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temis-de-leon · 7 months ago

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When they don't know you as well as they thought they did

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

C/W: the boys are crushing on MC and it's implied MC is crushing as well, but there isn't any established relationship. Just friends feeling things for their friend, very common. Self-insert, perhaps?

A/N: this is just fluff, very silly, a little ooc maybe, but I'm not sure. I just wanted to make something fun and lighthearted after the recent news.

No one is surprised anymore at the firmness the brothers speak with when they call you part of the family. Between the pacts and the unsolicited free therapy, it’s only fair, and only an idiot wouldn’t be able to see the affection running through the House of Lamentation.

Still, there are instances every once in a while where, although it’s difficult at the beginning, the boys have no other choice but to accept the fact that you have a completely different life back in the human world and they may not know you as good as they would like.

It starts with the small things; embarrassing conversations where their ignorance gets you to laugh like a maniac more than a couple of times. There they are, blushing in self-consciousness while you cackle uncontrollably because they believed some urban legend about a faceless suited man with freakishly long arms.

Then, slowly, but surely, it turns into more personal things about you, like your irrational, downright, phobia of lizards or the fictional characters you’re surprisingly attracted to.

(Some of those aren’t human, which makes them all feel a strong sense of hope, but you don’t need to know that).

The brothers learn about your studies, favourite subjects and what you’d like to do with your future, even if it sounds hopeless or unlikely. They also keep every bit of information about your friends and family; little comments that you let go here and there and help them understand why you are someone they love so much.

The whole situation evolves in such a way that inviting them to your birthday party in the human realm seems to be the obvious next step.

‘It’s so I can celebrate it with all my loved ones’ you say, and they really can’t deny your offer after that.

So, after a few awkward introductions and half-truths about their origin, everyone is happily talking to each other and eagerly waiting for their turn to be with you.

Lucifer, who has had a special interest in your family for a while, finds himself chuckling in understanding when your mother complains about the occasional mess in your room. In your defence, he feels obligated to partially throw his brothers under the bus and blame them for keeping you in a constant state of disarray, but then she says something that… perplexes him.

You don’t like perfection? His eyes open wide at the revelation and your mother chuckles, misinterpreting his expression. She doesn’t know who he really is or what he represents, after all.

Just how vast is the veracity of that statement? Does it refer only to a state of mind or do you apply it to everything else?

Thankfully, he doesn’t have time to feel too anxious before he remembers the little details. When your triumphal smile shone in the dimness of his room that time he made a silly mistake in chess, ultimately granting you the win; or when the Anti-Lucifer League managed to leave his hair unkempt for an entire day, which got you to shamelessly look at him for longer than any of his younger brothers would’ve ever liked.

Not being perfect isn’t something he would ever do consciously and he had always found solace in the fact that you like him despite his mistakes. However, knowing you actually like him because of those mistakes? Perhaps letting those cracks show in his façade isn’t so bad as long as it is for you.

Not far from him, Mammon chats with your human best friend. There’s an air of competitiveness between them, both wanting to be the ultimate best friend, but it all stays light-hearted. There’s no real threat when Mammon gets to be your first demon, you know? It’s a unique position!

But he still makes sure to assert dominance by stating he would’ve made the perfect party for you, better than the one you’re currently enjoying; with food and decorations from the Devildom and the Celestial realm included, matching outfits and, of course, keeping everything hidden so you can have the best surprise of your life. He had thrown a lot of those with Asmo’s help back home, so he knows you love them!

Or he thinks you do, at least.

Your friend sniggers harmlessly when they hear that last part, pointing at him with an infuriating smartass attitude, and immediately shatters Mammon’s reality.

What the heck do they mean, you don’t like surprise parties? He’d done a lot of those back at the Devildom and you’d never complained, appreciative as you are, even helping him do the same for other’s birthday parties!

Sure, you had always looked dumbfounded by the loud cheering and the confetti after stepping through the door, but that was part of the fun… right? You would tell him if you wanted him to stop, wouldn’t you?

He feels a pang in his heart when the idea of you being uncomfortable for his sake appears in his mind, but it doesn’t make sense. While you undeniably treat him better than anyone else in all of the realms, you still correct him when you see fit and him making you unhappy on your own birthday would be one of those occasions.

He trusts you to confide in him when things are wrong just as much as you trust him to do his best. That’s what friends are for, after all.

And where else would Levi be if not hidden in a corner playing with his DDD?

He had tried mingling with people at the party, or at least tried hanging around them, he swears, but conversations became repetitive and boring and then he received a notification for a daily reward from one of his apps, so, of course, he had to sit down to collect it. Then minutes passed as he completed minigames to power up his cards and… you get the idea.

So when a friend of yours walked towards him, complimenting the pins and badges on his bag and the faint music coming out of his headphones, sure, the evening started going way smoother.

He talks enthusiastically, just like any other time his interests are mentioned, wildly gesturing with his hands and letting the little bubble around them be full of their eager exchange. However, a casual lament from his companion stops him right in his tracks.

It’s a shame you don’t like anime…? His first reaction is to laugh, enumerating everything you’d watched, and later commented on, with him under a blanket in the tranquillity of his room, but the utter surprise in your friend’s face leaves him speechless.

You really don’t like it? But… But he’s made you see so many things! Did you like any of them? Did you lie to his face when you said you enjoyed them? He would’ve never chosen a best friend like that; you were not like that and he refused to believe the contrary.

Also, would a liar buy merch on their own like you did? Would they watch the best episodes again or listen to the soundtrack on repeat when they had a bad day? This new revelation only makes him aware he was the one to change your perspective of the fine arts and he’s damn proud of that.

You are still getting an earful when you get back home, though.

Satan thinks the kid is a young cousin of yours, but he really hasn’t been paying attention to anything in a long while. How could he, when the enthusiastic toddler had taken their mother’s phone just to show him the family cat’s pictures and videos?

A Mackerel tabby cat, too chubby for his own good but not enough to be actually concerning; playing with feathers, blinking slowly, bumping his head against legs and shoulders, meowing sweetly and, basically, opening his heart in half and making it roam inside his chest like a butterfly.

What a good party.

He mentions all the stray cats behind his house, obviously leaving behind the name of the House of Lamentation and the Devildom, and all the times you’ve gone with him to feed them and play. Satan even shows pictures on his DDD and stops with an adoring expression when you appear on the screen, sitting on your toes with a kitty on your knees and smiling past the camera, straight at Satan.

However, what he hears next takes the air right out of his lungs. He sits down and clutches his pearls and the kid stares at him in anxious confusion, clearly witnessing but not understanding the severity of his distress.

Who, in their right mind, doesn’t like cats?

He remembers the first few times you had accompanied him to his route, intimidated and slightly lingering behind. Initially, he had assumed it was due to the novelty of your friendship or a possible fear of Devildom fauna, but nothing against cats!

Were you afraid of them or just plain uninterested? Why keep going with him if you weren’t as fond of them as he thought you were? Wouldn’t it be because of him, would it?

A warm feeling covers him like a blanket, makes him search for you with his eyes and then immediately blush when you excitedly wave at him, point at the kid and mouth ‘Cute cat!’

Yeah. Very cute.

On the other hand, Asmo hangs out with the people responsible for the decorations of the party and compliments them on their work. The colours are well-coordinated, there’s nothing out of place and the distribution was thought with all the guests in mind.

Although he hasn’t been able to help in that regard, he’s made sure you would be the centre of attention that evening; a complicated feature coming from him, but he had never minded sharing the main spot just as long as you were the one by his side; and everyone knows that.

You look cute and pretty and hot in your outfit, a style that both compliments and pleases you. You also worked together in your makeup for hours before getting to the party.

However, taking that much time might have been due to scrolling through social media and gossiping so much, but never mind that. Everyone agrees you look incredible and that is more than enough for him.

It isn’t until one of your friends mentions how weird it is to see you wearing makeup that he dares take his eyes away from you to stare at them in disbelief.

He would’ve never guessed that given that one of your favourite pastimes together is makeup as a whole: going shopping, watching tutorials, following trends, doing your own next to each other, doing each other’s… And, even if he wants to use it, his charming power is useless against you, so he knows you do your makeup because you want to and not because you feel forced by him.

Whether it’s something you share because you enjoy it or something you enjoy because you share it with him, he isn’t sure, but he can swear on his precious damned soul that makeup isn’t a need for you.

It’s just a bonus to your beauty.

Sitting at one of the tables, Beel is simultaneously talking to your older sibling while gulping down an entire plate of bite-sized snacks; thankfully, whatever apprehension anyone felt at his hunger died hours ago and now the conversation flowed more naturally, mainly centred around you.

As much as he loves having you near him and his brothers in the House of Lamentation and thinking of you as another member of the family, he is very interested in knowing how your human family is, especially your siblings. It’s another way of relating to you and making him feel closer.

Plus, he gets to know stories from your childhood you may never tell him on your own; anecdotes that will stay at the table he is currently sharing with your sibling.

Unfortunately, they reach a point where, although he wants to keep asking questions about you, doing so with a mouth full of food might end up with Lucifer’s scolding of the year. Also, he really wants to make a good impression.

So your sibling begins asking the questions. Surprisingly, they start with his tattoo; dark red curling around his muscles and almost going unnoticed under the colours of dusk. Beel smiles without giving it any importance because it really doesn’t have it, but forces himself to stop gulping down food when your sibling throws a fun fact about you.

You find tattoos attractive?

He feels an instant burning on his cheeks followed by the rapid beating of his heart and a knot in his stomach, but there’s also a faint unpleasant sour taste in his mouth.

You’ve never asked him about his tattoo, barely sparing a glance at it when you worked out together or he took off his jacket.

He wonders if you don’t like it or if you think it doesn’t look good on him because all he can remember is the focused look in your eyes while looking at his and the curve of your smile growing bigger as you listen to whatever he says, even when it is entirely about food, and…

You know what? He doesn’t really mind. He is fine with things as they are.

As both a friend of yours and a fellow younger brother, Belphie respects your sibling’s decision to spill your darkest secrets and thoroughly enjoys the air of comradery between them.

Don’t worry, he won’t let it go past actual serious matters; if you want him to know any of that, he’d rather have you telling him yourself when you’re ready and not get betrayed by your sibling. Silly and harmless pieces of information, however? Those are more than welcome.

And he already has a favourite.

You need to hug plushies to sleep? Tell him more. He doesn’t judge you for feeling the need to hug toys or pillows while sleeping. Actually, he understands.

Do you have a favourite? Is it in the human realm or is it in your room back at the House of Lamentation? While he can recall seeing that ugly zombie iguana on your bed, he’s never seen you cuddling it while sleeping and, other than that, he doesn’t remember seeing one, so he wonders if you hide it somewhere when you know he’s going to your room; but what about those times he enters uninvited?

Does that mean you left your preferred plushie in your room in the human realm? Does that mean that you don’t actually need to hug anything to sleep?

Whenever you share a bed, which is pretty frequent, Belphie can sense an invisible barrier between you that he’s dying to break. It’s nothing physical, given that only he knows how truly comfortable your lap and your chest are, but it’s obvious in the way your hands hesitate to bring him closer.

Shy and indecisive, while you don’t reject his advances, he’s still unsure what your feelings on the matter are. He’d initially thought you weren’t used to having anything so close to you while sleeping, but… now… Maybe he has to assure you that you can hug him as hard as you want.

Belphie is just as good as any plushie, after all; if not better.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

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gothhabiba · 7 months ago

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@ anon

I think it might be actually dangerous to publish your ask, but I'm sure from my response people will be able to tell what it's about anyway.

You're full of actual, absolute shit if you're pretending not to know by now that verification processes to ensure the legitimacy of Ghazzawin's fundraisers have been undertaken, and that details about what these processes entail have been shared by several people. Several people, some of them currently in Gaza, put themselves through countless hours of work video-calling people, judging their knowledge of dialectical Arabic, seeing their faces and their children's faces and their living conditions, seeing IDs and bank information, asking invasive, personal questions that they didn't want to be asking & that the people responding probably didn't want to be answering, and physically visiting people in Gaza and video-recording their interactions, just so that people like you could be sure that these fundraisers were legitimate. If you're ignoring all of the blood & tears that went into that process just so you can hand-wring about scams, no one needs to be concerned with convincing you of the legitimacy of anything, because you were never going to donate to these people anyway. You are just looking for any plausible-sounding excuse not to do what you already didn't want to do.

If, by some miracle, you actually didn't know about the verified fundraiser spreadsheet (which is frankly still blameable bc, where on earth have you been?), then there it is. The post of mine that you're referring to never even mentioned responding to asks; using this spreadsheet is an absolutely valid, reasonable way of donating directly to families.

Now let me treat some of your statements as though they were questions (which, they were not).

How do people in Gaza have internet access?

Internet infrastructure in Gaza is very robust (e.g. in what cables are made of, how deep they're buried, amounts of redundancy in the system, &c.) because they have been getting bombed by Israel all the fucking time for decades, so they expect this infrastructure to be put through a lot. There have still--if you've been following the situation at all--been several outages caused by damage that Ghazzawin have needed to repair. Though I do have to say that I find it odd that you doubt Ghazzawin have internet access, but also say that you buy eSims...?

A lot of people right now are indeed connected via eSim, which to my understanding only need to connect to wifi once, right when they're activated. People put themselves at risk to connect to eSims because they need to get a good wifi signal, which usually means walking for several miles trying to find high ground. One of my contacts once urgently called me (this is the only time he hadn't just texted) because he had been told his friend had found a signal and so they needed an eSim right then, before they went back to their tent.

I've been trying for some time to connect another of my contacts in Gaza to an eSim, but we're not having success. At Crips for eSims for Gaza they / we (I'm on the server getting advice and helping out but I'm not using their funding; I'm using what people on tumblr have given me to purchase eSims with) keep a constantly updated sheet of which eSim providers use which networks and which networks work in which areas--because the situation is constantly changing. Because my contact doesn't have an eSim on a personal phone, she has to go to a central location to be allotted three hours of internet access from someone who has managed to get connected. Lots of people, on their fundraising posts and pages, specify exactly how they've gotten internet access, how difficult it's been for them to get it, and how stressful it is to be relying on this tenuous connection, spending hours away from their families (at high risk of being shot at by IOF soldiers the whole time), just to message people for hours straight and then go home again.

2. How do people in Gaza have tumblr accounts?

This is a stupid question. Anyone with an email address who is capable of picking a username and password can make a tumblr account. I have personally helped several of my contacts in Gaza with the process.

3. How do people in Gaza know to come into people's tumblr accounts?

This is also a stupid question. I don't really see how you could ask this question if you saw Palestinians as, like, real humans beings. You understand that people talk to each other, yes? Like with words? As soon as a few people had success fundraising to evacuate Gaza on tumblr (nearly a year ago... this news has had a lot of time to spread), obviously they told other people about it.

One of the ways that Israel conducts its genocidal war is through the destructiveness of frustration and boredom. It's a strange situation because everything is extremely dire, urgent, terrifying, and dirty, but there's also seldom anything to do. People are singing, telling stories, going to the beach, inventing games and contests, to entertain children, but also to entertain themselves. And this is the situation--with a bunch of desperate, bored people packed into a tiny piece of land--this is the situation that you think it's impossible for people to talk to each other in? Come on.

If you want to donate to Anera and World Food Kitchen and buy eSims, that's fantastic. Please do that. But if you are as ignorant of the particulars of what this situation is like as your ask makes you appear, then I hope you refrain from speaking on what the situation is like.

I've been nattering on for a long time so here's my call to action:

Decide what you're capable of giving right now, or the next time you get paid

Scroll down on the vetted fundraiser spreadsheet and find someone very low on funds, or with injured children who urgently need treatment or evacuation, and give that money.

AND / OR give it to the PCRF or the IRW

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kaiyunsim · 8 months ago

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80’s makeout session —

pairing : idol!anton x non-idol gn!reader

summary : you and your boyfriend, anton, haven’t seen eachother for a while so you and his members decide to surprise him (features wonbin + shotaro + seunghan)

warnings : fluff, making out, anton being lwk touch starved

a/n : first riize fic ! hope u guys enjoy :3 also i wrote this in like 30 mins so yeah !

— w/c : ~1k — not proof read ! —

anton was always a person who liked to show affection, even if it was embarrassing for him. his members would make it their mission to try and tease him as much as possible whenever you were mentioned.

it’s been a while since you’ve seen anton since he’s been busy with his group, preparing for their upcoming comeback. he’s been texting you over and over saying how much he misses you. if the members ever saw your conversations, they would never let him hear the end of it.

missing his contact as well, you decide to take a peak at his schedule and see he has a show soon. now wanting to surprise him, you contact wonbin and see if he’ll let you in backstage. after asking the company, he was actually able to get you a backstage ticket as staff.

you make it to the concert, walking into the backstage to meet up with wonbin. you got some snacks earlier as a thank you to him for letting you in without anton knowing. you see him waiting outside, leaning on the wall, trying to appear nonchalant. you found it funny.

“hey wonbin, thanks for letting me in” you thank him before handing him the package of snacks. you can see his nonchalantness leave him for a moment as he smiles at the food but as soon as he realized he puts the straight face back on.

“we should be thanking you,” wonbin argued, “anton wouldn’t stop talking about how much he missed you”

you giggle at his word but you aren’t surprised. after all, he would always text you about how he would miss you.

wonbin takes you to an empty preparation room before leaving you there to go and grab anton. after a short delay, the door creeks open to reveal the tall brachio boy in front of you who appears stunned that you are in front of him.

“y/n..?” he spurts out, mouth opened from not expecting anything. wonbin told him that there was a surprise here but anton thought he was kidding.

you open you arms reaching for a hug before he closes the door and runs over to give you one. “oh my fucking god i miss you so much,” anton mumbles into your shoulder, “we’re so busy with the comeback and tours”

“i know, but i’m here right now,” you reply with a smile, giggling after being able to see your boyfriend after so long. “i missed you too”

anton takes any remaining words out of your mouths with a much needed kiss with lots of feeling. you could tell he needed it and too be honest, you needed it as well. he leans into you, further deepening the kiss increasing both of your heart rates.

you pull out of the kiss, regaining your breath, “jesus, someone’s needy for some kisses,” you tease anton.

“of course i am, i haven’t seen you in forever. this is the best surprise the hyungs got” he smiles, giving you butterflies in you stomach. how can someone be so cute?

anton digs in for another kiss, this time you lean into him. you could tell he was all giggly cause his hands were on you waist keeping you from leaning in further.

“calm down there y/n,” he chuckled, his smile looking bigger than ever.

“okay then anton, whatever you say,” you roll your eyes but while you’re distracted he kisses you again.

the small sound of the door behind him opens up to shotaro, “the show is starting soon so get ready,” shotaro’s eyes slowly dart to you, “oh and hi y/n,” his voice softer and offering a wave before leaving to get his finishing touches done.

“you should leave and get pretty,” you joke, looking at his messed up makeup.

“you better be here after the show,” he says looking as cute as ever.

some more knocks are followed by that last statement, “hurry up anton, stop making out already,” it was likely the voice of seunghan.

anton flushes, “looks like i should go” he says as you give him a giggly nod. you know his hyungs are going to tease him for this but both of you think its all worth it.

#kaiyunsim #riize #riize x reader #riize is 7 #riize imagines #riize anton #riize wonbin #riize x male reader #riize x gn reader #riize is seven #riize x y/n #riize x you #anton lee #anton #anton x reader #anton x male reader #lee anton #lee anton x reader #lee anton x male reader

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lostdreamr-blog1 · 2 years ago

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Pinky Promise

Pinky Promise 2

Part 3

Part 4

Summary: Jake gets a call in the middle of the night asking for a ride home. But it’s who is asking that makes him worried.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Another request knocked out! Currently working on part 2 of Beautiful Stranger and might have plans for continuing this one depending on if you all like it. Thank you so much for reading! -C

You were a little on the tipsy side as you squinted at your phone trying to make out the numbers on it. With them moving as much as they were, it was near impossible to type in a correct phone number. Instead, you opened your contacts and scrolled down to your brother’s name.

The smart thing to do would be to call him for a ride, but the more drunk side of you could only think about the nagging you would get on the way home and probably the month following. So, you scrolled up and down your contacts deciding on who would be the lucky winner to receive a call at 1 in the morning.

Jake groaned as he heard his phone going off. He blindly reached for it and squinted at the bright screen, trying to decipher who the hell would be calling at this hour. He had to be up in a few hours to get ready for another day of trying to get through the near impossible assignment, so unless it was an emergency, he was ignoring it.

The number that flashed on his screen wasn’t one he had seen before. He almost wrote it off as a wrong number or another spam call, but something told him to answer it. The area code was one he knew and a call this late on a Saturday might mean something is going on. So, instead of rolling over and enjoying the few hours of sleep he had left, he answered the mystery number.

“Seresin.”

“Oh shit! That’s the Jake that’s in this phone? Why would he put that number in here?” The voice was female and sounded somewhat familiar but was clearly drunk.

“Sorry to disappoint. Who is this?” Jake was kicking himself for answering it now, having the person insult him within two seconds of talking.

“Ah. Look, you have to promise not to tell my brother anything. Like pinkly swear and everything.” Jake was too tired to entertain childish requests, but the first part of the statement finally sunk in. The only one on the team who had a sister near base was Bradley. Fuck.

“Y/N? Is that you?” He needed the confirmation before freaking out. What did she do that warranted keeping her brother in the dark?

“I am not answering that question until you promise me.” He sat up in bed, turning on the lamp next to him. There was no way this wasn’t her.

“Alright. I promise I won’t tell him right now. Can you tell me what’s going on?” He was hoping she was too drunk to catch how he promised.

“Fine. I’m at this bar with my friend and I played wingman a little too well and she left with this guy. I mean good for her. She just got over this really bad breakup and needed to get laid.” Jake had gotten out of bed and put the phone on speaker as he got dressed. Something told him he was going to have to pick you up from somewhere. That’s if you managed to stop getting sidetracked.

“Anyway, I have this thing about not liking to get in Ubers by myself and it’s a long ass walk back to my apartment.” Jake had grabbed his keys at this point and was walking out the door.

“Where are you? I’m on my way.” He turned on his truck and waited for a response.

“Shoot. Well, we started at one place and now this is place three. No place four. You know what, let me ask because I have no idea.” Jake sighed and shook his head. He had heard stories from Bradley about his younger sister and how reckless you were. Or at least that’s the way he described you. He always kept you on a tight leash, trying his hardest to keep you out of trouble.

But Jake thought you just wanted to have some fun. One of his sisters went through a phase like this and it was best to keep a close eye on them but never push them. For reasons like this.

You told him the name of the bar and he was on his way. “I’ll be there in about 15 minutes. Are you okay to wait inside for me?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I need to finish this water anyway.” Jake told you to call if something came up but he shouldn’t be long.

It wasn’t but 5 minutes later his phone started ringing again. He saved your number as Baby Bradshaw, knowing that this probably wouldn’t be the last time you called him.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Are you close?” As casual as you tried to sound, Jake could hear a slight bit of urgency.

“Five minutes away. Everything alright?” The hesitation that followed his question told him everything he needed to know. But he waited for your response before he pushed the issue further.

“Umm, it’s probably nothing. Just this guy by the bar keeps giving me this look and it’s making me feel a bit uncomfortable. But I’m also drunk and a tiny bit paranoid.” Jake pushed the accelerator down a bit further, breaking a few laws in order to get to you faster. He wasn't going to be blamed for getting the youngest Bradshaw in trouble.

“I’ve always been told to listen to your gut.” He heard the hum on the other end of the line as he blew through a red light.

“My gut is telling me they want tacos.” Jake couldn’t stop the laugh that came out.

“We can get you tacos on the way home, sweetheart. Now do me a favor and stand where a lot of people can see you. People like security or a bouncer. Can you do that for me?” He heard you hum again.

“Slight problem. He is following me now.” Jake’s heart started to beat faster and knew he needed to get there now.

“Shit. What did Bradley say. Thumb out, use your knuckles.” He shook his head trying to figure out what the hell you were saying. But it clicked a second too late.

“No don’t-“ He heard commotion on the other line and parked his truck right outside the bar. Flying out the door, he nearly ran into you as you were standing by the entrance with a bouncer blocking a guy with blood running from his nose from getting close to you.

Jake grabbed you before you could get around the bouncer and pulled you outside. “I told you to stay the hell away from me, you creep!” You were yelling at the guy all the way outside, letting him know you weren’t to be messed with. He wanted to go back in there and show the guy what happens when you mess with innocent people, but he knew leaving your side wouldn’t be for the best.

When the two of you were next to his truck, Jake let go and looked you over. Your face had a red tint to it from what he assumed had just happened, but besides that you looked to be in one piece. That was until he saw your eyes start to water.

He put a hand under your chin and lifted your head up. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You sniffed a few times and wiped the tear that managed to escape. “Bradley didn’t say how much it hurts to hit someone.”

Jake bit back a smile and looked down at your hand. While it was a bit red and would surely bruise tomorrow, it didn’t look too bad.

“He probably didn’t think you would ever have to do that. Why don’t we get you back home and you can tell me what happened.” He watched you nod your head and opened his passenger door for you, closing it when you were in.

He waited a few minutes after you were on the road before asking questions. “Want to tell me why you called me instead of your brother?”

You shook your head at the question. “Have you met my brother? It would be nonstop nagging for God knows how long. Anyone else seemed like the better option.” You paused as you remembered exactly who you were with.

“I will say I didn’t expect him to put your name in my phone. He seems to have a strong dislike for you.” Jake smirked at what you had said and shrugged his shoulders.

“He probably knew I had sisters and would do anything to make sure they were alright. Regardless on who they were related to.” You thought this over and nodded your head. It wasn’t long until the next question came.

“What happened at the bar?” You felt his eyes on you and knew he was more concerned than curious.

“The guy I told you was giving me weird looks ended up following me to the door. He stopped me and tried to grab my hand and even though I pulled it away, he kept coming at me. I don’t know, I guess I just felt like I needed to do something to stop him.” You missed the way Jake’s hands tightened on the steering wheel or the clench in his jaw.

“He was lucky I was 30 seconds behind, or he would’ve gotten more than a broken nose.” You looked over and saw how serious he was. A look your brother wore all too often.

“How long until you tell bird boy what happened?” Jakes eyes caught yours and you saw the conflict in them.

“If I was him, I would want to know something happened to my sister. But I will at least drop you off before I call him. Keep your phone on silent and say you fell asleep. That way you can push it off until he gets off tomorrow.” He heard your sigh but that was the end of that.

It was silent in the car until he heard you say, “I’m not as stupid as my brother makes me out to be.” Stupid was never a word he would have used to describe you. A little carefree maybe, but you knew what you were doing.

“I see someone who wants to have a little fun in their life while they can. Nothing wrong with that.” He glanced over to you to see you playing with your injured hand.

“You’re not as bad as they make you out to be either. Besides my brother, not many people would come and get me when they have to be up soon.” Jake held back a wince when he saw the time. A coffee run in the morning would be needed. Maybe he could talk Natasha into picking him up some from that place she always went to.

He pulled into your apartment complex and parked as close to your building as he could.

“Hey, sweetheart. You can call me anytime you need help, okay? I know your brother and I are not on great terms, but I know he would help me out when family is involved.” You gave him a small smile and thanked him for the ride.

He waited until you closed the door before he backed out of the parking lot, trying to figure out what he was going to say to Bradley. It was nearing 2am and calling him was oit of the question. So, he sent a simple text.

Hey man. Your sister called a random number in her contacts tonight and didn’t realize it was me. She needed a safe ride home and that exactly what I did. We can talk about it more at base, but wanted to let you know she is safe. -Hangman

He went to put his phone down when a text popped up. He prayed Bradley wasn’t awake, wanting to push the rest of that conversation off. But instead, it was baby Bradshaw with the text You never got me tacos.

Jake laughed out loud replying that he owes you some in the near future. With a spitfire attitude that you had, Jake saw the two of you becoming good friends. That’s if Bradley didn’t lock you up after tonight’s events.

A/N: Not too sure how I felt about this one but thinking about doing a Jake and Y/N friend series. Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? Thank you for reading!

Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticcassidy

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #topgun maverick #top gun maverick #chelsea writes #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

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thefrontmanscockwarmer · 5 months ago

Text

Obsession (Part 2)

Player 001 x reader 📖

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Part 1

Tw: stalker!In Ho

Note: (c/n) stand for cat name

5 years had gone by and all In Ho had to go off of were bank statements and transactions to know where you were and if you were still alive. He knew where you lived, your favorite places to eat, to watch movies, and where your favorite shop was. He also knows you have new kitten, but not his name, probably something like (c/n).

No new lover. Nothing since you left. You picked up a job as a (whatever you wanna be), and were living. He knew in his mind the reason you couldn’t move on was because of him and he knew it.

He snuck around and watched you through plain view. Sometimes he sent people to watch you and report back to him. Other times, he’d travel to where you were and stalk you, follow you to the market, ducking you between isles, or on the train, watching you through a crowd of people.

He would stand in front of the cottage you bought on the edge of town, how easy it’d be to take you. You had a bad habit of leaving your windows open. Leaving your life open for all to see. He’s watched you masturbate more times than he can count. He has videos of you throwing your head back as you cum. Your moans quietly seeping through the window. He would jerk off at the same time, cumming in the darkness as he watched you, leaving his cum on the flowers that you planted along the walls of your house.

He hated to admit to himself but he was jerking off to you almost every right, smelling your jacket like a sick man. I am sick he admitted.

So many days and nights he was grabbing onto his bed sheets, pressed up against his shower wall or even in his chair by the big screen, he was cumming for you, with you in mind, he missed you. But he missed your pussy more. Today, he was determined to get it. He approached you as you drank a coffee, typing on your laptop.

“Hello ma’am” he bowed “would you like to hear about your lord and savior Jesus Christ?”

“No, not right n-“ you stopped. “What’re you doing here, In Ho? It’s been 5 years, do you think what I said changed?” You say coldly.

“I know it hasn’t.” He sat before you can continue speaking. “I miss you (y/n). I mean, really fucking miss you. It’s been a lonely 5 years, I miss your smell, your touch, your hair. I miss the way you talk and your smile. I just miss you”

“You know, for a very intelligent man, you’re acting and sounding really fucking stupid.” You scoff rolling your eyes at him. “I mean, you miss me. So what? I miss Young il, but I’m never getting him back, am I?”

“But I’m right here?”

“No… you aren’t young il… I don’t know you”

“And what, you think I lied?!” You nodded. “About what? Huh? What would I possibly lie to you about?”

“Everything, that whole relationship we developed, that sex we had, that love.” You say. “As far as I’m concerned, Young il was an angel and you don’t even exist.”

“But my wallet does?”

“Honestly, you can have your card back.” You shake your head. “I don’t need dirty money”

“It’s clean. It comes from the stocks i invest in. Really (y/n), do you honestly think I’d give you game money?” He looks at you intensely. He wanted to tell you how attracted to you he still was. How his cock still aches for you. How he just wishes to fuck you. It was sitting across from you that he realized he was going to fuck you… whether you liked it or not.

“What do you want?” You sighed finally.

“One date with you. Please.” He stated. He knew deep in his heart that you still wanted him, you yearned for him. He needed you.

“No” you say and stand up.

“Look, one date, to show you who I really am as a person.” He argued. “Who I am outside of those damned games that ruined us. If after that you still decide you hate me, that’ll be all. You can live your life and I can live mine knowing at least I tried to make it better” he pleaded. His eyes pulling at your heart strings as they once did. You saw Young il for a brief moment, before seeing In Ho. You saw the man that was so sweet and gentle.

“Fine. One.” you conceded. You traded numbers and you left. Not knowing that In Ho could now tap your phone, could ruin your whole life. But truly the only thing he wanted to ruin was you.

You made it to your little cottage. It stood on the edge of the city with a small village of cottage farmers surrounding it. Fluffy baby cows and little lambs screamed at you from your neighbors house. Horses neighbors and goats cried. Your life was perfect, this place was perfect. Young il would have loved it… In Ho obviously prefers different style of life. Black and gold, power, money.

“Hi (c/n)” you say as he purred at you. He looped around you as you walked further into your house. You placed your items on your kitchen table. It was already 6. You cooked some dinner and watched an American drama you found on Netflix. Laughing along with the characters.

In Ho made it to his own home. The black and gold now insulted his eyes, it had ever since he saw the disgust on your face while you spoke angry and heartbroken. He sat at his computer, plugging in his phone. He stayed up for hours, deep into the night, hacking into your phone.

“Photos” he said aloud as he clicked it. He found a treasure trove of pictures. You with some friends, with family, birthdays, dinners, then he found your private photos.

“Let’s see (y/n), what do you do all alone” he whispered opening it. Pictures and videos of yourself floated into view, things other men should never see. Disgusting men like him should never see. He quickly searched through your sent and deleted messages, as far back as he could go, they’d never been sent. He returned back to the photos and stared at each on individually, videos playing, hardening his cock.

In Ho began to touch himself as he watched, his hand moving in sync with yours on the screen. He felt like he was participating in your intimate moment, like an invisible partner who you couldn't see or feel but was there nonetheless. He couldn’t help but freely moan into the emptiness of his room.

As the video played on, In Ho's movements became faster and more urgent. He could feel himself getting closer to climax, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt like a teenager again, watching porn, anxious that his parents may walk in. The thought that these were moments meant for no one else's eyes but yours made it even more exhilarating for him.

“I’m gonna cum” you said on camera. To him. “Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking cum” In Ho was getting sent into overdrive heavy sighs coursing through his lungs. “Oh god, Young il, I’m gonna cum on your fingers” he lost it. You were pleasuring to the thought of him, maybe his over persona, but still him nonetheless.

With one final stroke from you on screen and a simultaneous motion from In Ho's own hand came the peak of pleasure for him followed closely by release. His orgasm washed over him so strongly it left him gasping loudly within seconds all over both his keyboard and along edges near the monitor until reaching very tip top edge finally. He was panting, falling backwards, sinking deep into his chair. Cum heavily covered his desk space, now stained forevermore, a mess entirely due to a solely singular sickening act alone performed freely without fear. Through his sinful act.

If you knew would you forgive him?

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senditcolton · 1 month ago

Note

hi I’m back with another request, this time for something different—I think it’s high time we as a community started to appreciate adrian kempe more because he is so pretty and I think he’d be so deliciously mean. so, you have free reign on introducing him to hockeyblr because I know you’ll kill it🩷

- @comphy-and-cozy

Thermostat at 69

a/n: C, ( @comphy-and-cozy )thank you for requesting this. Sorry this is soooo late but here is my first (and definitely not last!) contribution to the Adrian Kempe agenda. Hope it's as delicious and as mean as you were hoping it to be!! Word Count: 4k Song Inspo: Bed Chem by Sabrina Carpenter Warnings: heavily tattooed, tattoo artist reader. smut! Adrian being deliciously mean, degradation, praise, poolside shenanigans, slgiht choking, fingering (f receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, and probably my most depraved cumplay thus far.

There was one widely accepted rule in the world of professional tattooing: don’t fuck your clients.

Most people added the words “with” or “over” to that statement, which was good practice as well. Clients were how you made a living so it was a smart idea not to piss them off. Happy clients brought more business which brought more money.

But not fucking – in other words, sleeping with – your clients was also a good rule. No matter what business you were in, most people agreed blurring the line between personal and professional relationships spelled trouble. This was only heightened when their skin was permanently marked with your artwork.

You knew this.

But when Adrian Kempe walked into your Los Angeles studio, looking to start his newest tattoo sleeve, your portfolio caught his eye which led him to fall into your chair. And the blend of his good looks, his lazy smile, and the sounds he made when that needle hit his skin had him falling into your bed shortly after.

It was a shit idea, brought on by proximity, adrenaline, and mutual attraction – something that should’ve stopped or faded once the initial thrill wore off. But it never did. It also never progressed into something more than casual, a stalemate that you were thankful for. If genuine emotions got involved, it would spell disaster.

Simple. Physical. That made it easier to justify keeping Adrian in your life. Made it easier to cut him out of it if the need ever arose.

But here, now, laying on a lounge chair in the backyard of Adrian’s house, your sketchpad in your lap, the sound of splashing water tickling your ears, and the warm summer sun beating down on you, it was hard to imagine wanting this to ever end.

Your eyes lift from your paper as you drop your pencil to shake out your hand, chasing away the beginnings of a cramp. Through your sunglasses, you can see Adrian swimming laps or doing something equally athletic in the pool, his muscular frame appearing and disappearing over the tiled trim.

Your presence at his house in the afternoon hours indicated that the lines that defined your relationship had begun to shift but you always wrote it off as reaping the benefits of your connection: a pool, a place to relax, and more chances to drink in the sight of Adrian’s body.

Which you gladly do.

Especially as he rises from the water, hands pushing back his chlorine-soaked hair, rivulets falling down his frame. Your eyes rake over him, taking in the swim trunks that look a little too small for his muscular thighs, the ink adorning his tan skin, that gold chain resting against the hollows of his collarbones. You watch as he gathers his blond locks into that ridiculously adorable bun, securing it with the hair tie around his wrist.

Even though you know that he could feel your stare for the past few minutes, Adrian doesn’t turn his dark eyes to you until now, a smirk appearing on his face as he makes his way over to the empty chair next to you, grabbing a towel to dry his skin.

“How’s it going?” he playfully asks, peering over at your sketchbook.

“It’s not. Not really,” you respond with a faux sigh, pushing up your sunglasses to look over your sketches. They were – in fact – almost complete but Adrian didn’t need to know that. Your eyes dart back over to him, fixing him with a stare that borders on risqué.

“Keep getting distracted.”

You can feel your heart flutter when that smirk appears on Adrian’s face and you can practically see his chest lifting as he preens under your attention. It takes all your will-power not to roll your eyes at his reaction, but even if you did, the rush of arousal thrumming through your body would still come.

What can you say? You liked him cocky.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, daring to let your gaze rove over his frame again before returning to his eyes. It is only then, when you feel like you have him in the palm of your hand, do you drop your siren eyes and huff. “My skin feels like it’s on fire.”

Adrian just lets out a small laugh, not at all deflated by your demeanors 180-degree switch. That smile remains on his lips as he drops the towel in his hand, taking a seat at the end of your lounge chair.

“So sorry to hear that,” he says, his voice now laden with a gentle tease.

“I think I need another layer of sunscreen,” you declare, turning your body and grabbing the small bottle sitting on the table next to you. Your hand wraps around the sunscreen, adjusting it in your grasp before you lean back on the lounge chair. With another wicked grin appearing on your lips, you hold out the bottle to Adrian.

“Can you help me?”

The question is coy, ladened with all the feigned innocence you can muster. Hell, you even throw some batted eyelashes into the mix. Another deep chuckle emanates from Adrian’s chest, wise to your games but still thoroughly enjoying being a part of them too.

“What wrong with your hands?”

“I don’t want to get any oil residue all over my pages. Ruin all my hard work.”

The excuse comes to your lips easily as you act like that was the most obvious and only reason you wanted Adrian’s hands all over your body instead of your own. Adrian just laughs again before taking the bottle from your hands. You smile at him, happy to get your way as you lift yourself to an upright position. Adrian’s eyes watch you even as he squeezes the sunscreen into the palm of his hand. You shoot him a playful wink before flipping your body around, your back now facing him and your legs straddling the lounge chair.

The sharp intake of breath that you hear behind you makes you giggle quietly to yourself. You know you look good, the small bikini putting your own tattooed skin on full display. Adrian had previously mentioned multiple times that this was one of his favorite views. Why wouldn’t you indulge his pleasures?

Your hands reach up to gather your hair into a clip before tossing another glance over your shoulder.

“Make sure you cover all my ink,” you playfully demand. You can see Adrian’s dark eyes flow over your body, following the lines and curves of the ornamental tattoos cutting through your skin and highlighting your own natural curves. Another smile tugs at your lips as you turn back, a soft sigh escaping you when you feel the weight of him scoot closer.

“I won’t miss a spot,” he murmurs, that accented voice heavy.

The chill of the sunscreen hitting your skin feels heavenly, almost as heavenly as Adrian’s hands and you don’t stop the pleased hum that falls from your lips at his touch. You can feel his body shift as he diligently works the lotion into your skin.

It starts innocent enough, Adrian’s hands smoothing over your back, against your shoulder blades and down your spine. But soon, his touch starts to wander. It’s exactly what you were hoping, exactly what you expected. Although, you do have to admire his commitment to keeping up the ruse of applying your sunscreen, his hands only following the path of your tattoos.

They dance around the curve around your shoulders, pressing into your collarbones before lifting to just barely cup your throat before retreating.

They wrap around your ribcage, fingers gliding just barely underneath the cups of your bikini top, his thumb just a whisper over the swell of your breasts before vanishing.

They follow the ridge of your spine down before spreading across your lower back, sneaking underneath the strings that held your bottoms onto your frame, strong fingers pressing into the muscle of your hips. It isn’t an encouragement to lean back but you take it all the same, your head coming to rest against his strong shoulders.

You hear a quiet hum vibrate from Adrian, his touch moving along the curve of your body, the strings of your bikini still stretched over his large hands. It’s only when his palms are securely over the cut of your hipbones, his middle fingers resting perfectly in the crease where your thighs meet your torso, do his movements stop.

“Need anything else from me?” he whispers, his breath scorching the shell of your ear. Your eyelids flutter open, connecting with his darkened stare, that fucking smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

And with that, you knew you were done for.

You should’ve known it from the beginning. The two of you always ended up like this; you all bold and bratty at the start and all Adrian had to do was touch you and you melted like ice cream on a summer’s day in his hands. It would be annoying if both of you didn’t enjoy the game, the dance, the tease. True, he was yours to command and control but only when he was in your tattoo chair. Anywhere else, you relinquished yourself to him.

“I should probably keep sketching,” you murmur, trying desperately to hold onto any modicum of strength, pretending that you hadn’t already become weak under his attention.

“Are they for a client?” he asks, his fingers flexing against your skin, sending another rush of heat through your body – a heat that had nothing to do with the sun still beating down on the two of you. You gently shake your head, looking up at him with your eyes wide and pleading.

“Then they can wait.”

The sigh of relief that escapes from you is almost immediately swallowed as Adrian captures his lips in yours, one of his hands moving to rest over your pubic bone, his fingers reaching lower. You whine into his mouth as his fingers slip over your clit, down between your folds.

“So wet already,” he mutters, gently caressing your heat, forcing more of your arousal to slicken his skin. “And I’ve barely even touched you. Such a desperate little slut.”

There is a delicious rush of shame that runs through you, one that makes your cheeks heat as you bury your face into the juncture of his neck. You hear his dark chuckle vibrate against your back, his other hand disappearing from your thigh before reappearing around your neck. His elegant fingers press against your jawline, forcing your eyes to reattach to his.

“Getting all shy on me now? Like this wasn’t the reason you called me over,” he teases, his now soaked fingers lifting from your center to press against your clit.

You whine as he starts to circle the sensitive nub, the pressure delectable but just shy of enough. Your hips buck at their own volition, silently begging for more, causing another laugh to fall from Adrian.

“There’s my girl,” he whispers, that quiet praise just spurring you on more. “Always so needy.”

Adrian slowly increases the speed and pressure of his fingers against your clit, the sensation causing more arousal to pool in your bikini bottoms, bottoms that Adrian hadn’t even bothered to remove. You dare to look down and the sight of his hand disappearing beneath the fabric made you feel even more desirable, like he wanted this so much that he didn’t want to waste any time with the removal even though all he had to do was untie the two bows on your hips.

You’re slowly reduced to whimpers and whines as Adrian continues his ministrations, your lips slightly agape in breathy need, your eyes constantly tracing his face, the lazy cocky expression never leaving, even as he purposefully takes you apart.

A shift of his fingers has you whining, the calloused tips now pressing almost directly against you, sending white hot jolts of fire through your body. The sounds that emanate from you are an amalgamation of curses, pleas, and Adrian’s name, only spurred on by the feeling of Adrian’s hard length pressed against the base of your spine.

“That’s it, alskling,” he mutters, the grip around your neck tightening just enough to hold you in place against him as your body begins to writhe. “Just like that.”

You whine, chest heaving as one of your own hands grip the side of the lounger while the other finds purchase on Adrian’s arm resting across your chest. The heat that flows through you makes your body feel on fire, Adrian’s movements between your thighs never ceasing. You can feel your eyes start to roll back, nearing the crest of that pleasurable peak. Adrian presses a gentle kiss against your temple, a sharp contrast to the sinful things he is doing with his fingers before his sultry voice hits your ear.

“Come for me, prinsessa. Remind me why I never want you to leave my bed.”

The demand is clear and you are helpless to do anything but obey, your body spasming as your orgasm washes over you. Adrian holds you tight against his chest, only your hips moving to chase his hands as he works you through your high, groaning at the feeling of your release flooding from your pussy.

“So fucking beautiful,” he mutters into your hair, fingers flexing against your throat as your body slowly begins to still. You look up at him, your eyelids heavy and your breathing light, wanting to feel his lips against yours again. Adrian reads your silent plea, kissing you deeply and the warmth fills you from the inside, content and satiated, even as his hand withdraws from the apex of your thighs.

You think it’s the end of it, your desires reached and Adrian’s hands disappearing from your body. It takes a decent amount of strength to lift yourself upright, the sweat that had collected on your shoulders from where they were pressed against Adrian’s chest beading down your back. You can feel the weight of Adrian’s body vanishing from the lounge chair and you are about to follow suit.

Until – right as one of your knees presses into the mesh fabric of the lounger – you feel Adrian’s hand grip your shoulder and carelessly throw your body forward. You manage to catch yourself, your arms resting on the top of the chair as you glance over your shoulder.

“Adrian, what are – ”

The question dies on your lips when you feel Adrian’s hips press against your backside, the weight of his dick against your now soaked bikini bottoms forcing a choked moan from your chest.

“You think I’m gonna let you tease me and you’re the only one that gets any pleasure from it?” he muses, that dominant edge appearing in his accented words.

“But you like it,” you attempt to quip, although the words sound more like a whimper as his hand traces down the ink adorning your back before gliding over the curve of your ass.

“Yeah, I do,” he says, hand tugging the material of your bikini to the side, exposing your cunt, glistening in the summer sun with your prior release. “But I like the feeling of you wrapped around me more.”

Adrian only gives you a moment to register his words before you feel the silken head of his length pressing against your slit. You whine as he pushes into you, a string of Swedish curses falling from his lips.

“Fucking love the way your cunt feels after you’ve come. So wet and tight for me.”

His name leaves your lips in a desperate whimper, your chest heaving at the sensation of Adrian deliciously and deliberately stretching you open. Your hands grip the top of the lounger as you press your hips back, taking him deeper. You can hear his chuckle pierce the air before he sharply thrusts forward, his body now flush against your ass, the length of him fully sheathed inside of you.

“Fuck,” you spit out, the feeling of Adrian filling you so completely that you couldn’t understand how you were ever satisfied before him. Adrian responds with a similar curse, one of his hands gripping your hip and the other finding a place next to yours on the back of the lounger.

You can feel the heat of him washing over you as he withdraws his hips, the sensation of him pulling out of you almost as delectable as the feeling of him pressing into you.

Your head drops down, forehead pressing against your arms draped over the top of the lounge chair as Adrian begins a steady rhythm. His grip on your hip is strong, pulling your body back to meet him with every thrust, the depraved sound of both of your sweat-slick skin slapping together combining with the mutual moans and filling the humid summer air.

“Such a perfect view,” you hear Adrian mutter, more to himself but the words do make another rush of arousal run through you. “Such a pretty fucking thing.”

Even if you wanted to respond, you don’t think you could, the sheer feeling of pleasure erasing all coherent thought from your mind.

A gasp is torn from your lips as you feel Adrian’s hand fall from its spot on your hips, curling around your body before sneaking down and pressing against your clit.

“A-Adrian,” you whimper, the pressure of his calloused fingertips against the sensitive bundle of nerves setting your body ablaze. “Fuck, its – it’s too much.”

Adrian responds with a small hum, seemingly in understanding but instead of removing his fingers, he simply stops all movements, pressing his hips flush against your ass. You whine – this time in disappointment – and you feel the heat of him cascade over you as he leans down, his chest hovering mere millimeters from your back, the warmth of his breath hitting the shell of your ear.

“Is this better, prinsessa?” he asks and you can hear the tease in his words, him fully knowing that it isn’t. Even in your first rendezvous’, Adrian somehow had an insane innate understanding of your body, your pleasure, your needs, and he regularly took advantage of that ability.

You whimper, the sudden stillness making you keen as your pussy flutters around him, your core pulsing against his fingers.

“I can feel how much you want it,” he whispers, his voice dipping deeper into an almost growl. “Always so fucking desperate.”

You can only manage to let out another whine, his name falling from your lips in a drawn-out plea.

“Come on, alskling. Take it. Show me how much you want my cock.”

Like every time before this one, his demand makes you desperate which makes you comply. You rock your body forward, a moan falling from your lips at the renewed sensation of him sliding against your walls, his fingers still maintaining pressure on your clit. Driven by the need of Adrian – of the pleasure he could provide – you press back with a fervor, practically slamming your hips back to meet his.

“Fuck, there’s a good girl,” Adrian moans, the heat of his words muffled as he buries his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulders. His praise just spurs you on, your hips circling as you continue your rhythm against him.

The pressure coiling within you continues to build, your breathing becoming staccato. The only noises coming from your mouth are half-uttered whimpers and moans. You were so close, you could feel it. But you needed more. You needed him.

You somehow find the strength to lift your head, looking behind you, your gaze landing on his pulled-back blonde hair, his lips still pressing kisses into your shoulder blades.

“Adrian,” you manage to whine out, the syllables extended with pure want. The sound calls his attention to you, those sultry eyes lifting up to meet yours and that sight makes you moan again. “Need you,” you whimper, your lips moving into a soft pout and Adrian – like always – reads your desire with an ease that makes your head spin.

His hand falls the top lounge chair to cup your jawline, a soft brush of his thumb against your supple skin a sharp contrast to the way your body is still writhing underneath him. He pulls you closer, until his lips are only a whisper away from yours, your eyes fluttering close.

“Come for me, prinsessa,” he whispers. “Prove that your all mine.”

The quiet demand is what finally sends you over the edge, your orgasm pulsing through you. Any moan that falls from you is swallowed by Adrian lips and tongue pressing against yours as your body trembles with the force of your release.

Adrian wastes no time taking over your rhythm, fucking his hips into you as the aftershocks of your orgasm still linger. Your tear your lips away from his, a shriek escaping you as Adrian uses your body to chase his own release. Your breathing is fast and shallow, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as Adrian takes what he wants.

“Feel so fucking good,” he grits out.

You only respond with another stuttered whimper before a gasp is torn from your mouth as Adrian’s body suddenly and completely vanishes from yours. Another surprised breath is forced from you when Adrian’s strong hands grip your hips and flip you over, your back crashing against the lounge chair.

Your eyes dart up to land on Adrian, his body towering over you, silhouetted by the afternoon sunlight. Your gaze trails down, across his taut muscles of his chest and stomach to where his hand is wrapped around his hard cock, stroking a quick rhythm against the smooth skin glistening with your release.

“Want to come seeing that beautiful face,” he mutters and even in your post-orgasm haze, a soft smile appears on your lips. Your hands lift, cupping your breasts as your mouth gently drops open, tongue pressing against your teeth, a silent encouragement. You can see Adrian’s eyes darken, his pace increasing until his groan cuts through the summer heat, hot ropes of his cum hitting your chin and splattering across your decolletage. You moan, your tongue darting out to collect the creamy release as you stare up at Adrian, his own breath slowing.

Adrian’s eyes finally open, those piercing irises looking down at you, dancing over your skin now marred with his cum. You let out a soft giggle, the sound of it pulling Adrian fully back to the present moment, a smile appearing on his own face.

“Well,” he muses as he lifts himself off the lounge chair. “I don’t know if I was very helpful with applying your sunscreen.”

The joke makes your smile grow wider before it turns wicked, your finger dancing over your breasts, gathering more of Adrian’s release on your fingertips.

“That’s okay,” you tease, lifting your fingers to your lips and dipping them into the warm cavern of your mouth, sucking them clean before popping them out. “I think I like this better.”

You can see a flash of renewed interest dance within Adrian’s eyes in response to your teasing before he extends a hand to you.

“Join me in the shower?” he offers, his upturned palm and the subtle promise of more beckoning you.

“And ruin all of your hard work?” you quip, not quite ready to give in. “Seems a little wasteful, no?”

Adrian doesn’t respond at first, choosing to wait until you finally place your palm in his. With his strength, he hauls you off the lounge chair and onto your feet. You watch as his eyes dart down to your chest, his cum now pooling in your collarbones. A gasp falls from you as his head darts down, tongue extending to press against your body, lapping up his own release from your skin. His mouth follows the curve of your throat before jumping to your lips. You moan as he presses his tongue against yours, the tang of him filling your mouth as you whimper, your knees growing weak before he pulls away.

“We can always make another mess later.”

a/n 2: this was hastily edited after a very long day at work so I apologize for any mistakes/repetition/etc. but I just had to get it out because y'all have waited long enough (especially you C, since I kept torturing you with mentions of it in our messages)

taglist: @laurenairay @fallinallincurls @solros-world @svexhenthusiast @jjgsunflower @alexxavicry

#nicole writes #fic request #adrian kempe fic #adrian kempe imagine #adrian kempe smut #la kings fic #la kings imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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exhaslo · 1 year ago

Text

Over-Time Ch4

(CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3

Warning: MINORS DNI, eventual smut, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing, fluff

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"This is the big bad CEO's office," Lyla said with a wide smile as she stood proudly in front of the large set of doors.

Your eyes could only widen as you thought of the man behind those doors. Such a powerful person was able to make Alchemax what it was. This was going to be your future boss. As nervous as you were, you had to make a good first impression!

"Stop scaring the new girl,"

Your ears perked up as you recognized the voice. Your breathing nearly halted as the doors began to open, revealing Miguel.

"Huh? Miguel? Y-You're...You're the C-CEO?"

Your heart stilled for a moment as you recalled everything you had done. Your clumsiness for bumping into the CEO on your interview day, chatting with him so casually in the elevator and showing every form of weakness possible.

As you heart started to gain pace, your chest swelled with regret. It was difficult, but you held back your tears. Noticing the treat on his desk, you immediately bowed your head,

"I-I'm so...so sorry! I-I-"

"There is no need to apologize. It is I who should give my apologies. I was the one who deceived you." Miguel said with a smile.

"Ew, your smiling." Lyla muttered.

As Miguel bickered lowly with Lyla, you still felt your head spinning a mile a minute.

"Anyway-" Miguel gently shoved Lyla to the side, "I was more so enjoying the presence of someone who did not know who I was, which led me to fooling you. For that, I apologize."

"Ah-" You gasped, finally letting yourself breathe, "S-So...was I hired...because of...of my skill or-"

"Duuuuuh, girl. This guy doesn't know the meaning of special treatment. He's just a big oaf." Lyla pitched in with a smug eating grin. Miguel could only grumble to her response,

"Please ignore her statements about me. I look forward to working with you from now on. As you know, Lyla will be going on vacation very soon. During this time she will guide you on everything you will have to do. That is, if you are still willing-"

"Yes! Yes I am!" You nearly shouted before covering your mouth, "S-Sorry, I am. I really want to better...myself and you have given me this um, opportunity."

Glancing up at Miguel, you felt butterflies in your stomach as he smiled towards you.

"I'm glad to hear that." His voice was still so gentle, "Well, I have a meeting I must get ready for. Why don't you take the rest of the day off and we will see you tomorrow, yes?"

"Y-Yes!"

-----------

Miguel was the CEO. Miguel was the CEO. MIGUEL WAS THE CEO OF ALCHEMAX! AND I MADE A FOOL OF MYSELF!

The thoughts raged through your mind as you quietly sat on the bus on your way home. Biting your nail, you tried to calm down, but it was no use. Despite Miguel being so kind to you, you still couldn't stop from recalling your foolishness.

You had to make it up to him.

You HAD too.

------------

"Why are you being so nice?" Lyla asked once the two entered Miguel's office.

"Am I not human?" Miguel said with a snort, "Is it so wrong of me to treat another with kindness? I am surrounded by selfish fools and greedy bastards every second of the day. It is nice to have a change."

"Yeah, but I really don't want to see her bend over on your desk crying your name out when I come back."

"Lyla!" Miguel felt his cheeks burn, "You know me better than that."

"I do. Which is why I'm totally predicting a few outcomes."

"You have little faith in me,"

Miguel sat at his desk and let out a heavy sigh. As nice as he may have seemed to you, Lyla was not wrong. As a man, Miguel already had a thought, though for a mere second, of you under him. The face you might make when he shoved his dick inside those walls of yours.

"You're totally thinking about it now, gross." Lyla chuckled, "You're lucky she's a quiet one, but....that's also a problem."

Clearing his throat, Miguel rid himself of those naughty thoughts as he listened to Lyla.

"I know. (Y/n) will get eaten alive by my business partners. I'm sure you can find a way to boost her confidence in this short amount of time."

"Against those horny old bastards? Duh," Lyla hummed before plopping herself against Miguel's couch, "It's her I'm more worried about."

"She hasn't-"

"Every women who tries to enter your life has fled because of her. You're lucky I have the biggest pair of balls in his city to even stand a chance against that snake."

"I recall...I wonder if she still has your bite marks-"

"Bitch better! They were sharp and clean from my dental appointment!" Lyla huffed before fixing her hair, "But even so, not even I am capable of preparing someone against her. I fear that your new assistant will be eaten alive."

"Then I'll be the only one of us to have faith in (Y/n)."

"Hm,"

-----------

Miguel inhaled deeply as he stood against his balcony, enjoying the quiet night. It felt strange to not be so stressed out after a long day of work. Taking a sip of his drink, Miguel couldn't help but recall your expression from earlier.

You looked like a deer caught in headlights once Miguel revealed himself. Your face turned bright red and your words fumbling with each other. It was cute. Miguel assumed that you were overthinking and panicked.

But, he still had faith in you. You hadn't made any sort of move to try and win him over yet. Most tend to try and meet with Miguel after hours. Instead, you sent another apology email for your actions and for the salty snack.

"How has such a little mouse survived this long? In this city of predators like myself?"

Humming to the thought, Miguel also recalled that 'snake' that Lyla brought up. All Miguel had to do was hide your existence for the next few months and you'll be fine.

"Hm, but will she be fine against me?"

---------

It was day two of you officially working at Alchemax. Lyla was going to show you the ropes.

However, you had to get Miguel's morning coffee.

"Miguel turns into such a grumpy beast when he doesn't have his coffee. I've already memorized his order, but I wrote it down for you along with the place we get it from. I also put my order on there, and feel free to get yourself something."

"A-Are you sure? This is the company card." You stuttered, feeling a little nervous about a simple coffee run.

"It's Miguel's card and he doesn't mind. Once we've all had our energy, I'll start showing you the first morning tasks."

"Okay,"

You tried to stop shaking as you put the card and paper in your wallet. Hurrying downstairs, you tried to calm down. This was your first unofficial task for Miguel. A simple coffee run. How bad could it really be?

------

You shuddered as you stood in front of your old job. Your hands trembling as you held the piece of paper in your hand. You hardly worked this early in the morning, so it would make sense why you never thought of Alchemax workers getting their coffee from here.

Hell, you hardly even noticed how close the two jobs were to one another.

Inhaling deeply, you made your way inside. Sweat rolled down your neck as you saw your old co-workers in the middle of a rush. Each of them yelling out orders and ingredients. As long as they stayed busy and didn't notice you, it would be fine.

"Wel-Oh! (Y/n)! Nice of you to join us."

And there was the hostility.

"What?! She's here?! After she didn't show up for my shift yesterday?!"

"....I....quit...." You whispered, trying to hide behind the line of people waiting for their order.

"Well since you're here, clock in and help us."

"I....can't," You tried to say.

Didn't your manager tell everyone that you quit? You made sure to call them last night to inform them that you weren't going to work there anymore. You quit this toxic job for Alchemax. So why, why is everyone still so harsh?

"(Y/N)! We need the help!" Another coworker yelled out.

You were shaking as everyone started to stare at you. The paper in your hand starting to crumble as you shook. They didn't need your help. You were just going to make a mess with how busy it was. They just wanted to yell at you.

"I-I can't! I'm just here for my new job!" You nearly cried out.

"Tch, what a liar."

And there it was. You lowered your head as the line kept moving. The stares you were getting were intense. Everyone probably thought that you were an asshole. As you waited, you felt your phone buzz.

"H-Hello?" You stuttered.

"Ah! (Y/N)! I hope it isn't too late, could you-"

"(Y/N)! I heard from the others that you refuse to help, especially after not showing up yesterday. We need to have a word in my office." Your morning manager hissed.

"B-But...I-I-"

"It seems busy. I'll text you the item." Lyla said before hanging up.

Oh, how you wanted to cry. What were you to do? You could never stand up to the managers. Why didn't the night manager inform everyone that you quit?

"To. My. Office."

"What seems to be the problem?"

Your breathing hitched as you turned to find Miguel. You couldn't hold back the tears as Miguel placed his hand against your shoulder. It was amazing. Everyone immediately froze as they stared at your new boss. Were you the only one who didn't know that he was the CEO?

"You're-" Your manager snapped out of his shocked state, "I was just going to handle my associate about her teamwork and customer service."

"Your associate?" Miguel scoffed, "From my understanding and resources, she quit your establishment last night. (Y/n) works for me now. If this shop doesn't wish to treat my associates fairly, then Alchemax will gladly take our business elsewhere." Miguel said firmly, motioning you to follow him out.

"I'm sorry, sir! We weren't aware that she quit. Please, allow us to make you your drink on the house-"

"We don't need your charity. Instead, apologize to her."

"S-Sir, I...I really-"

"Don't let them talk down to you as if you're nothing," Miguel whispered in your ear, "You deserve to be treated fairly."

As if something was stuck in your throat, you could only nod towards Miguel. Glancing towards your old manager, you waited for his forced apology. You still didn't like the stares. You knew that you could never come back here after this.

It took a minute, but your old manager finally apologized. Miguel just smirked before walking you out of the shop. Finally feeling like you could breathe, you turned to face Miguel once you were a good distance away.

"I-I'm sorry for causing t-trouble...B-But...How did you know I-I was there?" You asked with a stutter. Miguel removed his hand from your shoulder,

"I normally come in a little late to give Lyla her 'beauty time' as I call it. It also gives her time to get my morning coffee without having to rush. I tend to take this route every now and then and couldn't help but notice you in the café."

"I'm sorry I'm being a burden already," Frowning as you lowered your head, you stared at the crumbled paper in your hand, "I couldn't even get this right-"

"Don't cry," Miguel hushed, lifting your chin, "You can't blame yourself for the foolish acts of others."

"I'm sorry," You whimpered once more. Miguel just let out a soft sigh, wiping a tear away,

"Come. I don't have a meeting for another hour or so. Why don't we spend some time looking for a new coffee shop? I wouldn't want you going back to that hostile place."

Watching Miguel hold his arm out, you sniffed as you calmed down. Lyla said that Miguel was a beast without his coffee, but he was still ever so kind to you. Taking his arm, you gladly took Miguel's offer as you spent some time getting to know your new boss.

---------

Lyla pouted as she sat in her office, staring at the clock.

"Where the hell is my coffee?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Chapter

@timidquindim @decentsoupperson @ivkygirly @reader-1290 @daddyfroglegs @eepybunny0805 @ddreabea @iamperson12280 @migueloharasoulmate @tojishugetiddies @koko-1025 @hyeinwluv85s @daisy-artfield @migueloharastruelove @a-lil-whore @hcqwxrtss123 @the-pan-liquid @tojisfav @pochapo @bubblegumfanfictions @brighterthanlonelythoughts @ghstypaint @mangoslushcrush @synamonthy @scaleniusrm @moonspectorx @dorck26 @a060403 @lunablackcosplay @soraya-daydreams @lovefanfic1 @mymrsweirdnessshipperstuff-blog @pretty-pink-princesss @corpsebridenightamare @razertail18 @gachagator @droolingmuttt @miguelsfavwife @ryzguy06 @raideaters-blog @manishkaworld @keidilla @byjessicalotufo @pigeonmama @k3ythesapphic @acesangels @stealingyourturts @angel-xx-1 @amberbalcom14 @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @oscarissac2099 @keepghostly @zeyzeys-stuff @k3ythesapphic @nightingale1011 @mari0-o @uncle-eggy @safixiovi @flaps200 @dahehow @weirdothatwritess @gerblinradio @electronicchaoschaos @mafiaanomaly @pochapo

#spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara smut #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel x y/n

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chleem · 9 months ago

Text

Flashing lights prologue

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping, (read at own caution

⋆.˚ please dont copy/translate my work!

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter 1 | index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Talk about a scandal.

‘Drew Starkey, rising star from OBX, impregnates girl and refuses to take responsibility.’ ‘Drew Starkey impregnates girl and forces her for an abortion.’ ‘All to know about OBX star that SA a girl.’

Even an interview starring a random girl that claims to be pregnant with Drew’s child.

If Drew knew going to the club a week ago would cause such big damage to his career, he would have never stop foot in there. But being stubborn and a sucker for fun, he just needed the relaxation that clubbing would offer.

His PR manager Henry, who Drew’s only sees once a year, is surprisingly quiet. He sits across Drew, staring at his laptop. His typing makes up for the quiet and tense (at least for Drew) atmosphere in his manager’s office.

“I’m sorry,” Drew starts, genuinely, his eyes shifting between his manager Jeff and Henry. “Look, I don’t know who that woman is. She’s lying, alright? I didn’t even talk to any strangers last night. Just my friends. And I was careful with how much I drank-”

“Calm down, we didn’t accuse you of it,” Jeff chuckles, also surprisingly calm and not scolding Drew. Normally, Jeff would scold Drew so hard that it took Drew back to the days of being coached by his dad. “I’ve worked with you for almost ten years, I know you wouldn’t do that.”

Hold up. Was this a dream? He fucked up real bad, why were his managers so forgiving? So… calm? This felt way too strange. They should be furious right now, thinking of a solution and threatening to kill Drew. So why were they so gentle with this situation?

Drew adjusts his hat, pocking his tongue against his cheek. Without thinking, he simply says, “What?”

Jeff glances at Henry, who nods, looking up from his laptop. Drew furrows his eyebrows at Jeff, who simply looks away as Henry starts. “Fine, Drew. We’re all fucking pissed at your mistake. Do you know how many sponsors have asked to break up your contract? Even after we’ve came up with a clean statement? For fuck’s sake, Drew. You’re fucking thirty now, and you still act like a fucking child!”

Drew licks his lips looking away. Okay, this was the Henry he saw yelling at other artists, and what he expected when he walked into the office this morning. But now that he was yelling at him, it felt horrible still. After all, who likes to be yelled at?

“I’ve had to pull multiple strings to help you, to clear your name up. So you better hope this is your last mistake,” Henry continues.

Drew couldn’t help but ask, “what did you do?”

“We’ve come up with a plan,” Henry says, walking over to the printer. He grabs the paper, taking a quick look before placing it on the table in front of Drew.

Drew’s eyebrows furrow, sensing something really strange.

And he was right. On the top of the paper, it read, “Fake dating Proposal.”

What the fuck. He reads through the first sentence in his head, with widen eyes, “In order to save Drew Starkey’s career, he must conduct a year-long fake relationship with Y/n Y/l/n.”

He falls back in his seat. “You’re not fucking serious. This is the strings you had to pull? This is fucking ridiculous! How is this-“

“Drew!” Jeff yells, making him shut up. His face was slightly red, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Drew, trust us. We wouldn’t cause more harm. This, this will save your career, save you.”

“but out of anyone-“ Drew adjusts his hat once again. “Out of anyone, and you chose her?”

“She’s the best choice of right now, and the only one who even agreed. Drew. You’re not in the place of choosing. You sign, and you accept it. Or it’s the end.”

He couldn’t believe himself right now. Literally. Out of every solution, every person, it had to be you. You, the one person he can’t stand. You, the one person that gets him worked up and annoyed. It was like the end of the world for him.

Worse, his manager seems to agree with this solution. As if he doesn’t know how much Drew despises you. Jeff places the pen next to Drew. “I hate to say this, but Drew, you’re screwed unless you do this. We see the vision, and in a few years, you’ll see it too. Just, just treat this as another acting class, okay?”

Do I have a choice anyways, he thinks. Drew rubs his face in annoyance. Fuck. Damn you and damn himself. Getting into this stupid situation in the first place.

He looks at the contract again. Sees your name again. And his head hurts a thousand times worse than a hangover.

He reads through the contract terms, cringing at it.

‘Must show up at five or more public evens together.’

‘Must show PDA at public events, such as touching, holding hands, kissing etc.’

‘Y/n Y/l/n must talk sweetly about Drew Starkey, and steer away any negative comments.’

‘During the course of this fake-relationship, being seen with any other costar of the opposite sex is forbidden.’

Much more was listed, at least twenty terms were on this contract alone. So this is the real thing.

And at the bottom, Drew sees what was offered. Wow. You get offered millions of dollars, while all Drew receives is a clear to his scandal.

He should at least get half the amount you’re earning, considering that he has to put up with you. “How can she get so much cash?” Drew asks, curiosity killing him.

“Because she’s got nothing to gain from being with you,” Jeff states matter-of-factly, that hurt Drew’s ego more than it should have. He also noticed how much money this was, almost all the money he earned from acting in OBX. Wow. So not only were you a moody bitch, but a greedy one as well.

Drew rubs his eyes aggressively, a frustrated yawn coming out. He so is going to regret this. The worst decision he ever has to make.

You better be the savior to his career, or he was going to kill himself.

Drew signs, pushing the paper away as if it had some kind of disease.

Henry forces a smile, grabbing the paper. Drew gets ready to leave, but Henry stops him. “Where are you going?”

“Home. I- that was enough for me.”

“No, no. You’re going to Y/n’s filming set.”

“What?”

“Yes, you heard me. Her manager gave the green light, so you’re going.”

“Fuck, it’s only like, a minute since I signed.”

“Hey, I’m saving you right now,” Henry says. “Now, you want your sponsors back or not?”

Drew curses under his breath, never wanting to punch a wall as much as right now. “Fine. I'll go. But I can’t promise that I’m hugging or touching her or anything. She’s a complete stranger to me.”

“We just need a couple of photos to leak out,” Jeff says, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll drive you there.”

“Fucking hate you Jeff,” Drew says, walking out the office. “Henry you asshole.”

Either his managers heard and said whatever, or they didn’t care. But cursing at people who's helping him ‘save’ his career was the least of his worries. His head is just consumed with meeting you again, the brattiest bitch he's ever known.

-------------------------------

word count: 1.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: i'm sooo happy for the support and how much people liked the teaser! i was giggling seeing the reblogs and likes.

anyways, thought i should release a prologue first, to give drew's pov of this situation. apologies in advance for y/n's character and anyone who can't handle her! but i'm so excited for you guys to read ch1, which will be released later this week! like or comment to show support, really appreciate it <3

elevator | other | index | ch1

#drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #actor #actress #fanfic #series #drew starkey x you #fiction #obx #flashing lights #prologue #angst #fake dating #slow burn #enemies to lovers

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amelee23 · 5 days ago

Text

Say yes | Park Jongseong (Jay)

Genre: Romance, Fluff (very sappy)

Pairing: Jay x gender neutral reader

Word count: 727

Warnings: a kiss or two, established relationship, super sappy, tooth rooting fluff, my usual poetic nonsense

A/N: Hello Engene! I very recently joined the fandom, so it's nice to join you! I'm Lee, I write super poetic fanfics cuz words control me not the other way around lol. Let me know if you like it!

"Come 'ere." He gently asked, patting his legs to invite you over. There were other free chairs in the kitchen, and yet he insisted you sit on his lap instead.

You walk up to him and playfully feign confusion. "Should I sit to the side, or face to face?" You tease, and you can see the small dimples form as a smile warms up his face.

"However you want, my love."

"Hmm." You hum. "But what about you? What would be your choice?" He knows you are playing with him, and yet he isn't shy or scared to walk exactly into your trap. He quite likes it, actually.

"I think face to face would be nicest."

You smile at him and gently sit down on his thighs. He is warm, and welcoming, sunshine in his eyes and the sunset sparkling on his lips. He admires you softly, gently, quietly and warmly. You find purchase on his shoulders, and he doesn't move, yet it feels as though he is yearning in your general direction, as if he wants to be closer.

"May I hold you?" He asks for consent and you happily oblige.

"Yes." You reply with a smile.

"And may I kiss your cheek?"

"Yes." You agree again, and he steals a quick kiss from you before dragging you closer to his torso.

He holds you by the waist, you hold him by the shoulders, and for a while the world stops. The planet stops spinning, apples become an immortal fruit, and clouds and thunders no longer are rivals in the sky.

He caressed your waist with his thumb and you play with the hairs at the back of his neck as you gaze into each other's eyes. It's comfortable, and it's soft, and you both have sappy thoughts running through your minds that you are too afraid to tell each other about. (Even though they would be completely obvious to see for any third party.)

You blink once, and you blink twice, and suddenly you can hear your food begin to boil on the stove. You're back to the real world, but he's still there, so it's not that bad.

"You're so beautiful." He says softly, almost absentmindedly, as if he was accidentally voicing out intimate thoughts from his mind.

"Me?" You laugh. "Are you sure you don't have the wrong person?"

"Ey, don't be silly." He says, his tone unrushed and calm. His hands move up to caress your face, and he's almost squishing your cheeks as he looks at you in admiration. "You are extremely beautiful to me."

"But there are other people out there who are prettier than me... dress better than me, are better put together..." He holds his gaze steady as he answers you, and his calm tone never wavers.

"Why would I care about other people? I don't hold you to the standard of other people."

"What standard do you hold me to, then? You ask with curiosity, wondering exactly where he could go with such a statement. (Or what kind of witty boyfriend save he could pull.)

"I hold you to the standard of you. On a scale of one to ten, how yourself are you being today? That's how it goes. If it's a ten, then I'm happy. If the number is low, then I need to work harder to make you feel more comfortable." You break into a fit of giggles. If you weren't on his lap, you would be squealing and kicking your feet from how disgusting sweet he was being. "I just want you to be yourself."

"That's the most you answer you could have given me." You tell him, and he smirks at you as stars begin to dance in his eyes.

"Does that mean that you also want me to be me?" He wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you don't know if you want to kiss him silly or slap him on the chest.

"Can I kiss you?" You ask, and you read the anticipation on his face.

"Yes."

You cradle his face, lean in and capture his heavenly lips with yours. It's a short kiss, but one that says a lot. One that isn't just an offering of love, but also a silent plea for everlasting affection.

"Yes." You tell him, in order to respond to his unanswered question. "Always yes."

------------------------------------------

Reblogs are greatly appreciated 🙏

And if you have the time, please consider leaving feedback!

Thank you for being here and have a great day!

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myysaints · 2 years ago

Note

hi i hope you’re doing okay! i wanted to know if it’s possible to request something with carlos where he had this crush on y/n who’s a famous actress or singer and is a complete mess when he gets to meet her at a grand prix

thanks if you do it and ps i love your work!!

°˖ ⊹ ꒰ CS55 ꒱ MORE THAN JUST A CRUSH ─ CARLOS SAINZ

CARLOS SAINZ x f!singer!reader

⌗︙・ summary — your first appearance at the miami grand prix turns heads – catching the eye of one particularly enthusiastic driver in red.

genre — fluff, socmed au, fc: sabrina carpenter

notes — hi anon!! i am doing okay thank u for asking 🌷 and thank you for the ADORABLEEEEEE request!!! love the idea of carlos being this cool suave guy and just utterly melting lol. thank you for your kind words of support <3 hope i did your request justice! (also thinking of making a pt 2 hehe)

↻ ww.instagram.com

yourusername

Liked by yourbestfriend, carlossainz55, landonorris, and 1,829,447 others

yourusername miami i am in u ❤️🤰

view all 95,620 comments

user literally a goddess

user we need the album !!!!!!!

user LMFAOOO the caption she is so unserious i love it

user mother getting a good rest after a SMASHING world tour, deserved ✨

user y/n going straight to miami after finishing her asia world tour is so random lol 😭😭

user1 i heard she’s going to the f1 race this weekend, maybe that’s why shes there user2 ohhh, makes sense ig. is she even a fan though? user3 dunno, but a ferrari driver liked her pic so good enough i guess 🤣

revealmoi

Liked by carlossainz55, and 217,004 others

revealmoi UPDATE: The people anon are referring to are NOT Taylor Swift and Fernando Alonso. Lol.

view all 89,257 comments

user The way Deux had to say that the blind isn’t about TSwift and Alonso LOL

user “Fast Times” – Y/N L/N’s newest single. “Blonde songstress” – Definitely L/N. “Spicy individual” – ?

user1 the chili emoji was so random lol user2 has to be carlos sainz, smooth operator and chili are both his nicknames user3 hmmm but anon would have specified if the spicy indiv was a driver right? i feel like that’s pretty big info to leave out

user not carlos liking the post HELLO?????

user no way this is about carlos and y/n, he doesn’t even follow her 😭

user4 he likes almost all her posts though user5 lmfao liking posts but not following, that’s even shadier imo 💀💀

user idk man i’m just glad that my girl y/n is finally getting the appreciation she deserves 👑

↻ www.twitter.com

↻ www.youtube.com/Ferrari

2023 C² Challenge | Music Challenge with Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz

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carlossainz55 added to their story!

Seen by yourusername, and 2,394,501 others

yourusername reacted with ❤️

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You knew attending a Formula 1 Grand Prix would be hectic – after all, you had just ended the Asian leg of your world tour, and Miami was always swarming with press – but you did not expect just how chaotic things would get.

“It’s great being here!” You flashed a bright smile to Martin Brundle, who was currently following you around the pitlane as apart of Sky Sports’s coverage. “Obviously, I’m here to support Ferrari, who have so kindly invited me this weekend, but I’m just really excited to feel the energy and watch the race.”

Martin nods, a sly smile creeping onto his face. “I just have to ask, out of pure curiosity, of course: Is it true that Carlos Sainz personally invited you to attend this weekend’s race?”

You laugh, casting a nervous look to your publicist, who shakes her head with a stern look. You turn back to Martin and the camera, an apologetic look on your face as you recite the statement your agency has prepared for you. “I really don’t know much, it was Ferrari’s PR team who reached out to me, after all. So, whatever the rumours say, just know I’m as clueless as you are!”

That gets a laugh out of Martin, at the very least, and you think that he’s about to leave you alone. However, unfortunately for you, you’ve just reached the Ferrari garage, and are greeted by the sight of none other than Carlos Sainz himself standing at the entrance, chatting with his engineer.

Your publicist almost immediately motions for you to step aside, but Martin is one step ahead of her as he grabs your arm, tugging you along with him as he makes a beeline towards the Spaniard.

“You know what – Why don’t we ask the man himself?” he grins deviously, steadfastly making his way into the Ferrari garage.

You stutter out weak protests, casting doubtful looks to your publicist. But she merely sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, gesturing for you to go ahead with Martin. You shrug, following Martin into the Ferrari garage. Not that you have much of a choice – the presenter seems unshakeable as he heads towards Carlos, who has his back turned, blissfully unaware of the chaos approaching him.

“Carlos! Carlito! My man!”

The Ferrari driver grins, whipping around as Martin claps a hand on his back. “Martin! What brings you to the gara-”

As his gaze shifts from Martin to you, his voice trails off. Time seems to slow – A red heat spreads across his face, and he ducks his head down in a fit of sudden coughs. You stand by Martin’s side with a small smile, extending your hand to offer him a water bottle.

“You okay?” you ask with a teasing smile.

Carlos nods furiously, a large hand reaching out to take the water bottle from you. His fingertips brush yours as he does so, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. He blushes harder at the brief moment of contact, turning his face away from you as he gulps down the water, still spluttering.

Amidst a few weak coughs, he grits out, “Choked on my spit,” before clearing his throat, raising his head to flash you a shy smile.

Martin sends you a knowing smirk, chuckling lowly. “Come on, what happened to being the ‘Smooth Operator’, huh?”

You roll your eyes playfully, returning Carlos’s meek smile with a bright grin. “Oh, lay off him, Martin.”

Turning to Carlos now, you extend your hand with what you hope is your friendliest smile, “Nice to meet you, Carlos! I’m Y/N.”

“I know,” he blurts out, all too quickly. His cheeks flush red, and he clears his throat awkwardly. “I mean, yeah, I know... ‘Cause, well, I like your music. It’s really good.”

Martin cuts in, microphone in hand, “So, Carlos, word ‘round here is that you were the one who campaigned for Y/N to be invited. Is that true?”

Carlos rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, suddenly averting his eyes and avoiding your gaze as he smiles shyly. “I don’t know who told you that… I’ll need to have a chat with the team about adding more privacy clauses in their contracts next time.”

You giggle, and that makes his head snap towards you. “Nothing, nothing, ignore me. That was just hilarious.”

“Ignore you?!” Martin exclaims, practically shoving you towards the Ferrari driver, whose eyes have now almost doubled in size. “Oh, come on, you youngsters. Get to know each other! This isn’t the 1920s, you don’t need an old geezer like me to chaperone you all the time. Get chattin’!”

You send Carlos a teasing smile, to which he shyly returns.

“Well, Carlos,” you bump his hip playfully, “How ‘bout a tour of the garage?”

He nods, leaping up and offering you his hand, ever the gentleman. “Of course, it’d be my pleasure.”

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yourusername

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yourusername newintown.jpg (#forzaferrari)

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carlossainz55 That camera looks familiar…🤨

yourusername drop the .jpg account then we’ll talk user LOL shes so real for that

user the forza ferrari hashtag ajdfgshdf shes a true tifosi to the core

yourusername always! ❤️🌶

landonorris Ayo where’d that ring come from carlossainz55?

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landonorris Nice meeting you Y/N!

landonorris Friendship bracelets (and rings) are always welcome ❤️ carlossainz55 Blocking you. yourusername reporting you. landonorris 😭😭😭 WHAT’D I DOOOOOOOO

user NEW JPG ACCOUNT INCOMING???????

user the way carlos literally manifested this LMFAO

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user excuse me ms l/n but WHO is that on the third slide !!!!!!

user1 carlos sainz user2 NO WAY…. user3 and another one bites the dust…

user carlos never beating the simp allegations i fear

user “To new friends”…. i remember…..

user i smell a new wag in townnnnnnn !

yourusername just friends, don’t make it weird please 🤍 user4 LOLLL GIRL YOU TELL EM

user i know carlos was crying after seeing y/n’s just friends comment lmfao

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trippinsorrows · 5 months ago

Text

trials of love + two

authors note: friendly, gentle reminder that while drunk hookups are popular in today's culture, inebriation prohibits consent as someone cannot legally consent when intoxicated.

also.....this shit about to be messy as hell.

one

warnings: angst, inebriation, slight spice, and intoxication impairing judgment/consent

words: 3.7k

****gif credit goes to my chica @dejameflorecer

song inspo: evermore by josh groban

“She’s missing.”

It’s the first thing Roman hears when he walks into the sanctuary. Nervous, frantic, rapid voices exchanging dialogue in hushed tones, some not so hushed. And because he’s him, it’s not difficult for Roman to catch onto what has everyone so worked up, his mother looking irritated and his father pissed.

Not that he gives a shit about that.

He partially, however, gives a shit that she is, in fact, missing.

Solana.

His wife-to-be.

Apparently, she’s nowhere to be found on the property, an unfortunate and stressful thing for almost everyone it seems, sans one person.

She sits calmly in one of the pews, a crossword puzzle across her lap, the most relaxed expression on her face. It’s a stark contrast to the pandemonium surrounding them, which also includes Jey and Nicki on the other side of the church arguing, and Jimmy trying to get the caterers to let him “sample” the food.

Roman shakes his head.

Some things never change.

Strolling over to the older woman, Roman moves to sit in front of her, angling her body so he’s facing her, forearm across the top of the pew.

She looks up, and it’s only then he realizes Solana inherited her eyes from her grandmother.

“Roman,” she says it so formally, so casually, an introduction of sorts that’s followed by her refocusing back on the task at hand.

He chuckles. She reminds him a lot of Fetu.

They’ll either get along great, or it’s going to be clash of the fucking titans.

“You know where she is, don’t you?” It’s not a question. Just a statement he’s waiting for her to confirm or deny.

Light brown eyes briefly dart up only to return back down under. “I know my granddaughter has always loved the ocean and often goes to the beach when she needs to think or clear her head.”

Roman offers a small smile.

Yeah, a lot like Fetu.

“Thank you,” he says with a small nod.

She lifts her brow and shrugs once more. “I didn’t say anything.”

Roman doesn’t say anything either and manages to walk out of the chaos without anyone stopping him, not that he really cares.

He just needs to find his bride, or rather, he’d prefer to be the one to find her for reasons he can’t quite explain or provide.

Just knows that it would make him feel better, or something, to bring her back.

Whatever that means.

He locates her exactly where her grandma “told” him she would be. On the beach, standing close enough to the tide where the water brushes against her bare feet. Her back toward him, arms crossed over her body, Roman approaches her, only inches away when she finally notices him.

Gasping, she jumps back a bit, eyes focused on him. It’s only then Roman can see it. See that she’s crying.

He frowns.

There’s something….something off about that that he doesn’t like.

That doesn’t sit well with him.

“Roman….” Her voice is so soft and soothing, but there’s a sadness about it that also bothers him. “I’m—I’m sorry.” She wipes at her eyes and shakes her head. “I just—I wasn’t leaving. I just—”

“Solana,” he interrupts in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. “It’s fine.” Because if he wasn’t in a foreign country, he’d have probably done the same. Her…..dissatisfaction with this union is a mutually shared thing. “I know you weren’t.”

She nods, something like appreciation flashing across her pretty face. He’s briefly taken back. While marriage is the last thing Roman wants, to be married to someone like Solana isn’t a hard sell. Not only does she have the kind of body he could spend an eternity studying and worshipping, she’s absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word.

Has a kind, caring spirit about her that's unlike anything he's used to.

But, it's something he feels like he could most definitely get used to.

Feeling himself staring, Roman motions to the ocean. He needs a distraction. “It’s beautiful.”

She follows his line of vision, smile growing. “It is.” Solana sighs, obviously taking it all in. “I’m—I’m gonna miss it.”

Roman’s expression shifts into something almost regretful.

Like, he regrets even putting her in this situation.

"Solana...." He strokes his beard, navigating how to explain himself. “For you to return back home so soon after the wedding would…..it wouldn’t be a good look.” He’s careful in the way he approaches this, a caution that’s a bit unfamiliar. Roman has never been one to choose his words carefully, unless in life or death situations. “But, after a few months pass, you can visit whenever you want.”

She turns toward him, eyes wide and hopeful. “R—really?”

Roman nods. “Yes.”

Because while Roman can count on one hand how many family members he’d miss if separated from them for some reason, he can see that’s not the case for her. Solana seems deeply attached and close with all of her family, especially her sisters, Isabella and Zuri, connected with her home.

And it’s that separation that she’s clearly struggling with the most, so the least he can do is provide her some assurance that being apart isn’t a forever thing.

He’d probably prefer for her to come visit more often than not. Gives him some much needed alone time. Roman has never lived with another person before as an adult. Let alone a woman. Let alone a woman who’s his wife, so that might take….an adjustment, to say the least.

He'd bet the watering of her eyes is for an entirely different reason now. “Thank you.” She sounds so grateful, so appreciative, so relieved.

It’s hard for him to not be moved by it, even if it is completely unlike him to be move.

To feel.

It’s uncomfortable as shit too, prompting him to clear his throat and gesture toward the opposite side of the ocean. “You ready?”

She nods, taking one last look at the water before turning to walk, clearly tripping over something in the sand. One minute, she’s about to fall, the next, Roman is in front of her, shielding said fall.

They stare at each other, her head lifted, gaze on him, hands on his chest, his on her waist, holding her up.

“S–sorry,” she apologizes in that same small voice, but for some reason, he can only focus on the aroma of her sweet perfume, the feel of her body so close to his, the alluring hue of her pretty brown eyes.

“It’s fine,” he says, distractedly. He’s still staring at her the same way she’s staring at him. One of them, he doesn't know who, finally breaks it, moving so that they can walk off. He’s also unsure just who reaches for whose hand. Just knows that their hands are interlocked as they walk away from the present and prepare to head into the future.

Their future.

-----------

Solana has always been a dreamer. Always lived with her “head in the clouds.” Something told to her from practically every family member, starting with her abuela, all the way to her adorable five year-old niece, Sophia.

It’s something she’s never really denied, either. She knows she’s always been one to hope and aspire for the most, the best, even when told it might never happen. But, it’s never bothered her. Not really. Not when her life has always been filled with so much love, happiness, and fulfillment.

A wonderful family. Great friends. The honor of taking over her abuela’s bakery. An establishment that’s been in her family for generations.

The only thing missing has been love.

Not familial. Not platonic. Romantic.

She’s dated, had relationships, and all of the above. And nothing ever moved her, ever left her feel the beautiful love she’s always witnessed with her parents. And her oldest sister, Zuri, has always advised her that her expectations are too high, too aligned with “Disney shit." Isabella has always told her to never settle. Her parents have always said she’ll know when she’s found the one. And Solana has always taken a bit of all of their advice, never once giving up her dream of finding “true love.” Of finding the man who would, maybe even literally, swipe her off her feet.

The dreamlike courting, romantic proposal, perfect wedding, intimate wedding night where she’d finally lose her virginity to the man who’d one day be the father of her children. The perfect ending to a wonderful life.

A fucking lie.

Solana stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, a reflection she once appreciated, maybe not always loved, but liked well enough. Now though, now, she doesn’t even recognize what she sees. Who she sees.

She’s always been happy and joyful, but there’s nothing happy about the puffiness and redness around her eyes. The way her lips are in a permanent frown that’s been present for the past few days. She looks every bit as sad and miserable as she feels.

And, it’s all because of one man.

Roman Reigns.

Her husband.

The man she hates more than she’s ever hated anyone before in her life.

She’d never heard anything nice about him, heard that he was a heartless bastard. But, in meeting him shortly before their wedding, in interacting with him on a few occasions, he’d been…..okay. Not overtly nice but nothing like the asshole he’s been since….since that night.

The night…..

Solana sniffles, feeling and seeing the watering of her eyes. That’s got her more fucked up than anything else. She always dreamed her wedding night, her first time, would be a beautiful thing. And, it was. Roman was…...he was kind to her, gentle with her, good to her.

And, then she woke up.

Because everything since that night has been nothing short of a nightmare.

Roman isn’t her knight in shining armor.

He’s the demon in her dreams.

A demon she can’t escape.

Dulce’s quiet snoring in her room, a random room she’s commandeered and made her own, moving all of her stuff into it from Roman’s the second day of his MIA episode. Solana smiles. Seeing and having her sweet dog with her was definitely something she could have never guessed happening.

Could have never anticipated waking up and finding her baby girl in a crate being held by Roman's Wise Man, Dulce nearly losing her shit, same with Solana, in seeing her mother for the first time in too long.

Solana can still recall the physical pain she felt when she was informed Roman doesn't like pets, and that she had to leave Dulce home in Mexico with her family. It practically killed her. Made this whole thing so much worse.

Dulce, a tiny little thing, is hands down Solana’s best friend. They’ve been connected since the moment Solana held the Pomeranian four years prior. She’s been there for her during the best and worst of times, so not having her for, inarguably, the worst thing she’s ever been through in life has been torture.

Truth be told, Solana hasn’t the slightest clue why Roman changed his mind, what made him make arrangements to have Dulce brought to her, and while she’s beyond grateful to have at least someone in that house, she couldn’t bring herself to thank him.

For what?

What has he done to deserve thanks? Letting her have her pet is only a common decency. The latter word being something foreign to him, clearly.

Because Roman is every bit the bastard she heard about. She only wishes she wasn’t stupid enough before to believe he could be anything different.

But, she’s learned her lesson.

Learned to heed to his words.

This isn’t a real marriage. It doesn't mean anything to him. She doesn’t mean anything to him.

So, he doesn't mean anything to her.

And, he never will.

He isn’t home, but that’s not surprising. He’s never home. Her now preference.

As much space away from him that she can manage is for the best.

Not to mention, it allows her to prepare for her night without his intrusions or thoughts of how he’d respond or even feel. A stupid thing, really. Especially considering he made it painfully clear that he doesn’t care what or who she does.

Bet.

Solana takes the red lipstick, applying it to her lips, the last and final step of a makeup routine that took much longer than what was probably necessary. But, the end product seems worth it. Dark, sultry eyes, highlighted and blushed cheeks, with blood red lipstick to match her red dress that shows more of her breast than most of her bikini tops. Her ass is only one bend away from being exposed, the body of it nice and tight, hugging all her generous curves.. It’s a look she’d not even wear in her dreams, far too risque and revealing, but it’s exactly what she’s wearing tonight.

Because she just doesn’t care anymore.

If Roman can do whatever he wants, then so can she.

Spraying perfume on her pulse points and on her dress, Solana takes a final look at herself in the mirror before hitting the lights and grabbing her small Gucci bag off the counter.

Walking in heels has always been a bit difficult for her, but the heels complete the look, so it’s one of many sacrifices she’s willing to make tonight.

Solana cuddles with Dulce for a few minutes, making sure she’s straight and instructing the security that patrol the house to check on her baby every so often.

She’s not certain she’ll make it home tonight.

And speaking of home, Solana turns the hall and meets Dre’s always watchful gaze. She doesn’t miss the way he gives her a double take. The same way she gives him one.

Her head of security isn’t ugly by any means. Tall with a nice, lean but muscular build, pretty light eyes and almost model-like facial features. He looks more like the type to be in Vogue versus being assigned the head of her security detail. On the quiet side, too, only having only said a few words to her.

But, the way he’s looking at her now suggests she might be able to evoke a couple more words out of him. At least, for tonight.

“I want to go out,” she informs, crossing her arms over her body. “A nightclub. Whatever is most popular in this town.”

Dre lifts a brow. “Mrs. Reigns—”

“Solana,” she corrects. “My name is Solana.”

“Solana.” There’s almost something suggestive about the way he says it. A way she both likes and dislikes. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” Solana scowls, already knowing she’s not going to like what he says. “With The Tribal Chief being out of town—”

“I said—” Solana steps forward, head tilted, again not missing how Dre’s eyes drop to her chest. “I want to go out.” Mustering a small smile and batted eyelashes, she tilts her head and innocently places her hands on his chest. “Now, let’s go.”

—--------

It’s all so loud and borderline suffocating. The music booms, the people move and grind together with a familiarity that contrasts the fact that most of them only met just this night. A situation she too, ironically, finds herself in, because Solana hasn’t the slightest clue who she’s dancing with. Just knows that he’s only a couple inches taller than her, even in her heels, and he can’t seem to keep his hands off her ass.

And if not for the liquor coursing through her body, it’s something she’d be uncomfortable with. She partially is but not enough to stop, to tell him to leave her alone. This is what she needs. To let loose, to not give a fuck.

To be less like herself and more like him.

Because being Solana, being kind and sweet and understanding, got her nowhere but broken heart city, and she’s tired of feeling so hurt and broken. She needs to feel something, anything else, and this is the perfect way.

The song comes to an end, random man whispering something in her ear about being right back. She jumps when he squeezes her ass and slithers away. Solana feels a bit silly just standing there, so she makes her way back over to the bar.

A small, inebriated smile on her face, she’s pleased to see the same bartender.

“Another shot, p–please.”

The woman, tall and dark in every aspect outside of her almost pale complexion, with tattoos covering her body gives her an almost hesitant look. “You sure about that, babe? You’ve had quite a bit to drink already.”

Solana rolls her eyes. “I’m not a child." Gesturing to her outfit, her nipples milliseconds from popping out, prompting her to adjust her top, she repeats her request. “A shot, please.”

Striking blue eyes gleam with continued reticence as the tall woman turns away to fulfil the order.

Solana leans back against the bar, closing her eyes and taking in the environment. She feels so free, so liberated from the shackles of hurt, pain, and betrayal that have consumed her since she was ripped away from her home and life and everything she loves only to be dumped into this shitshow of a storm.

It’s unfair. All of it, but she’s done letting it drown her.

She can’t.

“Well damn.” Her head snaps up to the sound of the voice that’s much closer than what’s necessary. “You sure look like you know how to have a good time.”

Solana studies the man before her, his complexion a few shades darker than her own. His brown eyes are warm but intense and contrast his short, onyx hair and thick brows that have cutouts on the end. His build is more on the stocky side but still muscular.

A small smile falls on her face. “Something like that.” Taking him in one time, she offers her name. “I’m Solana.”

“Zilla,” he answers with a confident smirk. “You not from around here.”

She nods, recognizing it’s more of a statement than anything. “I’m….new to town.”

Unfortunately.

He makes a sound, eyes focusing on her breast. “Lucky us, huh?”

Giggling, she teases, largely fueled by the liquor, “maybe.”

“Zilla.” Another voice sounds, not as deep, but still smooth. Accented. Solana turns to see another man with a similar complexion, lithe yet muscular build and almost angular features. He's older than the shorter man, clearly. Not that that really matters to her.

His gaze quickly settles on her, revealing a gleam of lust. “Who is this?”

“S–solana,” she answers matter-of-factly. “W–who are you?”

He smirks. “Tama.”

Solana snorts and rolls her eyes. “I—interesting.” It’s not missed on her how the both of them continue to focus on everything but her face, namely her chest. “Let’s just s–skip to the good part boys, why don’t we?” They both look curious as she asks with batted eyelashes. “Let’s get out of here.”

It’s a statement that, in actuality, surprises all three of them. Solana knows what she’s saying, knows what she’s asking, but there’s still something about it that feels….non-autonomous. Like she’s in control, but she’s not actually in control.

Something she should probably think more about, but thinking and feeling have done her no good these past few weeks, so fuck it.

“Which one of us?” Zilla is the one to ask, licking his lips, hand reaching out and brushing his fingers over her forearm. Tama remains watchful and attentive but keeping his hands to himself.

For now.

And with a wry smile, glazed eyes, and fiery, drunken determination, she answers boldly, “both.”

—--------

Solana moans at the set of lips that suck on her neck and the set of hands—she’s not sure whose—that squeeze at her breast.

Lips parted, eyes closed, she’s fully immersed in this moment, solely focused on the hands that touch and grab all over her body.

“Shit,” she hisses when someone moves their hand in between her thighs, nudging them open and feeling at her thong.

Zilla smirks and teases his finger in a circle against the inside of her thigh. “That pussy nice and wet for us already, man.”

Tama makes a sound, moving his hand to Solana’s hair, yanking her head back and forcing her eyes open. “You’re a good,submissive little bitch, aren’t you?”

There’s something both erotic and disrespectful about it, about his statement, about his delivery, about the way he tightens his grip in her hair. But, she doesn’t care, she’s too caught in the moment, too consumed by the alcohol.

“Take that shit off her,” Zilla directs Tama, the older man easily guiding her onto her knees on the bed. His hands go to the bottom of her dress, pulling it up and off her, leaving her in just a thong.

Something strange washes over her, Solana naturally moving her hands across her chest, suddenly feeling a sense of unease and discomfort. Like something is…..off.

Like she shouldn’t have told Dre to mind his business and wait outside in the SUV as she prepares to engage in the unthinkable.

“Wait…..” She murmurs, maybe to them, maybe to herself. She’s not entirely sure.

Tama, however, ushers her arms down and guides her to lay down. Solana readies to protest again when he latches his mouth onto her nipple, evoking a moan from her, the pleasure easily overpowering the logic.

Her hand moves to the back of his short hair, her body writhing underneath him as he slides his hand down her belly and slips it into her thong. She whimpers when he teases his fingers against her wet, velvety opening.

“Goddamn, you got some big ass titties,” Zilla makes a sound from where he stands at the foot of the bed, Solana briefly opening her eyes to see he’s messing with something, something she can’t seem to make out, just that he’s situating it on the dresser in front of the bed. A perfect view of what’s about to transpire.

For a second, the slightest second, she’s reluctant.

“What—what are you doing?” Furrowed brows as Tama sits up and also goes to remove his shirt, Solana leaning up on her elbows.

“Nothing, baby,” Zilla answers, standing directly in front of her. He goes to undo his belt when he pauses to look at her, asking, “you sure you wanna do this?”

Solana stills, noticing how Tama is also looking at her with an expectant expression.

No. She’s not sure, but yet she is. She wants to, but she’s also nervous. She’s only had sex once, but it’s that one time, albeit amazing and wonderful, that led to this emotional spiral she’s been on. It’s what led her to stepping away from the good, innocent path she’s always been on and entered her onto whatever this is.

So, not, she’s absolutely not sure.

But, what she is sure of is that she’s tired of crying all the time, tired of thinking of Roman, of trying to figure out how he went from being almost kind to her to basically telling her she means nothing to him. That the night they spent together, her first time, him taking her virginity, something she always imagined giving to the one, meant nothing.

Roman can’t be her one and only anymore.

Especially when she was never and will never be his.

Solana moves her fingers to her thong, sliding them down and off her body, laying on the bed and giggling while throwing them toward the two men.

“Let’s do it.”

#roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x black!oc #arisnotebook

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holdupjack · 2 years ago

Text

You're An Idiot…My Idiot

——————

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

AU: Reader is a Ravenclaw

WARNING: Injury and awkward fluff

——————

Third Person P.O.V:

7th Year

Hermione sat in the bleachers with Luna as they watched the final Quidditch game of the season before the Championships. People cheered and booed all around them as they watched the Gryffindor VS Ravenclaw game.

Ron and Harry sped over the stands they kept their heads in the game, Harry soon took off towards another area as Ron stayed near the goal.

A flash of blue almost smacked Hermione in the face as it went by, but the familiar scent of a certain Ravenclaw made her eyes roll.

Y/n Y/l/n.

What was there to say about such a girl?

They weren't the best of friends, but they weren't enemies either. It's more like an artful dance of flirting and annoyance that they both have mastered around each other.

Hermione despised her arrogant and cocky attitude, with a fiery passion. The way she walked around like her shit didn't stink, always sent the Gryffindor up a wall.

Yet Y/n seemed to make it her life's mission is spin around the drain of Hermione's inner circle, almost like she wanted to be sucked into her presence even more.

The brunette wouldn't let that happen, just because Y/n was attractive, didn't mean Hermione had to give her a seat in her lifestyle.

"Y/n is very much showboating this game," Luna says as she watches her team zigzag around the field.

Hermione watched as the y/h/c girl seemed to be making a show as she chased after the golden snitch. She dodged wooden beams and pillars as she followed it closely, Harry was on her tail but seemed to be lagging behind.

"When doesn't she showboat?" Hermione grumbled as the blonde beside her gave a dreamy laugh.

"I've never understood your dislike for Y/n, I understand she can be a bit much, but she seems to genuinely enjoy your company," Luna says as people cheer around them because of a Gryffindor Chaser scoring a goal.

"She is so sleazy! Why would I entertain that type of person with my time?" Hermione says, to which Luna just shrugged. Her eyes looked at the brunettes for a moment but then flicked back to the game.

The tense grit in her jaw, how straight her back was, and the fiddling of her fingers gave Hermione away quite easily.

Luna had begun to spot Hermione at every Ravenclaw game since the beginning of the fifth year. It didn't matter if Gryffindor was playing or not, she never missed a game.

There had been a rumor going around that Y/n and Hermione were seen talking in an empty hallway, and it looked more like flirting than actual conversation.

Those rumors were quickly thwarted when everyone saw them back in their bickering behavior in the coming days.

"You fancy her" she states.

Hermione's eyes widened at the statement. That was outlandish! She had never felt any romantic feelings for Y/n!

Well...

Ugh, she couldn't believe she had been figured out by one of her friends, and that she had actually fallen for the Ravenclaw's charms!

It was humiliating, honestly.

Y/n had caught her alone in an empty hallway sometime at the early start of the fifth year. It had been normal, for the most part. Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed at every pickup line she tried, but then she said something that caught her off guard.

"I need your help"

Y/n had never been one to ask for help, EVER.

So, to hear it come from her mouth was almost like hearing the devil say 'please'. It even made her slack-jawed in awe from hearing it as they stood in that empty hallway.

The Ravenclaw soon pulled out her grades from last year and showed Hermione that she had completely failed Alchemy the entire year.

She was being forced to retake it.

Hermione had shifted from foot to foot in the debate about whether she should help her greatest annoyance.

"Please Hermione, you're the smartest girl I know...and I truly need your help"

Something changed in the Gryffindor's heart, maybe because of the overzealous ego that Y/n seemed to be missing at this moment, or how she started to notice how beautiful her eyes were in the sunlight.

"Alright, alright. Meet me in the dungeons after dark, I'll help you."

Hermione then smiled at her. Another historic moment for the two, Y/n almost wanted to take a picture. If only she had a camera on her...

That was years ago now, and both had been meeting up in the old Potions classroom every night to study or just talk.

Y/n acted completely different when they were alone, so soft and caring. Her smile wasn't cocky, and her laugh was light and airy.

So, you could imagine when Hermione started to be pulled in by her charms.

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione replied with a face as scarlet as a letter, Luna just chuckled and looked back onto the field.

Harry and Y/n flew side by side as they chased after the snitch, both had grins on their faces as they tried to outmaneuver one another.

They were good friends, both having practiced together many times during their time at Hogwarts. They were the best of the best when it came to school level, and Hermione wouldn't be surprised if Y/n went on to be a professional.

Y/n flew to the other side of Harry as they slipped past the high-rise stands. Hermione was sure that one of them was going to kick someone in the head.

People began to murmur as they saw the Beaters looking around frantically. They seemed to have lost sight of the Bludger. Never a good sign.

"Bouncing Bludger!" People called out as a warning.

Harry suddenly ducked down as he heard a loud zipping noise headed his way. He obviously had flashbacks to the second year when he broke his arm because of one.

Sadly, Y/n didn't take in the noise before it was too late. A collective gasp took over the crowd when the ball smacked into Y/n's side at high speed, knocking her off her broom and slamming her into the walkway between the bleachers and railing.

She skidded for a few moments her body rolling and slamming onto the ground as friends and teammates ran/flew to her aid immediately. Harry watched in anguish as he saw his friend lay on the floor of the bleachers, unmoving.

"Oh my god," Hermione whispers as she pushes her way down to the main floor with Luna on her heels. People murmured around them as Madam Hooch ran to Y/n's side and checked her over.

"We need to get her to Hospital Wing, any able-body boys, I need you to carry her!" she yells as Ron lands beside them and drops his broom.

Hermione shoved her way through the crowd, whispering quiet apologies as she basically elbowed everyone in front of her. Luna held the back of her shirt as she followed in her wake.

When they finally broke through the barrier of people, Ron slowly picked her up into his arms. Y/n looked so fragile as her arm dangled.

Hermione stood there, staring as Ron walked away with Madam Hooch in quick steps. People's whispers seemed to get louder when she began to follow close behind them.

Harry flew down near the railing and called out to his female best friend as he followed beside her. Yet, she completely ignored him and everyone else as she stared at Y/n's head, which was lobed over the edge of Ron's forearm.

Luna stayed back and watched Hermione's actions with a knowing look. The way her body was loose and nervous, yet she just gazed at the unconscious Ravenclaw in her friend's arms like she was witnessing a car accident.

Hermione didn't know how to feel, or think.

Her body went into autopilot.

——————

She sat on the bench outside the hospital wing as friends, teammates, and some teachers went and checked on her. Y/n had woken up once, but Madam Promfrey quickly put her back to sleep due to the broken ribs and her groans of pain,

It was now almost one in the morning, everyone had gone to bed for the night. The only people in that part of the castle were the biggest rivals in the school.

Hermione's foot shook as she gathered the courage to get off this bench and finally walk in.

She was nervous to see Y/n in a state that wasn't what she was used to. To see her broken and bruised...was going to be foreign.

Quietly she stood up and walked towards the big doors, she slowly opened them, and they squeaked loudly.

Hermione cursed to herself as she decided to leave it open. Her eyes scanned the moonlit room to find only one occupant of the beds.

Y/n laid on her back as her chest rose and fell slowly. Her white school shirt showed that her sides were bandaged and tightly wrapped around her skin.

The Gryffindor carefully stepped closer as she watched for any sudden movements or to hear any discomfort leave Y/n's lips.

When she finally sat down on the chair beside the hospital bed and looked upon the Ravenclaw's face. She was peaceful, oblivious to the amount of pain her body was in.

Hermione didn't know what to do, or why she was even still up this late at night for someone she only knew in the dark.

Maybe that's why? Nighttime was the only place where they saw each other's true colors. Spoke without any malice or anger.

Her hand slowly laid itself beside Y/n's, her finger caressing the girl's knuckles. Silent affection, something only she would know about when day broke again.

"You've done it Y/l/n. You've got me under your spell...I hope you're proud" Hermione whispers as she stares her their hands, feeling how cold Y/n's hand is compared to hers.

"You're freezing" she whispers as she stands up and walks over to a cabinet full of blankets and other equipment.

"I don't know why Madam Promfrey insists on keeping the wing so cold!" Hermione grumbled as she grabbed a blanket and shut the cabinet closed with a small 'huff'.

When she walked back over, she unraveled the folded polyester and draped it across the injured girl. Her hands glided carefully around Y/n's sides to make sure the heat of her body helped her broken ribs heal a little faster.

Hermione leaned over her unconscious form as she carefully tucked the blanket around her, as she moved up towards her shoulders, their faces were almost nose to nose.

She leaned away slightly but stared for another moment as she noticed the bruises along her jaw and cheek.

"That fall did a number on you too" Hermione whispered as she reached up and took a hold of Y/n's chin, gently moving her head so she could get a better look at the purple marks.

She sighed softly and sat back in the chair, her legs crossing as she debated on what to do next. A big part of her wanted to stay, but another didn't want to put any more suspicion on their 'unlabeled relationship'.

Was it friendly or turning into more?

It was obvious that Hermione had grown quite fond of the Y/n under the cover of the dark, but was that truly who she was?

Or was the arrogant and cocky asshole during the day her true personality?

This question made Hermione want to rip her hair out. It was the only part that she couldn't get a clear answer on.

"You are so infuriating" Hermione mumbled quietly as she looked away and out threw the window. She could see owls flying out of the Owlry, their silhouettes dancing across the moon.

She heard a big intake of breath before a pained grunt came from Y/n. Hermione's eyes quickly fell back on her as she brought the chair closer to the bed.

"I know" she whispers as her hand reaches up and pushes away some hair that was stuck to Y/n's forehead.

It was quiet as Hermione calmed down Y/n by running her fingers through her hair. Watching as the Ravenclaw seemed to be craving her touch.

"You're such an idiot sometimes. Why don't you listen to your teammates?" She asks in an annoyed tone as she thinks back on the incident from many hours ago. Y/n silently groaned in pain as she nudged her head against Hermione's palm.

"You can't guilt me out of giving you a lecture once you wake up" she hums as her hand caressed Y/n's forehead, she could feel the heat radiating from it.

It's silent as Hermione does more than any rival should do, but she feels guilty that the Ravenclaw didn't have anyone who wanted to stay and watch over her during this.

"You need to find a girlfriend. I can't be the one to take care of you during times like this" she hummed quietly as she moved her hand away. Y/n groans again, whether, from the pain or the now sudden lack of contact, Hermione isn't sure.

"Then again...I'd more than likely come sit by you if this happens again" she sighed as she started to use unconscious Y/n as a therapist. It made her chuckle slightly about it.

"This is ridiculous! Why are you so charming to me now?" Hermione huffs in annoyance as she crosses her arms. A small hue of scarlet red flooded onto her face.

"Fine. You're cute, I'll give you that." She admits with an annoyed sigh as she looks everywhere but Y/n.

"How can I fancy you? I've despised your very presence since we've met!" The Gryffindor mumbles as her eyes follow the detail of the stone walls.

She was silent for a while, listening to the soft breathing of the Ravenclaw beside her as her mind stumbled over itself with different thoughts.

"I'll admit it. Alright?" She sighs with another annoyed tone. Hermione hated admitting she had been wrong, especially about how she truly felt about things.

"I've fallen for the sound of your voice, and the kindness you show me when it's just the two of us. Or how you seem to look at me like...I can't explain it, it's like-" she's cut off.

"Like you're the only person in the room that matters"

Hermione turned in shock to hear a dry and raspy voice coming from the bed beside her. Y/n eyes were open, but tired still. She had a weak smile, yet it seemed very genuine.

They stared at one another, Hermione's breathing was audible but soft. Her hands gripped her jeans, trying to convince herself that she wasn't hallucinating. Y/n's hand slipped out from under the blanket and waited patiently to be taken.

Hermione sat nervously as she hesitated, her eyes flickering between Y/n's hand and eyes. The Ravenclaw waited patiently, continuing to look at her with a soft smile.

"How can I trust you?" Hermione asked as she looked back at her, their gaze tense and unbreaking.

"I've loved you since our first Potions class together" Y/n whispered, surprising the Gryffindor once again. All the way back to first-year?

"Then why..." Hermione drifts off as she thinks of every time they've gotten into an argument or pushed each other's buttons on purpose.

"It's the only way you'd talk to me! Thank Merlin I failed Alchemy, or else this might of never happened" Y/n chuckles softly as Hermione slips her hand into hers. It was warm now.

Y/n's thumb subconsciously ran over Hermione's knuckles as they continued to stare at one another.

"Go out with me Granger, tomorrow," Y/n asked with a grin, which Hermione chuckled at.

"You're still on bed rest for your broken ribs" she states, to which the Ravenclaw groans about.

"I'll sneak out, meet me in Irondale" Y/n says and Hermione rolls her eyes with a playful smile as she places her other hand between the space below her chest and above her stomach.

"I'll bring you some Ice Cream tomorrow as compensation, please stay in bed," Hermione asks nicely and Y/n grumbles like an upset first-year.

"Alright, but as soon as I'm released then?" Y/n asks with a smile as she squeezes the Gryffindor's hand.

"Maybe" Hermione teased as they began to quietly laugh together, their chuckles echoing around them in the empty Hospital Wing.

Y/n hissed and touched her sides.

"Don't make me laugh" she whispers with a pained smile, to which Hermione quickly apologized and moved her chair closer. Looking at the potions on the nightstand beside the bed.

"When did you take these?" she asks as her hand leaves Y/ns and starts to pick up bottles, reading the labels carefully.

"You tell me," Y/n says with a grin as she tries to lay at her side, but Hermione quickly scolds her.

"Don't you dare! You have broken ribs!" she says with a sigh as she watches Y/n roll her eyes and lay back down.

"Here, this is for pain relief. It says take every four hours, and you've been knocked out long past that" Hermione hums as she pours the liquid into a small cup, Y/n makes a face as the smell of it hits her nose.

"Please don't make me pour it down your throat" Hermione states as she holds the cup for her. They looked at each other with playful glares.

"It smells like horse piss 'Mione" Y/n says as she slowly sat u. Her ribs felt as though they were on fire, causing her to curse and hold back some tears.

Hermione took her hand and held it against her back to alleviate some of the pain. It seemed to help slightly.

"I know, but it's good for you" she replied as she placed the cup in the Ravenclaw's hands.

"Maybe so, but I need a little convincing" Y/n says through pained breaths as she smiles. Hermione raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"How so?" She asks as Y/n places her hand on the side of her neck and pulls the brown-haired girl towards her.

Hermione smiled when she stood out of her chair and kissed the Ravenclaw. Their lips moved simultaneously, their hands grasping each other's faces with passion.

Each kiss felt more irresistible than the last, to the point that Y/n desperately whispered 'no' when Hermione began to pull away.

"Drink, then we'll see about another one " she whispered back as she sat back in the chair, her face pink and her lips smudged with Y/n's peppermint chapstick.

Y/n was quick to down the potion like a shot of Fire Whiskey. To which she soon regretted when her face contorted and she started to cough from the taste.

As she gagged and hacked from the horrendous flavor, she grasped her sides in pain.

"Sweet Merlin, knock me out" she said through wheezes as Hermione rubbed her back comfortingly.

Eventually Y/n was able to calm herself and lay back down on the bed. Hermione covered her back with the blanket and sighed softly.

"You're an idiot" she said with a sigh as Y/n grasped her hand and smiled.

"Your idiot"

"I haven't claimed you"

"Yet! I'm putting it into the universe now" Y/n hums as she shuts her tired eyes and lets the potion start to relax her body.

"Oh god," Hermione whispers as she stands up and dusts off her jeans. Owls booted as they passed by the window.

"Get some sleep-"

Y/n quickly grabbed her wrist and gave a soft, but pleading look. This shocked the Gryffindor. Y/n was never this openly touchy.

"Don't go"

Hermione looked at her as a small smile crept into her lips, she looked away to hide her charmed facial expression.

"If you wish" she says as she sits back in the chair and takes Y/n's hand into hers. Their palms fit perfectly against one another.

Y/n relaxed as she began to fall asleep again, her eyes fluttering shut to the comfort of Hermione's watchful gaze.

The room felt safe.

——————

Hermione soon woke up to the sun shining in her eyes, she groaned as she sat up and cursed the chair for putting a knot in her back

When her eyes focused, she found Y/n reading the Daily Prophet with an annoyed look on her face. Hermione yawned and caught her attention.

"Look at this! I look like roadkill!" Y/n huffed as she showed the front page of the article, it was a moving picture of Y/n passed out on the bleacher floor.

"Quidditch Player Bludgeoned!" Hermione read out the headline and snickered slightly as Y/n just huffed in anger again.

"That's a stupid play on words" she grumbled as Madam Promfrey walked back with a snicker of her own.

"I liked it" she said with a smile as she took care of a sick third-year a few beds away.

"Hey!" Y/n groaned as Hermione placed the paper down and chuckled, the air between them was light and fun.

Y/n looked back at her and sighed, the sun shining on her back as it cast her shadow on the bed.

"So...do you want to talk about last night?" Y/n asks and Hermione feels her cheeks heat up at the remembrance of it.

"Yes, we should" she replied as she scooted closer, hoping to keep the conversation as private as possible.

Y/n gently gazed upon her, her eyes seemed to glow as the backlight of the sunshine shimmered around her.

They both were nervous to hear what the other would say, which led them to just look at one another to start the conversation.

"Would you still like to go out to Irondale with me? After I get released, of course." Y/n whispers as her eyes fall to the palms of her hands. A nervous silence grew between them as Madam Promfrey pretended she wasn't listening in.

"I would like that, a lot" Hermione whispers as a shared smile breaks out on their faces. The room felt warmer as their cheeks turned a cotton candy color (or candy floss if you really want to get British).

——————

They spoke quietly together as the day turned to night once again, Y/n eventually convincing Hermione to go back to her dorm and get a good night's rest.

But as soon as Hermione's head hit that pillow, she began to toss and turn. To the point that Ginny threw a pillow at her to make her stop moving.

"I can't help it!" Hermione whispered as she sat up and threw the bundle of feathers back at her. Ginny just sighed as she caught it and laid back with it covering her face in annoyance.

"Just go see her then! Everyone has been talking about you two today" Ginny muffled through the cloth as a few other girls hummed in agreement as they pretended to be asleep.

"Of course, this school spreads gossip quicker than the flu" Hermione grumbles as she throws the covers off and slips on her shoes. A few of the girls chuckled as they sat up as well and turned on the light.

"I find it cute," Lavender says with a smile as she yawns softly. Ginny snickered and moved the pillow off her face, watching as Hermione seemed to be burning with embarrassment.

"I hate you all" the leather-haired beauty grumbled as she walked towards the door.

"But we love you!" The girls yelled back in a fit of giggles as the door slammed shut. Hermione could hear them cackling as she quickly made her way down to the common room.

It was empty and dark, it looked as though someone had put off the fireplace for the night. Her feet made the steps creak as she walked down to the main floor, her arms crossed against her chest as the chilly air hit the skin of her forearms.

She huffed softly as she shimmied her way through the tunnel and out to the hall on the other side.

The paintings snored softly as she made her way to the Hospital Wing. Only a few were up to ask the young Gryffindor where she was off to, to which she replied 'Better sleeping arrangements'. It was a strange response, but they didn't push any further.

When Hermione made it to the wing, it was dark and cold, just like the night before. Except, Y/n was up.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?" She asks when she hears steps enter the room. Hermione just grumbled something incoherent and got into the empty bed next to Y/n's.

Y/n chuckled and watched the Gryffindor get under the covers and turn her back towards her.

"Missed me?"

"Shut up."

Y/n began to laugh, now that her ribs were almost fully healed it didn't hurt as much to do so anymore.

"Just admit it, Granger, you're in love with me already" Y/n says to which Hermione flips her off and covers her head with the pillow.

Hermione felt her face burn so hot that she was sure the pillowcase could catch ablaze. Y/n's continuous chuckles didn't help either. Soon enough, it got quiet, and the sound of the wind rattled the windows near them.

Hermione rolled over and rested the pillow back under her head as she caught eyes with Y/n across from her.

"This doesn't mean anything" she whispers as the Ravenclaw grinned.

"It means everything" Y/n replied.

"You're overthinking things"

"I'm your overthinker"

"Still trying to get me to claim you?"

"Slowly but surely!"

Hermione chuckled softly as she looked at her with a soft gaze, her heart thumping inside her chest.

"Fine. You're an idiot...my idiot"

They both began to laugh as they lay on either bed and started to talk the night away quietly, soon falling asleep with their hands dangling over the sides. Fingers brushing the others whenever a breath was taken.

Futures started to form in their dreams.

#harry potter #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #lesbian #fanfic #fluff

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yes-no-maybe-soo · 5 months ago

Note

I have a theory that Infold because it knows how much Sylus boosted their game they hold on his content as much a possible so when finally they release the final love interest, they have something new to keep people to wait in their game.

Like making people anticipate for whatever next will involve Sylus. I know poor greed, but i believe these types of companies do it.

I think this is a very plausible theory, and one I personally subscribe to. Ofc it's difficult to confirm anything regarding Paperfold's future plans for Sylus since they still refuse to give us a roadmap or any info at all as to if/when we might expect to finally receive his missing content. But their strategy is as clear as day imo: to deliberately withhold Sylus' standard cards etc. and thus back his mains into a corner, essentially forcing us to participate in all of his banners and buy his outfits, extra mats etc. b/c if we don't we simply have no chance of progressing in the game or to raise his affinity. Doing that with 17 standard cards is impossible and they know this.

As a player who joined during the Kitty Banner, the only reason I managed to pass Sylus' orbits at all is b/c I whaled during his myth, R3ing his cards. I missed out on 5 of his limited memories, the absence of which I felt keenly during his orbits. I managed just fine with the OG3 b/c they have so much base content that I had no need for their limited ones to make progress, nor to get a proper insight on their relationship with MC. Which is another thing that affects Sylus and his mains: his missing bond, anecdotes, and 4 stars mean that we also miss out on crucial lore, as well as important stepping stones in SylusMCs relationship. Most of the important info we get about either the lore or the relationship comes from limited memories. So if you miss out on those? Well, then you also miss out on a lot of crucial stuff regarding your LI. Which, again, is a strategy by Paperfold. They know we are desperate for any crumbs we can get atp. Just look at the insane numbers his myth and the recent quad banners made.

So yeah, it's a very scummy & scammy strategy by Paperfold here. It'd be one thing if they had made it clear from the get go that Sylus, or Caleb for that matter, would be premium characters. That they would be in a different category compared the OG3, that their mains would have different "game rules" to play by so to speak. But they didn't. They never marketed either of them as P2P characters (which is basically what they are). This is why many of us rightfully feel scammed, and to my understanding is a large part of the reason/basis for why the CN Sylus girlies filed a consumer fraud complaint against the company on Black Cat.

It's a frustrating and also quite frankly unnecessary situation we've all been put in, Paperfold included. All it would take to put this whole mess to rest is a word from Paperfold. Communication. A roadmap. That's literally it. None of us are asking them to drop the missing content today or tomorrow. But we are asking for an official statement as to what we as consumers can expect. Will we be given equal treatment, or no?

One would think this is asking for the bare minimum, but apparently not :/

Thank you for dropping by my inbox, and apologies for the lengthy reply (ᵕ—ᴗ—) I'm very passionate about this subject, as you can probably tell dhdjfj

#justice for sylus #sylus #lads #love and deepspace #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus lads #sylus love and deepspace

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thecoolerliauditore · 9 months ago

Note

Pls tell me about Scott's views on women in general pls I'm begging you

o7 and I'm sorry

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

fyi, the post itself isn't NSFW, but I'll be getting all gender theory in this bitch so I'll be referencing a lot of things and putting in pictures of naked ppl sometimes. maybe skip this one if you don't like that

(long post)

Disclaimers

An explanation for the tweet up there

I usually don't write these because I assume the people on my blog have enough sense to realise when I'm talking about the characters vs the CCs or are comfortable enough being a little confused, but I feel the need to extra-clarify here and expand on how I specifically view C vs CC because I think it differs a little from the average person.

To me, C and CC are two separate entities but not entirely disconnected. What differs (e.g. the exclusion of irl relationships -- their wives, kids, etc.) is poignant enough to severely detach them from the people they originated from, at least in my eyes, but there's also the fact that these are not scripted characters, just creators being themselves with a hint of behind the scenes drama-adding and improv thrown in.

For example, CC Pearl is a car nerd. So I assume her character is too.

This is where I state very clearly that yes, a lot of these thoughts come from things I've seen on Scott's twitter, which is undoubtedly the CC and not the C. However I, to me, am still talking about the C because any observations/judgments I could make on actual irl youtuber CC guy Scott Major would be tabloid at best and slightly invasive at worst. I'm seeing these statements within the context of "the death game guy would say this too and I'm writing this based on that", not "this is the inner psychological workings of the youtuber because I, as a fan, can totally tell".

TLDR I don't consider this post RPF but you might. This is a little more RPF-y than my usual stuff. If you don't rock with it we cool.

Everyone is weird about women, and that's okay

One short-hand I've used in the past to talk about Scott and women is just by saying that he's "weird about women" which I'm sure isn't exclusive to him.

(shitpost I made awhile back)

I see a lot of people now who love "villains" and "evil" but when it comes to any traits resembling real life evil (e.g. misogyny in this case) they suddenly become insecure. Just a couple of days back a saw a post on twitter essentially asking for permission to continue liking CC Scott in spite of the "bad things" he did.

And I think, in order to present an analysis like this, I must address that mindset first.

This is not a judgment on Scott's morality, nor is it trying to dissuade you from liking him. This is not saying that he is any more misogynistic than any other player in the series. This is just me pointing out Scott's attitude towards women and what I read it as, nothing less or more.

The feelings that me pointing these things out - be they apathy, disgust, anger or, what I would hope to see most, interest - are your own. I'm not here to tell anyone how to feel and never will try to police that on my blog.

Scott's Relationships with Women

aka. oh yeah this is about minecraft.

Scott and Cleo || "Yeah, you can kill me."

Scott and Cleo's alliance is arguably the strongest in the entire series, spanning through all five seasons and remaining unbroken with no (serious) drama attached. You'd expect from this that they two have a very settled and stable understanding of eachother, yet this isn't a case.

Their power dynamic shifts dramatically from one season to the next.

3L's initial Widows Alliance began on fairly equal footing, built on the mutual agreement that they were waiting for their respective partners to die. Both understood they were eachothers' "plan B" and felt comfortable in that arrangement.

Come LL, Cleo does what she couldn't in 3L, and initiates that plan, going to Scott after her last alliance, the fairy fort, fell apart. Scott requests nothing from her in return.

DL is the longest the two spent as eachothers main ally. Cleo is the one who initially proposes teaming up to spite their "cheating" soulmates and Scott agrees. Cleo admits to Martyn in private that she's aware she's taking advantage of Scott (which I've always interpreted as her talking about all seasons, not just DL). Due to the time they spend together, it's here where it becomes apparent that their initial assumptions during 3L were not entirely accurate, as Scott shows a level of gameplay competency much higher than Cleo's (e.g. teaching her how to axe-crit) but despite this Scott never berates her or thinks any less of her value as his ally.

LimL is probably this pairing at their most unhinged, as Scott, despite once again asking for nothing (or very little -- I'll be honest I'm a bit fuzzy on this) in return from Cleo, allows them and their allies to butcher him repeatedly for time. He gives more time to the Clockers than he does to Martyn, his closest ally that season. Despite this, Scott is never ever considered as a "family member" by the Clockers, despite them giving that title to even temporary allies (like the Bad Boys being their cousins) -- even Martyn gets a title with Scott completely unattached.

SL is relatively more chill, but shows that the two inevitably end up teaming together even despite their oath to avoid eachother that season.

The point being -- again and again, we see Scott literally and metaphorically making sacrifices for Cleo, with the only real transaction he requires from her being that she continues having his back when times get rough. This is despite that he's aware she isn't any more capable than he is and the fact that so far it has only been Cleo in rough times (LL, LimL and SL) and never Scott.

Speaking from a purely transactional perspective, Scott is not getting a bargain here -- and even Cleo seems acutely aware of it, judging by her comment during DL as well as the way she tends to speak of her survival capabilities very lowly in general ("rubbish pvp skills and spiffy one-liners"). I'm speaking in this sense because I've seen discussions in the past about the transactional way Scott views relationships but rarely does Cleo get brought up.

This is at stark contrast to how he treats Jimmy, whose predicted death was what spurred on Scott and Cleo's alliance in the first place.

Scott assumes Jimmy is "incompetent", where he assumes Cleo is capable. When Jimmy messes up, he reprimands him, when Cleo struggles to crit him, he patiently teaches her. When LL begins, Scott's first instinct was to look at Jimmy's lives and note that he was "useless to (him)", but holds no objections to Cleo joining his alliance despite her already having enemies being a potential liability. In SL, he jokes about how Cleo and him being allied is a given and pretty much expected of them, whereas in LimL he explicitly requests from Jimmy a recognition that he still cares ("say love you back!") before he will help him.

Scott and Gem || "You HAVE TO kill me, Gem,"

In SL, Gem settles in very easily in a leadership position within Gem and the Scotts due to her trying to live up to her reputation but also due to Scott and Impulse's more laid back, passive playstyles.

Both Scott and Impulse let Gem kill them for extra health this season, although Scott is arguably much more subservient than Impulse is, with him not only insisting that she kill him in the final episode but also not fighting back (and only yelling for her to stop) when she starts hitting him with a sword during the episode where her task was to literally kill everyone on the server.

Once again comparing her to Jimmy, Scott in 3L had a tendency to brush aside Jimmy's concerns over alliances (e.g. Jimmy questioning if they could trust Cleo) while in SL Scott runs his plans by Gem (and Pearl and Impulse) in terms of who he wanted to team up with (specifically excluding Joel from the potential mounders alliance) implying he held her opinion in some form of regard.

Before this becomes less of an analysis of Scott's treatment of men vs women and more of Scott's treatment of Jimmy vs everyone else, I think it's notable enough to mention that he and Martyn also lacked this sort of communication in LimL. He would inform Martyn of his plans, but rarely was it ever framed as a request.

SL almost feels as if Scott has slid Gem into the slot he had previously designated for Cleo in 3L (his girlboss ally) as he provides her and pretty much forces onto her by the end the acts of service he'd become accustomed to performing for Cleo.

Scott and Lizzie || "You killed her! I don't.. I don't know what to even say!"

Relatively shorter section because this is the one woman he hasn't teamed with, but there's still some interesting stuff I wanted to touch on.

In LL, one of the first thing Scott does is yell at Pearl to revenge-kill Joel for boogey-killing him. Pearl does as she's told and Joel's wet miserable pathetic LL life gets worse from there.

Several episodes later, the roles are reversed -- Lizzie lies to both of them and manages to isolate and boogey-kill Pearl. Scott, instead of reacting with the anger he had for Joel, is almost in a state of shock as he asks Lizzie to let him down so he could collect Pearl's belongings. He doesn't act aggressively towards Lizzie at all, with his most antagonizing act against her being to lie about his intentions when giving her a wither skull.

In SL, he's the only one aware of her early permadeath, but keeps quiet about it almost as if he's in a state of shock akin to when he saw Lizzie kill Pearl in LL. It's not until the others have noticed when he finally brings it up.

Scott and Pearl || "Tilly death do us 'part"

I wrote a whole post just for their relationship alone so for the sake of my sanity I'll be leaving this here.

So now I get to dedicate this section to the meat of this post -- how the way Scott treats women in general impacts his relationship with Pearl and how I view his heel-turn on her as seeping with relevance to Pearl's perceived gender.

In all three of the previous sections, the running theme is that Scott is 1. kinder and more patient with women, regardless of their competency and 2. someone who likes to be in a supporting role to women, occasionally aiding them more than he aids himself and his closer male allies (e.g. Jimmy and Martyn). As shown with Cleo, he assumes that girls have it together, but even if they don't it's not a big deal. When a girl's actions are truly disastrous, such as with Lizzie's, he goes into a state of shock and doesn't really react, preferring to swallow it down and not acknowledge it.

With the amount of times he sacrifices himself, I don't think it's a reach to say that Scott values his own life less than he values the lives of his (female) allies. This specific point actually does extend to his male allies too, shown when he's happy when Martyn literally backstabs him in LimL, but just as with the Martyn post where I point out his victim status-ing doesn't end at only women but includes all the women, Scott has pedastal-ed all the women he's teamed with.

Lizzie is, once again, the exception here due to his limited interactions with her. However that's actually somewhat patched over if you look at adjacent series (such as x-life) where he definitely shows her a level of admiration and respect.

Back to Scott and Pearl.

Their relationship during LL is very standard of how Scott treats women. While the power dynamic between them is obviously more caused by the initial life trade agreement, I don't think it's a far reach to say that Scott is somewhat comfortable in the arrangement.

However, this is also the first thing that sets their relationship apart from Scott with Cleo or Gem -- Pearl is the one making sacrifices, not Scott. She is the one "sacrificing" her lives to him, just in a more non-violent way as allowed by the season's mechanics.

When viewed through this lens, Scott trying to make it up to her and wanting his effort acknowledged makes even more sense. This is suddenly uncharted waters for him. His assuming that Pearl doesn't value him as a person goes hand in hand with him valuing himself less than her.

What Scott has with Cleo or Gem, situations where the other party is clearly uncomfortable with how he treats himself (Gem) or actively aware they are taking advantage of him (Cleo), is equalized to him because he is inherently worth less. What he has with Pearl, on the other hand, looks more equal to most people (lives vs labour) but is wildly imbalanced to him.

It's one of the many factors I see going into Scott's weird decision to abandon her in DL.

An Interlude, Before We Get to DL

La Pieta, Michelangelo

So this has been a lot of words so far and some of you might be wondering at this point: why say Scott is "weird" about women when so far this has been describing how he values women more, is kinder to them, is more patient with them, etc.? How is any of this behaviour remotely misogynistic?

And I would feel horrible if I forced you to read through all of my DL thoughts before I clarified this -- Scott is not your classic wifebeater "women are lesser" misogynist, Scott is someone who subscribes to misogynistic schools of thought and probably considers himself an ally to women, when in reality his beliefs are still rooted in dehumanizing them and these beliefs end up harming the women around him as well as himself.

After all, seeing women are your superiors is still not seeing them as your equals.

I know it's a bit of a meme on this blog at this point. But. Sigmund Freud identified what we know refer to as the "madonna/whore complex", which he described as a pattern of behaviour in men who separated women into being madonnas (pure, holy and admirable) and whores (debased, sexual, deviant). We'll be focusing on the former, the madonna, as it is more relevant to Scott's character.

Freud proposed that the madonna figure was something men projected onto women as a replacement for maternal love. These women are sacred and untouchable, literally as the projection of the maternal role onto them also makes it so that the sufferer cannot feel any sexual attraction towards her (keep this in mind for later).

Scott projects the madonna figure onto his female compatriots -- they are to be protected, served and supported. They are goddesses, queens, but they are never human. The madonna role in of itself is not inherently harmful to the woman, as seen with Cleo who takes control and advantage of it. However, it is enforced, as seen with Gem who at first revels in the superiority but almost breaks down when Scott offers him up as her sacrificial lamb one last time.

I linked this Utena AMV awhile back when vaguely talking about Scott and women, and this was the point I was alluding to.

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Girls are beautiful and pure. They don't spit on the street, they don't piss on the street, they don't build hierarchies -- they subvert all the expectations of masculinity that I hate having to deal with. They are my escape.

But what about the girls who do spit on the street? The girls who piss on seats? Who build social hierarchies, who size up their competition?

The girls Scott interacts with are all painfully human. Cleo weaponizes his beliefs and take advantage of him. Scott is smart enough to know and accept this. Gem's playing into a role she has been assigned into by not only Scott but everyone around her. Scott supports the character she plays. Lizzie reflects traits he hates in Joel and Jimmy, but for her, he looks the other way.

Are they "demons", as the song says, or are they no longer girls at all?

(demons, gods, but never humans)

Weaponized Femininity and Women In Total Control of Themselves ;)

Hylas and the Nymphs, John William Waterhouse

Historically, weaponized femininity I'd argue is one of the oldest tropes in storytelling. Whether it's nymphs or sirens or witches or succubi or even more roundabout cases like Helen of Troy, there's countless stories of men's sexual attraction to women leading them to disaster.

One way to view these stories is to see them as warnings, don't let womens allure be the end of you.

There's a lot of good writing done on the femme fatale trope both in the context of weaponizing femininity and as a sexist way to argue against victims of sexual assault, as these stories often say that men who experience attraction to these "evil" women no longer have agency over their own actions.

Look at the painting above, for example - is it the nymphs who are responsible for drowning Hylas, or is Hylas climbing into the lake of his own accord?

Despite the fact we all know sirens, nymphs and succubi aren't real, the belief that men will simply lose control of themselves when encountering a particularly alluring woman persists to the modern consciousness. That there's something inherently dangerous about women and attraction to them.

(this is not 100% applicable to Ninja saying he won't stream with women, but it's the real life example I felt most comfortable putting in here)

Now, let's combine this with what's been said so far -- let's say you don't hate women. You love women, in fact, and you hate the way men treat women. You hate men, in fact.

Yet, you still believe in this inherent power women hold by being female and the loss of agency that men experience when attracted to them -- how disgusting.

It quickly becomes easily to not only demonize men for sullying the holiness of women, but also men, masculinity and attraction to women as a whole.

(apologies for using twt discourse in the meta post but this flew by my TL and i had to grab the irl example of mens non-violent attraction to women being used to frame them as misogynistic before the stupid app refreshed and i lose everything forever)

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"To Venner" is a student film exploring a world set within this belief, where all the women have vanished and the men have become monstrous figures as a result of their pent up sexual frustration. fyi this is one of my favourite student films (and ive watched a bunch), but I do think its messaging is worth breaking down (especially its juxtaposition of dirty horrible monstrous sexuality vs pure and beautiful romantic love)

NOTE: this film is super graphic, lots of violence and nudity. have fun. or not

I admit this section is a bit hard to gauge as everyone in the series is gay as fuck. The closest in-series example I can think of is Scott reacting to Martyn's antics in DL with a sort of indigence but otherwise I can't really think of an example of a man expressing attraction to a woman at all, let alone one Scott reacted to. However, I do think it's still worth talking about because it opens up some interesting trains of thought in regard to Scott and Pearl.

For Scott, he himself has never been part of the picture. He's gay, after all, which gives him an edge over the bad straight men who objectify and assault women. Likewise, there's little evidence to suggest he finds the expectations of masculinity frustrating, but I don't think it's too far a reach considering how common of an experience that is for gay men and his adapting of more feminine mannerisms.

Double Life and Corruption

As mentioned in my previously linked post about Scott and Pearl's relationship, I do think Scott experiences what he would name as attraction towards Pearl, so my writing will reflect that.

Pearl is. ahem. not like other girls.

Not actually. But to Scott, she probably isn't like other girls.

She remains unaware of his different standards for her (how could she when she had nothing to compare them to), she acts out, sometimes violently, against Scott's urging (such as when she stole from Scar's wagon). She maintains their already irregular dynamic, and while she appreciates his care for her, she never quite falls into seeing him as a source of subservience the way Cleo or Gem do.

At the end of LL, right before the 1v1v1v1, she monologues to herself that she no longer has to feel bad for killing Scott. Which, in turn, implies she expected Scott to give it his all against her as well.

She entirely fails to embody the madonna with her immature naivete and her questionable morals. She is unpredictable, she doesn't take what she is owed, she is a monster in a lot of ways.

Scott, too, is a monster, to himself, for how he feels about her.

The very foundations of your understanding of yourself being ripped apart aside, let's rewind to the madonna/whore complex. To sexualise the madonna is to corrupt her and make a monster of yourself. Suddenly, you are no better than the men around you, the ones you've grown to hate. Suddenly, you are the grotesque figures in films like To Venner. You are Hylas and she is the nymph. And you are so stupid. Your worldview crumbles around its flawed foundations.

Scott is, however, immune to this corruption. This is a theme that appears in Empires as well, but throughout the traffic series he's prided himself on being loyal and kind and good. His monologue leading up to LL's 1v1v1v1 summarizes it quite well.

He can't let himself or anyone else see this side of him, but the energy needs to go somewhere. To defy fate, abandon your soulmate, is to admit you had a fate in the first place, is to acknowledge that she was your soulmate in the first place.

I've previously talked about how fate and romance are very ingrained in Scott's belief system, if it was anyone else it would've been amazing. He could've been like Bdubs and Impulse or Ren and Bigb, diving into domestic life and performative romance with a stranger. Or the world could've made his happy ending from 3L real, as he got to be Jimmy's husband all over again. I think it says something that he accepts Cleo as a "soulmate" before Pearl.

So what do you do with all that energy and tension, clearly apparent to yourself and everyone else, when you can't let them observe your feelings?

You project them.

Shout-outs to @/legally-allowed-to-slime for pointing out Pearl's comment early on in DL that she "feels like (she's) been broken up with" confirms she never saw Scott in a romantic sense. The "crazy ex-girlfriend" and "this is why I'm gay" comments really did come out of thin air, or perhaps insecurity.

Pearl is the crazy one. She's insane, because she wants me. She wants to be with me, so she does all this crazy stuff. She's lost control of herself because she wants me. She's disgusting.

I mentioned before that Scott is not your classic misogynist, but this is where the gears start turning. Scott's views of Pearl echo that of other players, most prominently Ren and Martyn, that Pearl has been overcome with some sort of corruption. She has become the witch, the demoness, the whore, in their eyes. Scott does not want to be the same as these men and I think his overcorrecting his behaviour in SL makes sense when you view it from this angle, but for now he has to rely on more traditional misogyny in order to navigate this new obstacle.

"Corruption" also implies that she had to have been pure (or at least pure-er) beforehand, something Scott personally knows is not true, but it falls in line with defaulting women to being "madonnas".

This is a Scott post but. shout outs to Ren for being all of this about Pearl but without the complexity of Scott like he literally accuses Pearl of seducing Bigb what the fuck man.

Pearl is, of course, none of that. But she plays into the role of being the witch much better than she fared playing into the role of the madonna.

Sidenote: I know I'm looking at this from a Scott/Pearl POV but I do feel like you can omit Scott's attraction if you look at it from a purely "pearl not performing to standards of femininity I expect and she makes me realise I don't view women as a whole as human which makes me feel weird so now we have to do this" POV. Like idk I think the exact reason he abandoned Pearl is going to be lost on everyone forever so any analysis I could perform is going to suffer at least a little bit of making-shit-up-itis.

I do also think there's something to be said about Pearl being pushed until she performed a role, any role and generally failing at Being A Girl tm but that's another post i think. yknow shes um. a bit. 🏳️‍⚧️ (but also very much not at the same time idk that's gonna need its own post)

anyway yeah uh the minecraft movie looks crazy huh

#asks #random thoughts

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