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mariasont · 5 months ago

Note

Early seasons Spencer’s gf joining the team and quickly realizing just how used to Spencer she is bc the rest of the team’s reactions to him are so different from hers

Cinnamon Sticks - S.R

a/n: obsessed with the idea of baby spencie having a gf who just gets him while he's still an awkward, nerdy little genius! thanks for requesting bestie so sorry it took so long i am the worst LOL

masterlist

pairings: early!seasons!spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, secret relationship, relationship being exposed bc these two are just so in love

wc: 1.7k

Garcia burst into the bullpen like some sort of whirlwind that was practically painted in neon, her scarf fluttering behind her almost like a cape. She juggled a precariously full cup of coffee, while her phone teetered between ear and shoulder as if testing the limits of human dexterity.

"I swear to all that is holy, if my life doesn't slow down in the next five minutes —"

The sentence derailed as she misjudged her pace, the coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup. She stopped abruptly, but not quick enough to stop the scalding liquid from spilling over and searing her fingers.

"Oh, fantastic! Just what I needed!" she huffed, waving her hand like it might stop the sting.

She threw herself into the closest chair with a dejected sigh, slumping back and fixing the coffee cup with a murderous glare, like this was just another tally in a long line of grievances.

Your eyes darted up from your work, only for a moment, enough to confirm what you already knew. You hadn't been working here long, but it was long enough to recognize the phenomenon that was Garcia: a blur of movement and words, mid-rant before anyone had the chance to catch up. It was like clockwork really.

You risked a glance across the desk at Spencer, who was so absorbed in his notebook it was a wonder he even remembered to breathe. If Garcia's antics registered as white noise to anyone, it was him. But then, almost like he had a radar for being watched, he looked up, catching your gaze.

His eyebrows lifted into a subtle what can you do? expression, and you couldn't help but smile back.

That was the thing about Spencer. He had this uncanny knack for knowing exactly what you were thinking, almost as if he had a cheat sheet for your brain. And maybe he did, like his brain worked three times faster than everyone else's in the room (which, let's face it, it definitely did). But instead of that being intimidating, it was oddly reassuring.

"At this rate, I'm one bad email away from alphabetizing my entire pantry for stress relief."

Spencer's notebook hit the desk, and there it was, the shift you loved to look for. His shoulders drew back, face lighting up, the kind of thing that signaled his mini-lecture was incoming.

"Organizing your pantry is actually a practical stress management technique. By categorizing items, you create a structured environment that reduces decision fatigue. Its why people feel calmer in tidy spaces, it's psychological."

Morgan held up a hand. "Psychological, huh? Sounds like you’re just trying to justify your weird love affair with labels, pretty boy.”

“Don’t forget,” you added absently, flipping a page in your report, “it also saves time when you’re cooking. I think you called it practical efficiency."

The words slipped out without much thought, but as soon as they did, the bullpen stilled. You glanced up, heart sinking as you saw every face turned in your direction.

Morgan’s grin was the first thing you notice, wide and knowing, stretching across his face. He tilted his head, eyes bouncing between you and Spencer like he was putting pieces together in real time.

“Wait a minute,” he said, sitting forward with a gleam in his eye. “Did you just quote him? Like, word for word?”

Your cheeks heated instantly. “What? No. I mean — maybe. I don’t know.”

“Pretty sure you did,” Morgan shot back, smirking. “Man, what else has he been teaching you? You got the periodic table memorized too?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, please. If you’ve been around Spencer long enough, you’re bound to pick up a few things. He’s like a walking encyclopedia.”

“Well,” Spencer said, his head tilting slightly as he spoke, “your cinnamon sticks always end up at the back of your pantry. That’s why I figured you might appreciate the idea of organizing by use frequency. Like I said, practical efficiency.”

The moment the words left his mouth, you knew he’d made a tactical error.

Garcia gasped, her eyes lighting up like she’d just been handed the juiciest piece of gossip of her life.

“Oh. My. God. Spencer Reid, how exactly do you know what the back of her pantry looks like?”

You froze, rooted to the spot as the realization hit you like a cartoon anvil.

This was bad.

Spencer’s expression mirrored yours for half a second, bug-eyed panic, but he quickly scrambled for an answer.

“It’s, um… a logical assumption,” he stammered, his fingers toying with the pen in his hand, a nervous tell he couldn’t quite suppress. “Spices like cinnamon sticks always seem to migrate to the back of the pantry unless there’s an intentional system in place.”

Morgan let out a long, low whistle, rocking back in his chair with enough force to make it creak.

“Nice save. But I don’t think Garcia’s buying it.”

Garcia tapped her chin, clearly enjoying herself far too much. “Oh, no, no, no. This is too good. I mean, logical assumption my fabulous behind! Cinnamon sticks in the back of her pantry? Really? What’s next? A detailed analysis of how she stacks her cereal boxes?”

You laughed, though it sounded more like a bark than anything natural. “You’re all reading way too much into this. Spencer just knows weirdly specific things about, well, everything. That’s kind of his thing, remember?”

“Mmhmm,” Garcia hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, genius, I’ll let it slide this time. But I’m watching you.”

“Please don’t,” Spencer muttered under his breath, earning a round of laughter from the team.

Garcia spent a solid ten minutes in full interrogation mode after that, her eyes narrowing with each and every pointed question she lobbed your way. Morgan, of course, was no help. He leaned back, grinning like a kid with a front-row seat to the circus, his smirk practically screaming that he knew they were this close to striking a nerve.

Spencer and you had been so careful. You'd been dating long before you joined the BAU, but the moment Hotch had called to offer you the position, you both knew you'd have to keep things under wraps. Dating a coworker was one thing; dating Spencer Reid, a genius with an accidentally too-honest mouth, was an entirely different challenge.

You hadn't expected it to be this hard, though. Keeping the secret wasn't the worst part, it was pretending he wasn't the center of your universe every time you walked into the room. It was keeping your hands to yourself when all you wanted to do was smooth out the messy strands of hair that always fell into his eyes. It was biting your tongue when someone interrupted his long-winded tangents because the truth was, you loved hearing him talk.

The hours stretched on, and the bullpen slowly thinned out. Garcia was the first to leave, blowing a kiss to the room. Morgan left soon after, pausing to flash you one last grin before disappearing. Even Prentiss packed up for the night, muttering something about needed an extra shot of espresso tomorrow morning.

"You handled that well."

You looked up from your report to find Spencer by your desk, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other skimming lightly along the edge of the divider. His expression was surprisingly soft, almost bashful, as though he had been waiting to get you alone.

"Handled that well?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You were the one who almost blew it, Spencer. Cinnamon sticks? Really?"

He smiled, lips twitching upward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Okay, I'll admit that wasn't my most subtle moment. But in my defense, they do end up at the back of most pantries."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair.

"We're lucky Garcia got distracted. If she'd pushed any harder..." Your voice drifted into a soft sigh. "That could've been bad."

"That was a close one."

The quiet that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt a little more substantial, if that was the word, filled with that miniscule ache that always bloomed in your chest when he was near.

Spencer stepped closer, his hand brushing against the edge of your desk. His body angled toward you, like even when you weren’t touching, he couldn’t help but gravitate toward you.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I don’t think she actually suspects anything. But we should probably be more careful.”

"Probably," you replied, drawing out the word in a teasing, sing-song tone. “Unless you’d rather keep showing off how ridiculously well you know me.”

His cheeks flushed a soft pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, that shy, boyish smile, the one that always made you a little breathless, spread across his lips.

"That's going to be hard," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I noticed a lot about you."

You could feel the flush creeping up to your neck, and you mentally cursed him for how easily he was able to do this to you.

"You're lucky I like you."

His smile widened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners in that way they only came out at specific moments. Like when he successfully performed a card trick for the team or when he stumbled across an original copy of a book at a library sale.

The same one you'd seen when he talked about his mom on her good days, or when you asked him on a date.

You leaned forward. "And since I like you, any chance you'd want to kiss me right now?"

"How could I not, with you looking at me like that?"

The angle was clumsy, your chair too low, his frame leaning awkwardly over, but all of that melted away the second his hands found your face. His thumbs brushed soft circles against the place where your cheek met your jaw.

His lips were soft against yours at first, testing, before growing firmer, more sure. The kind of confidence that came with a hundred familiar kisses before.

Time seemed to slow, or at least for you it did, the rest of the world nonexistent.

The sound of a throat clearing broke the spell, and you jerked back from Spencer, your chair wobbling slightly as you turned toward the sound. You immediately regretted it — your lips felt swollen, your face hot, and there was Prentiss, leaning against the doorframe.

"We were... uh, testing something," you blurted, avidly avoiding eye contact. "You know, like... oxygen exchange! For scientific purposes."

Spencer blinked, then mumbled, "Oxygen exchange? That's the best you got?"

"Shut it," you hissed through gritted teeth, not daring to look at him.

Prentiss arched a brow. "Relax, lovebirds. If this is your idea of scientific research, I'll make sure Garcia doesn't find out. You're welcome."

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theambitiouswoman · 5 months ago

Text

While I’m on the subject, I want you guys to learn this…

Did you know that how you talk to yourself alters your DNA?

The way you speak to yourself, your thoughts, emotions and inner dialogue—impacts your DNA through epigenetics. Negative self talk raises cortisol, triggering genes linked to inflammation, aging and diseases. Conversely, positive self talk activates genes for healing, resilience and longevity. Chronic stress and emotional trauma can alter DNA expression and even be passed down to future generations.

This also applies to what you hear. Negative words, insults and toxic conversations increase cortisol, rewiring neural pathways to make stress a default state. Constant exposure to negativity, whether through people or media, can impact gene expression.

Just how stress harms DNA, gratitude, affirmations and meditation can rewire it positively. These practices lower stress, trigger DNA repair, and activate genes for immunity and anti aging. Consciously shifting self talk can change your biology. "It is not that easy!" Yes, it is.

Research suggests binaural beats and solfeggio frequencies influence brainwaves, promoting focus and emotional balance. Mantras, prayers, affirmations can impact cellular structures, proving sound vibrations affect genes.

How long does this take, you ask?

Immediate (Minutes to Days): A single thought can raise or lower cortisol almost instantly.

Short Term (Weeks to Months): 6–8 weeks of daily gratitude, mindfulness, or affirmations can shift gene expression.

Long Term (Months to Years): Consistent mental reprogramming strengthens immunity, reduces disease risk, and slows aging.

Your thoughts shape your body at a genetic level so choose them wisely.

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oneofreid · 5 months ago

Text

Close for Comfort

Summary: A new hot tub is installed at your apartment complex. You find yourself sneaking a dip at the same time as a particular BAU agent. But how much room can steaming water truly hold for two?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Warnings: (18+ Content) Typical smut except heavier? and Spencer being a perv/slightly unhinged while being horny lol. Slight degrading. Descriptions of fingering, handjob, and unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before ya tap it). Public sex like damn get a room.

A/N: lord…….first ever fic. i think i might’ve blacked out with this. read my other fics here

Glistening sweat formed a thin line above your hairline, a few drops slowly running down the nape of your neck.

The heaving of your chest as you wiped the remaining sweat off your face. Still in need of a dip in the newly installed hot tub that was just emplaced at your apartment complex. Your body bruised and aching from how intense the workout you had just finished was.

A shade of purple and blue spots aligned various spots on your body. Some held a greener tint due to the start of healing. You hated the look, but nonetheless, you were one of the strongest agents on the team. Therefore, you got beat up pretty badly trying to take down different unsubs at times.

Slipping on a your favorite bikini, the fabric was snug accentuating your curves. A towel in one hand while another held a water. Closing the door to your room, making way towards the other side of the apartments. It was late at night, nearly one o’clock. You knew everyone else was bound to be asleep or at the very most, doing their own thing.

At least that’s what you hoped.

Sliding the back gate shut before passing the in-ground pool that had also been splurged on by your landlord. The cool marble of the backyard patio on your feet with every step. Only to halt at the sight of someone else in the hudson bay spa.

His chocolate brown eyes turning at the sound of your footsteps, his attention now all on you. Arms rested on the tub’s edge like an eagle spreading its wings to fly. The muscles in his biceps visible, a few veins poking out as well. Your eyes dropped down to his chest, strong pecks on full display. The dips in his broad shoulders giving away the idea that although he was lean, he was fit and worked out quite frequently.

“I thought I was the only one awake during this hour,” The sound of his velvety-voice snapped you from drinking him in. His eyes still completely on you.

Your cheeks heated up, a faint blush painting them red with embarrassment. Mentally kicking yourself for gawking at the man in front of you, not only was he your undeniably hot next-door neighbor, but your nerdy and charming co-worker at the BAU as well.

Spencer continued, “you can join me, if you want. Hot tubs like this one are made for two people. And they actually have a lot of health benefits like reducing stress, improving quality of sleep, and relieving pain….which can help with healing your bruises quickly.” The water lightly splashing around him as he talked with his hands, again over sharing.

You nodded, smiling lightly at him. Placing your towel and water bottle down before nearing towards the tub. Carefully sinking down into the water, the heat instantly burning your skin. Sighing in content. You leaned against the back wall. The scorching temperature numbing the ache in your exhausted limbs.

Opening your eyes to make instant eye contact with the man in front of you. A smirk pulled his lip, relaxing further back into the tub with a puff in the chest. Pushing his pecks further out, the defined lines of his abs peaking beneath the water.

“You still haven’t spoke a word to me. Are you enjoying yourself honey?,” He spoke after a moment of silence between you two. Nearly choking at the weak use of a pet name he used for you.

Eyes slowly dropping to admire your chest, the cups of your top pushing them slightly hire. A sight that secretly always drove Spencer nearly to the edge.

Clearing your throat at the sight of his chest slowly rising up and down with a trickle of sweat running down, “Yes, the water actually feels very nice.”

“It feels very nice,” his voice slightly mocking yours, “I like the heat…against my thighs,” His voice suggestive, dripping in lust.

Your breathe hitched at his flirty remark. Clenching your thighs together in need, forcing yourself not to drop your eyes any further. Noticing his damp curls sticking to his forehead with droplets of sweat forming. Every bone in your body fighting to run your fingers through his dark colored hair.

You guys were always close, dare to be nothing more than best friends at and outside of work — and unfortunately in this case, neighbors at the same apartment complex. Yet, the sexual tension that had been building between you two these past few weeks was inevitable. It started with lingering glances during briefings, he would look at you like he wanted to devour every inch of you. You thought you were overreacting at first until Penelope…and Derek had pointed it out. Noting that the chemistry the two of you had shared was gradually getting deeper. Spencer always yearning to be close to you, sneaking touches here and there. Whether it be a light hand on your thigh as you glanced over crime scene photos, or the way his hand would sometimes slowly travel down the curve of your back. You knew there was something there, you just weren’t sure….who would make a move first.

A deep cough snapped you out of your filthy thoughts, his thick brow quirking at you. Posing a question of ‘what are you thinking?’ yet he remained silent.

Both of you scrutinizing each other, drinking in each other’s appearance. Atmosphere around you growing thick and heavy, yet all you could do was blame it on the heat. His eyes never leaving yours as you sunk further into the water. The temperature engulfing you like a warm blanket on a cold winters night.

Shutting your eyes closed, in hopes that you’d brush away the burning heat that traveled its way to your core. Along with the dirty images that flooded your mind.

The slosh of water snapping them open, Spencer’s body now right next to yours. Stiffening at his sudden move, you turned to look at him. A smirk still plastered on his face.

“Can I help you?” You asked, a bit more blunt than you intended to.

“There’s too much clothing on,” Spencer drawled.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes widened at his reply, caught off guard by the sudden surge of confidence from the one-and-only, Spencer Reid. The man who was known

“You have too much clothing on.” His eyes slipping from your face to stare at your breasts, covered in thin fabric.

“I don’t understand how exactly that’s a problem here.”

“Oh, honey…” he breathed, twirling a piece of your hair with his finger, “I see the way that you look at me. You crave intimacy but most of all, to be touched by me.”

The air knocked from your lungs at his bold statement, your chest tightened as he exposed you. Confused on how he of all people would know about your deepest desire. To be completely and utterly fucked at the hands of Spencer Reid.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you choked.

His intense gaze burning into your side, mentally forcing yourself to look anywhere but him. You needed to get out. Yet, your legs stayed mounted to the charcoal tub.

Intoxicated by his smell, a hint of cologne and cypress with every inhale you took. A staggering breathe from how close you were to the inviting man beside you.

Lips lowered to the shell of your ear. “Oh. I think you do, my love, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” The little pet name he picked out for you easily rolling off his tongue.

Closing your thighs shut, you attempted to scoot away from him. Desperate to get out before he could tantalize you any further. Hearing the snap of his finger before the material of your top disappeared along with the bottoms.

Yelping in shock, you quickly turned around. The devious look of him amused at your embarrassment.

“Relax, my sweet girl, I prefer you this way. Naked and on display, for my pure enjoyment,” he teased. Eyeing your bare breasts, nipples hardening as a slight breeze blew by.

Bubbles arose blasting at the quick speed that projected into the water. Just your luck, the jets had turned on.

Giving you slight coverage in attempt to cover your bottom half. The fast pressure massaging your muscles as you still remained in shock over what had just occurred.

You felt completely exposed to the man in front of you who held no shame.

A few bubbles had splashed up, dripping down his chin while he waited for your next move. His eyes hunting his prey like a meal in need of devouring.

The look he sent you sending electric waves to your core. A burning sensation stirred inside of you, a temperature that even the water inside of the tub could not satisfy you. The familiar ache of yearning to be touched and pleasured by a man growing by the second.

Your next words even surprising you, a surge of confidence leaving as you spoke. “Well, come fuck me then.”

Closing the distance between you two, moving each leg to straddle his lap. His fingers sliding down to grasp the side of your hips. Grinding your cunt to ease any friction against his swim trunks. A moan leaving your lips at the rough material and growth of his erection from underneath you.

Palming his clothes length, a strangled moan could be heard against your ear. Earning a smirk from you, satisfied with the reaction he gave you. He was withering under you and you both knew it.

Slowly lifting yourself up off of him, “I’m afraid that you have too much clothing on,” you whispered. Reversing the tables and mocking him this time.

Moving a hand down to tug the waistband of his swim trunks down, setting his aching cock completely free. Taking it in your hand before slowly working in a pumping motion, up and down, gripping slightly harder every time you made it to the top. Repeating the movement hastily. Gliding a thumb over his tip, beads of his pre-cum mixed with the body of water that held you two.

The water becoming a lubricant of its own, slipping through your nimble fingers with ease. Taking note of how easily your soft touch affected him. His breathe staggering with every jerk of your hand.

Spencer’s hand tugged your own. Releasing the hold you had on his cock, it was his turn. He needed to touch you.

“Allow me,” he murmured.

His lips attaching themselves to the side of your neck, hungrily sucking the sweet spot below your ear. A mixture of sweat and salt water. Moaning in approval at the magic of his tongue.

Grazing your folds, he delicately ran his fingers through them. Even with the water that submerged you two, he could feel how slick and wet you were for him. Just from his presence alone. Teasing you with one last draw of his finger before slowly dipping one inside of you, your walls welcomed his touch. Adding another digit, pumping it and out, a moan leaving you every time in a serene of pleasure.

Digit after digit. He pumped four fingers inside of you.

Moaning with every pump of his delicate fingers, getting lost in not only his touch but the feel of his lips on your skin. The slick of his fingers sliding in and out of you. Sucking the flesh of your neck to mark up your breasts with delicate kisses.

Pulling his fingers out swiftly, you whined at the absence. Suddenly feeling empty. Chuckling at your reaction, he knew how downright bad you were for him in that moment.

He had you right where he wanted you.

“Such a needy little one, you are,” Spencer crooned at you.

The bubbles stilled around your naked bodies. Your bikini and his swim trunks long forgotten, completely chucked to the side. Both of you drenched in a mix of salt water and sweat.

“Spencer….,” you cried. Your arousal still building up inside of you, the tip of the iceberg. Yet, that wasn’t the tip that you needed.

“I need you….I need you, Spencer,” you began to beg.

Feeling utterly humiliated as you pleaded for out of all people, your fucking co-worker to fuck you. Your body craved to be full of him. To feel his cock fill you up till he fully stretched you to your limit.

Reid snickered, a sense of dominance that he never knew he had coming over him, “Look at you. Begging for my cock. Is that what you want?,” his hand grazing your jaw before gripping it slightly so you could look at him, “For me to fuck you? Fill you with every inch of me until I have you screaming, pleading so that everyone knows who you belong to.”

His mocking words fired something inside of you, arousal practically dripping as it soaked your folds. Nodding eagerly, you began to grind your hips ferociously against him. A spill of ‘yes’s’ and ‘fuck me please’ coming from you.

Pulling you up from the hips, Spencer practically drooled at the sight of the water that dripped from your breasts. His mind spiraling, completely filled with the ideas and images of him fucking you until you couldn’t walk, or even better speak.

Your focus shifted from leaving kisses on the trail of his neck to centering his cock at your entrance. Gently running his shaft along your soaked folds, earning a moan from the both of you, before slowly sinking down. His girth stretching your walls leaving you to fully adjust, taking every inch of him.

A shaky breathe left your lips, never feeling this full before. “Are you okay?,” Spencer asked sincerely. Grabbing your chin, searching for any doubt in your eyes.

He knew he was above average so he gave you a moment to take him all in. You bit your lip, nodding at him.

“I’ll be fine,” you whispered. Slipping a hand behind the nape of his neck, you steadied yourself for support. Running your fingers to through the soft, damp texture of his curls.

Beginning to bounce up and down, the water sloshed around you. Your eyes never leaving his in what is now the most intimate moment you have ever had with Spencer Reid.

“Fuuuuckk…Spence, you’re so big,” you panted.

Your praises fueling his ego, boosting him with pride.

Spencer thrusted beneath you aiding you both to reach your climax. The tip of his cock piercing your cervix with every bounce from you and thrust the he made.

His grunts and moans filling your ears, a mix of your own joining with him. If nobody could hear you before, they definitely could now. Both of you too lost in the pleasure of ravishing each other to care about all your neighbors and people down the street who could hear.

Up and down, you continued to bounce on top of him. You were never a huge fan of riding but suddenly with him, it was the best thing in the world. Your breasts at his eye level while he looked up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and you are.

His hand fell down to circle your clit. Adding another source of stimulation to your nearing climax.

“Come on, sweet girl….don’t be shy. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel, let’s put on a whole show,” he coaxed in your ear.

Quickly pulling out his dick before turning you to face the wall. You clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling the scream that had just erupted from you. The sudden change in position hitting a different angle, a different spot than before. Your chest was flushed up against the wall of the hot tub as Spencer pounded into you from behind. His attempts at getting you to be more vocal succeeding as your pleasure was heard for the whole world to witness.

Moan after moan, shout after shout, the spews of you telling him to go harder and how big his dick was, you cried after each thrust. Each one hitting harder than the last. Tears spilled out of your eyes at the brutal force that Spencer used to help you reach your climax.

Fuck, he heard you tell the girls how you liked it rough.

“You feel so good, taking all of me like this. The good girl that you are,” Spencer praised. Wrapping a fist full of your hair around his wrist. Tugging it ever so slightly which earned another moan from you in return.

Water splashed with every hurried rock of his hips against the flesh of your skin. His heavy balls slamming against your ass, destined to create even more bruising from the grip he had on you.

The sound of waves crashing around you drowned out by the heavy pants and whimpering moans that left both of you.

“My pretty girl,” you felt yourself tighten around him, “Is that right? You’re my pretty girl, you look so beautiful filled with my cock.” He moaned.

Thrust after thrust, his dick disappeared inside of you. Pulling out just before the tip only to slam right back in. It was rough and you knew tomorrow you’d wake up bed bound but damn, it was worth it. Your body jerking every time he forced himself back in while you gripped onto the ledge for dear life. His sweet praises, compliments, and slight taunts tipping you over the edge.

“F..fuck..Spence, I’m gonna…I need to cum,” you panted.

Your stomach tightened, knowing you were almost close and he was nowhere near from slowing down.

“I know, sweet girl, I can feel you,” he rasped. His own stomach coiling from the rapidity of his movements.

He placed a kiss on top of your shoulder blade. “Where…where do you want me to cum?” He panted.

Turning your head to look back at him, his dark curls framed his face. His face contorted in sweet pleasure, heavenly moans leaving his lips at the same time. Your walls clenching even harder around him at the scene of him pussy drunk over you.

“Inside. Cum…I want you to cum inside of me,” you managed to get out. Feeling drunk over his cock as well.

Spencer deeply inhaled, feeling his cock twitch aggressively as he coursed you with every thrust to cum. Screams and moans could be heard from the both of you, as his head fell onto your shoulder. Both of you chasing out a high that you had never felt before.

After performing a couple more lousy thrusts, Spencer rested his head on you. His chocolate curls laying to fall on your shoulder, feeling his chest fall up and down behind you. Your own vision falling blurry at what you could now say was the best sex of your life.

A mixture of both of your cum slowly slid down your leg, his length still buried deep inside of you.

“That was….,” he breathed.

“Amazing,” you finished the sentence for him.

Earning a laugh from the both of you. Spencer slowly pulled out of you causing you to wince, “I’m sorry,” he kissed your forehead.

You turned around placing yourself back on his lap, moving to snake your hands around his neck. “It’s okay, I like this side of you,” you smiled at him.

Both of you exhausted yet still relishing in the presence of each other. His hands rubbing in a circular motion on your hips.

“You know I’ve thought about this for so long,” Reid admitted.

“What? Fucking me in a hot tub outside of our apartment complex,” you teased. Splashing him lightly with the water, watching it glisten and hit his chest.

“No,” he laughed, shaking his head as he continued to stare at you. A look that he had never given you before.

“Turning our friendship into something more than just being friends. You know since we first joined the BAU, I always had this thing for you. Everything about you was just so…so magnetic and captivating. There was just somethin-“

You cut him off, babbling and over explaining being a bad yet adorable habit of his. Closing the small gap that was between you, connecting your lips with his as you finally gave him a true and passionate kiss.

Leaning back you took him all in, “It’s a date. Tomorrow, we can head to the coffee shop that you love down the street before work.” This would be the start of something new.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #dr reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x f!reader

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dtfpeta · 1 year ago

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‘09 ghost has been on my mind lately. I just see him as such a domestic man and doting lover! Very chivalrous and a “That’s my wife!” mentality fs.

Wouldn’t forgive himself if you were to open your own passenger door after a date, and prior to that he was practically leaping over the hood of the car to open the door before you got out. Tsking at you as he takes your hand and walks you to the entrance of y’all’s favorite chain restaurant because you best believe he’s splurging with an appetizer and dessert. “Anythin’ for my girl” he’d smile.

And on the very rare occasion that he has the day off but you’re the one stuck at work, your stress almost instantly vanishes when an assault of lemon scented cleaner and bleach fills your senses. Ghost definitely enjoys wearing the pants in the relationship but damn does he take the role of malewife seriously. The house would be cleaned from head to toe, a stick of incense burning (because he appreciates their stress reducing aroma), and burgers resting in the microwave. Because if he's one thing but a lovestruck man it's the king of the grill.

And when he's on deployment during the cold, dead of night- the thoughts he procures of you barely hold a flame to the actual warmth you could provide him. The cheesily posed polaroid of you he begged to take burns a hole in his pocket and his hands claw to retrieve it. A pining sigh being breathed from him as his palm comes to rub at his brow. Finally, he begins to warm up now that his thoughts are plagued of you and how he can spoil you when he gets back home.

#call of duty #ghost x reader #09 ghost #09 ghost x reader #simon riley x reader

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borathae · 9 months ago

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↳ Index [Day 11 - Mommy Kink]

Pairing: Good Boy!Taehyung x Mommy Dom!Reader

Genre: married life!AU, new parents!AU, CEO!Taehyung

Kinks: sex on the living room sofa, praise kink, nursing handjob, her breasts still produce milk, breast & nipple massage, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering with three fingers, squirting, he eats it uppp, he spits on her pussy to lube her, multiple orgasms for both, sensitive pussy, deep creampie, talks about getting pregnant again, she kneels on the couch so he can fuck her doggy, he is frozen in pleasure and gets used as her pretty dildo <3, suit kink, she holds his tie, gentle hair holding, drooling, he bites her shoulder because of too much pleasure, subby boy tears, he is deep in subspace, giggly aftercare

Wordcount: 5.6k

a/n: rope inspo. i wanna start my notes by telling you guys do not expect regular pregnancy content on the blog at all. this is solely for kinktober cause we can be unhinged together. idk what happened but the thought of him helping her get rid of the swelling of her tits did something in me 😶 it was sexy for this story and in this context, but it’s not gonna be something regular on here. okay? okay. now that this is out of the way, here you go anon you finally have your ihyily!tae mommy kink story and it’s very sexy omfg it's so sexy holy fuck idk how to go on from now on 😩 have fun reading, i genuinely was so into it as i wrote it fajdsjf it's so hot holy fuck

Taehyung has been coming home late again. Since the birth of your daughter, he has reduced his hours at work to spend quality time with the family he always dreamed of. Until last week. A huge project has been keeping him in his office until the evening and it has been weighing him down. Not only because it is very stressful to work ten, sometimes more, hours per day but also because it means that he has to stay away from his family. Taehyung hates it. He hates it so, so much, but can’t do anything about it.

The only thing he can do is be grumpy about it and oh how grumpy he is tonight. He takes off his shoes and coat with a big pout and puts his office bag on the dresser groggily.

He doesn’t call out for you because it is already late and he doesn’t want to risk waking you.

You are staying at home entirely for now, enjoying your time with the baby as much as possible. It is difficult and exhausting work, draining you so much that you always end up already fast asleep when Taehyung comes home. Which is another reason why Taehyung hates working late. He doesn’t get to see you all fucking day, can’t eat dinner with you, play with his daughter, let alone talk to you. When he leaves for work, you are still sleeping and when he comes home you are already sleeping. Taehyung hates working long hours and he hates this stupid project and the loneliness he feels.

He goes straight upstairs, wanting to check in on you before he eats a sad, lonely dinner all alone and sad and alone and sad on the couch. He hates working long hours.

Taehyung opens the bedroom door carefully, using the light of the hallway to check on your sleeping figure. Except that the bed is empty.

“Darling?”

The room stays silent. He closes the door and scratches his head in confusion. Where did you go? Taehyung thinks of any possible location in the house, remembering the nursery last. Bear with him, he is very groggy from work.

He makes his way to the nursery, eyes flitting to the faint lights instantly. He was correct. He increases his steps, heart fluttering unbearably. He hasn’t talked to you in days and now he finally gets the chance. Taehyung feels like a giddy boy who knows he can talk to his crush soon.

He feels actually lost for air and words when he lays eyes on you.

You are wearing a mint green satin slip with a matching floor-length rope. Delicate lace frames the edges of the garments and little diamonds in the lace glimmer in the dim lights. You aren’t wearing any makeup and your hair is unstyled. Taehyung has never felt so in love with you before, gazing at you as you whisper-sing to your baby daughter.

She is already sleeping soundly in her crib. You must have come in here to check up on her.

Taehyung loves you so much. He will take any amount of stress if it means that he can come home to you looking like this. Like the mother of his daughter and the love of his life.

“Darling, I’m home”, he speaks softly.

You lift your head, features instantly lighting up.

“I haven’t heard your voice in days. Tae darling, welcome home”, you say, closing the distance in hasty steps.

Taehyung meets you in the middle with stretched out arms, grasping your soft waist in sync with you grasping his shoulders. You kiss. You kiss like two lovers finally reunited after being separated. You kiss as if you had worried to never see each other again. The kiss ends with Taehyung squeezing your butt softly and you twirling his tie.

“I missed you”, you confess.

“I missed you too. You’re beautiful, darling.”

“You think so? I already had to change because our princess threw up on me.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Mhm, it was nasty at first, but I’m okay.” You scratch your fingers over his undercut at the nape of his neck. “I’m more than okay now that you’re home”, you say, smiling at him goofily.

Taehyung’s heart flutters. He can’t help but giggle and poke your cheek with his nose.

“Stop flirting with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m shy.”

“That’s why I’m doing it. It’s fun and mommy’s gotta get her entertainment in.”

You are jokingly referring to yourself as mommy, but Taehyung feels tingly because of it nonetheless. His heart skips multiple beats and his knees are wobbly for just a second. Holy moly.

You sigh in contentment, oblivious to his state.

“We should be talking outside. We don’t wanna wake her.”

“Right. Did mommy put her to sleep already?” he asks to play into the joke, but also to taste the sweetness of the words on his tongue.

You snicker, leading him out of the nursery with your arm around his waist.

“Yeah, mommy did”, you say, closing the door tightly.

“You’re the best mommy”, Taehyung says, almost moaning the words. He gulps, looking to the side in panic when you don’t notice. He opens his tie a little, taking a deep breath. What is happening to him? Has he really been away from you for long enough that the mere playfulness is enough to turn him on? Is it the arm around him? The hand on his waist? The fingers which played with his tie? Is it your outfit or your natural beauty? Or is it this fucking word? Innocent but tonight it tastes sinful on his tongue. Taehyung doesn’t understand what is happening to him, but he can’t stop it. He craves to be close to you.

“But enough about me. How was your day, darling?” you ask him, oblivious to his racing thoughts.

“Me? I”, he clears his throat. “Good, I mean, I don’t know. Kinda shit.”

You and he have reached the living room, sitting down on the couch together. You pull your legs up, turning to him so you are facing him. Taehyung glances for a second, having to swallow harshly. You aren’t wearing any panties. You are accidentally exposing yourself to him in this position. You move your arm, flinging the rope over your crotch mindlessly. The view disappears, but Taehyung is left with a scrambled mind.

You scoot closer and weave your fingers through his styled hair. Taehyung shivers, eyes closing halfway as he gazes at you.

“I’m sorry to hear that you had a shitty day, darling. Do you wanna talk about it?” you ask in a soft and caring voice, eyes focused solely on him.

Taehyung swears he might whimper any second now.

“I just have so much to do. I guess, it’s been weighing me down”, he says.

“Of course it has. You’ve been working long hours lately. I was already worried for you.”

“It sucks”, he confesses honestly and pouts, “I only see you two when you’re sleeping, I don’t get to eat dinner with you or talk to you. I’ve been so lonely lately.”

“No, I’m sorry you feel this way. Gosh come here you”, you say and get on your knees to hug him. Your soft, swollen breasts squeeze against his chest. Taehyung takes in nothing else for just a second before his situation sinks in and he melts into your embrace. He buries his face in your neck, eyes closing and arms wrapping around you. You smell so good. He wanted to hold you like this for days. Just with this one hug you heal him of any kind of loneliness he felt and rid him of any pain he ever felt.

“I’m here now, darling and I’m proud of you. You’ve been working so hard, I just wanna tell you that I’m proud of you.”

Taehyung tears up a little, squeezing you against him.

“Thank you”, he whimpers. Not many people told him that they were proud of him in the past, but you always do. He always soaks up the praise like a greedy sponge. It feels so good to know that you are proud of him.

“Are you crying?” you gasp.

“No, just finally feeling good. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too”, you say and snicker which lets Taehyung know that you are going to crack a joke next. “Mommy missed you, darling.”

You giggle mischievously, but Taehyung can’t see any humour in it. He feels fucked, pounded, railed, totally ruined just from this one sentence. If you took him, ripped his clothes off and fucked him violently right here and now, it would basically be the same thing.

Taehyung twists the fabric of your rope and presses his lips against your soft neck.

“Mommy”, he whimpers.

You tense up, smile dropping in shock. You know this voice. This is his sub drop voice. Your entire body tingles in realisation, heart skipping way too many beats. Damn your post pregnancy body, you are leaking already.

You test the waters carefully by humming a sound of acknowledgement, holding your breath.

“Mommy, please take care of me.”

“What?” you breathe.

Taehyung mewls and kisses your neck sloppily, long fingers digging into the silky fabric of your rope. You sigh, body going up in flames instantly. So this is how his neck kisses feel like. It has been too long since you last felt them.

Taehyung isn’t the only one who has been going a little crazy ever since he is home. You are just a woman and he is the hottest man ever. His dark styled hair, his styled eyebrows, his pretty eyes and his slim, sculpted body in a tailored suit; all of it has been doing their effects on you. You haven’t seen him in days, except in pictures and your dreams, so seeing him tonight all ruffled and ruined from work is doing things to you. His kiss makes you greedy, his body in your fingers almost mad. Feeling his perfect hands roam your torso and his soft lips kiss your neck is doing the rest.

You are just a woman and he is a man, who knows exactly how to turn you on.

Taehyung lifts his lips from your neck, brushing them against the shell of your ear.

“I’m going insane. You are so soft, Mommy. So soft”, he whispers and whimpers, tugging on your rope needily.

You shed it off with a skilled touch, basking in his reaction. He moans, kissing your newly exposed shoulders while his hands grasp your upper back. They are so big and feel so warm.

He shudders, exhaling shakily.

“Mommy, oh god…”

“Are you okay, baby?”

“No, I’m feeling so submissive to you. I can’t think straight”, he gets out in a slightly pitched voice.

“Shit, you’re sexy. Should Mommy take care of you, mhm?”

Taehyung moans, legs squeezing together needily. His cock is twitching in his slacks, soaking the fabric a little. You are into this as well. You are playing into his fantasy.

“Please”, he begs, needing you like air.

“Mhm, okay. Lie down on my lap, yeah?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

You and he get into position. You sit on the sofa with your feet on the ground and he lies his head onto your lap. You caress his hair, smiling down at him.

“There we go. Are you comfy, my pretty boy?”

He nods his head, gazing up at you with a droopy head. He is so deep in subspace right now. So, so deep.

“I love to hear this. You’ve been working so hard, have been so stressed out. Let Mommy make it better again, okay?”

“Yes, Mommy”, he whimpers, falling even deeper.

“And you gotta help me out too. My tits are killing me tonight, they’re so heavy. Can you help me?”

“Yes please”, he begs, barely seeing you at this point because you are scrambling his brain to the point of a blurry vision.

You smile at him and reach up to tug down the straps of your gown. The silky fabric slips down instantly, exposing your plumped up tits to him.

Taehyung moans, fucking the air.

“Go on, they’re all yours.”

Taehyung gathers them in his shaking hands and goes down on them with an open mouth. He trembles, eyes filling with tears. Your nipples are so swollen, sitting heavily on his tongue. He didn’t even realise how much he missed your breasts in his mouth until now. He whimpers, falling oh so deep into subspace that he won’t be able to escape anytime soon.

You groan in relief, rolling your head back and parting your lips. Your tits were killing you. Even the mere fabric of your dress was painful against your nipples and your skin feels so stretched to its limits. Taehyung’s wet, warm mouth feels like pure heaven. He releases you of so much tension, so much pressure and so much pain that you could honestly cry.

Taehyung is on a high, running on nothing but your sweet taste. He can’t decide on which side to stay, switching between them over and over again as he gets absolutely lost in you with tears down his cheeks and his cock hurting in his grey slacks.

You take care of his big (quite literally) problem. With barely open eyes you watch your own hand as you open his belt and slacks with. Taehyung is too lost to notice. He also doesn’t notice when you push the flap of his briefs to the side. He does notice when you take his cock out however.

You pick up a pace instantly, fingers pumping him quickly.

He sits up slightly in shock, head tilted back and messy mouth agape in a surprised moan. His eyes are widened, staring up at you.

“That feels nice, doesn’t it?” you ask him, massaging his heated tip.

Taehyung keens, spilling tears. It feels amazing. Your hand is so warm and so soft. Your touch is placed with so much love. He missed you so much and it feels so good.

“Of course it does. Relax, yeah? Mommy is gonna relieve you of your pressure too, yeah?”

“Mommy”, he whimpers, dropping on your lap to bury himself back in your soft tits. He takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking hungrily. His cock throbs in your fingers, spilling excitement down his shaft.

You pick it up, using it to jerk him off from the base to his tip. You are spilling down his throat too, feeling on cloud nine from the relief.

“Good boy, that feels amazing”, you praise him. You pick up speed, moving your hand up and down his entire shaft. Now that you finally have him again, you are going to make sure to memorise every single inch of him. Just in case he goes missing again.

Taehyung whimpers, kicking the pillows. His mouth is so eager in how he sucks your nipples. You are getting so much pleasure from it that it is difficult not to moan each word you speak.

“Good boy, my good boy. You’re doing so well for Mommy.”

He can’t really describe how he feels right now, but he knows that he doesn’t want to leave this headspace. He feels safe, that much is sure. He feels horny and pleasured, of course that is a given. But in a sense, he also feels high and far away.

This isn’t the first time that he gets to help you relieve your breasts of pressure. There is only so much your daughter can eat and only so much you can pump before it gets too much. Taehyung read in some of his countless pregnancy books that some wives like it when their husbands relieve them of the excess milk. He talked to you about it, you tried it and both loved it.

You because it genuinely helps with the soreness and pain and because he is so eager in his feast. Taehyung loves it because he gets to help you and be a good husband. His biggest fear is to end up being like his father, so when he gets to make you happy and help you instead of making you cry, very deep wounds heal on his heart. He loves it because he gets to be a good husband, he gets to be with you and share intimacy with you. And because you taste good.

You taste especially good tonight, making his head pound. Every single fiber in his body is submissive right now, charged in electricity because your touches feel really good.

Taehyung sobs, writhing on the sofa in his very distinct way which lets you know that he is going to orgasm way too soon. You spill on the couch because of it. He is so excited that he needs to climax. What a perfect boy he is.

“Do you wanna cum? Is Mommy making you cum?” you ask him, hand restless around his veiny shaft.

Taehyung sobs again, kicking his feet helplessly. His cock is so hot and swollen between your fingers, you fear that it might burst like a balloon soon. He is so perfect.

“You do? Then cum for me, okay? Cum for Mommy”, you encourage him, pumping his tip quickly.

Taehyung whimpers loudly, fulfilling your wish. He arches off the pillows, fingers dimpling your back as he grips you for support. His cock throbs angrily, shooting his cum all over his shirt and tie.

He sobs into you. He was in so much agony, he felt so bad and stressed and lonely. He was so sad. All of this built up in his stomach as painful pressure and you are releasing him off it. This one orgasm is healing him and it feels so good that he has to sob.

You moan with him, soaking up the view like a starved woman. You missed him so much. You missed how he shakes and writhes. You missed how his cock is so pretty when it squirts cum. And you missed how he is gripping whatever he gets a hold of.

“You’re so pretty when you cum. So pretty for Mommy”, you coo, pumping his tip needily. You know that he isn’t climaxing anymore, but you need more. So much more.

Taehyung reaches down hastily, pushing you away. He has had enough. You let off of him, caressing his twitching thighs instead. You need more, but need to hold back. It is so difficult. You want him so bad.

“Good boy, my good boy”, you praise him, trying to sound as normal as possible.

He pants and gulps for a few moments, clearly needing time to get back to you. His eyes open first, glassy and foggy they stare up at you.

“I’m sorry”, he croaks.

“For what?”

“I came too quickly. I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s okay, baby. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes, so much”, he pouts, “thank you, Mommy.”

“Hm, you’re welcome, cutie”, you say and boop his nose with a snicker.

He soaks up the sound like an addict, gazing up at you. He loves you so much.

“I don’t want this to end”, he confesses.

“Me neither, but you’re soft.”

“I’ll eat you out, please.”

You writhe, biting down on your lower lip. You whimper your consent, nodding your head.

Taehyung rolls off the couch, not bothering to stuff his cock inside his slacks nor to clean up. He falls right between your legs, kneeling between them like a worshiper would before his goddess. He gazes up at you, drooling at this point.

“I saw your pussy when you sat down”, he confesses, eyes switching between your face and your exposed tits. They’re wet because his sucking made them leaky.

“Sorry?” you gasp.

“Your pussy. You’re not wearing any panties. I saw.”

“You did?”

“Yes, Mommy”, he whimpers.

“Well fuck”, you chuckle and open your legs, tugging the dress up your butt so you were completely exposed, “no need to hide then.”

Taehyung groans, tongue dripping drool as he gawks at you like a hungry dog.

��Whenever you’re read-”

He interrupts you by burying his face in your pussy with a hungry growl. He doesn’t waste any time going slow, lapping up your sweet nectar greedily.

You moan, dropping your head on the edge of the backrest and burying your hand in his hair. You lift your legs, placing them over his shoulders. He supports them by wrapping his arms around them, hands spreading out on your inner thighs.

“That’s it, holy fuck”, you moan, toes curling in ecstasy. You have been incredibly sensitive ever since you gave birth. One night you even confessed to him that you worried something was wrong with you because his touch felt so good to you. Taehyung called a doctor the next day who told him that this could happen and shouldn’t be reason for concern unless it becomes uncomfortable. When Taehyung then proceeded to ask what he could do to help, the doctor told him that the answer would be inappropriate but that Taehyung knows exactly what to do as your husband and to do it right. You laughed so hard when he confessed the phone call to you and how the doctor basically told him to just fuck you right. But that night, you soon couldn’t laugh anymore when Taehyung followed the doctor’s orders and fucked you so goddamn right.

Ever since then, Taehyung has been practically insane in his skills, regularly bringing you to the point of a liquid brain and a wobbly body. Tonight is no different. He uses his entire mouth on your pussy, switching between licking and sucking every inch of you. He also switches between your clit and your folds, sometimes lingering on your entrance as well.

“Tae more”, you beg during a moment he pulls his tongue away from your leaking hole. He lifts his head for a moment, checking for consent. You are blissed out, leaky tits heaving up and down and face glowing in bliss. Taehyung moans.

He looks back at your pussy, gathering his saliva so he could spit on you. He picks up the slick, stuffing it into your pussy a moment later as he buries three of his fingers inside your swollen walls. You arch off the sofa, twisting his hair just enough that there is a tug present but no pain. Taehyung doesn’t like pain and you never disrespect this limit, even if he is currently making you see stars.

“Holy fuck Taeeeee….”

Taehyung connects his sloppy mouth with your clit again, fucking his fingers out of you vigorously.

You practically curl up into a ball, thighs against your chest and ankles crossed. He is too good. You can’t handle the pleasure any other way.

“I can’t breathe, Mommy”, he lulls against you.

“Fuck, sorry, ahm.”

Weakly, you unravel yourself again, putting your feet on his shoulders and your own hands on his own thighs to force your legs to stay open. You grip your own flesh a second later when Taehyung fucks his fingers into you quickly, flicking his tongue over your clit just as quickly. He moans as he does it, forcing a loud noise of pleasure out of you.

Your toes grip his shoulders, your nails leave imprints on your thighs.

“Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck”, you chant, seeing entire galaxies.

Taehyung mewls and growls, spitting on his fingers hastily before his tongue dances on your clit again. The slip is so wet and messy. He doesn’t have his palm facing up, but sideways, allowing his long fingers to go so deep that you honestly feel stuffed to the brim.

You can’t do this. Taehyung isn’t the only one who had too much pressure built up in his stomach.

“I’m cumming”, you croak, breaking apart a second later. “Tae! Ah!”

Taehyung moans, swallowing your orgasm hungrily. He moves his fingers and tongue just right, helping you ride out the blissful warmth until you tell him to stop.

With shaking knees, he climbs onto the couch again. You don’t change position, letting him kneel on the pillow with one leg while the other was still on the floor.

You kiss messily, sloppily. He tastes like your squirt, you taste like bliss. You are both gone, moaning and gulping each other up as best as possible. Going days without talking nor seeing each other was torture. Going even longer without sex is literally the reason why you are acting like animals right now.

“I need you to fuck me”, you break the kiss, hands on the nape of his neck.

“Yes, Mommy. Please.”

“Good boy, do it.”

Taehyung nods his head vigorously and stands up. He takes off his pants and briefs, but keeps his ruined shirt on. You get into position in the meantime, kneeling on the couch with your stomach against the backrest and your butt facing him.

He moans at the view but doesn’t acknowledge it any further because he is too needy for you. You look at him over your shoulder, grabbing his tie to tug him closer.

“You’re mine. Mommy’s pretty boy.”

“Holy fuck, Mommy”, he moans, spilling submissive tears. His chest melts with your back, his arms cage you in as he lets you pull him into a kiss. His right hand is on your stomach at first, caressing it, but soon slips to your exposed tits to knead them eagerly. He has one knee on the sofa and the other foot on the floor. You moan and mewl, tongue kissing him back eagerly while your left hand dances down to align his newly hardened cock with your dripping pussy. Once he is, you push your hips back, swallowing him whole.

The kiss breaks because Taehyung broke it in a submissive moan, swollen lips pressing against your cheek.

“That’s it. Filling up Mommy so well…”

“Mommy…”

“So pretty, you sound so pretty when you call me that.”

He bottoms out. You instantly begin rutting into him, fucking his cock fast and sloppily.

His right hand slips from your tits, gripping the backrest as well. His normally deep voice comes out a high-pitched whimper, face dropping into the crook of your shoulder.

He drives you mad. You drop your head to the front, twisting his grey tie. It feels so good to fuck yourself on him. He is such a good dildo. The way his cock curves is so perfect for positions like tonight’s. You are getting stimulated at the deepest spots, making you wish that he could fucking live in you.

Taehyung is a mess behind you, drooling on your shoulder and spilling constant tears of pleasure. He knew that he missed you, that the long hours in his lonely office made him needy, but he wasn’t aware of how bad it actually was. He knows that he should be moving his hips right now, but he can’t. He is frozen in too much pleasure, reduced to serve as your dildo to fuck yourself on as he tries not to pass out in the process.

“Good boy, good fucking boy. Mommy’s good boy”, you chant, riding on a literal high.

“Mommyyy”, he keens, throbbing inside you.

“Soo good. Touch my clit.”

Taehyung obeys, moaning with you as you tighten around his cock.

“Good boy, ah!” you throw your head back, fucking him faster. The position you find yourself in, makes your tits naturally hang over the edge of the sofa. They are hurting from not being touched.

“Actually, changed my mind. Touch my fucking tits. They’re so heavy.”

Taehyung obeys instantly, holding your swollen tits in his big hands.

“Good boy. Fuck yes, hold Mommy’s heavy tits. Fuck baby…”

Taehyung bites your shoulder, hips stuttering as your words make them work against his will. No wonder he got you pregnant. Taehyung always forgets how good you are at sex and how much power you have over him until he is balls deep inside you and you literally ruin him. No wonder you managed to get yourself pregnant on him, when you fuck like this it is bound to happen that Taehyung nuts in you as deep as his seed can go and it actually fucking works. There is no way around it.

“Mommy, it’s too much”, he sobs.

“Too much? Need a break?”

“No. No, just too much. Too good. Aaah.”

“Mmh so good. Mommy’s so proud of you, baby. You’re fucking me so well”, you praise, fingers rubbing your clit vigorously.

“I have to cum again, Mommy.”

“Don’t hold back, fill me up.” You encourage him with clenches of your walls. “Make me a Mommy again.”

Taehyung breaks instantly, and with such utter need that he accidentally pins you against the sofa to rut into you. The praise you wanted to moan gets knocked out of you, loud wails replace it. Your eyes go cross, your limbs shake. He is fucking you just right, making your walls tremble as he fills them with his creamy cum.

He wants to slow down afterwards but you stop him with a yelp.

“Don’t stop! I’m close!”

Taehyung somehow growls and whimpers at the same time, hands kneading your tits to the point they leak against their will. His cock aches, but he can’t stop. Not when his beautiful, soft wife is so close to an explosive orgasm. He knows how sensitive you are, how much sex you need, how he had neglected you unwillingly. He needs to serve and please and submit to your pleasure to finally make up for what you had to miss out on.

“Mommy, my cock is so sensitive. Oh god Mommy”, he is still whining about his condition, crying into your shoulder.

“Soon. Soon. Please harder. Everything.”

Taehyung understands. He bites your shoulder again, speeding up his hips as he slams his cummy cock into your creamed walls repeatedly. He squeezes your tits harder, rubbing your swollen nipples between his fingers vigorously.

“Tae!” you scream, breaking apart simultaneously. It feels so good that you can’t tell if it started in your pussy, in your clit or in your nipples. All you know is that it makes you writhe and shake and sob because you haven’t had this kind of orgasm in so long. Taehyung fucks you through it, seeing light as he fears for his life. He keeps going despite all that, fucking you so good that have to squirt a second time, soiling his legs and the sofa with it.

“Urgh woah”, you let out once then give up, dropping into the backrest which forces his cock to slip out of you. You spill his cum instantly, groaning in relief.

Taehyung drops beside you into the sofa, burying his hands in his hair to twist it in disbelief. He can barely even breathe. What the fuck was this?

You pant next to him, feeling shocked as well.

It takes the two of you a while to recover from what just happened. The sex was just too intense and your bodies are too broken.

You are the one to end the forced silence.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know”, he whispers.

You and he turn your head slowly, locking eyes.

“I think I can’t move.”

“Me neither.”

You break first, Taehyung follows, showing you his prettiest boxy smile as he laughs with you wholeheartedly. You manage to get out of your trance as you laugh, falling into each other’s arms to hug.

“This was actually insane”, you say.

“Yeah, oh god, I can’t believe you let me call you Mommy.”

“Not gonna lie that was like super hot and sexy. I don’t know what this says about me. Or us for that matter.”

“That we’ll do it again one day?”

You lift your head to meet his gaze. He is giving you the cutest puppy eyes ever.

“Mhm definitely.” You cradle his flushed cheek, caressing his heated skin. “You’re actually the cutest and hottest man at the same time. I think I might be pregnant again just because you’re so sexy.”

He laughs, eyes glimmering shyly.

“Don’t say that”, he mumbles, playing with his own hair giddily.

“I mean it. Gosh you, you’re the best. Mwuah”, you say, giving him a big smooch.

He giggles, kicking his feet happily. You giggle with him, hugging him against your chest.

“You also seriously helped me with my tits. I thought that they would burst tonight.”

He hums, closing his eyes as he seeks your scent and rubs your back.

“I love helping you. Knowing that I can relieve some of that pressure is all I want.”

“You are helping, so much.”

You and he share a nice silence where you hug each other. It is so healing to be with each other. You love each other so much.

Taehyung’s rumbling stomach breaks the silence. You lift your head, meeting his embarrassed gaze.

“Are you hungry?”

“Did you hear my stomach?”

“Loud and clearly.”

Taehyung pouts, and huffs out air, “I haven’t eaten since lunch. I’m so hungry.”

“That’s not good. Luckily for you, Misses Choi made dinner before she left. Come on, we’ll clean up and then eat it together.”

“Really?” he gasps, eyes lighting up at the aspect of finally having dinner with you again.

“Of course. We have so many lost dinners to make up for and I’m hungry again. I’m always hungry lately.”

Taehyung giggles, letting you pull him to his feet so he could follow you to the bathroom hand in hand.

He came home grumpy tonight, but even the concept of this emotion is gone from his heart now that he can finally be with you again. Oh he is going to cuddle you so, so good tonight.

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gibberishfangirl · 8 months ago

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WIND BREAKER | i crumble completely when you cry

Synopsis ✰ you caught a bad case of the blues

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Mitsuki Kiryu, Jo Togame

Contains ✰ sfw!, crying, them trying to comfort you, lots of hugs, kisses, established relationship, bottled up emotions, reader is stressed/sad, seasonal depression, reader has self doubt, anxiety is implied, angst with a good dose of fluff, boyfriends are boyfriending

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

man… you’ve been so mean to him all day. ‘what’s her problem’ sakura couldn’t help but ask himself that question on repeat. the way you shoved him off whenever you walked past him, avoiding eye contact, and ignoring him whenever he tried to talk to you. he was tired of it, you’ve been like this for days. he could feel himself getting more frustrated the more you shut him out of your life. he was going to talk to you today if it was the last thing he’ll do. “hey can we talk?” “no.” you curved him with a harsh reply as you walked past him once again. five. that was the fifth time you did that this day. you disappeared out of his sight while he processed the amount of times you shut him down.

sakura let out an exhausted sigh as he continued to walk down every street looking for you. where could you even be at this time? he was getting hungry and it’s late he just wanted to make sure you at least got home safe at this point. he considered going into your guys’ favorite diner to catch some food and see if you were around the area. he eventually figured why not and made his way over there only to be stopped in his footsteps as he heard soft sniffling and sobs coming from the small neighborhood park. he felt his heart drop at the sound as the whimpers sounded too familiar to his ears for his liking. he hated that sound. mainly because he hated you being so sad.

he felt like an idiot. you were sad not angry this whole time and he couldn’t tell the difference. Sakura quietly made his way into the park when he spotted you crying on the swing set all by yourself. he took a seat on the swing next to you before opening his mouth “you okay?” you instantly recognized his voice but couldn’t respond from the choked up sobs you were letting out. the most you could do was shake your head no as you tried to stop crying. Sakura rubbed small circles on your back as you continued to sob and choke on your tears struggling to catch your breath. you rubbed your eyes with your sweater as an attempt to stop the tears.

“c’mere it’s okay.” sakura guided you off the swing and into his lap as your sobs reduced to small hiccups. sakura would be a liar if he said seeing you like this didn’t break his heart or make him feel sad as well. he hates to see you not be yourself. nonetheless he accepted your affection as you wrapped your arms around his neck and snuggled into him. “‘m sorry i was so mean to you.” your voice cracked as you apologized. sakura continued to massage your back, “it’s okay, y’know you could’ve told me if you were just feeling down.” “i-i-i-knowididntnwant-wan-you to-worry.” you blurted out as fast as you could in between sobs. to anyone else it might’ve just sounded like gibberish but sakura understood what you were trying to say. “i’ll always worry about you regardless.” sakura admits with a blush, slightly thankful you couldn’t see it as your head was buried into his neck. he consoled you for as long as you needed never breaking the grasp he had on you. he didn’t want to let go until he knew you were ready.

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

of course Ume knew something was wrong. he’s a lot more observant than he leads others to believe. especially when it comes to you, he notices everything about you. he knows you better than he even knows himself. which is why he couldn’t stand the way your eyes were swollen and puffy from the previous nights you obviously spent crying. despite trying your best to conceal it with make up or fake smiles he knew. it made him feel bad to think there was something you wouldn’t want him to know about. of course it was your right to choose what you wanted to keep yourself but it still hurt him to not be able to be there for you the way he wishes he could be.

if you didn’t want to talk, that’s okay. he’d never force you to if you weren’t ready, it’s not his right. for now he’d accept being there for you as he laid on the hammock with you on his chest. you both sat in silence as he listened to your faint heartbeat and small inhales and exhales. he grew worried when he felt your breathing become unsteady. he took a moment to stop looking up at the sky and tilted his head down to you. your hair was covering most of your expression so he tucked some of it behind your ear to get a better look at you. “there you are~ my pretty lover.” he coo’d at the sight of your face while you scoffed in response. “wanna tell me what’s wrong now?” he gently asked you unsure if he should’ve asked at all. he slightly regretted it once he saw tears prickle in your eyes. the way he could visibly notice giant tear drops gathering at the bottom of your eyes.

“don’t know what’s wrong with me. i might just be crazy.” you mumbled against his chest as tears streamed down your face. “ah don’t say that you’re not crazy. it’s normal.” he reassures you, playing with the strands of your hair just the way you like as he slightly massaged your scalp. “doesn’t feel normal.” “doesn’t mean it’s not okay.” “i’m just sad.” “it’s okay to be sad sometimes, just gotta talk through it and fight it okay? don’t let it swallow you whole.” “that’s hard.” “yeah… well that’s why you have me. i’m always here to help.” Ume gently reassured you before placing the softest kiss on the top of your head. it was so soft you almost missed it.

“you don’t ever wish you were with someone more normal?” “and miss out on someone as amazing as you? nah.” “i think you could find better.” “what a silly thing to say.” Ume couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his mouth. in his perspective it truly was such a silly thing for you to say since it didn’t get better than this in his eyes. you were the best that he could ever find in this world and he has no intention on letting that go ever. “it’s not funny!” you’d pout finally looking up at him with tear stained eyes. “you’re right, it’s not. you should never think i could possibly find someone as perfect as you are.” he agreed with you but not in the way you thought he would. Ume couldn’t help himself as he pulled you up closer to him so your faces can align. he placed a kiss on your lips, another two on the corners of your mouth, another two on each side of your cheeks, one near the corner of your left eye, another near the corner of right eye, and lastly one on your forehead. Ume would kiss your tear stained face for as long as he needed to in order to stop those evil thoughts from entering your head.

Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

Suo couldn’t really pinpoint what was wrong. despite him being pretty well at reading people and understanding where someone is coming from he couldn’t tell what was happening. had something happened recently to cause such a change in you? did he do something wrong? all he could do was watch you sadly as you poked around your ice cream barely consuming any of it. it took you forever to finish it, and it was your favorite ice cream. normally you would’ve finished it quickly while telling him a funny story that happened between you and your friend. the date night between you two was spent in silence for the most part despite his attempts to perk up the conversation. maybe you were done with him? maybe you were finally over the relationship? his mood was going down the drain the more he wondered what was this tension surrounding the two of you.

“you okay suo? you seem upset.” the sound of your soft spoken voice snapped him out of thoughts. he looked at your eyes and now that he thought about it… he’s never seen you with such sad eyes before. your eyes were drained and had no light in them yet here you were asking and caring about him. you reached over to feel his forehead “mm’ your a bit warm. we should get you inside you can get sick.” you insisted taking him by the hand and leading him back to your home. once the two of you got to your place you laid in bed together and you asked again “you sure you’re fine? i don’t want you feeling bad.” while cuddling closer to him. all the negative thoughts Suo was thinking earlier vanished. of course you still loved him, you wouldn’t act this way if you didn’t. but still… you weren’t happy and he didn’t know how to help.

“are you okay?” he finally asked. “huh? why wouldn’t i be?” “your eyes. they look sad.” “oh…” you could feel your own face heat up, you didn’t think he’d notice but of course he did. Suo noticed everything. “i don’t really want to talk about it right now.” you sheepishly admitted. you felt a bit cowardly about not being able to open up about the random sadness that tended to pain your chest every once in a while. you always struggled with opening up about this situation and never knew how to word things which is why you tended to avoid it as much as you could. “that’s okay. we’ll talk when you’re ready. i’ll just hold you for now if that’s okay.” “that’s more than okay.” you sighed in relief, glad he didn’t push the topic further. you felt the tension that had burden you all day lift off your shoulders for that night. having someone who can understand you in silence and comfort you was all you could wish for in that moment. sometimes you didn’t want to talk, you just wanted to be held.

something Suo would always do for you: he’ll hold you and never let go. some people couldn’t handle silence but you were glad suo was so understanding and understood it in the same way you did. words couldn’t describe the amount of relief and comfort you felt once you woke up in the morning to find yourself still in suo’s arm. his grip on you never weakening as your eyes met the soft sleeping expression worn on his face. it felt nice to snuggle into him and listen to the bass of his heartbeat knowing he’d never leave no matter how hard things got. it filled you up with hope that bad days don’t last forever and that they will go away.

Mitsuki Kiryu ᡣ𐭩

he couldn’t stand the way your eyes puffed up from the amount of crying you were doing. he hated to see how sad you were like any other good boyfriend would. he would wipe your tears carefully as he held your face. he’d take in your facial expressions as you sniffled and rubbed your eyes. you avoided any type of eye contact with him, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about how wrong this hang out went. the two of you were at a party, you thought it’d help cheer you up but you ended up getting overwhelmed. Kiryu was the first to realize you were upset and took you outside for some fresh air. he knew you were at a vulnerable place and kept you perfectly hidden from sight with his body. you didn’t want anyone else seeing you like this. “you okay love? wanna leave? we can go home.” Kiryu wasn’t sure of what exactly triggered this response from you but his utmost concern was getting you comfortable.

“yeah. let’s go, wanna go home.” you replied shyly still avoiding his caring gaze. Kiryu guided you away from the scene, he didn’t even bother saying goodbye to anyone. once the two of you got home he grew even more worried considering the fact that you hadn’t stopped crying. the only difference was your cry became more silent over time. you sat on the bed as Kiryu helped undress you. carefully taking off your jacket and shoes, he treated you like a fragile porcelain doll. you didn’t fight back his help and laid on the bed to cuddle up with a pillow. he’d sit on the edge next to you as he pushed your hair out of your face. he’d trace the sides of your face with his gentle soft fingers. “want some hot chocolate? might make you feel better.” he’d offer. he assumed from your complete silence you didn’t want to talk about it so he moved on to doing anything else he can to cheer you up. you felt like your voice would give out on you if you tried to respond so you settled with a small nod.

“kay, be right back in a few minutes.” he’d press a gentle kiss on your cheek and wrap a blanket around you before heading out. just like he promised he was back within a few minutes with a nice cup of hot chocolate. he sat back on the edge of the bed and softly blew into the cup wanting to make sure it wouldn’t be too hot for you. he was relieved to see you more calm, your hiccups and soft sobs were gone as you gained the energy to sit back up. he brought his hand behind your back to give you a small massage while he used his free hand to bring up the cup to you. the sip of the hot tasty substance really helped you calm your nerves. “thank you.” you mumbled with a blush finally meeting his eye. the small gesture of you meeting his eyes had Kiryu smiling. he was glad you finally were able to meet his gaze after all this time. “of course. let me get you some pj’s” he offered already getting a set out for you from his closet.

“c’mon lemme help you.” he insisted resting his hands on the buckle of your jeans. he wouldn’t pursue action without your full consent. “i-no! you shouldn’t. that’s… embarrassing… isn’t it?” you blushed furiously. this whole conversation was almost enough to make you forget about your previous crying session. “embarrassing?? no. it isn’t why should it be? i want to take care of you.” he giggled playfully. his voice and loving eyes cracked a small smile out of you for the first time this night. especially with the way his voice was laced with pure genuine love. “oh… okay then.” you weren’t used to others going out of their way to care or cheer you up the way Kiryu was doing right now. it felt nice and comforting to know someone like this would be in your corner at all times. Kiryu’s love goes above and beyond for you even if you were in dark times. he’d help guide you back to happiness and care for you each step of the way. he wouldn’t push on the subject until you were comfortable.

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

Jo can always get the hint when you’re feeling down. hes very observant so it’s easy for him to catch any small detail about you even if you assume he didn’t notice. so when he noticed your blues coming in and your distant behavior his first thought was wondering if someone did anything to you. but when you never came to him for help he figured it wasn’t that. you knew if someone was giving you problems you could always get your boyfriend to handle them so it had to be something else. maybe it was something he couldn’t understand? he’d bring hell upon anyone who unsettled you so he didn’t know how to handle when it wasn’t someone. you were typically the more outgoing one than him in the relationship so he hated seeing you mope about. he’d come up with ways on how to cheer you up even going as far as asking Choji for some advice. who better to ask for advice? you were his sole reason for finding the motivation to get out of bed everyday, if you were feeling sad he’ll do anything in his power to make it better.

you sulked in bed for most of the day waiting for Jo to get back home from work and running errands. you almost called it night until the door gently creaked opened revealing your tall handsome man. in all honesty Jo was tired after a long day of work but he still wanted to make this night special for you even if it meant dragging his tired feet across every store to find your favorite flowers, snacks and movies on dvd so the two of you can have a movie night. curiosity struck you fast as you quickly removed your covers waiting for him to show you what was in the bag. Jo let out a chuckle at your quick reaction, “hey pretty girl, got you some stuff.” he’d take off his dirty black work jacket before leaning down and kissing you on the forehead. the two you spent the night chatting about his day for a bit before cuddling and watching the movies. it was nice to get your mind distracted from the thoughts that were haunting you lately.

“do you want to talk about what’s wrong?” Jo asked as the first movie ended. “not really, guess i just felt a bit down.” you tried to shrug off. you weren’t the best at expressing yourself during these times especially when insecurity was eating you from the inside out. Jo raised a brow up at you already knowing you all too well to know it was more than just “feeling down”. “i was a little insecure.” you mumbled quietly hating the way it sounded so foolish out loud. Jo felt a bit taken back at your response a small part of him was waiting for the punchline but it never came. not that he thought it was funny in the slightest, but because in his eyes you were as good as life itself got. he wasn’t sure how to respond at first, he wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t feel that way but he felt like that wasn’t a good move. he can’t force you to feel differently but he wished he could make you realize that you were perfect. instead of responding he tilted your head up at him and kissing you straight on the lips.

“what was that for?” “for being you.” Jo mumbled before interlocking your lips once again. he figured it would be better to show you how beautiful you were instead of only using his words. even if that meant having to show you every single day for the rest of his life. he’ll do it even after you realize you’re the only one for him. you could expect many cuddle sessions and more to come from Jo anytime you felt the slightest bit of insecurity or doubt creep into the back of your mind.

a/n <3: i’ve been feeling pretty down recently so similar posts like this are coming soon 😭 sorry but i hope yall still enjoy! also i am a FIRM believer that jo is the type of man to work all day just to provide for the both of you and still make time to create special moments for you each and every single day. he’s just such a lover boy sorry i don’t make the rules.

#sakura haruka #sakura haruka x reader #hajime umemiya #hajime umemiya x reader #hayato suo #suo hayato x reader #mitsuki kiryu #mitsuki kiryu x reader #jo togame #jo togame x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker x reader #wind breaker

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chariaki · 9 months ago

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In sickness and in health, in loss and in success, in joy and in despair, in trials and in errors.

Husband!Nanami x reader

Exploring what love means to your husband Kento Nanami.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

Husband!Kento Nanami who loves you because you're you and loves you even when you're you.

The you when you're stressed, unmotivated, overwhelmed and lazy. The beautiful and carefree you. The short tempered you. The wonder-filled you. The you that lives in his heart and mind.

Husband!Kento Nanami who's still whole heartedly smitten by you even when you kick him in your sleep, steal his bread, yell at him when you're mad and call him baby girl petnames.

Kento Nanami doesn't believe in an instant compatability, nor love at first sight, and certainly not the classic "I found a whole new universe the second I saw you." nonsense.

He believes that to love someone is to truly know them. As the saying goes, "to be loved is to be known, " Husband!Kento Nanami knew he loved you when he saw you wholly as you really were. From your smile to the way your voice reaches an octave higher when your shy, to the way dress on the weekends when you rot in bed, the way your laughter reverberates warmth to his heart, the way you tap your feet when your nervous and the way your eyes sharpen when your mad. He has loved you even when he saw the sides of you that you deemed "unpleasant" yourself.

Husband!Kento Nanami who isn't the same person as you, but always willingly makes adjustments and improvements for you and your relationship, because he wants to make him and you work. Because he truly respects and loves you.

Husband!Kento Nanami who fears you were too good for him.

Husband!Kento Nanami who cried in your arms when you told him you thought the same about him and confessed your love for him.

Husband!Kento Nanami who doesn't understand how someone can instantly "love" someone at first sight just because they're visually appealing. He believes that the term and the feeling of love itself shouldn't be reduced to a mere and momentarily attraction.

Husband!Kento Nanami who firmly stands with the belief that love is a commitment. He wholly commits himself, his time, his body, his heart, his mind, his everything to you. From the simplest ways of walking a few extra meters to buy your favorite food late at night, thinking and worrying about you everytime even when you aren't sad, using his hands to soothe your back and squeeze your shoulders when you look stressed.

Husband!Kento Nanami who firmly stands with the belief that love is a promise. He promises to be with you in sickness and in health, in loss and in success, in joy and in despair, in trials and in errors. That was part of your wedding vows and exactly why he kneeled down to you. Because he knew he could fulfill that promise and that no one else can compete with the immense love and adoration that he perpetuallly holds for you and only you.

Husband!Kento Nanami who firmly stands with the belief that love is an understanding. Regardless of contrasting differences in preferences, opinions, styles, challenges and lifestyle, Nanami will always make the effort to understand you, because he knows you will for him, too. Love doesn't always come naturally or instantaneously. It's also learning to adjust and adapt a new life together with your person. And for Nanami, you're his person.

Husband!Kento Nanami who knows love is present and is real because of his relationship with you. Because you exist.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

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456-is-the-way · 1 year ago

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time to request once again. i'm keeping you busy <3 jinshi with a secretary//advisor//assisstant (?) who has chronic migranes but tries to hide them form him so he doesn't get concerned ? definitely not projecting here hehe

Information Page

A/N: Ah!! ANOTHER JINSHI!! Don't worry I love this man. Ahhhhhhhhh

Pairing: Jinshi x Fem Reader

Prompt:time Jinshi with a secretary//advisor//assisstant who has chronic migranes but tries to hide them form him so he doesn't get concerned ?

Warning: N/A

You took a deep breath on your way back to your chamber as the head pain only became worse with each step. It’s not like doing the paperwork in your quarters would make the pain subside. However, it did keep Jinshi from noticing if anything was wrong. Little did you know Jinshi had been catching onto your little disappearing stunt. Only recently did the young master see your off behavior. The way your hand would touch your head, a discomforting look appeared on your features, and lastly you excused yourself. At first, Jinshi always let you go trying not to pry in your business. However, he began to worry after two weeks of repeating the actions. He eventually sent Gaoshun to spy on you. Each time Gaoshun said you would retreat to your room.

You were in a meeting with Jinshi and several higher-ups only minutes ago. There had been piles of papers loaded onto Jinshi’s monstrous stack . You hate to see those pretty violet eyes stressed, which made you volunteer to take the brunt of his work. After the meeting, he noticed how you squeezed your eyes tightly in pain before excusing yourself. Jinshu had enough of you hiding some big secret that physically caused you pain.

While slumped in your chair a loud groan escaped as the migraine began to ease up. The moment of peace was ruined by a banging on the door. “(Y/n), I want to speak with you right now.” He demands while Gaoshun is trying to calm him down. A moment later the door opened and Jinshi walked in leaving Gaoshun outside shutting the door behind him.

“Master Jinshi, what is the matter? You seem very upset at me…” You asked offering him your only chair which he made a ‘no’ gesture.

“What has been going on the past couple of weeks? I notice your behavior is very off. I hate seeing you like this… Please if I have done something to offend you…”

You sighed deeply as Jinshi gave such a teary-eyed look. “Jinshi it’s not you. I promise. I… I get these strong headaches…migraines at random points of stress.” You noticed it instantly clicked in his head. All the assignments you have piled onto yourself. While it helped his workload it only added stress onto yours. Jinshi now felt an overwhelming amount of guilt hit. He rushed to your side cupping your face. A small gasp escaped by the sudden action.

“I will not allow you to keep adding work onto yourself. Today the extra papers are to be left on my desk. You have been so helpful and I shouldn't have done you that way. (Y/n) you constantly are taking more work than required. I should have been more thoughtful about your health. Please forgive me,(Y/n).” He whispered and leaned down. You knew this would help reduce the amount of stress that build up.

“I feel bad. There is nothing to forgive, Jinshi. I need to be better-” You were cut off with a light kiss.

“No more of this. I won't allow it. Come now, my dear, let us sit down for tea.” He smiled and looped his arm around your waist pulling you along.

#jinshi x y/n #jinshi x you #jinshi the apothecary diaries #jinshi x reader #jinshi #Jinshi image #anime x reader #the apothecary diaries x reader #the apothecary diaries

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cherryredstars · 2 years ago

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1K Prompts

Pairing: Actor!Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Talks of Making a Sex Tape, Talks of Impregnation

Summary: Every movie star needs a costar.

Word Count: 910 (Not Edited)

It was different, a good different.

Miguel doesn’t remember the last time someone had no idea who he was. Sure, maybe some people didn’t know him by name, but at least they recognized him from one of his roles. Even then, he was met with a ‘you look familiar…’ before it clicked. But not you. You don’t even have that fake calmness when fans pretend to be chill about meeting celebrities. You genuinely looked like you had no idea who he was. He thinks that's the exact reason he became so attached to you.

He didn’t have to pretend with you, didn’t need to put up that celebrity persona for you. You enjoyed him, not the man who played make believe roles. You weren’t disappointed when he didn’t act like one of his movie characters. In fact, to this day, you still get the movies and characters mixed up. You liked him and he couldn’t have been more grateful.

He did feel bad when your relationship got exposed. He was stressed, scared all the gossip and constant invasion of privacy would get to you, that it would end everything between the two of you. But you were strong, resilient. You came to him with your concerns, not the press or the tabloids. It meant a lot that you trusted him instantly, pushing aside the horrible rumors because you knew who the real Miguel was. He has no idea how he got so lucky. Doesn’t know how he was able to find someone so good and pure in the mist of glitz and glam.

And he makes sure you know how grateful he is. He offers to take care of you, having the money to make your dreams come true. God forbid you make a joke about him buying you something crazy, you’ve made that mistake before. You only ask for simple things, nothing too fancy or screaming celebrity status. You’re so modest, getting upset when he buys you something so ridiculously expensive. You are constantly scolding him that there are better things to be spending money on than an overpriced pair of shoes that don’t even look like it's worth half of its retail price. That there are so many other people he could be spending his money on, like good charities or people who are actually in desperate need of it. He makes it his monthly gift to donate a couple thousand dollars to your organization of choice.

Since he can’t show his love through gifts, he does it through actions most of the time. He makes you a nice dinner even when he’s tired from a day of shooting. He offers to help you do things around the house. Drags you out of bed early in the morning for a coffee date before he has to go on set. Brings you to his latest movie set and shows you around if it's a calm day, his acting getting a hundred times better knowing his cute little girlfriend is in his chair watching him work. His favorite thing to do is to show his love by keeping you pinned to the bed as he ruts into you.

He loves watching you wither on the bed, clutching onto him for dear life. You look better than any model or actress as you stare up at him, mewling so nicely for him. He coos into your ear, telling you how pretty you look taking his cock. He’s constantly pressing into that gummy spot inside of you, causing your back to arch and to look up at him with glassy eyes. You look like a goddess, a fucking pornstar as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Fuck, hermosa. Feels so good,” he mumbles into your ear, nipping at it as he groans. “Look so fucking good, too.”

You whimper under him, only capable of responding in sounds of pleasure. Reducing you to this state, where nothing but pleasure and lust consumes your body, is better than any award he could get. He can feel your walls fluttering around him, his release quickly approaching.

“Should make our own movie. Make you my good little actress,” He grunts as he puts the last of his energy into his thrusts. Your walls clench so damn tight around him at the idea, making him hiss out. “Yeah, you like that? Want me to record you being a good little bunny for me? Huh, amor?”

He props his hand in between the two of you, flicking your clit to elicit a response. You can only nod, babbling nonsense as your walls pulse wildly. With a few more pumps, your walls hold Miguel in a vice grip as you come. You let out gasping breaths, desperately reaching for Miguel. He’s quick to hold your hands, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he coos down at you. He bullies his cock into you as much as he can with your walls spasming around him, giving a few more sloppy snaps of his hips before he stills.

He lets out a desperate moan as he empties into you, panting into your ear. Both of your bodies are flushed and sweaty, but buzzing with love. Miguel holds you close, not having the energy to pull out. He mumbles sweet nothings into your ear, kissing any skin he can reach.

Hopefully, the next tabloid rumors will be whether or not he’s fucked a baby into you.

Part 2

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melshifting · 5 months ago

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― Beauty package for your DR ⋆˚𝜗𝜚.ᐟ

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀:¨ ·.· ¨: ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ `· . ꔫ

～01: Your haters can never turn your beauty into an insult; they only fuel admiration for you - any attempt to criticize your looks backfires and makes people appreciate you even more.

～02: When someone meets you in person, you always exceed their expectations - you'll never hear “you look different in person..!” - people always walk away thinking you're even prettier than in photos.

～03: Makeup artists love working with your face because everything looks flawless on you: all colors/shades suit you, all styles enhance your features and all “unconventional” looks look great on you.

～04: Photographers never have to retouch your photos because they come out perfect just as they are: no excessive editing or weird filters, just you, as beautiful as ever, straight out of the camera.

～05: No fan, journalist or hater will be able to take an unflattering photo of you. Even when you're caught off guard, you still look impeccable.

～06: Your fans never obsess about your looks in a toxic way: they admire you for much more than that. There's no unhealthy beauty standards, no ridiculous expectations, just pure love and respect for who you are.

～07: Your beauty is recognized not only in your home country, but all over the world. Whether it's international media, big designers or celebrities, people all over the world recognize your perfection.

～08: You never attract creepy or obsessive fans, only those who truly appreciate you and in a respectful way - no stalkers or awkward encounters.

～09: Your mere presence makes a brand, a song or an event seem more luxurious: the moment you are associated with something, it instantly acquires a high-class and elegant reputation.

～10: People can never get tired of admiring your beauty, it never feels repetitive or “overrated” - You are not just a fading trend; your charm is everlasting, and people will always be fascinated by you.

～11: You age so gracefully that people always assume you are younger than your age. Years go by, but you always look fresh, youthful and vibrant.

～12: People can't explain why, but they always want to turn and look at you twice. It's not just about being attractive: it's the kind of presence that makes someone stop, double-look, and wonder “Who is that?"

～13: Your beauty never becomes a burden or overshadows your talent, personality, and intelligence. No one tries to reduce you to your looks, and people value your talent and personality as much as your appearance.

～14: Your body naturally maintains its ideal proportions, no matter how much or little you exercise. You don't stress yourself with routines or diets: you always stay strong and healthy without effort.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

#kpop shifting #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifters #desired reality #shifttok #shifting diary #shifting community #reality shifter #desired self #shifting extras #dr scripting #scripting

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minxipinxi · 2 months ago

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✨ Oracle of Stars is Back — and It’s Still the Worst Event in the Game

Hey lovelies. Buckle up, because the infamous Oracle of Stars event is making a return, and I cannot stress this enough: THIS IS A TRAP. Whether you’re a veteran who remembers the pain from last year or a new player tempted by the pretty art and soft ASMR, read this before you spend a single diamond.

🧨 What is Oracle of Stars?

Oracle of Stars is a gacha wheel event that first dropped in Feb 2024. It was instantly hated by much of the player base due to:

Absurd costs

No pity system

Terrible drop rates

A frustrating and predatory design that punishes unlucky players It’s back and unfortunately, nothing has improved.

🎡 How the Wheel Works

No more free spins: In the original release month, we got 1 free spin every 48 hours. That’s gone now. Zero free attempts. You pay for every single spin.

Each spin costs 100 diamonds, or 1,000 for a 10-spin.

What you can get: - A random 4★ Memory (with very low odds) - An accessory (cosmetic, very niche appeal) - Oracle Dice (used for shop redemptions)

Mechanics: - If you land on a Memory you don’t own, you get the full card. - Land on it again? You get shards to rank it up. - If you land on an accessory, it disappears and turns into a dice space for future spins.

💎 Redemption System and Costs

Didn’t get lucky? You’ll need to redeem with Oracle Dice. Here’s how that works:

Each 4★ memory in the shop costs 880 Oracle Dice.

At worst, that’s 17,600 diamonds if you had to spin until you reach that amount.

Even if you count the milestone rewards (which give you a few free dice here and there), you’re still looking at around 15,000+ diamonds to get just ONE 4★ memory.

Let’s say that again: 15,000–17,600 diamonds for a single 4★ with no pity or guarantee.

Accessories can also be redeemed with dice, but they show up in milestones too (up to the 150th spin), so if you really want them... still not worth it, honestly.

⚠️ DROP RATES: They’re Worse Than You Think

This is the real kicker. The drop rates are appalling:

4★ Memory: 0.33%

Accessory: 1%

Oracle Dice ×100: 4%

Oracle Dice ×50: 12%

Oracle Dice ×20: 15%

Oracle Dice ×10: 50%

Oracle Dice ×5: 15%

That means:

You have a 1 in 300 chance to get a 4★ Memory per spin.

Most of your spins will give you only 5–10 Oracle Dice, which isn’t even 1% of what you need to redeem the memory.

Accessories (at 1%) are also stupidly rare, and once you get one, it’s gone from the wheel and replaced with dice, reducing your chances even more.

🧠 Why Older Players Hate This Banner

Take it from someone who was there during the first Oracle of Stars:

You feel punished for bad luck. There is no mercy mechanic. No pity. No safety net.

No free spins make this inaccessible to F2P players entirely.

You can’t select the character or memory you want. It’s all RNG-based.

It’s deceptive. Beautiful card art and nice voice lines lure players in, but once you start spinning, it’s a massive diamond sink for nearly nothing.

We were begging for pity or better odds last time. The devs didn’t change a thing.

🗣️ Community Sentiment: It’s BAD

Quotes from across the fandom:

“No pity, no guarantee, no free attempts, can’t select a character… all for a random 4★. It’s a scam.”

“Don’t do it girlies. Stay strong. Save your dias for real banners.”

“As someone who got burned by this last year: DO. NOT. PULL.”

“Just read the story on YouTube. Don’t support this predatory design.”

And honestly? They’re right.

💡 What Should You Do Instead?

SAVE your diamonds. There are far better uses coming:

Myth reruns

New Myth releases

Upcoming Wedding Multi

Zayne: Master of Fate banner (coming soon and confirmed)

These banners have pity, guaranteed pulls, and a selection of characters. Oracle of Stars has none of that.

But is it worth gambling that much for a random 4★? Absolutely not.

Friendly reminder: This event is a SCAM. Please do NOT waste your hard-earned diamonds.

Save yourself the pain. Read the story online on YouTube. Wait for banners that respect your time and effort.

We’ve been here before. Don’t let history repeat itself. Stay strong, Hunters. 💔

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masked-men-fantasy · 1 year ago

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Ask about their manhood size Headcanon (Overwatch)

Headcanon for my beloved masked men from Overwatch. What lies between them?

NSFW Content. MDNI.

Reaper

Gabriel just sighs when he hears the question. He pretends to have heard nothing from you. That is when you thought there would be no hope to learn more about his sexual information.

But once both of you are in a private area, Gabriel will look around to make sure there are no guards and no surveillance cameras around.

He then takes off his pants and undresses the remaining part that hides his shaft.

Reaper does have a decent one down there. 7.5 inches long, curvy up, and veiny.

There is not much pubic hair since his body has gone through many experiments.

His cock is twitching and leaking a clear, sticky liquid when you move your hand softly over his shaft. This is evidence that it must have been a very long time since he last did, and you were right.

"When I tried to do it myself, the pain always killed me, but not when I was with you." Gabriel said it with his shadowy voice, though his mask

"Can you help me with that?" This is probably the first time he asks for your help. And you are here to assist him through it.

Genji

Genji does not hesitate to answer that question instantly. He used to be a playboy in Hanamura. Having someone ask about what to expect down there means he will soon get a pleasant night for free.

"I used to have 5 inches." He answered, "But Doctor Ziegler gave me something new after I was resurrected by her."

That is when you realized Genji lost most of his body parts after that tragic incident.

But Doctor Ziegler does some miracle work here.

A prostatic cock is made from carbon fiber and metal, similar to most of his body. The shape is almost like a real one. That should be somewhere around 7 inches long.

"You know... It has been awhile since the last time I had intimate time with someone," he murmured.

His metal sheet moved closer to your face. Your hands were guided by his, touching his shaft. Both of your bodies are getting so close that you can feel each other's warmth.

You can feel your heart race, and the heartbeats of yours and his match perfectly.

Ramattra

Ramattra was annoyed when you asked him about that. He always declines to say that he has such a thing since it has nothing to do with his main intention.

It turns out your gut is right. Ramattra does actually have that thing down there.

"I cannot fathom what makes humans like you curious about Ominic's private part. This is your new low for you, pet." He said that while crossing his arm. His shaft points directly to your face, only half a foot away.

10 inches long, 7 inches girth, made with carbon fiber, flexible plastic, some wires, and special gelatin. It glows purple, too.

"I implemented this part myself after I left the monastery. I enjoy having some self-relief after a long-fought battle to reduce my stress," he explained.

It is not that big. You just said that to taunt him for fun, but Ramattra definitely did not take that as a joke.

"Did I just hear a challenge? from a weak human like you?" He snorted. His eyes contact your small body.

That is when you see him turn himself into a Nemesis form.

And yes, his manhood also turns into a Nemesis form as well.

"You better be ready for what I have in store for you, pet," he growled. His strong robotic hand grips your hip tightly, with no hope of escape.

Let us pray that you can survive the night despite what is going on inside you.

#overwatch #reaper x reader #genji x reader #ramattra x reader #x male reader #reaper #genji #ramattra #reaper x male reader #genji x male reader #ramattra x male reader #ow #ow2

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fvsm4x · 9 months ago

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S1 E8 — ☆ S(CREAM)

pairing. Toji fushiguro x reader

Toji Fushiguro has taken on the Ghostface persona, and he's got his next target in sight. They receive unsettling phone calls, teasing them about their every move.

cw. ghostface! toji f. x female reader, phonesex, dirty talk, stalking, masturbation, fingering, 18+, mdni, kinda nasty idk, nsfw, i forgot how to write smut, wc. 5k

tagging. @sadmonke @collectionofdolls @1t4d0r1 @glazedtear @madamechrissy

kinktober — jjk mlist

The soft click of your shoes against the pavement echoed down the quiet street as you made your way home from work, the cool night air brushing against your skin. You pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself, lost in your thoughts. It had been a long day at the office, one filled with endless emails, missed deadlines, and an obnoxiously long meeting that seemed like it would never end. Your feet ache, your shoulders feel stiff, and all you can think about is getting home, slipping into something comfortable, and maybe having a quiet night to yourself.

The walk from work was something you usually enjoyed. It gave you time to unwind, the steady rhythm of your footsteps soothing after the chaos of the day. The streets are almost deserted now, the city winding down as the sky deepens into the navy of early night. You pass the same café on the corner, its lights dim, the usual crowd inside reduced to a couple sitting by the window. Your regular path was so familiar it had become second nature—left turn at the florist, then straight for three blocks before you reached your apartment building.

Your phone buzzes with a text, and you glance down briefly, half-expecting it to be a colleague asking about some report or project. But it’s not. Just a random notification. You sigh, slipping the phone back into your pocket.

Finally, you turn onto your street, the comforting sight of your apartment building just up ahead. The dim, yellow glow of the streetlights bathes the area in a soft haze, and you feel a small wave of relief wash over you. Home.

You reach the door to your building, your keys jingling as you pull them from your bag. The lock clicks open, and you step inside the familiar hallway, the faint scent of floor cleaner lingering in the air. The quiet hum of the elevator welcomes you as you hit the button for your floor, the gentle whirring sound filling the silence as you lean back against the wall, allowing yourself a moment to just breathe.

The doors slide open with a soft ding, and you step out, heading down the narrow hallway toward your apartment. The keys feel heavier in your hand as you unlock the door, pushing it open and stepping into the warmth of your living space. You let out a long sigh, kicking off your shoes near the entrance and tossing your jacket over the back of a chair.

It’s good to be home.

You flick on the kitchen light, casting the small space in a warm glow. The apartment is quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator. You move with the ease of routine, opening a cabinet to pull out a pot and setting it on the stove. A quick glance in the fridge tells you all you need to know: there’s nothing fancy to cook tonight, so pasta it is.

As you fill the pot with water and set it to boil, you slip out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable—an oversized shirt and soft shorts that make you feel instantly more relaxed. The stress of the day begins to melt away as the water heats up on the stove, and you hum softly to yourself, moving about the kitchen.

The pasta is quick, something simple to satisfy your hunger. You stir the pot absentmindedly, glancing at the time. The quiet ticking of the clock fills the room as you lean against the counter, checking your phone again—nothing new. Your coworkers have gone quiet for the night, and the world outside your apartment feels distant, almost peaceful.

Once the pasta is done, you drain it, mixing in a quick sauce. You settle down at the small table in your living room, twirling the fork absentmindedly in your hand as you scroll through your phone, skimming headlines and half-reading a few messages. It’s a simple, ordinary evening.

Halfway through your meal, the phone rings.

You pause, looking down at the device in your hand. It’s late. Who could be calling? The number flashing on the screen is unfamiliar, a long string of digits that makes you hesitate before answering. You swallow the bite of pasta, wiping your hands quickly before swiping to pick up the call.

You glance at the screen. Unknown number.

With a sigh, you answer. “Hello?”

There’s a brief, unsettling silence on the other end. You’re about to hang up when a voice finally speaks, low and smooth, with a hint of amusement. “Do you like scary movies?”

Your brow furrows, and you can’t help but let out a nervous laugh. A prank call? Really? “What?”

“Scary movies,” the voice repeats, slow and deliberate. “You got a favorite?”

You pause, feeling a flicker of unease. “Uh… I guess. Who is this?”

The voice chuckles softly, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Let’s not worry about that. Just answer the question. Halloween, maybe? Or Scream? You strike me as someone who likes the classics.”

Your stomach knots, that unease building. “Look, if this is some kind of joke, I’m not—”

“I’m not joking,” the voice interrupts smoothly, an edge creeping into his tone. “Humor me. Do you have a favorite? Or do you get too scared to even watch?”

You swallow, standing up from the couch as your nerves start to catch up with you. “Yeah, sure. Halloween, I guess,” you mutter, glancing around the apartment. You move to the window, pulling the curtain closed, feeling strangely exposed.

“Mmm, a good choice,” the voice replies, almost approving. “Michael Myers… a man who knows how to hunt. He likes to watch his prey. Stalk them. Toy with them.”

A chill runs down your spine. You grip the phone tighter, the knot of anxiety in your stomach tightening. “Who the hell are you?” you demand, moving away from the window.

Another soft chuckle, darker this time. “That’s not the question you should be asking,” the voice says, lowering to a near-whisper. “What you should be asking is… where am I?”

Your blood runs cold, and you glance around the apartment again, eyes scanning every shadowed corner, every doorway. “What do you want?” you snap, trying to sound braver than you feel.

“I want to play a game,” the voice answers, playful now. “I ask a question, you answer. If you get it right, nothing happens. But if you get it wrong… well, let’s just say, things will get interesting.”

“Are you kidding me?” you say, panic rising in your chest. “This isn’t funny. I’m calling the police.”

“Call them,” the voice purrs, unfazed. “But by the time they get there, you’ll already be mine. Let’s see how smart you are, hmm?” He pauses, the tension thickening before he continues. “Am I outside… or already inside?”

Your breath catches. You glance toward the door, the windows, your bedroom—any place someone could be hiding. The silence in your apartment feels suffocating, every shadow threatening to come alive.

“You’re… outside,” you say, voice trembling, praying it’s true.

The voice lets out a low, dark laugh. “Wrong.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as the line goes dead. You stand frozen, staring at the phone, your mind racing. Is he here? Is someone really inside your apartment?

Before you can react, you hear it—a faint knock, soft but unmistakable, coming from somewhere deeper inside the apartment. Your stomach drops, every instinct screaming at you to run, but your feet stay rooted to the floor.

Then, the phone rings again.

Your shaking hand hovers over it before you answer, dreading what comes next.

“Miss me already?” the voice teases, his tone darker now, more intimate. “I think it’s time we get to know each other finally. I’ve been watching you for so long, and I’ve got to say… you’ve been driving me wild.”

You swallow, the bile rising in your throat.

“Those cute little outfits you wear around the house, thinking you’re all alone,” he continues, his voice thick with perverted glee. “Do you even know how many times I’ve thought about what I’d do to you if I got my hands on you?”

Your breath hitches, and you grip the phone so hard your knuckles whiten.

“I bet you like it,” he whispers. “Knowing someone’s watching you, fantasizing about every inch of you. You wouldn’t be able to stop me if I came over right now, would you?”

Your pulse races, disgust and terror warring inside you.

“I can see it,” he goes on, voice lowering to a dangerous growl. “You want it. You’re scared, but it’s turning you on, isn’t it? You’d let me inside if I asked nicely.”

The line clicks dead again, leaving you trembling in the oppressive silence, every part of you screaming that you’re no longer alone.

You stand there, gripping the phone like it’s a lifeline, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest it drowns out everything else. The silence in the apartment is suffocating, every creak of the floorboards and rustle of fabric suddenly amplified in the stillness.

Before you can even begin to process what to do next, the phone rings again. The same unknown number.

Your hand trembles as you answer, and before you can speak, his voice cuts through the line, smooth and teasing.

“You know, you didn’t even check all the rooms yet. ”

A chill creeps up your spine, and your eyes dart to the hallway leading to your bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, just like before, and now every inch of your skin feels too tight, too vulnerable.

“Why are you doing this?” you manage to whisper, hating the way your voice trembles.

“Because you’re fun to play with,” he replies, his voice dark and indulgent. “The way you’re so tense, so nervous… I can practically hear your heart racing through the phone. You’re scared, aren’t you?”

You swallow hard, every instinct screaming at you to hang up, to run, but you’re frozen, unable to tear yourself away from the phone.

“I bet you’re wondering if I can see you right now,” he continues, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. “I can, by the way. That shirt you’re wearing? A little loose, don’t you think? It slips down your shoulder just enough for me to imagine all sorts of things.”

You glance down at yourself, pulling your oversized shirt tighter around you, feeling exposed in ways you hadn’t before. The way he speaks feels so invasive, as if his eyes are crawling over you, violating you with nothing but his words.

“I’ve seen you like this before, you know,” he goes on, his tone turning almost playful, as if he’s enjoying your discomfort.

Your breath hitches, the tension unbearable as you feel like he’s lurking in every shadow, every dark corner of your home.

“I bet you’re wondering what I’d do if I were there right now,” he purrs, his voice dripping with perverse excitement. “I could just watch for a little longer, or I could tease you a bit more. Maybe whisper in your ear while you’re curled up in bed, thinking you’re all alone.”

The mental image sends a shiver down your spine, your body tensing as you imagine him closer than ever, hovering just out of sight, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“But I like this better,” he adds, his voice dipping into something darker, more seductive. “I like knowing you’re trembling on the other side of this call, knowing I’ve got you wrapped around my finger with just a few words. I don’t even need to touch you to get inside your head, do I?”

You choke on your breath, every inch of you bristling with fear and disgust. His words are like poison, seeping into your thoughts, making it harder to think straight.

“I could make you beg, you know,” he says, almost casually, like he’s stating a simple fact. “You’d fight it at first, try to act tough. But eventually, you’d give in. You’d want it—want me. It’s only a matter of time.”

Your grip tightens on the phone, your breathing uneven as you press your back against the wall, trying to put as much space between you and the dark corners of your apartment as possible. But no matter how far you move, it feels like he’s still there, watching, waiting.

“You’ll think about me tonight,” he whispers, the words slithering through the phone. “When you crawl into bed and turn off the lights, you’ll wonder if I’m watching you. If I’m already inside, just waiting for the right moment to make myself known.”

You swallow hard, your throat dry, and the silence on your end only seems to spur him on.

“And when you start to feel a little too warm, a little too tense, you’ll imagine what it’d be like if I were there. What my hands would feel like on you, what it would be like if I whispered in your ear, telling you all the filthy things I’d do.”

You shut your eyes tight, trying to block out the images his words conjure, but it’s impossible. His voice is too smooth, too confident, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You might even start to like it,” he teases, his tone growing more wicked. “The idea of being watched, being hunted. Of having someone who’s always just a step behind you, waiting to catch you when you least expect it. Maybe you’d even start to crave it.”

You stand there, gripping the phone tightly, heart racing. The silence in the apartment feels like a thick blanket, suffocating, as if you’re trapped in a nightmare you can’t escape. But he’s still there, his voice sliding back into your ear, smooth and taunting.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, a hint of mockery lacing his words. “You could just hang up, you know. But I don’t think you will. You’re too curious, aren’t you? Deep down, you want to know how this ends.”

You shake your head, trying to push the heat of fear away, even as it clings to you. “I don’t want anything to do with this!” you insist, though your voice wavers.

“Really?” he replies, the tone of amusement in his voice clear. “Because I can hear it in your voice. You’re scared, yes, but there’s something else too. A thrill, maybe? The way your heart races when I talk to you… it’s intoxicating, isn’t it?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. It’s infuriating how he can read you so easily, how he twists your emotions like a puppet on a string.

“I know you’re imagining it,” he continues, his voice low and seductive. “What it would be like to have me in your space, the way my presence would change everything. Just think about it… how vulnerable you’d be, how exciting it would feel.”

You bite your lip, trying to fight against the rush of sensations his words provoke. “You think you can intimidate me with your words? You don’t scare me,” you say, forcing bravado into your voice.

His laughter is low and mocking. “Oh, sweet girl, you’re adorable. But I think you know the truth. I can see right through your little act. It’s cute, really. You want to be brave, but your voice trembles just enough to betray you.”

Your skin prickles as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks. “Stop it,” you whisper, but it comes out almost pleading.

“Stop? Why would I do that when you’re so much fun to talk to?” he replies, voice silky smooth. “You’re just one big bundle of nerves, waiting for something to break. I can’t resist. I want to know how far I can push you. What’s going through that pretty little head of yours right now?”

You hesitate, caught off guard. The question hangs in the air, heavy with implication. What do you say? That you’re terrified? That his words send shivers down your spine, igniting a fire in you that you didn’t know existed?

“I can imagine the way you’d squirm under my gaze, knowing I’m only a breath away. I’d take my time, tease you until you begged me for it.”

Your breath hitches at the imagery, and you clench your fists, trying to regain control over your body and your thoughts. “You’re sick,” you manage to say, but even you can hear the uncertainty in your voice.

“Am I?” he muses, feigning innocence. “Or am I simply more in touch with your desires than you are? You want to feel alive, don’t you? The thrill of danger mixed with something darker? It’s the ultimate rush.”

You feel the heat of embarrassment flooding your face, and you fight to hold on to your composure. “This isn’t a game,” you say, though it sounds weak even to your own ears.

“Of course, it is. It’s always a game,” he replies, the playful lilt in his voice sending shivers down your spine. “And I play to win. Right now, you’re just a player trying to hide your cards, but I see them all. The way you bite your lip, the way your breath quickens… I can practically taste your fear mixed with excitement.”

“Shut up,” you snap, trying to sound fierce, but it only makes him laugh again, that low, rich sound that makes your stomach churn.

“Why would I do that? We’re having so much fun,” he teases. “But let’s talk about you. What do you really want? Do you want me to stop? Or do you want to know what I’d do if I had you right here? No escape, just you and me.”

Your heart races as his words wash over you, igniting something deep inside you that you can’t quite put a name to. You want to run, to hide, but at the same time, there’s a dark curiosity pulling you in, urging you to explore the depths of this twisted conversation.

“I… I don’t want anything from you,” you say weakly, even as you can feel the truth lying just beneath the surface.

“Liar,” he counters, the smirk evident in his voice. “You’re completely captivated. Just imagine the thrill of giving in, letting go of all your inhibitions. How good it would feel to surrender to the fear and the excitement, to let me take control. I know you want it, and I can show you just how fun it can be.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and charged with an energy that feels electric. You feel torn between fear and the undeniable allure of his temptation, caught in a web of your own making.

“Just think about it,” he murmurs, voice dripping with seduction. “What would you do if I was right behind you? Whispering all those nasty things in your ear while you lay there, completely at my mercy. Would you fight me, or would you let go? Would you beg for more?”

Your heart races at the thought, and you grip the phone tighter, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of control. You can’t let him see how much he’s getting to you, how easily he’s breaching your defenses.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you declare, though your voice is shaky.

“Of course, you are,” he replies, that teasing tone never leaving his voice. “And I’m going to enjoy every moment of breaking you down, layer by layer, until you’re begging for my touch. Until you’re mine.”

The words settle like a weight in the air between you, and you can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t just a game anymore. There’s something darker at play, and as he continues to weave his words around you, you realize you’re not just scared—you’re hooked.

„You’re wondering what it would be like, aren’t you? What it would feel like if I touched you… right now.” he murmurs

Your breath catches, and you curse yourself silently for how quickly the idea takes root in your mind. He’s nowhere near you, you remind yourself, but the images flash through your thoughts anyway—what his hands would feel like on you, the way his voice would sound in your ear, soft and cruel at the same time.

“I can picture it,” he says, voice low, teasing, drawing you in. “You sitting there, trying to act tough, but you‘re already thinking about it. I know you are.”

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, the tension unbearable, and you find yourself shifting slightly, the fabric of your clothes brushing against your skin in a way that feels… wrong, yet strangely electric.

“Go on,” he whispers, his tone wrapping around you like a command. “No one’s watching but me. I want to hear you. I want to know what you do when you think no one’s paying attention. Let me guide you.”

You swallow hard, the heat rising in your cheeks, your pulse quickening. You shouldn’t. Every part of you knows this is wrong, twisted. But his voice is so convincing, so smooth, like a constant pull at the back of your mind.

“You’re already feeling it, aren’t you?” he continues, that mocking lilt in his voice never wavering. “That heat pooling in your stomach, spreading lower. It’d feel good to give in, wouldn’t it? To just… touch yourself. You’re already thinking about it. Why not go a little further?”

Your fingers twitch, the suggestion creeping in as your body betrays you. A part of you hates him for how easily he’s gotten under your skin, for how the thought alone has your body reacting without permission.

“I bet you’re so tense right now,” he says, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice. “Just aching for relief. You want to fight it, but I can hear the hesitation. Why fight it when you can feel good?”

You let out a shaky breath, your hand hovering at the hem of your shirt, indecision gnawing at you. The fear still grips you, but there’s something else there too—a twisted curiosity. You want to prove him wrong, to show him you’re stronger than this, but the tension is too thick, too overwhelming.

“I’m right here with you,” he whispers. “I’ll guide you. Slowly, now. Run your fingers over your skin. Feel how warm you are. Just start at your stomach.”

Your breath comes faster, and despite everything, your hand moves of its own accord, fingers lightly brushing over your stomach, feeling the heat radiating from your skin. The simple act, under his coaxing, feels like crossing a line you didn’t even know existed.

“Good girl,” he purrs, his voice thick with approval. “See? It’s not so hard, is it? Now go a little lower. Don’t rush it. Let yourself feel everything.”

The moment stretches long and heavy, thick with the weight of his voice and the growing heat in your body. Your fingers hesitate at the waistband of your pants, nerves battling with desire, but the way he speaks to you—so sure, so certain—leaves little room for doubt. You feel a pull, an urge to obey, even though every logical part of you screams to stop.

"That's it," he murmurs, a low, approving hum. "You're already giving in, aren't you? I can practically feel the way your body is reacting. You’re tense, aching for it."

Your breath comes faster, shallow and ragged. His voice is like a current dragging you under, luring you into dangerous waters where resistance feels impossible. Slowly, almost unwillingly, your fingers dip beneath the waistband of your pants, the fabric of your clothes shifting against your skin, making every nerve stand on end. The warmth of your hand feels like a shock as you brush lightly over the soft skin of your abdomen, your pulse quickening.

"Good girl," he purrs, and the words hit you with a force that sends a shiver down your spine. "You’re doing so well. Now, don’t rush it. Feel everything. I want you to take your time with this."

Your hand moves lower, grazing the skin just above your hips, and you can’t help the way your body tenses in response. The tension between what you know is wrong and the primal urge building inside of you twists painfully in your stomach. Yet the further your fingers drift, the more the sensations seem to take over, drowning out everything but the heat pooling inside you.

"Let yourself enjoy it," he continues, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Imagine it’s my hand instead of yours, teasing you, touching you just enough to drive you mad. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Having no control, just feeling everything I want you to feel."

Your breath catches, and without thinking, you press your legs together, trying to ease the tension building between your thighs. Your fingers brush against the edge of your underwear, and the touch sends a jolt of electricity through you. His voice is the only thing grounding you now, guiding your every move.

"Lower," he instructs softly, the authority in his tone undeniable. "Touch yourself where you need it most. You’ve been holding back, haven’t you? So pent up, so desperate for relief. You don’t have to hold back anymore. Just give in to me."

Your body reacts on instinct, your fingers sliding lower, grazing over the dampness that’s already formed between your legs. The sensation is almost too much, your back arching slightly as a low whimper escapes your lips. His laughter on the other end of the line is quiet but smug, as if he knew all along you’d break.

"That’s it," he whispers, voice like silk. "You’re already so wet for me, aren’t you? I knew you would be. I can hear it in the way you breathe, the way your body can’t help but react to me. Keep going."

Your fingers circle slowly, teasing yourself just as he instructed, and the slow build of pleasure makes it hard to think straight. You bite down on your lip, trying to stifle the sounds rising in your throat, but his voice makes it impossible to stay composed.

"Don’t be shy," he teases, and you can hear the wicked grin in his words. "I want to hear you. I want to know how good it feels. You can’t hide from me. I know exactly what you’re doing, how you’re touching yourself right now."

Your hand moves faster, instinctively seeking more, the heat inside you growing unbearable. Your breath comes out in soft, ragged gasps, each one betraying how close you are to the edge. The friction beneath your fingers is maddening, every touch sending waves of pleasure through your body that make you dizzy.

"Imagine it’s me," he says again, his voice lower, darker. "My fingers instead of yours. How gentle I’d be at first, just enough to drive you crazy. Then I’d go harder, make you beg for it. You’d love it. I know you would."

The image flashes in your mind unbidden, his hands on you instead, the weight of his presence pressing down on you. It sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, and without thinking, your hips roll against your hand, chasing the sensation, desperate for more.

"Tell me," he demands softly, his voice tightening with desire. "Tell me how good it feels. I want to hear you say it."

A soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and the sound of it seems to embolden him, his tone growing even more possessive, more commanding.

"That’s my girl," he purrs, and you can almost feel the satisfaction radiating from him. "I knew you couldn’t resist. I knew I’d break you down. Now don’t stop. Keep touching yourself. I want to hear you come for me."

Your body is on fire now, every touch, every movement bringing you closer to the edge. You can barely focus, your mind clouded with need, with the image of him watching you, controlling you with just his voice. Your hand moves faster, the tension inside you building with every second, and the sounds that escape you are louder now, harder to contain.

"That’s it," he murmurs, his voice smooth and inviting, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. "You’re so close now. I can hear it in your breaths, the way they’re coming faster, more frantic. You’re going to come for me, aren’t you? Just let go. I want to hear you scream."

You breathe out, the air catching in your throat, your mind hazy with desire. “w-whatchya name..?” you manage to stammer, your voice barely a whisper, thick with tension.

Silence stretches on the line, an agonizing pause that only heightens the anticipation building inside you. His absence of an answer sends a shiver down your spine, and the tension swells, igniting the heat pooling deep within you.

Then, suddenly, his voice cuts through the haze, low and teasing. "All you need to know is how to give in to me."

Your breath hitches, your body responding to his words in ways you can’t fully comprehend. Each syllable draws you closer, igniting a fire that threatens to consume you entirely. The pleasure has reached a fever pitch now, your heart racing in time with your gasping breaths, and you can feel the inevitable tide of release crashing closer, threatening to overwhelm you.

You try to hold on, to fight against the surge, but your body betrays you. With a final, desperate gasp, you let go. The waves of pleasure hit you like a freight train, crashing over you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. Your muscles tighten, the sensations rolling through you in rhythmic pulses that seem to blur the line between reality and fantasy. You gasp for air, your head spinning as each wave leaves you more vulnerable than the last.

Your hand slows, trembling against your skin, the aftershocks of ecstasy radiating through your body. Even as you come down from your high, his voice remains, soft and satisfied on the other end of the line, grounding you even as your mind is still swirling.

He lets out a quiet, almost playful laugh. "It’s Toji, sweetheart. The one that always leaves Coffee at your table."

#𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #toji x you #toji zenin #toji x reader #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushigro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader

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mikaylathenerd5 · 2 months ago

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The Code We Carry + Chapter 2

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Pairing: Isla Sage Navarro x AU Roman Reigns

Content Warning: This chapter contains references to pregnancy, alcohol consumption, sexual content, and workplace pressure/stress. There are also brief mentions of nausea/vomiting and social media scrutiny. Please take care if these topics are sensitive for you.

Word Count: 6.8k

“I…”

Isla’s voice cracked on the single syllable. Her lips parted, but the rest of the sentence died in her throat. Her breath hitched, panic clawing at her ribs. She could feel the weight of Roman’s gaze—heavy, unrelenting, and far too perceptive.

Roman didn’t move. His arms crossed over his broad chest, but the tension in his shoulders gave him away.

“Isla.” Just her name. Low, rough, careful. Like a warning and a plea in one breath.

She swallowed hard and looked away, her fingers clenching the strap of her bag like a lifeline.

“I don’t know what you think you saw,” she whispered. “It—it was just a calendar reminder.”

He took a step closer. “Don’t lie to me.” The words weren’t angry, not exactly. They were tight. Controlled. But beneath that surface, something cracked.

“I’m not lying.”

His jaw twitched. “Then look me in the eye and say it again.”

She didn’t. Couldn’t. Her gaze dropped to the floor, shame burning her cheeks.

Roman exhaled slowly through his nose. “You froze. Like the world was ending. That wasn’t nothing, Isla.”

“Why do you care?” she shot back, voice sharper than she meant. Her armor slid into place, brittle and trembling. “We had one night. You don’t get to—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his voice low and dangerous now. “Don’t reduce it to that. You know it wasn’t just one night for me.”

Isla flinched.

Footsteps echoed around the corner. She stiffened as a staff member strolled past, clipboard in hand. Roman shifted slightly, angling his body so they were partially shielded. His proximity sent heat coiling in her chest and nausea twisting her gut. The silence between them thickened.

When the hallway cleared again, Isla let out a shaky breath. “You don’t know anything about what I’m going through.”

“No,” he said quietly. “But I want to.”

She stared at him, stunned by the softness in his voice, the vulnerability etched across his usually impenetrable expression.

Roman stepped back—barely. Enough to let her breathe, not enough to let her escape. “If it’s mine…” He hesitated, emotion catching behind his words. “I need to know. Don’t shut me out, Isla.”

Her eyes burned. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. For once, the brilliance she wielded like armor failed her.

“I need time,” she whispered.

Roman nodded once, jaw clenched tight. “Then take it. But don’t take too long.”

He turned and walked away, leaving her in the hallway, her world spinning.

Isla stood frozen long after Roman disappeared around the corner. Her legs felt like stone, her pulse a frantic drumbeat behind her ribs. She blinked once. Twice. Then her fingers moved on instinct, digging her phone from her bag with trembling hands.

She didn’t hesitate. Camila.

The phone rang once. Twice.

“Girl, don’t tell me you finally hit him with your car. Because if you did, I brought the shovel and I got bail money ready—”

“Camila,” Isla whispered, and her voice cracked.

The humor drained from Camila’s voice instantly. “Isla? What’s wrong?”

Isla ducked into a quiet alcove, shielding herself from view. “He saw it. The calendar reminder. For the check-up. He asked me if it’s his.”

Camila went silent for a moment, then let out a slow breath. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I tried to lie, but he knew. He looked at me like—like I betrayed him.”

“Well,” Camila said carefully, “you didn’t lie, exactly. You just… paused the truth.”

“That’s not how it felt.” Isla sank onto a bench, her head in her hands. “He was so close. And he wasn’t mad, Cam. He was hurt. I didn’t expect that.”

“Because you expected him to be a dick about it. But he’s not.”

“I don’t know what he is,” she muttered.

“You know exactly what he is,” Camila replied. “He’s the man you keep thinking about every night, the one who calls you ‘babygirl’ in your dreams. Don’t play.”

Isla groaned. “Camila, I cannot do this with you right now.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. Look… he saw it. That cat’s out the bag, boo. So now what?”

“I told him I need time.”

“And what happens if you wait too long and he walks away?”

Isla went quiet. The ache in her chest pulsed harder.

“I’m scared, Cam,” she said finally. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t know if I can trust him with something this big. With me.”

Camila’s voice softened. “You don’t have to trust him with everything yet. But maybe you let him show you what kind of man he wants to be. For you. And for that baby.”

Isla’s hand drifted to her stomach without thinking, her fingers resting just beneath her blouse. The motion startled her.

“I’ve gotta go,” she whispered.

“Call me after the check-up. And Isla?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re stronger than you think. And whatever happens with Roman? You’re not doing this alone. Got it?”

Isla closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“Got it.”

Roman didn’t remember the walk back to his car. His boots hit the pavement in hard, even strides, but his mind was a riot. Noise. Her silence. The calendar. First Trimester Check-Up. 2 PM.

He ran a hand through his hair as he reached the driver’s side, his jaw locked so tight it ached. The sun was too bright. The air too still. His pulse thundered like a war drum.

She didn’t deny it.

He leaned against the door, exhaling slow through his nose, trying to breathe through the pressure building behind his ribs. His heart felt caught between rage and something softer—hope, maybe. Or the stupid, naïve version of it.

A baby.

He closed his eyes, and her face burned against the backs of his lids. The tight pull of her mouth. The flicker of fear in her eyes. The way her hand trembled when she reached for her laptop.

It wasn’t just a fling. It wasn’t nothing. No matter how carefully she’d tried to pretend it was.

He hadn’t been sure what he was walking into that morning—seeing her again, pretending to be just coworkers, watching her brilliance burn like wildfire during the demo. But nothing had prepared him for that tiny notification with the power to split the ground beneath his feet.

He wasn’t angry. Not really. Not even at her.

He was terrified.

And that pissed him off.

Roman shoved away from the car, pacing. “Get it together, Roman,” he muttered under his breath. But the weight in his chest refused to lift. All his training, his discipline, the iron control he’d learned on the field—it didn’t mean shit when the woman you can’t stop thinking about might be carrying your child.

He’d buried too much to be soft now.

He’d already lost too many things that should have been his.

The thought clenched like a fist in his stomach. His hands balled at his sides, a tremor riding through them. If she was pregnant, if it was his… why hadn’t she told him?

Did she think he wouldn’t care?

Did she think he’d walk away?

The ache that crawled up his throat caught him off guard. Isla, you could’ve just told me.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and climbed into his SUV, slamming the door shut. The silence inside was oppressive. Her voice echoed in his memory—steady, brilliant, professional—but behind it was something else. A shadow. A crack she’d tried to hide.

Don’t shut me out, he thought, gripping the steering wheel.

Then, without thinking, he pulled out his phone.

No message. No call. Not yet.

But his thumb hovered over her name anyway.

Dr. Isla Navarro.

A long beat passed before he set the phone down on the seat beside him. He wasn’t going to chase her—not yet. But if she didn’t come to him soon?

He would.

The clinic’s waiting room smelled like lemon disinfectant and nerves.

Isla sat stiff in the plastic chair, her hands cradling the bottle of water she hadn’t sipped from in ten minutes. Her eyes flicked to the clock. 2:08 PM. Her name would be called any minute.

She hadn’t stopped shaking since she left the building.

Not since Roman’s voice, low and tight, asked, Is it mine?

And her silence—god, her silence had answered him.

She squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to her stomach. The nausea had eased, replaced by something worse—guilt. Fear. Grief.

She didn’t know what terrified her more: the idea of raising this baby alone… or the idea of letting him in and it not being enough.

Her phone buzzed quietly in her bag.

A message from Camila: Let me know how it goes, mami. I’m free later if you wanna talk.

Isla swallowed hard and typed back one word: Soon.

Her name was called.

She stood, palms damp, heart rattling in her chest. The nurse led her down a hallway bathed in soft light, murmuring reassurances and asking standard questions Isla barely processed.

In the exam room, the paper crinkled beneath her as she settled onto the table, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. The doctor entered with a warm smile and gentle eyes—too gentle. Isla could feel the weight of her choices press against her spine.

“Alright, Dr. Navarro,” the woman said kindly, glancing at the chart. “You’re just over nine weeks, yes? We’ll do the initial scan today, check vitals, and get you scheduled for bloodwork.”

Isla nodded numbly.

The gel was cold. The wand pressed lightly against her lower belly.

And then—

The heartbeat.

A fast, rhythmic thrum, like hummingbird wings in the dark.

Her breath caught. Her fingers curled against the edge of the table. There it was. Real. Alive. Inside her.

Her eyes welled up before she could stop them.

“There’s your little one,” the doctor murmured, turning the screen toward her.

The grainy shape didn’t make sense at first—but the sound did. That heartbeat shattered her like glass. No hiding now. No dismissing it as maybe. No erasing what had happened between them.

And suddenly, all she could think was: He deserves to know. For real. For sure.

Even if it scared her. Even if she didn’t know what came next.

The ultrasound photo was face-down on the passenger seat, but it still felt like it was staring at her.

Isla sat in her parked car, motionless. The late afternoon sun spilled through the windshield, warming her skin, but her hands were cold. Numb.

She’d heard the heartbeat.

Felt her own accelerate in response, like they were echoing each other—tiny and fragile, but alive.

And now she was just sitting there, phone in hand, staring at Camila’s contact name.

She pressed call.

Camila answered fast, like she’d been waiting. “Isla? What did they say?”

“They said…” Her voice caught. “They said everything looks normal. Strong. The heartbeat was strong.”

A pause.

Then Camila exhaled, long and shaky. “Mierda.”

Isla swallowed the lump in her throat. “Cami… it’s real. This is happening. It’s not just a maybe anymore. It’s a person. A little person.”

“I know, mami,” Camila said, soft. “And you’re scared. But you don’t have to carry it alone.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing.” Isla laughed, but it was humorless. “I sat there in the room and thought about running. Just walking out before the nurse came back.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.”

A beat of silence stretched between them.

“And Roman?” Camila finally asked. “Any word?”

Isla stared out the windshield. “He texted. Just said, ‘You okay?’ That’s it.”

“Not ‘Are you pregnant?’ Not ‘Talk to me’?”

“No. Just that.”

“Well,” Camila muttered, “at least he’s not blowing up your phone or demanding proof like a jackass. That’s… something.”

Isla closed her eyes. “I don’t know what I want him to do. I don’t even know what I want from myself.”

Camila’s voice softened. “You want not to be judged. You want to feel safe. And deep down, I think you want to tell him. Really tell him. Because you’ve never been good at shutting your heart down completely.”

Isla blinked back tears. “He looked hurt, Camila. In the hallway. Not angry. Just… like I’d punched him.”

“Because he cares.”

“But what if he walks away?”

“Then he was never yours to begin with.”

Silence again.

Then Isla let out a shaky breath. “I’m not ready to tell him. Not yet. But I know I will.”

“And when you do,” Camila said, “I’ll be right here. No matter what.”

Five weeks later, the Georgia Tech dining hall was crowded but not loud enough to drown out Isla’s thoughts. The ultrasound’s heartbeat still echoed in her mind, a constant reminder of the truth she hadn’t yet shared. She sat in a corner booth, her tray untouched, her appetite buried under the weight of guilt and fear. She’d been avoiding Roman since the hallway confrontation, their interactions limited to brief, professional exchanges, each one heavy with unspoken questions.

Now, she was trying to blend into the background, to survive another day on campus without facing the reality she’d heard in that exam room. But the world had other plans. Austin Theory stood over her table, holding his smoothie like a trophy, a smirk stretching across his face. “Looks like the secret’s out,” he said, sliding into the seat across from her without invitation. “I figured you’d be glowing, not hiding. The picture’s all over the place—you and Coach Reigns outside the seminar a couple of weeks ago. The one where you looked like you belonged on a damn movie poster.”

“What picture?” Isla’s voice was flat, guarded, as she looked up, annoyance blooming in her gut.

Austin pulled out his phone and flipped the screen around, showing a shot of her and Roman standing close, eyes locked, in a private-looking moment that now had over 25,000 likes and the caption: “Georgia Tech’s finest? 👀🔥 #campuscouple.” Isla’s heart sank—she hadn’t noticed someone watching, and that moment, one of the last calm ones she’d had, felt too personal to be viral content. “I’m just saying,” Austin added, his voice dropping low, “if you’re not ready for the attention, maybe you need someone who knows how to manage it. You know… control the narrative.”

“You mean you?” she asked, her tone sharper now, eyes narrowing as he leaned in with a condescending smirk.

“Exactly,” Austin replied, his voice dripping with confidence. “You and Reigns? That story’s hot. But messy. If he walks, you’ll be the one left dealing with it. Just saying.”

“Back off,” came a cold, dangerous voice from behind them—not Isla’s, but Roman’s. He stood near the table with a to-go bag in one hand, his expression unreadable but his tone unmistakable.

Austin leaned back slowly, faking casual. “Coach,” he said, his smirk faltering.

Roman’s eyes flicked to Isla for a second, then locked on Austin. “I said, back off,” he repeated, stepping closer, his presence a warning. Austin stood, raising both hands like it was a joke, but the tightness in his jaw gave him away. “Didn’t realize lunch hour came with security detail,” he muttered, stepping around Roman and disappearing into the crowd, leaving a thick silence.

Roman didn’t sit, his gaze settling on Isla, heavy and piercing, making her feel exposed in the crowded dining hall. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentler now, though his jaw was still tight.

She nodded slowly, her throat tightening. “I didn’t know someone took that photo. I didn’t know it was out there,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I figured,” he replied, glancing down briefly, his tone softening further. “You looked surprised.” They stood there, two people on opposite sides of an unspoken truth, the air thick with tension. “You haven’t answered my texts,” he said finally, his voice low, careful. “I didn’t want to push, but… I need to know where your head is.”

Her chest ached, guilt and fear coiling tighter, but she managed, “I don’t know yet,” her voice trembling.

“That’s okay,” he said, his eyes steady, unwavering. “But I’m here. And I’m not walking away from this—whatever this becomes.”

She couldn’t speak, the dining hall too open, too bright, but something in her loosened, like she wasn’t as alone as she thought. Roman nodded once, understanding, and turned to leave, glancing back over his shoulder. “I meant it. I’m not walking away,” he said, before disappearing through the exit.

A couple of days later, the Georgia Tech campus thrummed with late autumn’s crisp vitality, crimson and gold leaves dancing across brick pathways as dusk cloaked Atlanta in a violet haze. In the College of Computing, servers buzzed faintly, mingling with the warm, spiced scent of cinnamon coffee from the faculty lounge’s battered Keurig. Isla’s office, a third-floor sanctuary of organized chaos, held journals piled on shelves, a cluttered dry-erase board of algorithms, and a wilting succulent she kept forgetting to water. Late sun slanted through the blinds, casting golden stripes across her desk, where her laptop glowed with Python code.

Isla sat at her desk, fingers hovering over her keyboard, the weight of avoidance pressing against her chest. For weeks, she’d dodged Roman, limiting their interactions to curt emails or athletics board updates, but their project—a predictive algorithm for lineman footwork—demanded collaboration, and with a deadline looming, she couldn’t hide forever. Her stomach churned, not just from her secret but from his dining hall gaze, steady and unrelenting, promising he wouldn’t walk away. It was too much—his intensity, her guilt, the pull she felt despite herself.

Exhaling sharply, she typed a clipped email: Roman, please meet me at my office, 7 PM, to review the algorithm’s latest iteration. We need to finalize the temporal sensitivity adjustments. She hit send before overthinking, expecting him to delay, hoping he’d let her keep her distance a little longer—a flimsy shield, but all she had.

At 6:55 PM, Isla stood in her office, adjusting a stack of journals to steady her nerves, the servers’ hum thick with ink and dust. She’d prepared notes, a script to focus on the project, to dodge his unspoken questions. The clock ticked past 7:00, her shoulders relaxing slightly—he wasn’t coming, she thought, relief and disappointment tangling in her gut.

But a knock at the door froze her, heart lurching. The door opened, and Roman filled the frame, his navy Georgia Tech polo stretched taut across his broad chest, gold embroidery catching the light, his dark eyes locking on hers, steady and piercing, commanding the room. Isla blurted, “You’re here,” her voice betraying surprise, cheeks flushing as she gripped her notes tighter. His mouth curved into a faint, knowing smirk as he stepped inside, Jordans soft against the tile.

“You invited me,” he said, his voice low, teasing, laced with hunger that made her pulse race. “Thought I’d show up on time for once.” Her carefully planned script dissolved under his gaze, and she managed, “Right,” gesturing to the lab setup, “Let’s… get started.” He nodded, the air crackling with inevitability as they moved toward the screen, the project pulling them closer than she’d planned.

Isla perched on a rolling chair, legs tucked under her, laptop on her knees, while Roman loomed behind, his presence a physical force as they watched a practice video on the wall-mounted screen. She pointed out a lag in the lineman’s stance, fingers flying over the keyboard to adjust the model’s parameters, trying to ignore his radiating heat. “See that lag in his stance?” she asked, her voice wavering as his hand grazed her shoulder, fingers lingering, tracing her neck in a deliberate, searing touch that made her breath hitch. He leaned closer, lips near her ear, murmuring, “Yeah, he’s late off the snap. Misreading the QB,” his voice a low rumble sending shivers down her spine. “Exactly,” she said, struggling to focus, “The algorithm needs to catch that split-second delay. I can widen the predictive range.” Roman’s fingers slid down her arm, leaving goosebumps, and he said, “Isla, you gonna keep pretending you don’t feel this?” Her core clenched, wetness pooling between her thighs, fingers freezing on the keys.

Smirking to deflect, Isla kept her eyes on the screen. “What, the thrill of clean code? It’s hotter than you think,” she teased, her voice husky, betraying her need. Roman chuckled, dark and rough, nudging her chair with his knee. “Fuck that. You know what’s hot? You, trying to act like you don’t want me to bend you over that desk right now,” he growled, his hand hovering over her thigh, the air electric, his smirk daring her to push back. Her pulse raced, body screaming for his touch, and she turned, meeting his molten gaze, trembling as she whispered, “You’re awfully confident for a guy who can’t keep up with my variables.” He stepped closer, towering, muscles flexing under his polo. “Confident? I could have you screaming my name before you finish that line of code,” he said, his smirk darkening. “Big talk,” she challenged, lips inches from his, eyes sparking, “Prove it.”

Their breaths mingled, his scent—sandalwood, sweat, raw masculinity—drowning her senses, his eyes locked on hers like a predator savoring prey. “Careful, baby,” Roman murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr, “You’re begging for trouble.” Isla leaned closer, her body aching, every nerve alight, and shot back, “Then give it to me,” her voice thick with want. He moved like a storm, hands gripping her waist, lifting her from the chair with effortless strength, setting her on the desk’s edge, papers scattering, ink smearing under her thighs. His fingers hovered over her hips, teasing, his gaze raking over her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and sweater-hugged curves. “Fuck, Isla, you’re driving me insane,” he rasped, voice raw. She reached for him, fingers grazing his chest, nails digging into the hard planes beneath his polo, making him hiss. “Then stop talking and do something about it,” she whispered, her plea desperate.

His restraint shattered, lips crashing against hers in a feral, consuming kiss, tongue claiming her mouth in a filthy dance of heat and coffee. Isla moaned loudly, hands clawing at his polo, yanking it up, desperate for skin. He tore it off, revealing his chiseled torso, scars glinting, muscles flexing under her touch as she dragged nails down his pecs, relishing his shudder, his cock straining against his joggers, pressing hard against her thigh. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” Roman growled against her neck, lips sucking hard, leaving a bruising mark pulsing with heat, his hands sliding under her sweater, calloused palms possessive, grazing her breasts. He ripped the sweater off, her bra flicked away, baring her to his gaze, his eyes darkening with a primal groan at her hardened nipples, flushed skin. “Gonna ruin you, baby,” he promised, voice thick with hunger. “Roman, please,” Isla gasped, tugging his hair, urging him closer, her wetness soaking her panties, dripping onto the desk.

His smirk wicked, Roman kneaded her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples until she arched, moaning, the sensation shooting to her core. “So fucking responsive,” he murmured, lips trailing lower, kissing a scorching path down her stomach, fingers hooking into her jeans, yanking them down with her panties in one brutal motion, her slick heat glistening, pooling on the desk, papers sticking to the wood, ink smearing chaotically. “Goddamn, look at you,” he rasped, eyes locked on her dripping folds, his cock throbbing, “So wet, you’re making a fucking mess.” Kneeling between her thighs, his broad shoulders forced her legs wide, his breath hot against her skin, making her tremble. He inhaled deeply, a guttural growl rumbling. “Smell so fucking good. Gonna make you scream my name, Isla,” he said, his voice a vow.

His tongue teased her clit with a slow flick, the contact electric, her hips bucking. Gripping her thighs, Roman pinned her to the desk, fingers bruising, his control absolute. “Stay still,” he commanded, lips brushing her folds, the vibration making her moan. He licked slower, savoring, circling her clit, then sucking hard, drawing a scream, her slickness coating his lips, chin, dripping onto the desk, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet office.

Teasing her entrance, his tongue dipped inside, then returned to her clit, alternating soft flicks and relentless suction, eyes locked on hers, watching her unravel. “Roman, fuck,” Isla cried, hands fisting his hair, body trembling, moans escalating as he devoured her, his fingers sliding inside, two, then three, curling against that spot, pumping slowly, building her higher. Her slick heat flooded his hand, the desk, papers ruined, as he sucked harder, his tongue relentless, her orgasm crashing through, a tidal wave, body convulsing, screams echoing as her wetness gushed, soaking his face, hand, and wood. He licked her through the aftershocks, drawing every shudder, her thighs quaking.

Rising, lips glistening, eyes feral, Roman slid his fingers back inside, scissoring deep, stretching her walls, coaxing a whimper from her oversensitive body. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled, thumb circling her clit, slow and torturous, building her back up, “Gonna make you come again, baby. Want you dripping for me.” His fingers pumped faster, the scissoring motion relentless, her moans incoherent, body climbing as he leaned in, whispering against her ear, “Scream my name when you break.” Her second orgasm hit harder, walls pulsing around his fingers, slickness flooding his hand, dripping onto the floor, the desk a glistening wreck. She screamed his name, voice raw, nails raking his shoulders, leaving red trails. He kissed her, filthy and deep, letting her taste herself, her moans swallowed by his tongue, the act primal, making her core clench.

Isla’s hands tore at his joggers, shoving them down, freeing his thick, pulsing cock, the tip glistening with precum. Stroking him, her thumb smeared the precum, relishing his hiss, hips jerking into her touch. “Fuck, Isla, you’re gonna fucking destroy me,” Roman groaned, forehead against hers, breaths ragged. “Then do it to me first,” she challenged, guiding his cock to her entrance, legs locking around his hips, wetness coating him as she rubbed him against her slick folds. He teased her, sliding his tip along her clit, slow, deliberate, making her whimper, body begging. “Roman, please,” she gasped, nails digging into his back, urging him closer. “Beg for it,” he growled, eyes burning into hers, hands gripping her hips, holding her still, “Tell me how bad you want me.” “I need you,” she moaned, voice breaking, body trembling, “Fuck me, Roman. Please.”

Surging forward, Roman thrust into her in one slow, brutal motion, the stretch overwhelming, her walls gripping him like a vice, every ridge pulsing inside her, driving her wild. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he rasped, hands bruising her hips, eyes locked on hers, sweat beading on his brow, “So fucking wet, you’re coating me.” Isla moaned, nails clawing his back, the slick sound of their bodies loud as he pulled back and thrust again, deeper, harder, the desk groaning, papers scattering, ink pooling with her slickness. His hands roamed—one pinning her thigh wide, the other gripping her breast, pinching her nipple until she cried out, pain sparking pleasure. His thrusts grew relentless, hitting that spot inside her, making her vision blur, body trembling, sweat slicking their skin. “You’re mine,” he growled, lips crashing into hers, tongue ravaging her mouth, hips slamming in a punishing rhythm.

Lifting her off the desk, Roman spun her effortlessly, bending her over the edge, her palms slapping the slick wood, wetness pooling beneath her, hair sticking to her sweat-damp neck, papers tearing under her grip. He stood behind her, hands gripping her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, leaving marks she’d feel for days, teasing her entrance with his cock, sliding the tip along her slick folds, slow, torturous, making her whimper, body trembling with need. Leaning over her, his chest pressing against her back, muscles flexing, he whispered against her ear, “Tell me you want it. Tell me you’re mine,” his breath hot, voice a low growl. “I’m yours,” Isla gasped, voice raw, desperate, hips pushing back, craving more, “Please, Roman, fuck me. I need you.”

Roman entered her in one deep, brutal thrust, the angle searing, his cock hitting deeper, stretching her walls, her knees buckling from the intensity, but he caught her hips, holding her up, his grip unyielding, strength overwhelming. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, voice thick with hunger, hips snapping against hers, the wet slap of their bodies echoing, primal, her slickness coating him, dripping down her thighs, soaking the floor, the desk a chaotic mess of torn papers and smeared ink.

His thrusts were relentless, each deliberate, powerful, dragging against that perfect spot, sending shockwaves through her core. Slowing suddenly, teasing, he pulled out almost completely, leaving her aching, walls clenching around nothing, and murmured, “You want more? Beg for it, Isla. Let me hear you,” his lips brushing her ear, one hand gripping her breast, pinching her nipple hard, the other wrapping gently around her throat, a possessive claim making her moan. “More,” she pleaded, voice breaking, nails scraping the desk, leaving gouges, “Fuck me harder, Roman. Please, don’t stop,” her hips rocking back, slick heat glistening.

Growling low and feral, Roman slammed back into her, the force rocking the desk, a journal thudding to the floor. His pace turned punishing, each thrust deeper, harder, his cock pulsing, her walls gripping tighter. Sweat slicked their bodies, her thighs trembling, moans escalating to screams as he drove into her, the office filled with their obscene symphony—wet slaps, creaking wood, ragged gasps. His hand on her throat tightened slightly, heightening the thrill, the other gripping her hip, guiding her back onto him, controlling every move.

“Look at you, taking me so fucking well, baby. This pussy’s mine,” he rasped, eyes locked on where they joined, her slickness coating him, dripping onto the floor, slowing again, teasing with shallow thrusts, making her whimper, body shaking. Leaning over, he bit her shoulder softly, then harder, leaving a mark, his hand sliding from her throat to her hair, tugging gently, arching her back further, exposing her completely. “Say it,” he demanded, voice raw, “Say you’re mine.” “I’m yours,” Isla screamed, voice hoarse, body surrendering, “All yours, Roman, fuck!”

Roaring, Roman’s thrusts turned savage, slamming into her, hitting that spot with ruthless precision, his hand reaching around to circle her clit, fast and relentless. Her third orgasm obliterated her, a white-hot explosion, body convulsing, slickness gushing, soaking his cock, thighs, and floor, the desk a ruined, glistening wreck, papers tearing under her hands, ink smearing across her palms, screams echoing raw and unrestrained.

Roman followed, his release searing, spilling into her with a primal roar, body shuddering, grip on her hips bruising as he pressed deep, their combined release dripping down her thighs, pooling on the floor. Collapsing against the desk, hearts pounding, the air thick with sex and sweat, papers ruined, Roman’s hands softened, tracing her sides, lips brushing her shoulder, tender now. Pulling out slowly, their combined release dripped further, and he turned her, lifting her onto the desk, kissing her gently, hands cupping her face, breaths mingling.

Isla panted, “Statistically fucking significant,” her voice hoarse, a teasing spark in her eyes. Roman chuckled, lips grazing her ear,

“Peer-reviewed and goddamn approved,” his voice low and warm.

Later that night, Isla’s Midtown apartment glowed softly, city lights filtering through the window, casting a warm sheen over the cozy space cluttered with books, code printouts, and a half-finished puzzle on the coffee table. The faint scent of pizza lingered from the box they’d brought from the lab, a reminder of their chaotic evening.

Isla opened the door, stepping aside as Roman entered, his broad frame filling the small entryway, the fitted black t-shirt he’d swapped for his polo hugging his muscles, his presence grounding yet electric. As he set the pizza box on the counter, a soft thud of paws drew Isla’s attention, and Toby, her sleek Siamese cat with striking blue eyes, slunk from under a bookshelf, his gaze locking onto Roman with intense curiosity.

Isla paused, watching as Toby’s tail flicked, his stare unwavering. “That’s Toby,” she said, voice soft, a smile tugging at her lips. “He’s usually not social with strangers, so don’t be surprised if he bolts.” Roman crouched slowly, meeting Toby’s gaze, his movements gentle, and Toby padded closer, sniffing Roman’s shoe, then, to Isla’s shock, rubbed his sleek head against Roman’s leg, a low purr rumbling.

Isla’s eyes widened, a laugh escaping. “Okay, that’s new. He’s never like this with anyone,” she said, her tone warm, heart lifting at the unexpected connection, Roman’s faint smile softening his features as he scratched Toby’s ear, the cat leaning into his touch.

Rising, Roman moved to the kitchen, pouring water into two glasses, his frame dominating the space, the warmth of Toby’s approval lingering in Isla’s chest. She sat cross-legged on the couch, leggings and oversized sweater a stark contrast to the raw vulnerability she felt, the weight of her lie—“It’s not what you think”—heavier after the office, where desire had drowned out the truth. The ultrasound photo, tucked in her bag on the floor, pulsed in her thoughts, its heartbeat a quiet echo she couldn’t ignore.

Roman set a glass on the coffee table and sank onto the couch beside her, their knees brushing, the contact sparking through her like a live wire. Leaning back, one arm draped over the cushion, he studied her with dark eyes, a mix of tenderness and intensity making her pulse quicken. “You’re quiet, more than usual,” he said, voice low, careful, testing the waters. Isla tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, fingers lingering, buying time. “Just… processing. Today was a lot,” she admitted, eyes flicking to the pizza box, then back to him, her voice soft.

Nodding, Roman’s gaze never left her, lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Yeah, it was. You gonna tell me I’m a bad influence for derailing your algorithm demo?” he teased, leaning closer, shoulder brushing hers. Laughing, the sound breaking the tension, light and genuine, Isla nudged his knee with hers, the playful contact igniting a familiar heat, Toby’s earlier warmth easing her nerves. “Oh, please. If anything, you’re the one who can’t keep up with my code. I saw you squinting at that variable loop,” she shot back, cheeks flushing, warmth spreading through her chest. “Low blow, Navarro,” Roman teased, voice warm, “I was distracted by the professor running the show. Hard to focus when she’s throwing around words like ‘temporal sensitivity’ like it’s foreplay.”

Her smile faded as she looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together, the flirtation not erasing the weight in her heart, Toby’s purr a faint backdrop. Roman noticed, his hand covering hers, warm and steady, grounding her. “Isla, talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, voice softer, serious, thumb brushing her knuckles.

Swallowing, her throat tight, the confession pressed against Isla’s ribs, the office’s wildfire of need not erasing her fear—or the truth. Reaching for her bag, fingers trembling, she pulled out the ultrasound photo, its glossy edge catching the light, Toby’s blue eyes watching from the floor. “Roman, I’m sorry. For lying. In the hallway, when you asked… it is yours. I was terrified, and I didn’t know how to tell you,” she whispered, voice trembling, barely above a whisper, holding the photo out, her hand shaking. “This is… our baby. I saw the heartbeat. It’s real.”

Roman’s eyes widened, softening as he took the photo, his calloused fingers brushing hers, lingering, his breath catching. He studied the grainy image, the tiny shape barely discernible, his jaw tightening with emotion, awe flickering in his gaze, Toby’s purr softening the silence.

“Isla,” Roman said, voice rough with feeling, setting the photo on the coffee table, his hand cupping her cheek, pulling her gaze to his, “I know. I’m not mad. I just need you to let me in. I’m here—for you, for our kid. You don’t have to do this alone.” Tears pricked Isla’s eyes, and she blinked them back, nodding, the ultrasound’s weight now shared, a bridge between them, Toby’s quiet presence grounding the moment. “I want to,” she whispered, voice breaking, “I’m just… scared. This wasn’t the plan. I’m good at data, at control. Not this.”

He shifted closer, palm warm against her cheek, eyes unwavering. “You think I’m not scared? I’m fucking terrified, Isla. But I’m more scared of losing you—of not being there for you, for this,” he said, voice low, raw, glancing at the photo, then back to her. “I meant what I said in the dining hall. I’m not walking away.”

Her breath caught, his sincerity shattering her defenses, the ultrasound and Toby’s trust anchoring her hope. Leaning into his touch, lips trembling, she tried to smile. “You’re too good at this, making me believe it’s gonna be okay,” she murmured, voice shaky.

“It will be,” Roman said, thumb brushing her cheekbone, gaze steady, “We’ll figure it out. Together.” The word—together—settled over her like a blanket, warm and heavy, and she turned her head, pressing a soft kiss to his palm, lips lingering, the gesture intimate, unguarded, his breath hitching as the air shifted, emotional rawness blending with a quiet, simmering heat, softer, more vulnerable, Toby’s purr a gentle hum.

“You keep doing that, and we’re not gonna finish this pizza,” Roman murmured, voice dropping, a playful edge cutting through the weight, his fingers tangling gently in her hair.

Laughing, the sound shaky but real, Isla leaned closer, forehead resting against his, Toby’s blue eyes glinting from the floor. “Maybe I’m not that hungry for pizza,” she whispered, eyes burning with a need beyond the physical, a need to anchor herself in him. His grin was slow, warm, lips brushing hers, featherlight, a promise.

“Careful, baby, you’re playing with fire,” he murmured, hand sliding to the nape of her neck. “Then burn me,” she whispered, closing the distance, their kiss deep, unhurried, searing, his tongue teasing hers, drawing a quiet moan, her hands sliding up his chest, feeling the hard planes beneath his shirt.

The kiss deepened, breaths mingling, heat building as Isla shifted onto his lap, thighs straddling his, the friction of his jeans against her leggings sending a jolt through her core. His hands settled on her hips, guiding her closer, touch firm but gentle, lips trailing to her jaw, kissing the sensitive spot below her ear.

“Isla, you’re everything,” he murmured against her skin, voice thick with want, her breath hitching as her fingers tugged at his shirt, pulling it off to reveal his sculpted chest, hands tracing his pecs, the faint scars, memorizing him. Rocking against him, feeling his hardness through his jeans, a soft whimper escaped her, wetness dampening her panties, the heat electric but restrained. His hands slid under her sweater, calloused palms grazing her skin, lifting the fabric slowly, eyes locked on hers, asking permission. Nodding, breathless, she let him peel it off, leaving her in a thin tank top, nipples hardening under his gaze.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Roman rasped, hands cupping her face, kissing her slower, deeper, their bodies pressed close, hearts racing. Her hands fumbled with his belt, movements desperate but not rushed, the air thick with shared need. His lips found her collarbone, kissing softly, and she arched into him, whispering his name, a plea and a promise. They didn’t need words—the way he held her, the way she clung to him, said everything, the ultrasound photo on the table and Toby’s quiet purr a testament to their bond.

As their clothes fell away, the world narrowed to just them—skin against skin, breaths intertwined, an unspoken vow. The night carried them into a haze of closeness, their bodies finding each other like coming home.

When they stilled, tangled on the couch, Roman’s hand rested gently on her stomach, lips brushing her forehead. “We’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, voice steady, certain, his other hand brushing the ultrasound photo beside them. Isla nestled closer, head against his chest, his heartbeat grounding her, Toby’s soft purr echoing faintly. “Yeah, we are,” she whispered, a small smile curving her lips, the photo’s presence and Toby’s trust anchoring her hope.

Whew… that hallway scene was a lot, huh? 😮‍💨 Thank you so much for reading Chapter 2! Things are definitely getting real between Isla and Roman, and the emotions are only going to run deeper from here. Secrets never stay buried for long—and now that Roman knows something, we’re about to see how he shows up (or doesn't). That smut was for science, right?!?! 😭😭

Also… shoutout to Camila for being the ride-or-die cousin we all need. 💅🏽

Feel free to scream in the tags, drop your thoughts in the replies, or send me asks—I'd love to hear your reactions, predictions, or anything you’re curious about.

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