction #jules kounde fanfic #in between the lines #jules x senait

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celestica-1988 · 1 year ago

Text

Some other Tokyo Revengers characters headcanon. There will be SPOILERS.

When Mikey left the Sano household he brought with him his towel and some pics of the people he lost. Almost every night when he's curled up in his towel ready to sleep he watches the pics and cries. Yes, even when he's in bonten.

Draken biggest regret is not confessing his feelings to Emma. So when he gets up and goes to bed he always says "I love you" to her pic on the wall.

Baji is so scared of his mother tears because when she cries she turns in a really strong opponent. She's the female version of the blue ogre.

Chifuyu thought that his mother hated Peke J till one day when he got home from school and found the two sleeping together snuggling.

Takemichi finds some notes of his past self in which he's confused about being friends with people he doesn't even remember he knew and lately being involved in a gang. Past Takemichi is afraid he's going insane so our Takemichi writes te a note in which he explains everything. Not surprisingly past Takemichi is even more confused and thinks he need a therapist.

Kazutora is proud of his tattoo. He just wish people in Japan wouldn't be so scared of tattoos because sometimes is tired of hide it with turtlenecks.

Takuya likes to watch wrestling.

Yamagishi dream is that his delinquent encyclopedia would be published one day.

Akkun dies his hair red by himself as a training to be an hairdresser.

Mitsuya is very good at karaoke, he likes to sing rock songs.

Hakkai is the first and more hardcore shipper of Mitsuya x Yuzuha. He really wants Taka-chan to be a part of his family.

Sometimes Taiju babysits Mana and Luna. One time they asked him to watch IT (the 90s version) with them since Takanii forbid them to watch such a scary horror movie, Taiju accepted but not much longer the movie started Mana and Luna started to cry and Taiju did his best to comfort them (he said he would punch any clowns that goes close to them or something similar). In the end the little ones fell asleep in his arms and Taiju had to live for a week with the Mitsuya because Mana and Luna felt safe only near to him. Needless to say an angry Mitsuya scolded Taiju.

When Pahchin gets released all the Toman members throw a party for him. He was sad Mikey was not there though.

When Yasuda confessed to Pehyan he malfunctioned and froze for a solid 15 minutes.

Angry thought for a while that he would be a nurse when he will be an adult. He changes his mind after seeing Nahoya smiling with his eyes wide in delight while eating the ramen that he prepared. Since then Angry wants to be a ramen chef.

Smiley once stole Angry favorite stuffed animal, Souya got so upset that accidentally unleashed the blue ogree. Since then Nahoya always politely asks to Souya if he can borrow one of his plushies.

Mucho goes to punk rock concerts, one time he brought Sanzu with him, but it wasn't a good idea. Sanzu beated almost all the people in the venue.

Sanzu ends up regretting killing Mucho, he misses the older brother he was for him. Especially when he feels lonely and he realizes he has got nobody to talk to.

When Kisaki reaches the afterlife Baji punches him in the face so hard that for a moment he was sure he would come back in the world of the livings.

Hanma likes to play shooting games at the arcade, but when he loses he usually punches the machine.

Kokonoi lives in a traditional house when he's in bonten. There are a lot of candles, lanterns and things that make it a cozy place. Only Miley is admitted in his house and only for urgent matters. The house is his sanctuary to find inner peace after dealing with his crazy coworkers.

Inui likes goth girls more because they understand and appreciate his hobbies.

When Izana listens to Queen the whole neighborhood listens to Queen.

Kakucho learned to cook from Mochi.

Mochi hates creeps who harass women and always beat them down to a pulp. Harassing a woman is not an honorable behavior for a man!

Shion always fails tests of courage since when he was a kid. He believes in ghosts and he's afraid of them.

Rindou panicked when Ran slept for a whole day, he thought he was dead or in a coma. That's when he realized how important Ran is to him. When Ran woke up he cried for joy and ran to buy a mont blanc for his brother.

Ran cut his hair because he was tired of Sanzu calling him Wednesday or Annabelle.

Never insult someone because they are not fully Japanese in front of South, he will punch the living shit out of you. Since he's also a mixed race person he hates when people are bullied for that reason.

Wakasa saved a stray cat once and let the kitten live with him. Now when he doesn't wanna hang out with Takeomi he said he's busy... Busy cuddling his cat that he treasures so much because it help him avoid unnecessary social situations. And because... Who doesn't love a cat?

Benkei likes to built copies of castles in miniature. It relaxes him cause it takes great concentration and ability to do that in the right way.

Takeomi gossips like an old lady with his coworkers (may God help them)

Shinichiro cried the first time he watched Titanic, it's one of his favorite movies.

Yuzuha meets with Emma and Senju every month to talk about how hard it is dealing with problematic brothers.

Hinata is a fan of Avril Lavigne and sometimes she dreams of touring around the world playing the songs she wrote. Unluckily she can't sing but she has got some alternative fashion clothes.

Emma talks and sleeps with the plushie Draken gave to her. She calls him Kenken.

Senju goes often to Harajuku to take inspiration for her outfits.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers headcanons #mikey sano #draken #baji keisuke #matsuno chifuyu #takemichi hanagaki #mitsuya takashi #taiju shiba #kazutora hanemiya #ran haitani #haitani brothers #rindou haitani #izana kurokawa #kakucho #tenjiku

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abadbitchblogs · 5 months ago

Text

SOS

Part 1

Pairing: Jey Uso x OC x Damian Priest

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.6k

a/n: Ya girl is alive y’all! I wanted to revamp this because I felt like y'all deserved more! Thank you to everyone who has supported me and my work. I love y'all! All likes, comments, reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated!

-divider by @cafekitsune

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion as the entire roster hooped and hollered in celebration of Trin’s return at the Royal Rumble. While shots, champagne and cocktails were being thrown back, all Amirah could do was watch the way her best friend humbly received the love she deserved with tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. It was such a full circle moment for her; comforting Trinity when leaving the company broke her, supporting her decision to join Impact! Wrestling, then experiencing the reception of her homecoming. Watching her fall back into the swing of things like she never left felt so satisfying. Before she could spiral into an emotional breakdown, a large hand waving in her face snapped her out of her thoughts making her scrunch her nose in confusion. “Aye, girl! You good?” Jimmy’s furrowed brows and jutted out bottom lip came into focus, immediately coaxing a laugh out of her. Jimmy was one person that you could count on to lift your spirits without even trying- he was the textbook definition of goofy.

“I'm good, promise!” If he doubted she was telling the truth, the content glimmer in her eyes deterred him from pressing the matter any further. Instead, she looped her arm with his and dragged him back over to their friends where they could enjoy their night out. Plopping down on the sectional next to Trinity, the group of superstars fell into easy conversation catching up with those who are on a different brand as they only see each other during the major PLEs. Somehow the chat turned into the couples pestering the single people; i.e Bayley and Amirah. Bay may have fought to defend herself, but she just found their concern amusing. “Listen. I don't treat being single like a punishment. I love being by myself. I aint gotta worry about nobody cheating on me, nobody resenting me for my career or trying to police my body.” No lies were detected as they all had no choice but to agree. Relationships in their business were hard whether you were with a fellow pro wrestler or a regular person. “Besides, the chances of finding real love like y’all are slim as hell!”

“I know that's right!” Bianca gloated; her and Montez’s reality show was doing so well that they were WWE’s IT couple. Mirah playfully chucked a straw at their girlfriend while Trin, Bay, and Jade were too busy laughing at her EST antics surfacing outside of the ring. “ What about you and Damian? I be seeing y’all posted up looking cozy?” The question got a chorus of ‘oooohs’ from the women, but Bayley made a face of disgust at her friends’ insinuation. “Girl no. We're just good friends. That man doesn't have a committal bone in his body.” Amirah hummed in affirmation having heard the rumors about Damian Priest and his revolving door of women. “I'm honestly surprised that the two of you aren’t close. He's from New York, you're from New York. He's single and you've sworn off relationships. And I know you like them a little older.” The woman’s jaw dropped at Bayley’s insane attempt at matchmaking. “Girl are you trying to set me up with a sneaky link?” That sent all of the women into another uncontrollable fit of laughter. “You do need some dick.” Trin wheezed out, furthering Amirah’s appalled facial expression before she swatted her best friend’s arm. “You know what? I’m out of here.” A laugh bubbled out of her as she stood dramatically from their huddle only to turn and lock eyes with Jey Uso.

There he was hugging his twin with his chocolate orbs boring into her chestnut ones. Spinning on her heel, she suggested the girls go down to the dance floor for a song or two. “Come on y'all. We can't let this night pass without shaking a lil something.” Clasping Trinity’s hands, she pulled her to her feet then tugged her towards the stairs with a “We’re going downstairs to dance for a little bit, Jim,” thrown over her shoulder. They scurried by without waiting for a response although she knew Jimmy and Montez were going to follow them anyway to keep an eye on the group. One of the things that Amirah and Trinity bonded over was their love of music and dance with both of them being former dancers. As much as Jimmy hated it when Trin showed her ass, he was going to have to suck it up tonight because they were owed some time to let loose. All that is holy must've been on their side because as soon as they made it to the center of the dancefloor, Twerk by the City Girls and Cardi B blared on the speakers. “Come on, Trin! Lemme see something!” It was always fun to get Trin and Bianca to cut up because Trin was going to kill it every time but Bianca had no damn rhythm. The club was playing banger after banger after banger after banger. If they weren't professional athletes, their feet and edges would be shot to hell. Amirah was throwing her ass back on Trinity, both of them cackling at Jade and Bayley trying to show B how to catch the beat when the tempo slowed to a ballad. Of course it was a song that a nigga always dedicated to her to make her feel special and now it pissed her off.

This is for you, you, my number one This is for you, you, my number one Oh, yeah, yeah-yeah This is for you, you, my number one

Sucking her teeth as Jimmy giddily cut in for a slow dance with his wife, Mirah cut through the crowd to head back to their section for another drink when she bumped into the only person she did not want to see. His grills seemed to glow in the low light of the club but before he could get a word out, she took a sharp left in search of the restroom. A wave of nausea crawled through her body and she needed to gather herself after coming in contact with that parasite. Just when her hand grasped the doorknob of the ladies room for a moment of solitude, a large hand engulfed her other wrist pausing her movements. “Mirah…” She didn’t even need to turn around to know who the trifling ass voice belonged to. Calmly snatching her wrist from his hold, she shifted her weight to one foot with a snarl etched on her gloss coated lips. “I’m sorry. Do we know each other?” Jey’s eyes softened at her faux confusion as he took a step toward her and her, taking a step back to keep space between them. “Mirah, come on. I just wanna talk to you. I wanna explain myself.” His pleading only made the bile in her throat rise, making her face twist in disgust.

“Nigga, you should’ve thought about talking to me before you just cut me off like I was some random bitch.” Her words dripped with malice in hope of it being enough to get him to leave her alone. “We ain’t got shit to talk about as far as I’m concerned.” Shoulder checking him as she walked by, not even wanting to be in the same building as him, Jey fought the urge to reach out to her again. He knew getting her to talk to him would be near impossible, but he was determined. Amirah was worth taking accountability and uncomfortable conversations.

Amirah shuffled through the sea of bodies on the dance floor to find her friends and wish them a goodnight. Trinity spotted the agitated look on her best friend’s face immediately even though she tried to plaster a smile over it. “What happened, boo?” Trin’s brows furrowed in worry only to have Mirah wave it off. “Nothing! I’m good. I’m just going to call it night. That liquor ain’t sitting right in my stomach.” The lie came out faster than she could even register, but it wasn’t a total lie. That bastard did indeed make her sick to her stomach. “Oh okay! We’ll go back with you. I wanna make sure you’re okay.” Gesturing for Jimmy to come over to the two of them, Amirah shook her head in protest. “Hell no. You stay and keep celebrating. You deserve it! I’ll be fine! I already called an Uber and I’ll text you when I’m back in my room.” Pulling her bestie into a tight embrace, she gave her a fat kiss on the cheek before moving to hug their group of friends goodbye. Much to her delight, no one questioned her sudden decline of health too much, just the request of a text message to let them know when she got back to the hotel. With a promise that she would text them as soon as she got in, Mirah flew to the exit of the club like a bat out of hell.

Sucking in a breath of fresh air, the feeling of relief washed over her soothing the queasiness that plagued her. The Florida streets were surprisingly peaceful at night, allowing her to fully collect herself and actually call an Uber so she just wasn’t standing outside of the club like a lame. As she pulled her phone out of her black purse, the club’s doors opened once more flooding the silence with music. A tap on her shoulder made her slap a friendly smile on her face in case it was a fan wanting an autograph or a picture. But, it was neither and her smile morphed into one of shock when she came face to face with Señor Money in the Bank. Damian was dark and broody so she did not expect to see him at a nightclub, but if his reputation precedes him then he was here for a woman- or two. “Señor Money in the Bank. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Wiping the shock off her face, she mirrored his playful and dare she say- flirty smirk. “Well I was by the bar when I saw you rush out so I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Feigning surprise, Amirah placed a hand over her heart and cooed at his sweet gesture. “Wait until everyone finds out that Señor Playboy is a gentleman.”

Her teasing pulled a chuckle out of him as he cocked a brow in question. “Playboy huh?” “Mhmm I’ve heard about you.” Laughing once more, Damian accepted defeat but pushed for info on his supposed playboy reputation. “So you’ve been asking about me?” Zeroing in on Amirah’s smaller frame with his almost charcoal gaze, it was her turn to laugh. “You wish.” His smile broadened at her bratty comeback before he very noticeably gave her a once over. “¡Te ves hermosa.” Damian’s eyes met hers again with his gravelly voice scratching her brain deliciously. Maybe Bayley was right; he was fun. “Oh I know.” Mirah shot down his suave Spanish approach smugly, crossing her arms over her chest. “¿Hablas español?” “No, but you pick up a few things when you live in Harlem for a while.”

Both intrigued and amused by the other superstar’s answer, Damian vowed to get to know her better in any capacity. “You know I was actually heading back to the hotel myself. Why don’t we share a ride? Uber is already on the way.” After contemplating getting in a car with him, Amirah pointed an accusatory finger at him. “If you insist, BUT no funny business.” Raising his hands in mock surrender, he flashed another cheek numbing smile at her. “Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.” Slapping his chest for his dramatics, she couldn’t help her own snicker which he ate all the way up.

Their Uber pulled up two minutes later and like the gentleman he was, Damian had helped her climb into the truck before getting in after she was comfortable. “So do you still live in New York?” He pried quietly while they enjoyed their ride back to the hotel. “Sure do.” She replied proudly, watching the palm trees go by as the car rolled on. “Me too. Maybe we could be travel partners.” Humming in thought, she turned to him with a soft smile. “Yeah maybe. I don’t know how often I can be seen with you in public though before people start talking.” He chortled at the woman’s response before giving his own, “Fair enough.” The rest of their car ride was occupied with a game of 21 questions about themselves and their interests outside of wrestling. Coming to a stop outside of the hotel, the pair thanked the driver for his service and Damian exited the car first on the other side to come around and help her out. She could only laugh to herself about him turning on the charm heavily. When they entered the elevator, Mirah noticed that the taller man didn’t press a button for his floor so she shot him a quizzical look. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t walk you to your door?”

With a playful eyeroll she muttered a ‘whatever’ and let the space fill with a comfortable silence. At least she’d be able to get up early for a workout and the night turned out… interesting. A ding broke both of them out of their thoughts as they shuffled off the elevator on the 14th floor. Amirah could feel his eyes studying the swing of her hips while she led him to her room. Abruptly stopping at her door, Damian almost crashed into the back of her too focused on how she managed to walk in those killer shoes effortlessly. “This is me.” She stated, leaning against her door curious to see how the night would end. “Well I think my job here is done. You have arrived safely.” “That reminds me.” Before her friends put out an APB for her, she texted in their group chat that she had mad it back to her room. “Thank you for the escort. I appreciate it.” “It was my pleasure and if you don’t mind,” Damian carefully slid her phone into his hand and input his number. “You know in case I can be of service to you again.” Peering at him through squinted eyes she gave him a drawn out nod. “Riiiiiiiiight.”

Smirking down at her for the last time, he gently took her hand and raised it to his lips for a kiss on her knuckles while gazing into her cocoa colored eyes. “M’lady, I bid you farewell.” And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall in long strides. Entering her hotel room and shutting the door behind her, Amirah collapsed against the door like women in romcoms. Girl what the fuck just happened. Taking in another deep breath, she headed to the bathroom for a much needed shower and to wring her damn panties out. Wait until she tells the girls about what just happened. Before she climbed into the shower to wash off the scent of booze, lust and worn leather, she shot the mysterious man a text of what she meant to say before he left her utterly speechless.

{Princesa: Goodnight 🖤}

{Papi Chulo: Buenas noches hermosa 🖤}

mirrormirah

mirrormirah Your favorite athlete's favorite athlete 🖤

Liked by archerofinfamy, trinity_fatu and 482,719 others

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trinity_fatu THAT'S MY FRIEND 🥳

⤿ mirrormirah BEST FRIEND!!!! get it right!

biancabelairwwe the finEST

⤿ mirrormirah That's all you bby ❤️

theyluvjeannie80 I know that's right !!!!!

⤿ mirrormirah I luv you boo 😘

archerofinfamy 😈

⤿ mirrormirah 🥰

⤿ bossglowstandard oop 👀👀

jadecargill sexy af 🥵

⤿ mirrormirah trying to get like you 😋

Taglist:

@empressdede @wrestlingprincess80 @whatdoeseverybodywant @alichesmi @reci1996 @2-muchsauce @cyberdejos2 @southerngirl41 @brie-mode-activated @piinklemonad3 @lucidddreamerrr

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fairysluna · 2 years ago

Text

little wolf.

Cregan's little sister is the only one who can change his mind, which is why Aemond decides to use his charms and convince her to support the Green using some peculiar methods.

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Tags/TW: smut (p in v, loss of virginity, f!oral sex, praise, breeding, kinda innocent!kink), teasing, a bit of mean!aemond, slight dubcon, cregan being an overprotective brother, cursing. if something is missing let me know!!

Author's Note: mimor @tvrgvryen sent me this request a few days ago and I had to do it bc i loved it so much. So here it is!

Word Count: 4.9k

Aemond has always been a good observer. He has always noticed the small details, the reason why people acted as they did, the way people treated others. That's why it wasn't hard for him to realize how important you were for your beloved brother Cregan.

The day he first stepped into Winterfell after Vhagar gracefully landed on the snow, he saw how brave Cregan was for stepping between you and the enormous beast. However, that mere gesture exposed the big affection he had for you; his only sister, and with that, Aemond knew what was Lord Stark's greatest weakness… you.

He went to the North with a mission, a task to fulfill, and he was not a man that was known to give up on things. Aemond was resilient, determined. He would not accept a negative answer from the Warden of the North, and even though he knew about the oath and how Starks are famously known for being loyal to their words; he was eager to find his way to gain the North's support.

And his opportunity came up with you; the sweet, kind Lady Stark. Beloved by all, you were also known as the Heart of Winterfell, for it was said that even the small folk held dear for you. Everything that Aemond heard about you were nothing but good words, showing how much people appreciated you, which only impulsed Aemond's bad intentions.

It is true, a Stark never forgets an oath, but the North gathers when the wolf howls… and even though your brother was the visible face of your House, everyone knew that it was you the one that had true power over the masses; your gentleness made you the Queen of the North, and that information was enough for Aemond to start his devious schemes.

It all started at the training yard. The snow had fallen earlier in the morning, covering the ground with a thick layer of snow. He was staring at you as you struggled with a bow and arrow, not being able to hit the bullseye. This would only make you groan with impatience, despair even. Aemond pressed his lips and looked down at his shoes, trying to show himself amused by you wrestling.

"You're too tense, my lady," he said as he slowly walked towards you.

His black fur coat covering his slim shape, his white hair perfectly still despite the crazy wind, his hands at the back of his body. He looked so effortlessly elegant, it almost made you blush.

"My prince," you greeted him, bowing swiftly, "I'm sorry you have to watch this terrible attempt."

"I didn't know women were allowed to train here in the North," he spoke, politely as he stretched his arm to touch the fine wood of the bow you were holding.

"We're not," you replied, "but my brother insists I should be prepared to defend myself, so he forces me to train either way."

"Mhm…" he nodded, "your brother is a clever man. A beauty like yours is the target of many deprived men, he's doing well by letting you learn how to protect yourself."

"But he barely has time to teach me," you complained, placing your arms in position to shoot again, "now he's in a meeting with the Mormonts, and I am here," you let the arrow go, but it didn't even hit the target. "...failing miserably."

Aemond chuckled, and you inevitably blushed at the low sound that came out of him. You stared at him from your peripheral view, analyzing his undeniable beauty and flirtatious smirk which made your heart beat a little too fast.

"You're too tense," he repeated, as he shifted his position until he was behind you.

His hands went to your shoulders, and he squeezed them softly giving you a soft and short massage that made you close your eyes. Soon, one of his hands reached yours, the one that was holding the bow's grip. He wrapped it around yours, and you immediately felt his warmth on your cold skin. It made you gasp silently.

"You see, I'm not so good at using a bow, I think my weapon of choice is the sword," he whispered, getting closer to your ear, his breath smacking against your shivering skin, "but I know things… and I can teach you if you please, my lady."

His nose rubbed against your hair, and your delicious smell almost made him groan. Soon, the prince helped you to fix your position as your breathing was getting heavier and an unknown feeling was installed in your lower belly. You feel the heat even though it was freezing cold, you felt his body pressing against yours leaving a sensation of distress, as if your body was begging you for something.

You feared of someone seeing you; the position was quite compromising, and you were certain your reputation would be stained if someone witnessed such a scandalous scene. It felt too intimate for you, perhaps not so proper for a maiden like you. You would have tried to push him away, but there was something within him that did not allow you to do so; it was as if he had bewitched you with his charms, and you were under a spell from which you were not able to wake up.

"It's simple, my lady," he explained, "you must relax, you must let go," his voice so deep and low against your ear, "come on, no one's watching, you're under no pressure…"

His touch, so delicate and gentle, mixed with his words, which you quickly misinterpreted; 'no one's watching', it sounded more like an invitation rather than words of comfort. You couldn't help but to sigh, a gesture that brought a slight smirk upon Aemond's face.

"Let yourself go, Lady Stark," his voice turned more breathy, rapier. "That's it, so good… now, eyes on the target, don't take your eyes off of it, okay?"

You simply nodded, wildly blushing at his praise. There was a subtle shiver that went to your trembling hands, you cleared your throat trying to play it down.

"Take deep breaths, don't close your eyes," his hands left yours, now going to your abdomen, his nose brushing against your ear as he kept whispering, "good, good girl."

Your teeth captured your lower lip as you held back a whimper. Squirming in your place, you felt weak on the knees as his hands left a squeeze on your hips.

"Now… shoot."

You listened, and your hand let go of the string. Your eyes widened with surprise as the arrow hit close to the bullseye, which was certainly not perfect, but it was an improvement. A smile appeared in your face as you tilted your head to appreciate your achievement, and soon a giggle escaped you.

"Oh, Gods…" you sighed, "I did it."

"You did it," Aemond said, "you did so well."

His words made your face turn to face him, and his lips were just a few inches away from yours. Your breath hitched, as your heart pounded with so much strength that you thought he would be able to hear it… even feel it. His hand traveled upwards your body until it reached the nape of your neck.

For a moment you thought he would kiss you, that his soft-looking lips would dare to touch yours. But suddenly, he pulled away. Few seconds later, footsteps were heard dragging the snow beneath their feet, and soon you found out the reason behind his abrupt reaction.

"Sister!" you heard. The deep and roaring voice of your brother woke you up from your trance, and you turned around to face him.

You saw a frown upon his face as his eyes narrowed. For a moment you thought he saw how close you were with Aemond, but soon his own words proved you wrong.

"Septa has been waiting for you for an hour!" he scolded you, "why are you still here?"

It took you a while to speak, you knew your voice would come out weak and thin if you dared to utter a word in that moment, which not only would make Cregan be suspicious of what happened, but also would embarrass you in front of the charming prince.

Luckily for you, Aemond decided to step in.

"I was helping her train, my lord, I'm sorry for the disruption I might have caused," you looked down at the steps Aemond had left in the snow, right beside yours.

You were quick and subtle once you purposely stepped on them to erase them. Aemond noticed and he couldn't help but smirk.

"Well, stop your training and go," he demanded, "you might continue tomorrow."

You had no choice but to obey. One last glance was given to Aemond as you bowed to him, saying goodbye. Cregan followed your frame as you entered the castle, and then he turned to look at the prince. Aemond was no fool, he knew Cregan was not ignorant of his intention… he was a man after all, he could see through his facade with no big effort.

However, he did not say anything about it. He just nodded, and then he left leaving Aemond standing alone with the burning desire running down his body.

At first, he planned on just seducing you… but now? Now he will have you. He needed to have you.

That same day, quite late at night, you were found in your chambers, laying on your belly on top of the fur carpet right in front of the warmth of the fireplace. A book was between your hands as your eyes followed the traces of the poetic words that were written in it. The sound of the fire crackling and burning the wood was the only thing you were able to hear until three soft knocks interrupted the quiet calmness of the night.

You barely looked up as you muttered a soft 'come in', turning the page to continue with your reading. The door was opened in a subtle movement that you barely noticed, and soon you heard steps getting close to you.

It wasn't until you were able to see the shoes of that person that you decided to look up, only to find Aemond's grin staring back at you. You immediately sat up, crossing your legs and trying to cover your breasts with the book; the fabric of your nightgown was thin, and you knew that your skin could usually be seen through it if he dared to squint to take a look.

Your body hasn't forgotten about his touch and closeness, and in a certain way it was actually craving for more of that. But you knew it was not proper, you've heard whispers around the castle claiming that he was actually betrothed to one of Lord Baratheon's daughters, meaning he already belonged to someone else.

And yet, you couldn't help but to feel the eagerness to touch him.

"My Prince," you said, the shock of seeing him there, sitting on the carpet right beside you was shown in your voice, "what- what are you doing here?"

"I found myself alone and bored in my chambers, so I decided to wander around the castle and the path brought me here… to you," he smiled kindly as he said those last two words. Words that made your heart beat faster and your cheeks turn red, "were you reading?" He asked, pointing at the book that was covering your pebbled nipples.

"Uh… yes," you nodded, shyly, "it's a book about poetry."

"Poetry?" He asked, raising his eyebrows, "Mind if I have a look, little wolf?"

You couldn't help but to wildly blush with the pet name, feeling butterflies inside your belly as you pulled the book out of your chest and left it in his hands. Aemond's eyes inevitably went to see your soft breasts covered by a thin white layer of silky fabric, breathing deep and harsh as he felt his cock twitch inside his pants once he managed to see your nipples through it.

He remained calm, even when the only thing he wanted was to rip that gown out of your body and take you right there. Instead, he just sighed as his fingers elegantly turned the pages, reading some extract of the love poems in the book.

"I see you're a romantic person, my Lady," he commented, without taking his eyes off of the pages, "do you consider yourself a fan of the genre?"

"It's something that I enjoy reading, yes," you nodded.

"I had the impression," he confessed, closing the book and leaving it aside, "have you ever been in love?"

You shook your head, "I don't- I don't think so."

"Mhm…" he sighed, "that’s odd, you're a gorgeous lady, one might have thought you had a lot of suitors waiting for you."

"You're too kind," you said, looking retrained for a few seconds.

"I'm just stating the facts, little wolf," he spoke softly, "It seems like your brother likes to scare them away."

"Them?" You asked confused.

"Your suitors," he clarified, "that's the only reasonable explanation of why you are not married yet."

"He just wants the best for me," you defended him.

"And what would that be?"

"A husband who not only sees me as a womb with legs, but also as something precious, something worthy of love and care," your dreamy voice made Aemond smirk, the naiveness in you amused him in so many ways.

"You're asking for too much in a society like this, don't you think?"

You shrugged, "a girl can only dream."

The prince nodded, "and a man can only fulfill those dreams, am I right?" You remained silent, avoiding his heavy and penetrative stare at all cost, "have you ever been this close to a man before?"

"No…"

"I could tell," he chuckled, a sound that buzzed into your ears and made your mind go fuzzy, "you were quite nervous when I helped you with your bow this morning."

"I don't feel very comfortable with the proximity of men…" you confessed.

"Of all men, or just of me?"

That's when you realized where this was going, and the panic quickly installed in your gut as you swallowed hard. It took you some time, but you finally noticed his true intentions. You knew you had to stop him before things went further.

"My prince, I'm not quite sure what you mean by those words," you started to stand up, tumbling in your knees, "but it's late and it wouldn't be proper for you to be seen in my chambers, so please-"

Your words were interrupted by the sudden action of Aemond, who pulled you closer until you stranded him, your legs at each side of his body as he forced you to sit on his lap, his hands pressed in your hips firmly, not allowing you to escape from his strong grip.

"I think you know what I mean, my lady…" he whispered, leaning closer to your ear only to mutter with his seductive and raspy voice, "I think you can feel it."

Your breath hitched in your throat at the same time you tried to speak, "I- I don't know…"

"Tell me what you felt when I touched you this morning," he commanded, his hands lowering to your thighs, starting to lift the thin fabric of your gown, "was it similar to what you're feeling right now?"

"I… I don't-"

"I sensed your nervousness when I said how good of a girl you are," he chuckled, starting to breathe in your neck, smelling your sweet scent, "does that arouse you, little wolf? Being praised?"

"Prince Aemond, this is not proper, please-" you tried to pull away, but his grip pushed you down once again. Now you were able to feel his hard-on pressing right down your core, which sent you a sensation that caused chills down your spine.

"That's not what I'm asking you," he spoke sternly, massaging your thighs, squeezing them every now and then, "Mhm… my sweet little wolf, you're shaking. Are you nervous now? You don't have to be, I won't hurt you."

"I told you I do not enjoy this," you breathed out, feeling his hands reaching your hips underneath your gown.

"So you're telling me that if I dare to touch between your legs… I would not find your cunt drenching for me?"

His words made you squirm, the blush running to your cheeks as his thumb started to caress your mons pubis. Your body tensed as you widened your eyes, feeling his finger pressing down.

“I- I don’t- my Prince, please stop-” a small moan interrupted your words as he found your clit between your folds. His thumb rubbing it slowly as you closed your eyes; embarrassed that he was touching such a private part of your body.

“Have you ever been kissed, my lady?” He asked, trying to hold back a groan as he felt your slick coating his digit, “Has someone been lucky enough to be the first to claim your beautiful lips?”

You shook your head, Aemond hummed with delight.

“Then I guess I’ll be the first…”

You barely were able to process his words when he pressed his soft lips against yours. Slow movements that were easy for you to follow without much struggle as you held back whimpers of pleasure, for his thumb was still torturing your pearl in a slow and gentle manner.

Your hand fell on his chest, not with the intention of pushing him away. You grasp his thin blouse, catching the fabric between your trembling hands as you felt the tip of his tongue starting to tease your lips. Hesitantly, your lips parted just a few inches, enough to give him space for him to claim your mouth; swirling his tongue against yours as you tried to keep up with his slow and tempting actions.

He was able to taste your inexperience, the way you would doubt your movements before actually doing them was enough proof for him to know that you were not lying; he was the first man to kiss, which now made him more eager to also become the first man to fuck you.

A gasp escaped your swollen lips when, in a sudden movement, he laid your body in the soft carpet, spreading your legs and placing himself between them. Your nightgown was wrinkled around your hips, exposing your glistening folds to him as he kept playing with your now sensitive clit. Soft mewls were heard as he stopped kissing you in order to taste your skin. You felt the wet caresses of his lips in your neck, your jaw, your collarbones, all while your hands were grasping the fur of the carpet beneath you.

His fingers were soon covered in your juices, your hips trying to move against them in an attempt to feel more, but he pulled them away and you widened your eyes once you saw him licking them and humming after he felt your sweet taste against his tongue. Your breath was caught in your throat as you heard him groan.

"My lady, you taste as sweet as you are," he spoke slowly, you blinked a couple times still feeling your mind fuzzy, "do you want a taste?"

You gulped, not entirely sure of what to reply. The words were unable to come out, so all you could was nod.

A careless smile appeared on his face as he left a soft kiss on your cheek, before you realized your legs were on his shoulders and his face buried in your drenching cunt as you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure his tongue was providing you.

His slurping was heard, echoing in the room as you tried to push his head away from your pussy, breathing fast and unsteady as he devoured you. You felt his tongue teasing your needy hole as his nose rubbed against your clit, making you moan a bit too loudly. His hands were grabbing your hips tightly, just to make sure you don't escape from him; his fingertips burying in your soft skin as your body writhe under his skilful mouth.

You could feel your own slick slipping down your thigh along with his spit. It was messy, far from being as slow and calm as the kiss he gave you before. He was eager to make you cum; licking, sucking, and fucking your cunt until you were nothing but a moaning mess.

It was over before you even noticed it. With a loud gasp, your eyes rolling and your thighs pressing at each side of Aemond's head, you reached your first orgasm, which finished with you gulping and hiccuping with pleasure. You heard him moaning against your soaking folds, collecting all your slick to then lean over your body.

He took a look at your face, your lips quivering as your cheeks were burning and tinted with a furious red. His fingers reached your chin, and made you open your mouth, which you did without hesitation. His spit fell in your tongue before your glistening eyes closed as you whimpered. You were able to taste yourself in it, the sweetness of your release coating your tongue.

"Swallow it," he commanded, and you quickly obeyed him, "good girl…" he let out a chuckle, and you couldn’t help but to feel an unknown heat running down your body. "See? I told you you were sweet, doesn't it taste good?"

You nodded, sighing.

"So good, so delicious…" he leaned to kiss you again as his hands pulled down your gown, freeing your breasts, "I swear it, my lady, I will not rest until your cunt is mine forever."

His big hands left a soft squeeze on your tits before they went to his pants, untying the lace and pulling them down. His leaking cock was now on your sight, hard and reddish. You barely noticed he took off his shirt as you were too hypnotized seeing that specific part of his body. Aemond immediately noticed your curious eyes, and he teasingly grabbed his cock in his hand only to stroke it a few times before letting it on top of your clit.

"Do you want it, my lady?" He whispered, starting to rub himself on you.

You whined, looking down at the obscene scene of his cock parting your puffy lips.

"Do you want my cock to make you feel good?" He groaned, feeling your slick coating his shaft, "I will give it to you if you ask me… Tell me what you want."

You gulped, trying to pronounce pleas.

"Aemond… I- I want…"

"Tell me, my beautiful lady," he muttered, "tell me what you desire."

"I want you… please… it's hurting, I-"

The head of his cock reached your hole and he slowly started to sink in you. Your eyes widened as a soft cry escaped your throat. Your legs closed as you brought them against your chest, and Aemond groaned in disapproval.

"Come on, darling… keep your legs open for me," he cooed, "I want to see your pretty pussy taking my cock."

He held the back of your knees, keeping your legs folded but spread. His cock was buried in your tight cunt as tears of pain started to fall down your cheeks. A loud cry was heard, louder than all of the others, and Aemond was quick to put his hand on top of your mouth.

"Sh, sh…" he whispered, "It's okay, it'll pass. Just relax, my lady, it will feel so good."

He spreaded you open with one push, your back arched as you struggled to take him. He stayed still for a few seconds before his own lust decided that he could not wait any longer. Your walls were squeezing him deliciously as he started to pound against you, groaning and moaning as the pleasure was taking the best of him.

Grasping on the fur beneath you, you started to sob. Aemond saw the signs of pain in your face and he quickly leaned over you in order to take one of your pebbled nipples into his mouth. The feeling that brought you was indescribable, and soon the pain became bearable as his thrusts remained slow but became harder.

Aemond would choke his moans against your tit as his tongue skilfully swirling around it, licking and sucking as he kept fucking you, each thrust going deeper and deeper.

"Fuck…" he sighed, "your pussy is so fucking tight. Made by the Gods just for me."

His words made you drool as the warmth of the fireplace was starting to affect you, making you sweat. His hand left your mouth, now going to play with your swollen and needy clit.

"This little cunt belongs to me now, doesn't it?" he purred against your ear.

"A-Aemond..."

He hummed, "how sweet you sound when you moan my name like that."

"P-please…"

"What is it, my lady?" he teased you, "do you want to cum? Do you want to make a mess on my cock?"

"Y-yes…" you managed to say, choking with your words as he thrusted harder, "Oh, Gods! Yes…"

"That's it, sweet girl…" he praised you, "taking me so well, so good. I'm gonna fill you up, leave you leaking with my cum. Is that what you want?"

"G-Gods… yes, p-please!" you whined.

"Then I guess I have no other choice but to give you what you want…"

A soft chuckle left him as his thrusts became faster. His hips smacking against yours as he gripped your arsecheeks to gain stability. The sound of your slick drenching around his cock echoed in the room as you started to cry out, sobbing with pleasure and begging for more.

Aemond looked at your cunt, and a soft and subtle whine was heard as he saw the way his cock disappeared between your folds. Your pleas would only make him desperate, eager to reach his climax and seeing your abused hole leaking his pearly seed. The image alone was enough to make his cock twitch inside you.

"Fuck, so good… so fucking good," he lifted your hips, pounding restlessly against you as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes as his breathing turned unsteady, "such a perfect pussy, squeezing me so fucking good."

You clenched around him, and that was what sent him over the edge, spilling his big loads of cum inside of you at the same time that your release exploded. Your cries were heard even in the hallway, as the intensity of your orgasm took over your shaky body. The feeling of him stuffing you with his seed sent you a shiver down your spine that made you twitch your hips.

Aemond leaned over you to kiss you, pounding lazily as he was coming down from his orgasm. You receive the sloppy kiss as your eyes were closing by themselves, too worn out to keep them open.

But then, Aemond decided to speak.

"Look at you, sweet girl…" he said with an odd tone that you haven't heard from him until now, "what would your big brother say if he saw you now, huh? Filled with my seed, a mess under my touch."

Your breathing stopped for a second and only then you realized what you did. You opened your eyes only to find a smirk on his face, and your heart dropped.

"You probably will be swollen with my bastard in a few months… then what would the people think of you? The Heart of the North carrying the Prince's bastard child…"

"N-no…" you muttered, starting to softly push his chest.

"Mhm, yes…" he scoffed, "unless I take you as my bride, of course."

A shaky breath came out of your nose as tears of despair fell down your cheeks, your bottom lip quivered as your gleaming eyes looked at his.

"W-would you… would you take me as your wife?"

Aemond smirked, starting to pull out of you. He hummed delighted with the view as he saw the pearly drops leaking out of you. He sighed, putting his pants on and fixing his clothes.

"If your brother decides to join his forces with ours, I will take you as my bride and no one will know this happened before our marriage…" he said, standing up and looking down at you. "But, if he decides to join my sister's army…"

He doesn't even need to finish the sentence for you to know the consequences of that. The panic ran down your body as you sat in the carp carpet, covering your nudity with your nightgown and crying.

"How- how am I supposed to-?"

"Cregan Stark will do anything his little sister commands," he interrupts you, taking a few steps towards you to gently grab your jaw in his hand, forcing you to look at him, "so you better choose the right option, my lady."

He left a caress in your cheek with a smug smile on his face. He abandoned your chambers, letting you there feeling helpless and a bit scared.

It wasn't a big surprise for him when a few days later Lord Stark gave him the good news… and Aemond fulfilled his words, marrying you a month after the North joined the war and helped King Aegon II win the final battle against Rhaenyra.

What was a surprise, was the birth of your first child, a month earlier than what the Maesters expected.

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