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zeroreasonstocare · 2 days

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Trouble

A Five Part Sukuna Series

Part One: Some Dumb Project

Masterlist

Part Two (will update when posted!!)

Synopsis: You switched majors and meet this annoying guy in your new history class, now you have to work on a project with him. Not only that, he goes to the place you work at! Ugh, how annoying, hopefully he won’t cause any trouble…

〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎ ♛ 〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎

Sukuna is nothing but trouble. Everyone knows that. All your life, you’ve attracted nothing but trouble. Whether it’s a traffic jam, your coffee being too cold or spilling all over you, or somehow locking yourself out of your apartment, you just can’t help but find trouble.

Like right now.

You’re late. To your first class of your new major. It’s not like you slept in late or anything, your door jammed, meaning you had to bust yourself out of your own apartment. Talk about annoying! Luckily, the professor hasn’t entered class, so when you walk into the lecture hall, you get up to a row with good acoustics and sit next to a boy with pink hair. He smiles at you and taps your shoulder.

“Hey! I’m Yuji Itadori! Are you new? I haven’t seen you here before, and most of these people are familiar faces.”

“Yeah, I switched majors over break. Nice to meet you, Itadori.”

“Hey, who’s the person in my seat, brat?”

You think you have double vision when you see Itadori twice, but this second one has tattoos on his face.

“Um, there aren’t assigned seats.”

“You’re one of those people, aren’t you?” He huffs with his gruff voice, a frown permanently etched into his face. He’s like a polar opposite of Yuji.

“Sukuna, just sit on the other side of me, it’s not that big a deal.” Yuji rolls his eyes.

“Maybe not to you, idiot.”

“Um, who are you?” You tilt your head.

“I’m this brat’s twin brother, isn’t that obvious? Now get out of my spot.”

“Still not your spot.”

“I will carve my name into the desk. Then will you move?”

“Isn’t that vandalism?”

“Even better.”

You scoff into a small laugh and look at Yuji with a “can you believe this guy?” look. You still refuse to switch seats as the professor enters.

“Alright, take your seats, class has started.” He says in a bored tone.

Sukuna scoffs at you and sits on the other side of Yuji, glaring at you the entire time. He can already tell you’re going to annoy him. Especially with your stupid attitude, your dumb clothes that fit you so well, your stupid good looks, your annoyingly attractive body… He needs to not stare. He shakes the thought away as the professor talks about some dumb project he could care less about.

“You all are going to be assigned a group of three people, so just look at the person next to you and on the other side, that’s basically your group, just for simplicity.” The professor looks up and starts writing groups down. “Mkay, so the Itadoris anddd… got it.”

Sukuna almost audibly groans with his eye roll, now he’s stuck with you? What a pain… The end of class couldn’t come sooner. He glares at you as he leaves, grabbing his pack of cigarettes and smoking in the bathrooms. You look at Yuji in confusion.

“That’s your twin brother?”

“Yeah, I think he was dropped.”

You laugh at him and shake your head, he’s definitely funnier than his moody counterpart. You head to your next class after exchanging numbers. The rest of the school day goes on like normal. Luckily, you don’t have any other classes with Yuji’s brother, but you do share a math class with Yuji, which is fun. You leave to work, a cafe run by a tired old man, but he’s a nice guy. You get there early somehow, changing into your work clothes and heading to the front to take orders.

You didn’t think the day would be worse, but who else enters the cafe but that annoying tattooed guy? Oh, and Yuji, but he’s not the issue here. There’s a third guy too, he doesn’t look much like them.

“Hey, customers are here, stop staring and take their orders, please.” Nanami tells you.

“Right, sorry.” You mumble and take their orders, Sukuna purposely picking something difficult. Yuji smiles at you and sits at their normal spot.

“This history project makes no sense, we haven’t even been taught this thing and he’s assigning us a project! Can you believe this, Choso?” Yuji groans and sips his drink when you set it in front of him.

“It’s like a research project, and we need to sort out who's doing what.” You say and hand who Yuji called “Choso” his black coffee. You set down the difficult order Sukuna made and he examines it.

“Hmm…”

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure it was made correctly.”

“I didn’t poison it, dude, it has everything you asked for.”

“Hmmmmm…” Your eye twitches.

“You’re not getting a refund, Sukuna, she made it exactly like you asked, you’re such a pain in the ass.” Yuji rolls his eyes and looks at you. “Just ignore him. We need to plan the project anyways. Sukuna isn’t going to do anything, I already know that.”

Sukuna, who doesn’t deny it, opens a bunch of straws, rips small parts of the wrapping paper, balls them up, and throws them across the table. One hits Yuji, one lands onto the floor, one lands in Choso’s coffee, and one hits you while another lands in your hair. Choso glares at his younger brother and rolls his eyes, moving the ball out of his coffee before taking a sip.

“Every day, I wonder how I am even related to you.” Choso mumbles.

“Oh, you say that about me but not the idiot next to you?”

“At least Yuji isn’t a literal menace like you.”

“Can we please focus on the project?” Yuji sighs.

“Whatever.” Sukuna grumbles and keeps tossing trash around.

“I’ll research the start half if you research the end half.” Yuji says to you.

“Mkay, I can also make the presentation.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Sukuna asks.

“Don’t act like you plan to help, idiot! The school already caught you for vandalizing the bathroom stalls! You’re gonna be busy cleaning all that up before you can even work on the project, and I know you’ll take your sweet ass time cleaning everything up!” Yuji argues with Sukuna.

“Really? First day back and you’re already in trouble?” You tilt your head.

“Don’t act so surprised, everyone knows he’s trouble.” Choso says pointedly.

“Oh, I guess you’ve never met him before today, huh? He gets in trouble quite a lot.” Yuji grins. “Anyways, we should let you get back to work, so have fun!”

Yuji leaves a tip for you and you start cleaning the table, not seeing the way Sukuna’s gaze lingers when you bend to pick up the trash from the ground. You hit your head standing back up and swear you can hear someone snicker.

You drive home, though leaving the parking lot of the cafe takes you almost an hour since your key wouldn’t work. When you get to your apartment, you enter through the front door and cook yourself a simple dinner. You count your tips and see a piece of paper you didn’t notice before.

“Don’t sit there tomorrow or I’ll key your car.”

Wonder who that could be from.

The next day, you head to class, getting there early, and Sukuna is already in “his seat”, giving you a glare as his eyes trail down your body. He really can’t stand you, he decides again. Your outfit today sits a little too perfect, being just tight enough that if someone was looking hard enough (which Sukuna was), they could see the outline of your bra.

You chew on the end of your pencil, a bad habit you’re yet to break, and Yuji shares the research doc to you. You split the work between the two of you and Sukuna just sits in the doc typing the same three phrases over and over.

“Stop that.” Yuji smacks his brother’s arm.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re typing ‘death and destruction’ as if you’re manifesting it, stop.”

“I’m not just typing that…”

“Don’t get me started on ‘the despair is endless’ and ‘this class shouldn’t exist’. What are you, twelve?”

“I’m twenty-one, like you, dumbass!”

“I’m not the dumbass writing edgy shit on the doc!”

“Oh my god, you two, just let him type his edgy shit and continue researching.” You groan.

Yuji huffs in frustration and continues his research while you check the doc to see what Sukuna is doing. There are fire emojis in the middle of your typing, the words “you work tn?” near the bottom of the page. You sigh and humor him, talking through the document.

“No, why?”

“So I don’t get to throw trash at you later?”

“Nope.”

“How sad.”

You look at him and he has a smirk. You roll your eyes and leave when class is over, tripping over your own feet. He laughs at your misfortune and grunts when Yuji smacks him in the head.

“What was that for?!”

“Don’t go flirting with her, she’s a nice girl who doesn’t need someone like you to fuck up her happiness.”

“I’m not flirting with her!”

“I saw the fucking doc, dipshit. You’re not slick.”

“I was asking if she’d be around for me to torment.”

“You and I both know what your intentions were.”

The tattooed twin grunts and walks off, lighting a cigarette and tripping some nerd who apologizes for being in his way. He wasn’t flirting. He can’t stand you, he tells himself. He can’t stand your quick remarks to his words, can’t stand your stupid doe eyes, the way they squint when you’re focused on typing after the third typo in a row, can’t stand the way you purse your lips and the slight smile on your face when he and Yuji are arguing, definitely not wondering what it’d be like to feel them against his own. Because he wasn’t flirting. Yuji doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Sukuna smokes and half-ass scrubs the stall he vandalized yesterday. His thoughts are not focused on you, your stupid face, or your dumb words. Totally not. He wasn’t flirting, he reassures himself again. He’s not interested in you. Even if he was, he wouldn’t admit that. You’re just some girl in his class. Not important at all.

He’s late to the cafe and Yuji is fixing the mistakes in the research document. Choso sips his usual black coffee and scrolls on his phone.

“You’re late.” The elder brother points out.

“Had to clean the bathrooms.”

“I see. Your barista friend isn’t here.”

“She’s not my ‘friend’, Choso.”

“She’s Yuji’s friend.”

“Doesn’t make her mine by default, she can have the brat.”

“Says Mister Flirts With Her.” Yuji grins.

“I wasn’t flirting dammit!”

“Why are you getting so defensive, huh?”

“I am not! You’re just a pain in my ass and annoying the hell out of me!”

“Stop screaming, Nanamin will kick us out!” Yuji frowns.

“I still don’t get how you’re so buddy-buddy with the old man.” Choso mumbles.

“He’s pretty cool. Kind of mean, but he makes delicious bread.”

“Literally how the hell are you even aware of that?” Sukuna scoffs.

“Unlike you, I actually talk to people, and get along with them!”

“Whatever…” He scoffs.

Sukuna seems bored. He taps the table to a catchy tune and just waits until it’s time for him to go home. He watches a few groups walk into the cafe and at Yuji working diligently on his laptop.

“At least she does her work. I’d hate to do this project alone.” Yuji says to no one in particular.

“Do you do anything else besides complain?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sukuna. Let me think out loud. And you complain more than I do.”

“Liar.”

“How the hell is that a lie?”

Choso chuckles at his younger brothers. “Sukuna, you do have a streak for complaining more than Yuji.”

“Oh, dare I bring you into this, Choso?”

“You’re right; withdrawn.”

“Let’s just go home already.”

“Yeah, fine.” Yuji frowns and shuts his laptop.

When they get home, Sukuna feels a buzz in his pocket. He checks his phone. There is a text from Gojo, the university’s pretty boy.

Party at my place next Thursday.

This should be fun.

Taglist: @jinxiewritings @midnight-138 @sukioyakio @toffeebrat @hypothetical-hypocritical

@sh0ot1ngst4r @tojideckmuncher @sterzin @theirlgarfield @mikari73

@watyousayin @cherriee-ee @kyojurokoibito @xwhatiams @notsocherries

@ohohcandy @aruraa @samaraxmorgan (Comment or ask and I’ll add you!!)

#I think writing sibling dynamics are my favorite thing ever because I’m an expert when it comes to having brothers #♛trouble #brothers au #modern au #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryoumen sukuna #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #yuji itadori #yuuji itadori

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timmydraker · 2 days

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On a seemingly random Tuesday night, a few members of the Bat Family are free to spend dinner at the manner.

Jason was benched by his fellow Outlaws for a nasty hit to his chest and got tired of Biz’s worrying even if it was appreciated at first.

Dick had been taking a small break after a particularly bad case with work that involved some hurt children and wanted to be back home.

Damian had only ever made threats to move about but the newley eighteen year old was still at home.

Tim had been using his free time while Kon and Cassie visited their families to visit his own while Bart and Barry dragged Wally on a bonding trip. The poor West boy had to miss out a concert of some sort.

Stephanie, Duke and Cass were all busy with a case and had pleaded with Bruce to take some time off because he was, quote, “Broodier than Hamlet”. He eventually relented when Barbie and Kate promised to keep an eye on them.

The group had decided to watch a movie instead of playing games, mainly because not games were banned, and settled on something that Tim paid no mind to.

The problem came that it was cold out and everyone insisted on having the fire as hot as it could go, but Tim naturally ran hot. Jason and Damian tended to get the coldest and while only Jason would complain, Damian could and would set anything he wanted on fire to get warm.

So, Tim didn’t complain and just said he was going to get changed.

He spent at least half an hour on one of the arm chairs by himself with his tablet playing RuneScape, when Dick inhaled so quickly everyone heard it.

Tim assumed it was something to do with the movie and didn’t turn, tapping away at his screen, completely ignorant to Dick’s quickly forming tears.

It was when Bruce also made a noise, this time a poorly pronounced ‘oh’ that he turned around, assuming it had to be a truely grand thing for Bruce to react so openly in the movie.

Instead he finds his foster father and brothers staring at him.

More specifically, his thighs.

Tim hadn’t realised his shorts would ride up and stop covering him to just above his knee and show the hundreds of scars littered over the outside and inside of his pale skin. They were mostly faded, but with the width of some of them they were always going to be visible, especially with the sheer amount.

Pulling his pant leg down, Tim doesn’t bother to hide a sympathetic wince and says, “Sorry, didn’t meant to show them. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

He looks away again, assuming that was that and trying to remind himself that it wasn’t his fault that people were upset by his scars, just like Black Canary told him.

Instead he hears a sob and turns back to find Bruce holding Dicks hand as his oldest brother sobs into his hand. He sees that Jason is seemingly fighting to not match him even with his wide eyes and Damian is staring at him with confusion.

Realisation finds Tim quickly, which makes sense considering he’s supposed to be the ‘smart Robin’.

“You didn’t know…”

Dick stands up, dropping Bruce’s hand and comes to kneel before Tim, holding onto his own hands like some kind of follower to a god, “Why? I- I don’t- why?”

The desperation in his voice makes Tim feel sick, and he looks around at the others for help because surely he had talked to at least one of them about it? He had been open with his friends, and he hadn’t exactly kept it a secret, but he did avoid showing them…

Tim moves to hold onto Dick in return, “I’m sorry, I thought you guys knew-… okay, look, I’ve got a two year clean streak and I’m in therapy, okay? I’m so sorry Dick, I just assumed you knew cause I use the shower in the cave with you guys and… I’m so sorry.”

There’s a silence for a moment as Dick drags him into his arms and squeezes him as tightly as he can, not even being careful like he usually would.

“I don’t understand.”

Damian’s voice sounds uncharacteristic in how small it is. He’s staring at Tim’s legs like he might be able to catch a glimpse of the scars in genuine confusion.

Bruce seemingly can’t speak and so Jason tries his best to explain to the youngest Wayne boy, “Look, bra-kid, some times when people aren’t doing to well they… they hurt themselves. Tim…”

Giving his brother a smile, Tim takes over as tears finally break away from Jason. Jason was always the most emotional and that’s evident in how he actually lets Bruce pull him into a side hug.

“Dami, you know how my parents kind of sucked?”

Damian makes a scoff noise, “I know they were incompetent, yes.”

Smiling, Tim continues as his eyes grow wet with the sound of his families cries, “Well, I really wanted to good for them but they had impossible standards. When I found I couldn’t reach them, I decided I needed punishment. So…” he takes a deep inhale and moves a hand to Dick’s head to comfort him as he finishes. “I started to cut myself.”

Damian doesn’t get wide eyes or anything, and Tim thinks it’s so much worse that there’s an image understanding in his little brothers eyes that show he sees that as completely logical.

But it is quickly overcome, his first thought always what he was raised with and quickly followed by the ideals he’s learnt and now values. He doesn’t cry either, but he does have a look of a pure heart break in his sweet little eyes.

Bruce finally comes over and pulls his two sons into a hug, adjusting to fit Jason in and saying nothing as Damian comes up behind Tim and leans his head against the others back.

Bruce asks other a few minutes of holding each other, “You said you haven’t for two years?”

Tim smiles once again and presses a kiss to his dad’s cheek. “Yeah. I learnt that family, real family like ours, would never want physical punishment, especially for something we can’t control. That’s not how loving people work.”

Damian moves to wrap his arms around Tim in their first ever hug and by all gods and mighty beings is Tim glad he stuck around.

Hugs from his family was well worth it.

#batfam #tim drake #bat family #dc comics #batfamily #dc universe #dc #tim drake is red robin #tim drake is a menace #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #Tim Drake angst #tim drake centric #sh mention

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dira333 · 3 days

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Cats and dogs and bunnies too - Sakura Haruka x Reader

Timeskip

You notice it long before he mentions anything.

Sakura Haruka is fond of dogs. Cats too. Once, he even caught a little bunny that had been adamant about escaping its owners, petting it slowly with a look of utmost focus as he took it back.

But he’s careful not to show it too much.

Sometimes he pretends he doesn’t notice the old dog at the corner flagging its tail at his sight until you walk over to pet it, like admitting to it would be a weakness.

Sakura Haruka has many weaknesses.

He always stubbs his toe at night, when he gets up for a toilet break because he doesn’t want to turn on the light in fear of waking you.

He drinks too much coffee and forgets that he’s no longer sixteen but twenty-six now, that his back starts hurting if he sits hunched over for too long.

He never remembers sorting his clothes before putting them in the wash and wears the white-turned-pink shirts with pride after he accidentally drops one of your red panties in with the white laundry.

He’s married to you yet he tends to forget, staring at the ring on his finger in silent wonder at least once a week.

“Baby?” He asks one Sunday morning, his head in your lap, his laptop forgotten on the coffee table.

“Hm?” You massage his scalp, pretending to rub the stress from his temples.

“Could we get a dog?”

It’s a simple question, one you thought he’d ask much sooner.

You wonder if he knows about the box of supplies in the back of your closet, of the surprise present that’s due any day now.

“Do you want one?” You ask back.

Haruka is quiet for a moment. You might think him asleep if not for the tension in his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he admits finally.

“Good,” you lower down to press a kiss to his temple. “Then we’ll get one.”

“Really?” He blinks up at you, his eyes now soft and vulnerable, like they were when you met all those years ago.

Haruka once told you that looking at you seems to make his heart crack open and looking at him now you can’t help but believe it.

“Really. What kind of dog do you want?”

“I don’t care,” he answers just like you knew he would. “What kind of name would we give it?”

“Well, let’s think about it. What if we get a little dog? What would you name a little dog?”

“How little?”

“Like a Corgi? Or a Spitz?”

“Princess.” The name shoots out of him too fast to be casual. He’s thought about it for sure.

You laugh, a little surprised by it. “I mean, sure, but you already call me that. Don’t you think it would get confusing?”

Under your gentle touch, his cheeks burst aflame.

He’s too flustered to speak and you let him stay quiet, tucking his hair behind his ears.

“What about a big dog?” You ask eventually.

“Queenie,” he breathes out softly, clearly learning from his mistakes. You wonder if he knows that he’s only picked out female names so far.

“Haruka, can you come help?” You yell from the doorstep. “There’s a package but it’s too heavy for me.”

“Coming!” He calls out, jogging down the stairs in all his post-work-glory, the sweatpants and hoodie combo looking cozy enough to forget about the whole surprise.

“Kiss me first,” you command, pulling him in by the collar until you’re satisfied, grinning when he picks the package up with ease.

“Careful, it says fragile,” you point out as he carries it up, unaware of the other box you carry after him.

“What’s in it anyway?”

“I don’t know,” you lie, “Open it.”

It’s not properly taped shut, which he laments about as he fiddles with the tape. But all the words leave him when the box opens and he comes face to face with all the goods.

“Dogfood?” He asks, a little confused, picking up the bag. “Toys? You already ordered the stu-” He stops short when he sees you holding another box in your arms, this one already open.

“Don’t tell me-” Haruka breathes out, taking a step back as if he’s going to lash out in panic like he used to.

But he doesn’t. He just breathes, in and out, his eyes zeroed in on your face until he’s calmed himself enough to take a step forward.

Another one follows and then he’s close enough to touch you, yet he doesn’t.

“Is this what I think it is?”

“It’s really heavy,” you joke just as Queenie’s head pops out of the box, the puppy clearly not amused about your arms shaking from her weight.

So many emotions flicker over his face, sad ones and happy ones alike.

When Haruka reaches for the dog, his hands shake but his grip is gentle and his hold is steady.

It reminds you of the first time he held your hand, knuckles bruised and eyes tear-shot. He’d been gentle then too, even scared-shitless.

Maybe one day he’ll hold your kid like that too. But time will tell if and when that happens.

There’s still a cat to adopt. And maybe a bunny too.

#my writing #windbreaker #wind breaker #bofurin #wind breaker x reader #sakura haruka #sakura x reader #bofurin x reader

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yelenaslyubov · 1 day

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Be My Baby

main masterlist || florence pugh || requests

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ pairing: florence pugh x fem!reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ warnings: MINORS DNI (18+), smut, reader receiving, fingering, reader starts story married to a cis man!, cheating

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ description: (inspired by florence’s new shoot with vogue and set in the mid-to-late 1900s), after moving to the suburbs for a quieter life, your next door neighbor turns out to be a sweet surprise. infatuated by her personality, you make it your mission to get to know her better, even if that means breaking the rules.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ word count: 2.8k

A thinly paved road and bushels of trees flew past on either side of the car. Being away from the city was a dream at last, as you had begged your husband for years at the opportunity. Now, he had the chance and he took it.

It was just as you had pictured it; perfectly wooded with plenty of neighbors around to keep you company. Your husband would work in the city, which was about an hour drive, but it was what you asked for with easy living.

As you neared the end of the road, you passed a large house coming up on the right. The sharp home was white with plenty of wood finishes. It seemed to fit just right in front of the trees.

Just like you remembered, your house was the last on the road and it looked just like the pictures you had seen in the mail. The accents of stone and black trim were to die for, and you knew the inside would be an even better satisfaction.

The car pulled into the driveway and it stopped with a squeak. The smile on your face could not be disguised. Your husband opened his own door but regretted not opening yours as well. Your smile faded as you helped yourself out of the car.

“Well, I hope it is everything you’ve dreamed of because I spent a pretty penny on it.” Even the sound of his voice repulsed you more than you could ever imagine.

Truthfully, this was all for you. You knew that getting the dream house you wanted allowed you to be in peace for most days. Your husband traveled for a living which left you in solitude to your heart's content.

When you walked into the house, boxes of your belongings littered the floor. The movers had gotten there the day before you and dropped everything off. The only thing put together was your bed, thank goodness.

“Hopefully this can all be unpacked by the morning, I need to leave tomorrow early for the airport,” your husband said.

“So soon?” you asked with an undertone of happiness.

He shot you a glare. “Yes, so soon. I couldn’t imagine you would understand.”

And so, the night was spent listening to records on vinyl after you were able to find the turntable, while each of you made a silent effort to unpack your life. By about midnight each of you called it quits and decided to go to bed.

Your bed felt just like it always had, but with a new view. Your eyes fluttered shut as you watched the tall pine trees dance in the breeze swooping by. How lovely it was to finally be surrounded by nature.

By morning your husband had already left with no trace but a simple note at your bedside that read “car delivery this afternoon. I will see you later.”

Later. Later could mean anything, so you anticipated hours or even days that he could be gone. Without a car until the afternoon left you stranded at home with no food, which seemed just like him.

You stumbled out of bed and threw your green, silk robe around you as you shivered. You nearly jumped at the sight in front of you in the mirror. The move had clearly been rough, with your disheveled hair and mascara smudges painted under your eyes. Luckily, with the unpacking you did last night you had just enough collected to take a shower and make yourself more presentable.

You made your way into your new bathroom that was covered with baby pink tile, along with a toilet and bathtub to match. You reached for the dial in the shower, but just before you were able to turn the water on you heard the doorbell ring. You waited a moment just in case you misheard, but it rang again.

Living in a new place called for precautions because you did not know what you would find behind the front door. You hoped for the car delivery, but you assumed that was slim.

You approached the door and peaked out the window beside it; no car. You walked closer to the door and jumped when the doorbell rang again.

“Hello?” a sweet voice spoke from the other side of the door. A woman.

Your chest became a bit lighter when you realized it was a woman. You wrapped your robe tighter around you since you did not know exactly what to expect when you opened the door.

The lock snapped to the left with a pop and you opened the door to reveal a blonde haired woman.

“Good morning! Oh, I’m sorry if I woke you up!” she exclaimed.

“You didn’t wake me, it’s no problem at all,” you responded.

You felt severely underdressed standing in front of her. She was wearing a light blue dress with white trim and shoes to match. Her hair was cut shorter but you could see the curls that were meticulously curved above her forehead. You became very distracted by the way she presented herself and the pretty smile she had.

“I saw you get in last night and thought I would just bring something over for you from my family. My husband and I live in the house on the right through the trees.” You looked in the direction she was pointing and it turned out to be the house you noticed when on the road last night.

“Oh my, well thank you very much, I appreciate that!” Your new neighbor handed you the glass dish of food. “My name is y/n y/l/n, it’s nice to meet you.” You held out your hand for her to shake.

“My name is Florence Pugh, it’s wonderful to meet you. It’s nice to have a friendlier face around here, most of the women I’ve met have been absolute vultures, but I can tell that we’ll get along just right,” she giggled and it warmed your heart.

“I appreciate you coming and introducing yourself to me. I’m new to the area and don’t know a soul, so having some company around here will be so lovely,” you expressed.

“Anything, my dear. Well, I best get back home and leave you to your day.”

You hesitated to protest her departure. “Well, my husband travels for work and I’m not sure when he will be back, so if you’re not up to anything…”

“I’ll be back in an hour to help unpack!” she said.

“You’re too kind, I appreciate you, and this food,” you laughed.

“It’s no problem at all! I’ll see you in a flash!”

She was gone just like she had come and you couldn’t help but watch her leave. The flow of her dress rocked back and forth with her hips and her hair bounced as she walked.

You went back inside and tried to resume as you were. You put the food in the fridge and tried to contain your excitement for the dinner you would be having.

That day, Florence came back over and helped you unpack for the rest of the night. You shared your stories with one another and laughed until your stomachs hurt. A real friendship began to blossom between the two of you, which helped with your boredom.

A couple months went by and your husband had been back to the house a couple times before traveling again for work, and Florence never left your side. You saw your friend almost each day and adored every second spent together. She made your world feel less lonely just by being there.

One morning while your husband was gone, of course, you decided to take a walk over to Florence’s house to see her. You noticed her husband stomping to his car with a look that could kill. He got in the car and drove away with only dust behind him. You tried to stay hidden until he was down the road, then you approached their house.

You knocked on the door and heard footsteps hurrying towards you. She opened the door and she was crying.

“Oh Flossie, what’s the matter? Is everything alright?”

She sniffed and wiped away her tears. “Yes, I’m alright.”

“You’re not alright and you know it.” You slid inside past her, closed the door, and took her hand while dragging her over to the couch. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“We’re just having marital problems, that’s all. Just a rough patch.”

“You’ve seemed off the last couple weeks, so I wouldn’t say it’s all marital problems,” you said.

You poured the two of you a glass of white wine and brought out your box of cigarettes, offering one to Florence as well.

“Y/n, it’s 8 in the morning, we can’t drink yet!”

“Says who?” you smiled, which made Florence smile back.

The two of you talked for a couple hours and Florence poured her heart out to you, all of it that she could at least. She explained the indifferences between her and her husband, as well as her own personal indifferences.

You placed your hand on top of hers and squeezed it. “I’m sorry you have to do that all on your own,” you said.

“Believe me, you being here helps more than you will ever know.” Florence smiled at you, her kind eyes meeting yours and getting lost in each other.

She had been looking at you longer than anticipated, but you couldn’t seem to look away. Florence looked from your eyes to your lips; back and forth, and back and forth.

Before you could control either one of your impulses, each of you were leaning in close, meeting each other in the middle. Her lips found yours so easily and you closed your eyes. You couldn’t believe the comfort and softness you felt for her, even in this unexpected moment.

You were so wrapped up in the moment that you hadn’t realized what was actually happening. Florence seemed to gain consciousness the same time as you and you both pulled away quickly.

“I- I’m so sorry y/n, I don’t know what overcame me!” Florence said frantically.

“Please, don’t apologize, Flossie, it’s alright. Just calm down.”

Florence was pacing around the room, anxiously picking at her hands not knowing what to do. “This is so unlike me, I’m so sorry,” she kept apologizing.

“Florence!” you tried to get her attention. “It’s alright, I promise. No harm done.”

You grabbed her hands so she would start to calm down a bit. You smiled at her to reassure her that all was well.

“I believe you then,” Florence smiled. “You better be going, I’m sure you have things to do.”

“When do I ever have things to do?” you laughed.

“Well, you know…”

You could tell that one way or another, Florence was trying to make you leave, so you decided to go ahead and go before she kicked you out.

“You’re right… I should get going. I’ll see you later on, Flossie. You take care of yourself, you hear?” She nodded in response and you left her standing in the middle of the living room.

As you got home, you felt confused and disoriented as to what happened. You had to admit, you didn’t hate it, but you knew it was wrong. You both had husbands and you were both… women. Even with the doubts and differences in your mind, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Florence didn’t leave your mind all night, or for several days for that matter. You figured you were better off leaving the two of you with some space after what happened. Florence was clearly shook up about it and you didn’t want to push her. You wanted her to come to you first; and that’s exactly what she did.

One day, a couple weeks after the incident between you and Florence, you had just finished up cleaning the kitchen and vacuuming the house, so you decided to hop in the shower to clean up.

It happened almost the same as it started between the two of you. Before you had the opportunity to shower, your doorbell rang. You answered it to find Florence waiting for you.

“Hello, I thought I would stop by and see how you’re doing, but I can see that you’re busy-”

“Flossie, please don’t go,” you begged.

Florence stopped before she could leave. “I’ve missed that— ‘Flossie.’”

“I’ve missed you,” you smiled. “Come in.” The two of you made your way to the couch and sat down.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by, I’ve just been… thinking a lot and I just feel bad for that day.”

“Please, don’t apologize anymore,” you told her. “It was just something silly in the moment, it meant nothing.”

Florence’s head dropped and she looked down at her hands. “Right, it meant nothing.”

You looked at her and saw the sadness that she expressed. You took her hand and she looked back at you.

“Unless… it did mean something?” you asked. Instead of sadness, her eyes were hopeful, just like yours.

“I know it’s not right, but I can’t seem to help it. I can’t stop thinking about you,” Florence said.

It was more forced this time, much more indeed. Florence crashed herself into you, knocking you down on your back against the couch. These two weeks left you hungry for each other, leaving you starved and grabbing for anything you could touch.

Her hands grasped your blushed cheeks, your tangled hair, and the spaces of your neck. You held her flush against your body, not wanting this secret moment to end.

Each of you couldn’t stop yourself, which is how you found yourself in the position of your robe being taken off. Your body was exposed to the brisk air, but you didn’t seem to mind.

There was no time for Florence to get a good look at you because she was too busy touching every part of you. She was quick to drag her hand down your front half and stopping down before your stomach.

Hesitation was not an option because you both knew you may never get this moment again if anyone were to find out. Without thinking, Florence drew her fingers through your center which caused you to squirm.

You let her do whatever she desired with you simply because she was Florence. Part of you had waited for this moment, but another part was taken by surprise that it was happening at all.

She began rubbing her fingers all through your cunt. It didn’t seem to matter what she did to you, your body was completely euphoric.

Florence’s fingers rubbed circles on your clit while you cried out of pleasure. You had never felt anything that had been quite of this measure, and you didn’t think you ever would again.

She picked up the pace while her lips were still all over your face and body. You couldn’t stop moving and reacting to the touch you were receiving from her, so Florence had to take matters into her own hands.

She barred down and put her weight on your body, preventing you from squirming too much.

“It’s so cute how much you move under me,” Florence said, turning your cheeks hot. Her words didn’t help you move any less.

You could feel yourself getting closer, as it didn’t take much for you to relinquish yourself to her completely.

“Flossie, I think I’m-” you tried to get out.

“I know, my dear. You can do it,” she whispered to you.

All it took was her words and the gentle but hot kiss she left by your ear that did you in. Your moans could be heard loudly over Sam Cooke who was playing from the turntable across the room.

You felt in a daze as your high came to a close, and all you could see now were the hazy eyes of Florence staring back at you. She rubbed the side of your face and swiped the hair out of your face.

You sat up out of surprise. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

“Me neither,” Florence giggled.

You stood up and got your footing before looking at Florence. She looked so naturally ethereal with the white pleated dress she had on, along with her messy royal looking hair. She stared at you and covered her mouth with her hand, laughing at you.

“What’s the matter?” you smiled.

“I didn’t even realize I did that much damage.”

You walked over to the mirror and gasped. There were dozens of lipstick marks all over your face and chest.

You smiled at her in the mirror. “That only means you have to help me clean it all up again.”

You took Florence’s hand and pulled her towards the bathroom while a trail of each of your clothes littered the hallway.

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slushycoookie · 19 hours

Text

Between Two Worlds ~ Miguel O'Hara x Stripper! Reader (Pt.5)

★ Word Count: 3.9k

★ Content: Miguel is so smitten, it's serious. You two also go on a few more dates. The topic of the nature of your relationship comes up. Dana appears...again...

★ A/N: Hey, hey sorry this chapter took so long to come out. And is short! But I wanted to make sure I put this out before I start Kinktober. So enjoy!

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Miguel couldn’t stop thinking about the date last night.

Even as he mindlessly scanned the row of paint cans, looking at his phone for the exact color his mother wanted. Eggshell white and Bahama blue. Yet, he was seeing none of those colors.

It didn't help that his mind kept lingering on you. Reminding himself about how pretty you looked last night. Your beautiful body hugging that dress. How soft you were when you kissed, taking in your full lips to sear it into his memory. It took Miguel almost a hour to convince himself to remove the trace of lipstick from his lips when he settled down last night.

He missed you. He wanted to see you again.

It was clear you did too when you sent him a voice message this morning, saying those words after the usual good morning. Your voice low as if you just woke up, but still sounding just as beautiful.

Miguel needed to focus. His mother wouldn't tolerate him messing around in the store, especially since the exact colors he was looking for were in front of his face the whole time.

He couldn't help but be grateful to his mother for giving him something to do. Otherwise, Miguel would be lying in bed thinking about you all day. He needed you to occupy his space day and night. Be close to you. Touch you.

It gets so bad he wonders what it would be like if you helped him shop.

Would you be able to tell the difference between the paint colors his mom wanted? Would you start looking at colors yourself to prepare for your house? Miguel would be on board to help you, making sure you don’t carry anything heavy. He didn’t want your nails to break. He’s sure you’d wear something on the verge of cute and comfortable during the shopping trip. And he’d try not to stare while he was picking out paintbrushes.

Miguel had to do another date with you soon, or else he’d do something drastic.

He dropped off the materials his mother needed, not wanting to be there longer than he had to. Miguel didn’t want to get into the reason why she was fixing up the house. He caulked it up as her wanting not to mourn for her abusive husband.

Conchata checked off the list as Miguel brought the items inside the house. He wasn’t listening when his phone vibrated. He wondered if it was you. He hoped it was you.

“What's going on with you?”

He freezes when placing the paint cans by the wall in the house.

“What? Nothing.”

“I could've sworn I saw you walk faster.”

“No, I didn't.” Miguel glances at all the materials, paint, caulk to patch up the walls, some roller brushes, etc. Enough to start the home improvement process. “Do you have everything you need?”

“I think so.”

His eyes land on the tarp on the floor, “You’re not planning to do all of this by yourself, right?”

“I’m not. I hired some people to do it for me. All I have to do is push them around.”

Miguel tries not to shake his head when she holds up swatches along the wall. “Call me if you need anything else.”

He gave her a gentle kiss against her head before taking his leave. When he did so, he checked his phone and felt disappointed when it was just a notification reminding him of the time he went to the museum with Dana. The picture showed both of them at a high-end event, with neutral smiles and dressed up.

When he dated Dana, there was a vast difference between you and her.

Although the incident with her wasn't fresh in his mind anymore, he still remembered what it was like being with her. When they were engaged, everything was relaxed and quiet despite them taking the next steps in their lives.

You were the opposite.

Not chaotic, but ecstatic about the newfound relationship status.

You'd send him messages while Miguel was at work, telling him to have a good day with a swarm of emojis. You'd send him more voice messages, which're filled with various topics. About your own day, what you saw while browsing social media, and he'd listen. You reciprocated too when inviting him to talk about his interests and his day.

Dana hardly did any of that. She'd settle on a good morning before not getting into much detail about her day. Almost bored about the topic. Her eyes were on the verge of disinterest whenever Miguel had a chance to talk about himself.

Then there were the dates.

Dana was more fond of high-end luxuries like five-star restaurants, museums, and theaters. The more expensive, the better. Miguel didn’t have problems with it; he was known to indulge in those pleasantries from time to time. But with you, it was the opposite.

The two of you went to the mall.

You insisted that hanging out for a few hours and window shop would be fun. Miguel figured you'd want to go into one of the luxury stores to browse. Only for you to hardly go into any of them.

He watches you point at a cute handbag on display or dazzling shoes that would fit with your aesthetic at the club. So imagine his surprise when you walk away to look at something else instead of buying it.

“I thought you liked it.”

“I do…” Your eyes skim across more pretty shoes, “But I don't need them.”

“You want them though.” You shrug, and he steps into your line of sight. “I can buy them for you.”

“No, don't do that. I'm good.”

You try to get out of the shoe aisle, but Miguel blocks your path. “I want to. I'm your boyfriend. I want to give you nice things.”

“Did you not see the price tag?” You return to the shoes and pick them up, the price of almost two hundred dollars. “I've rarely bought shoes for that price.”

“I got it.” Miguel takes the shoes, but you hold them close to your chest.

“Hold up. If you buy something for me, I'll buy something for you.”

“I don't need anything.” He tries to take your shoes again, but you turn away.

“You don't have to need anything. But if there's something you want, I'll get it.”

“No, really I'm good-”

“I'm not taking no for an answer, baby.”

Miguel sucks his teeth before agreeing with your proposal. You squeal, more excited to continue your trek around the mall, your new goal being to buy him something he wants.

Dana hardly offered to buy him anything the whole time they were together. She did go out of her away to buy him things, mainly chains or designer watches, but that's for his birthday or Christmas. Not during a random day of the week.

You pointed out multiple stores that fits Miguel’s aesthetic. He decided to go into one that had button down shirts he liked to wear for work. As he browsed through the shirt racks, eyes were on him. Yours were following his movements, ready to grab a shirt that caught his eye.

“How's this?” Miguel holds up a powder blue shirt and you inspect it.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let's get it!”

He can finally relax when satisfying you with his choice, but you notice the tag. “Wait, it's only thirty bucks.”

Miguel also glances at it, “Oh, is that too much? I can get something else-”

“Miguel.” You give him a look, “First off, don't insult me like that again. Secondly, you just spent two hundred dollars on me, which is not the same.”

“Oh.” He looks at the shirt and then back at you. “So, I can get a few more?”

“Yeah, you can.”

Miguel puts more effort into his search. He gets a few more shirts, but the total is still less than what he spent on you. You don't say anything as he thanks you with a bright smile.

Taking a quick break by eating at the food court, Miguel's phone vibrates from Gabriel's message. Without completely looking at it yet, his eyes roll at knowing what the message was going to say, asking the daily question of when he was going to meet you. Sure, it's been two months since he started dating you, but he didn't want to rush you.

Miguel tried to hide his disdain by so much as you were feeding him macaroons. His lips grazing your fingers while taking a bite. Your thumb wiping off the crumbs from the corner of his mouth. Your eyes connecting and you shoot him a wink, the action shooting down to his lower body. He gets a strong urge to pull you back to the car so he can kiss you all over.

He groans when the phone vibrates against the table again.

“Is there a fire somewhere?”

“The fire being my brother. He keeps texting me about wanting to meet you. I keep telling him it depends on when you want to.”

You take a sip from your Boba tea before outstretching your hand. “Gimme.”

As Miguel places his phone in your palm, you casually press video call.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm saying hi to your brother.” You hold up the phone, making sure you were decent for the camera. When the call connects, you flash the biggest smile on the planet. “Hi, Gabriel.”

“Hi? Uh, who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

You purse your lips, “He’s munching on some macaroons. Say hi, Miguel.” You briefly turn the phone to Miguel, making him wave before turning the phone back to you.

“Oh. My. God. You're who my brother is dating? Do you know how many times I've been asking to meet you?”

Too many times.

“A lot. It's okay though I've been wanting to meet you too. You're the main one blowing up his phone.”

“Somebody’s gotta do it-Hey, babe!” Gabriel shouts through the phone, making you and Miguel snort. “Come here real quick and meet Miguel’s girl!”

You're laughing when Kasey approaches the phone, waving hello to her.

“Whoa, you're the woman who's dating Miguel? Damn, you're hot.”

Gabriel held his hands up. “My girlfriend said it, not me.”

“Okay, that's enough out of you two.” Miguel reaches for the phone, but is stopped by Gabriel's protest.

“No, wait not until Xina sees her! I know she's not busy. She just told me she was binging that zombie show.”

“Ooh is it the one where if you die, you come back as a zombie?” You ask and Gabriel snaps.

“Yes! That's the one.”

“I lost interest after season four.” Kasey inputs.

“I liked that season!” You add in, “In my opinion, it goes downhill after season eight.”

To Miguel’s surprise, Xina picks up, seeing a bunch of faces on the screen.

“Didn’t I tell you not to bother me because I'm vegging out on my couch?”

“Stop vegging out and meet Miguel’s girlfriend.”

You wave once more, “Hi! It's very nice to meet you.”

“Oh, likewise.” Xina sits up, angling herself to not subject you to her binging phase.

“I'm sorry they sprung this on you. I just wanted to say hi.”

“It's fine. Maybe this will get Gabri to shut up for a while.”

“It won't.” Gabriel interjected, “Because I'm not able to touch you yet. Give you one of my famous hugs.”

“You don't want that.” Miguel whispered over to you.

“Huh? What did he say?”

“Nothing!” You change the conversation: "I want to meet you guys too. It would be best if you all came to the club. Enjoy yourselves.”

Xina raises an eyebrow, “You'd invite us to your job?”

“Yeah. There's good drinks, food…”

“And half-naked dancers.”

“Well, that too.”

Xina lets out an unsure hum, and Miguel slots himself back into the conversation.

“Okay, we have to go now.”

“Aww no.” Gabriel pouts.

“Send me your number!” Kasey shouts. "We have to put you in the group chat!”

“Okay.” You say goodbye to them all before hanging up and giving him back his phone. “They seem nice.”

“They act worse than this.”

“But they love you. That’s always nice to have.”

Miguel couldn’t hold back his smile when you slip your fingers through his across the table, creating small circles on the back of his hand.

The anxiety he never knew he had lessened after you took the initiative to meet his family. And he wasn’t worried about the face-to-face meeting after the positive reception you received from everyone.

Well, almost everyone.

“She seems nice.” Xina said through the phone call.

Miguel nods as if she can see him, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel after dropping you off, “She is. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“Me too…” He notices her trailing off, and anxiety starts pooling in his stomach.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. Not that serious.”

“Well, I’m suspecting it as the way you trailed off.”

Xina hums and he hears movement on the other line. “I’m just wondering, how is your relationship going to work?”

“What do you mean?”

“You and your dancer. You two are dating now. And you blow a lot of money when you go over there.”

“It’s not a lot of money.” Miguel mumbles, “Well, we’re acting like everything is normal. We don’t want anyone to suspect anything.”

When Miguel steps foot in the club, he tries to act like his usual self. A customer who wasn’t dating one of the dancers. It was for the best since you didn’t want anyone to find out. Especially Jess.

“I get that, but you know your relationship can be seen as…odd.”

“Odd? What do you mean by that?”

Xina remains silent. How convenient when he’s at a stop light, hanging on to every word she said to him so far. His hands getting clammy against the wheel.

“Miguel, you have a fairly decent, well, almost powerful position at a huge company. And you’re dating someone who shakes their ass at a popular nightclub. You also give them a lot of money in exchange for what, a private dance? Please tell me you’re catching on to what I’m saying.”

He almost crashed into a car at the realization. After swerving into the right lane and reassuring Xina, who panicked, Miguel pulled over to gather his thoughts. He didn’t pick up on the slight power imbalance you two had when you started dating. Miguel thought it was harmless.

“I-I’m not taking advantage of her or using her. Does it look that way? Oh god, it does look that way.”

“It can also appear that she’s using you or taking advantage with you. Because of your money. I brought this up with you before. When you told me Dana was buying a bunch of expensive stuff when you got that head geneticist job-”

“I told you Dana isn’t like that. And neither is she.” During your first meeting, you weren’t adamant on taking more of his money. Sure, he knows about you wanting to save up for a house, and part of his money is being contributed to said house. Miguel didn’t think like that.

“Okay, fine. You know her more than me. I still think it’s best to clear up any confusion by having a conversation. So you two are on the same page.”

Xina was right. Having a conversation would help you two in the long run, especially when your relationship starts to get serious.

He tried to call you when he got home, but you didn’t pick up. You were probably still too busy at the club. That was for the best since the conversation was better to have face-to-face.

The next time, Miguel’s stomach twisted when he sat down in the private room.

You greeted him with a wave, closing the door behind you. The click from your heels matched the pounding in his head. He rubbed the sweat from his palms against his pants, holding in the urge to throw up. As you picked up the remote to decide a song, he grabbed your hand.

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah. Let me pick a song first-”

“No, no song.”

You squint, “What do you mean ‘no song’? What’s wrong?”

“Am I taking advantage of you?” Miguel blurted out. He didn’t give you a chance to speak as he continued, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize my position would make our relationship odd. And I’m realizing that I’ve still been paying you a bunch of money since we started dating and I know you’re trying to buy a house, but I don’t want anyone to suspect you’re using me to help you buy one, which I know is not your intention-”

You silence him with a kiss. He accepts, his shoulders relaxing when he tastes your mango-scented lip gloss. You look directly into his deep eyes when you pull an inch away.

“Calm down.”

“Okay.”

You toss the remote to the side. “You’re not taking advantage of me and I’m not taking advantage of you.”

“But I give you almost a thousand every week.”

“You do, but I didn’t ask you to do that. That’s all you.”

“Because I want to support you. Now, I realize that throwing money for you to give me dances isn’t the best look. And we’re dating so…”

“I don’t care.” You say, hand on your hip. “Our positions don’t matter. I like you. You like me. What’s the problem?”

“I’m giving you money every time I come here.”

“So stop coming here if you have a problem with it.”

“I…”

He can’t. Seeing you in your element is one of the highlights of his week. What else was he supposed to do if he didn’t see you as much with your job? Miguel loves the dates he goes on with you, but he also enjoys watching you dance.

“I’m sorry.” You run your hand through his hair. Miguel leans into your touch, soothing the impending vomit in his throat. “I don’t want you to stop coming, but I don’t know what to do if you’re struggling like this. You know how Jess is about people not spending money in here.”

Miguel lights up.

“Can I speak to Jess?”

Your face twists with confusion, “Why?”

“I have an idea.”

Jess was in her office, in the back of The Weave, right near the locker rooms for the dancers. When you knocked, the door opened to Kaine, another of Jess’s security. Miguel always thought he was more intimidating due to the scar on his face and the buzz cut. He pays both of you no mind when he brushes aside you two.

“Jess? Your favorite customer wants to speak to you.”

“Which one?” Jess peers up from her computer, lighting up when Miguel comes into view, “Oh, Mr. Science Guy! What you need?” Miguel glances over at you and you give him the ok sign, leaving to return to the floor. “You finally gonna tell me that you’re dating one of my dancers?”

His eyes widen, “Wait, how do you know that?”

“You and Silk be giving cute glances at each other every five minutes. And don’t forget the private rooms have cameras.”

Miguel cleared his throat, not expecting to get hit what that. Now, he wasn’t sure if the idea he came up with was going to work.

“I really like her.”

“And that’s fine. As long as y’all don’t fuck in the club, I don’t care what you two do.” He nods at her words. “I will say this though. If you hurt my girl and you decide to show your sorry ass in the club, I will ban you for life and kick you to the curb.”

He gulped, fixing the collar on his shirt. “I understand.”

“Good.” Jess's tough demeanor returns to relaxed. "Now, what did you want to talk about?”

Miguel pulls out a grand and places it on the table. “Is it okay if I pay you this amount weekly? This is the same amount I give to Silk when I come here on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

Jess inspects the money, letting the bills fly across her thumb. “What’s the deal?”

“I want to keep coming here, but I don’t feel comfortable handing money directly to Silk since we are…an item. I still want to support your business and the dancers so, would that be enough?”

“Did you two fuck yet?”

“Huh? N-No! No, we didn’t…”

“Okay, just wanted to make sure you weren’t pussy whipped.” She places the money to the side, “That’s fine, but what do you get out of this?”

Miguel plays with the ends of his shirt, “I still want those forty-five minutes with her.”

“…that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Jess stares at him, inspecting his frame. The silence between them lingers as the pulsing beat from the club bangs against the walls. Miguel’s palms start to coat with sweat again, and he casually rubs them against his pants.

“Okay. You got a deal.”

He shifts with his feet. “O-Oh okay. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” She shakes his hand as if this was the start of a profitable business deal.

Now, everything was perfect.

You two have stabilized the foundation of your relationship. Miguel just arranged plans for his family, excluding his mother to meet you at The Weave for an official meet and greet. And he was going to ask you if you wanted to go to the Banquet with him.

A brief doubt occurred that maybe it was too soon since the relationship was new. You could always say no. He never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable.

He wishes you could see the smile on his face when you text him saying yes. Your messages are filled with excited GIFs and reaction pictures.

“You're very happy today.” Dana interrupts and Miguel quickly puts his phone away.

“I-It's a good day today. Got a decent amount of work done…”

“Because Tyler stopped messing with you. I told him to lay off on you since you do so much.”

Miguel was too busy being happy about his relationship to realize that Tyler hasn’t bothered him lately.

“Really?”

Her nod and smug face said it all. “Even after everything, I'm still looking after you.”

“Thanks…” He moved over, letting her pour enough coffee into her mug. While passing her the usual cream and sugars, their hands brushed together. Miguel's muscles tensed while Dana giggled at the sudden contact.

“You excited about the banquet? Sure, it's about a month away, but…”

“I am. Even though it's work-related, it'd be nice to get away for the weekend.”

Dana nods, taking a sip of her coffee while Miguel pours himself another cup.

“Are you going to be okay?” His brows furrow at her question. “I mean, we usually go together every year since you started working here. I know it's going to be a change.”

Miguel holds back a grin, “Yeah, yeah I'll be okay.”

Tags: @miguelzslvtz @kitcatcrunch @nina-from-317

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@bajbr @freehentai @chubbybyunnie

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#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x black reader #spiderman 2099 x black reader #x black reader #x chubby reader #x black fem reader #x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel fanfic #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader #slushycoookie writes

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pretzel-box · 2 hours

Text

Please read.

This is a general post about a small thing that came up two or three times in the past.

It's not that dramatic but I would like to adress it anyways since it's something that's stressing me out when people mention it.

"You take too long to post."

"You didn't wrote my request."

I admit that the pace I started with has dropped and I took more time to actually come up with stuff, despite my writing schedule.

This now is not a try to justify myself or to nag at the people that request but I like to let you know why I haven't posted that much by sharing a glimpse into my personal life:

1. I am german and dyslexic, I take a lot of time to edit my stories, and I write them carefully. I do not have beta readers or anything else that checks my works for spelling errors, wrong grammar, or logic errors. Most of the time, I write a rough draft in german and translate it by myself into english, adding more key elements. I do not use any translation websites or any other tools to help me with that because it mostly changes how I want the sentences to sound.

2. I actually am a human with a private life.

I had to take a break from school due my mental health and dropped out for the year. Now I work a small side job as waitress. I work overtime to make ends meet. Writing is something like a hobby and I do it mostly on trains, busses or waiting in a parking lot when I come up with a draft. Only in the evenings or nights I find the time to sit on my laptop to form it into an actual 1k minimum story.

On top of that, I had a recent breakup and some stress among the family. I don't try to let my personal life affect the way I am on tumblr. But I have to admit that what I write is deeply connected with how I feel. Sunkissed for example was highly inspired by my past relationship. As Above So Below is a story where I deal with my own anxieties. What I write has a small part of me and it's what makes it so special. And I can't be writing all the time because there are more than enough situations where I can't even bring myself to eat three meals a day or do some chores.

3. My laptop and my Ipad are broken. My laptop is currently in repair, all my personal data including saved drafts, stories, ideas, the layout for AASB and personal pictures are GONE. My laptop will return in roughly 2-3 weeks. All I have left is my phone and let me tell you how gruesome it is to write stories on your phone. Especially when it's not a one day issue.

As stated above all my works have a minimum of 1k words. Most stories even reach inbetween 2-4k words and AASB has a minimum of 5k. Usually I write around 11k words a week minimum without requests counting.

4. Yes, I gave myself so much work. I decided to have so many on going projects myself and I work on it. But right now I just don't have the tools or the time to make everyone satisfied.

Thank you all for reading this. I just had to let this out of my head and I apologise for everyone that is unhappy, disappointed or angry at me. It's not something I can change right now and I can only ask you to have patience.

#pretzelthoughts

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acute-scary · 1 day

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Behind the Ropes... a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley FanFic.

Chapter 19: my tormenta...

Just a few days later...

October 2nd, 2024. 5:12 P.M.

The house felt emptier without Jey. Rhea sat on the couch in Jon and Trinity's living room, her thoughts racing as she absently scrolled through her phone. It had been a few days since she had last seen him—since he scrambled to make that last-minute flight for the press releases and appearances after winning the Intercontinental Championship. He’d been told he had the rest of the week off, but Friday afternoon, while at Universal Studios with Jeyce and Jaciyah, everything changed.

They had been having a great time. The kids’ laughter filled the air as they explored the park, and for a moment, everything felt normal—just Rhea and Jey with the kids, enjoying themselves away from the constant chaos. But then the phone call came. Jey’s face shifted from relaxed to tense, his plans suddenly upended. He’d barely had time to drop the kids off at his Dad's house before heading to the airport and Takecia wasn't exactly too thrilled with that. Rhea had heard the whole conversation on the phone, Jey kept telling her it was for work and Takecia came back with a reply, "Last time it was work it was actually Rhea.." Rhea knew this was his life, their life now, but that didn’t make the house feel any less empty without him.

Since then, Rhea had stayed with Jon and Trinity, though her mind was occupied with preparing for their new chapter. The rental property they had signed for was coming together, with a move-in date scheduled for October 16th. Rhea had spent the week finalizing details—furniture, utilities, and packing up the few things they’d brought. The new place was meant to be a fresh start, a clean slate for both of them, but it seemed like every step forward brought another hurdle.

The news had broken about them—TMZ, of course, couldn’t resist. The photos of her and Jey at Universal with the kids were plastered all over social media, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The gossip site had also leaked that both Rhea and Jey had filed for divorce from their exes, setting the internet ablaze with speculation. Within hours, the whispers had spread to the locker room.

It wasn’t long before she felt the shift. The eyes, the whispers, the pointed stares. The locker room that had once felt like family had grown cold. Everyone had an opinion, and most of them weren’t good. People who used to greet her with warmth now kept their distance, avoiding her as if she carried some kind of scandalous disease. Rhea knew why. They saw her as the new Lita, a homewrecker, a woman who had stepped out of bounds. The tabloids were already calling her that—the next “Lita,” dredging up the old affair between Amy Dumas and Adam Copeland.

She had tried to ignore it, but it stung. She wasn’t Lita, and Jey wasn’t Edge. They weren’t even trying to hide anything anymore, not now that their divorces were public. But the locker room had made their choice, and it was clear who they were siding with. Only a small group of people still talked to them—Damian, Kayden, Finn, Dom, JD, Carlos, Liv, Joseph, Cody, and Joe. Everyone else had shut them out.

Paul hadn’t been happy about the news breaking either, even though he had known about the affair long before TMZ did. There was no way he wouldn’t have heard the whispers, and if anyone knew how to handle a situation like this, it was him. Still, Paul wasn’t prepared for the fallout, not like this. The backlash was directed mostly at her, and that made it worse. Paul had pulled Jey aside recently, confirming that he would still keep the Intercontinental Championship despite the controversy, but that hadn’t stopped the rumors. Some people had gone straight to Paul, questioning if Jey deserved to hold the title after everything that had come out.

Worse, the questions had spread to her and Damian’s spots on the roster as the indestructible forces known as the 'Terror Twins'. People were wondering if they should even still be there. That got to her the most—knowing that Damian, her best friend, was under fire because of choices she had made. Damian tried to reassure her, told her to ignore the noise, but she could tell it bothered him too. The isolation, the whispers, the judgment—it was all starting to weigh her down.

Rhea leaned back into the couch, her eyes focused on nothing in particular. "Lita," she muttered under her breath, the word tasting bitter on her tongue. She wasn’t some villainous seductress out to ruin lives. Her relationship with Jey had been complicated, messy, but it had never been malicious. Why couldn’t anyone see that?

She sighed, pulling up her messages. Damian had texted her earlier about traveling with Jey for the next few weeks. It was weird for Jey, she knew that much. People were looking at him differently now, the same way they were looking at her. Every time he walked into the locker room, there were whispers. Damian said Jey shrugged it off, but she knew it hurt. It was more than just the locker room—it was the magazines, the fans, everyone who thought they knew their story when they didn’t even know the half of it.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed again. It was Jey.

"Miss me?" his text read, followed by a picture of him and Damian grinning like idiots, standing outside some press event. Rhea couldn't help but smile.

"More than you know," she replied, feeling a little lighter. She missed him, missed their quiet moments together, the way he always made her feel like she could breathe when everything else felt suffocating.

But for now, they had to deal with the storm they were in, together. No matter how many people turned their backs, they still had each other—and for Rhea, that was enough.

Jey stood off to the side, his eyes drifting around the bustling crowd at the WWE Fanatics event. The air buzzed with excitement, fans eager to catch a glimpse of their favorite superstars, and media lined up, ready to grab interviews. Tiffany Stratton and Nia Jax were up next for interviews, and Jey and Damian would follow them. He glanced at his phone and smiled as he texted Rhea, letting her know that everything was going smoothly.

"Miss me?" he had texted a few minutes ago, and her reply made him feel a little closer to home, even in the middle of the chaos.

Next to him, Damian nudged his arm. "Got the email," he said, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Jey arched a brow. "Email for what?"

"The chef," Damian replied, holding up his phone. "It’s confirmed. October 12th, Jon and Trinity’s new place. Rhea’s birthday is gonna be legendary, man."

Jey felt a rush of relief. He had come to Damian needing help organizing something special for Rhea’s 28th birthday. With everything that had been happening—their relationship being exposed, the constant judgment from everyone around them, and the overwhelming stress—Jey wanted to give her a moment to forget it all. Something intimate, something just for them and the few people who still had their backs.

Rhea’s birthday was on October 11th, but they had planned to hold the event on the 12th. Jon and Trinity had been in the middle of moving to their new home in Pensacola, and while most of their belongings had already been moved, they were still waiting for the electricity to be turned on, which wouldn’t happen until Friday night. For now, there were just the essentials left in the house—two beds, one for Rhea and the other for Jon and Trinity, along with the couches. Jey, however, it was easy for him and Rhea to move because Takecia was keeping the house and the furniture and Rhea refusing to set foot in her old home; it was only fair to both of them they get new everything: furniture, decor etc.

Damian had taken charge of booking the private chef, a rising star on Instagram, known for creating luxurious in-home dining experiences. That part of the plan was locked in. Now, Jey was on the hunt for the right party planner, someone who could bring his vision to life—a Great Gatsby-themed party. It wasn’t just because of the extravagance of the theme; it was for Rhea. Jon had mentioned that she had been glued to that movie, watching it on repeat since everything went down. Jey didn’t need to ask why. He could feel it every time he spoke to her, that something was off, something she wasn’t telling him. She always shrugged it off, telling him she was fine, but he knew better. He’d seen that kind of coping before.

"You sure she doesn’t suspect anything?" Damian asked, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"Nah, man," Jey said, though his voice carried a trace of doubt. "She keeps saying everything’s fine, but I can tell something’s wrong."

Damian gave him a look. "And she’s still watching The Great Gatsby?"

"Over and over," Jey said, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "I know she’s hurting, but she won’t let me in. Every time I ask, she just brushes it off."

"That’s her way of dealing, I guess," Damian said with a shrug. "You know Rhea—she’s not gonna show it until she’s ready."

Jey sighed. "Yeah, but I want to do something, you know? This birthday, it’s gotta be perfect. It’s the least I can do after everything she’s been through."

Damian nodded. "Well, between the chef and the theme, she’s gonna love it. We just gotta keep it quiet."

As they stood there, waiting for their cue to head to the interview area, Jey’s phone buzzed again. This time it was Jon, texting him about the final details for the house move.

Jon: Got an email, the electricity will be on Friday morning instead of Friday night. You’re good for the 12th. Just make sure you get that party planner locked in Uce.

Jey smiled at the message. Jon had been nothing but supportive since everything had blown up. He and Trinity had opened their home to them, and now they were offering their new place for Rhea’s party. They knew, just as much as Jey did, how much Rhea needed this, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

Jey: Thanks, Uce. I’m on it.

He tucked his phone back into his pocket just as the crew signaled for them to head over for the interview.

"Ready?" Damian asked, adjusting his jacket.

"Yeah, let’s do this," Jey replied, but his mind was already racing ahead. The party planner, the decorations, the perfect Gatsby-style extravagance. He wanted everything to be flawless, a night where Rhea could escape, even if just for a few hours, from all the noise, all the judgment, all the hurt.

As they made their way to the interview area, the weight of everything lingered in the back of Jey’s mind. He couldn’t change what people thought of them, couldn’t erase the judgment they were facing, but he could give Rhea something special. Something that showed her, without a doubt, how much she meant to him.

Trinity pushed open the door to their soon-to-be former home, her steps echoing in the mostly empty space. The house was almost cleared out now, with only a few essential items left. As she walked into the living room, she saw Rhea lying on the couch, staring at her phone. The Great Gatsby was playing yet again, the small screen glowing in the dim room.

Trinity sighed softly. "Rhea, you’ve gotta stop with that movie," she said, walking over. "Come on, you know you need our help picking out the furniture. You still need to choose your master bedroom set and the two guest bedrooms."

Rhea groaned but didn’t look away from her phone. She knew Trinity was right, but it was hard to pull herself out of the comfort zone she had built with the movie playing on repeat. The familiarity of it kept her mind from wandering too far into the painful realities of her life.

Trinity sat down beside her, nudging her leg. "I mean it. You can’t leave this all to me. The only thing I need is a new dining room set—everything else is on you."

Rhea let out a deep sigh and paused the movie. She knew this was important, and she didn’t want to leave all the decisions up to Trinity. "Okay, okay," she muttered, sitting up. "I’m coming."

Trinity smiled, standing up and giving Rhea’s arm a light tug. "Good. I promise it’ll be fun. You get to make the place feel like home."

Reluctantly, Rhea slid her phone into her pocket and followed Trinity out the door. Jon’s Mustang was parked in the driveway, the trunk still loaded with boxes and bags that hadn’t found a place yet. Jon leaned against the car, scrolling through his phone, but looked up as the women approached.

"Finally!" Jon teased, smirking at Rhea. "Took you long enough."

Rhea rolled her eyes but managed a small smile. She slid into the crowded backseat of the Mustang, squeezing herself in among the bags and random belongings that still needed to be moved.

Jon hopped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. "Ready to buy a whole house worth of furniture in one afternoon?"

"Not really," Rhea muttered, resting her head against the window.

The drive to Furniture Row was filled with easy conversation between Jon and Trinity, though Rhea stayed mostly quiet. She was still feeling disconnected, like her mind was stuck in a fog. It was hard to focus on anything other than the chaos swirling in her life—her divorce, the media circus, the whispers from the locker room.

But today wasn’t about any of that. Today was about her future, her new home with Jey, and making it their own. As they pulled into the large parking lot of Furniture Row, she tried to push the heaviness aside. This was supposed to be a fresh start, and she needed to start embracing it, even if it felt overwhelming.

Jon parked, and the three of them stepped out into the warm afternoon sun. Trinity was already excited, practically dragging Rhea toward the entrance of the massive showroom.

Inside, the store was a maze of beautifully arranged rooms, each setup more elaborate than the last. Rhea felt a little daunted by the sheer number of choices, but she knew she had to focus. The new rental needed furniture, and she didn’t want to put this off any longer.

Trinity guided her toward the bedroom section first, eyeing different sets. "Okay, you’ve got the master and two guest rooms to fill. Let’s start with your room—something comfortable, luxurious. You deserve it."

Rhea nodded, though the enthusiasm still wasn’t there. She wandered through the rows of beds, running her fingers along the soft headboards and polished wood frames. Eventually, a king-sized bedroom set caught her eye. It was white and elegant, the kind of bed that invited you to sink in and forget about the world for a while.

"I like this one," Rhea said, her voice a little stronger. "For the master bedroom." She had wanted to get away from the black due to having black furniture with Matt.

Trinity smiled. "Perfect. Now let’s find something for the guest rooms."

They spent the next hour moving through the store, selecting two more simple yet cozy bed sets for the guest rooms, Rhea had decided to make them boy friendly for Jey's kids out of respect for both of them. The two then made their way to the dining section. Rhea tried to focus on the details, even though part of her still wanted to retreat.

In the dining area, Jon was already checking out options for Trinity’s new set, running his hands over the surfaces of various tables and chairs. "So what are you thinking, Rhea?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. "Rustic? Modern?"

Rhea took a deep breath, looking over the different sets. She wasn’t sure what style she wanted, but a sleek dark wood table with matching upholstered chairs caught her attention. It was understated yet elegant—something that could work for both formal dinners and casual meals with Jey and their close friends.

"That one," she said, pointing to the table. "It feels right."

Jon and Trinity exchanged a smile, pleased to see Rhea starting to get into the spirit of things.

"You’ve got good taste," Jon commented, stepping over to examine the table more closely. "This’ll look great in your new place."

Rhea smiled, a small sense of accomplishment settling over her. It wasn’t much, but it was a step toward building the life she and Jey were trying to create. Maybe the fog she’d been trapped in was beginning to lift, even if just a little.

As they headed back to the Mustang, with orders placed and delivery dates set, Jon tossed the keys in the air, catching them with a grin. "Not bad for an afternoon of work."

"Yeah," Rhea said, the corners of her lips curling into a smile. "Not bad at all, hope Jey doesn't freak out too much on the pricing..."

"He will be just okay with the $800 down payment you just dropped.." Jon said grinning.

Rhea's Master Bedroom Set:

Rhea's Guest Bedroom Sets:

Trinity's Dining Room Set:

As they walked out of the furniture store, Rhea’s phone buzzed in her hand. She smiled faintly as she saw the message from Jey—he had finally replied to the pictures she’d sent him of the bedroom and dining sets.

"These are great, babe," his message read, followed quickly by, "How’s your day going?"

Rhea’s fingers tapped away quickly, filling him in on the afternoon. The two messaged back and forth for a while, exchanging updates and little comments, their conversation offering her some comfort in the otherwise heavy day. Even though Jey wasn’t physically there, the connection they had through their messages felt grounding.

As Jon pulled the Mustang out of the parking lot and back onto the road, Trinity spoke up from the passenger seat. "You hungry, Rhea? We’re thinking Chick-fil-A. Want something?"

Rhea, feeling a hunger she hadn’t noticed before, nodded. "Yeah, I could eat."

They stopped at the drive-thru and ordered their meals. Jon drove slowly through the line, the trio choosing to eat in the car for privacy. Rhea leaned back, nibbling on her food while glancing at her phone every so often, waiting for Jey’s next message.

By the time they pulled back into the driveway, the sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the nearly empty house. Enjoying their final days in the home before they officially moved out.

Jon tossed his keys on the kitchen counter and stretched. "I’ll get us some drinks. You guys sit tight."

Rhea and Trinity settled onto the couch, and for a moment, the room was quiet, save for the faint hum of traffic from outside. Trinity turned toward Rhea, a serious yet gentle expression on her face.

"You sure you’re okay?" Trinity asked, her tone laced with genuine concern. "You’ve been… well, kind of distant lately. With everything going on, I just want to make sure you're good."

Rhea forced a small smile, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. "I’m fine, really," she answered reflexively. But deep down, she knew that wasn’t true.

Trinity leaned back, eyeing her knowingly. "Girl, come on. You’ve been watching The Great Gatsby on repeat. I mean, I get it, Leo is gorgeous, but…" She nudged Rhea playfully. "You’re a little obsessed, don’t you think?"

Rhea let out a soft laugh, but it was hollow. The mention of the movie made her stomach tighten—a reminder of the emotional weight it carried for her, one that she hadn’t shared with anyone yet.

Just then, Jon returned with three glasses, passing them out. He took a seat on the couch beside Trinity, raising an eyebrow as he noticed the tension between the two women. "Everything okay?"

Rhea hesitated for a moment, looking down at the drink in her hand. She swirled the liquid, watching it move, before glancing up at both of them. Her chest tightened, but she knew she couldn’t keep it bottled up anymore.

"Do you two really want to know why I’ve been watching The Great Gatsby so much?" she asked softly, her voice almost trembling. Jon and Trinity exchanged curious glances before nodding, leaning in slightly.

Rhea took a deep breath. "It’s… it’s the saddest love story ever written. Every time I watch it, I feel like I’m Daisy, stuck between Gatsby and her husband, Tom. But in my case, Jey is Gatsby, and… this whole mess we’re in—this thing called reality—that’s Tom."

Her words hung in the air, and the weight of them hit hard. Jon’s face grew serious, and Trinity listened intently, nodding for Rhea to continue.

Rhea pressed on, her voice shaking as she tried to explain the complexity of her feelings. "Daisy loved Gatsby, but she couldn’t give him everything. She couldn’t fully break free from her life with Tom, and in the end… she let Gatsby down. She broke his heart. And I keep thinking… what if I’m like Daisy? What if I can’t give Jey all of me? What if I let him down, just like she did?"

Tears welled up in Rhea’s eyes, but she blinked them back, trying to stay composed. "I love Jey. I love him so much it hurts, but… I feel like I’m betraying everything I ever stood for. All the sneaking around we did, the lies… I hate it. It made me feel like I wasn’t the person I thought I was."

Jon’s hand reached out, resting gently on her shoulder. "You’re not Daisy," he said firmly. "This isn’t some book. You’re doing the best you can with a difficult situation. You’re not betraying anyone by loving Jey."

Trinity nodded, her voice soft but full of support. "You’ve been through so much, Rhea and Jey? He’s not Gatsby—he’s not going to ask you to give up pieces of yourself. He loves you for you."

Rhea shook her head, emotions swirling in her chest. "But it’s not just about him. It’s about me, too. Every time we snuck around, it felt like I was betraying the values I’ve always held—loyalty, honesty… But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t help it because I am in love with him. However, that doesn’t take away the guilt."

The tears that had been threatening finally spilled over, and Rhea wiped them away quickly. "I feel like I’ve let everyone down. The fans, the locker room, even myself. No matter how much I try to justify it, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m… broken."

The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of Rhea’s crying. Jon and Trinity didn’t rush to respond. They let her speak, let her pour out the raw truth that had been buried beneath the surface for so long.

After a moment, Trinity leaned forward, her voice steady and warm. "Rhea, you are not broken. You’re human and humans make mistakes. We do things we regret, and we deal with guilt. But that doesn’t define you. What matters is that you’re moving forward, and that you love Jey in the way that matters—the real, deep kind of love that doesn’t fade."

Jon nodded in agreement. "You and Jey? You’re not some tragic love story. You’re writing your own story, and it’s not over yet. You’re stronger than you think."

Rhea wiped her face again, her breathing starting to steady. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt a little less alone. Jon and Trinity understood—they didn’t judge her, they didn’t see her as Daisy or Gatsby or Tom. They saw her as Rhea, their friend, who was trying to make sense of the mess she was in.

"You’re not going to let Jey down," Jon said gently. "Because you’ve already given him the most important thing—you."

Rhea nodded, feeling the weight on her chest start to ease just a little. She wasn’t sure where things would go from here, but maybe, just maybe, she could start to believe that she wasn’t doomed to live out a tragedy like the one in The Great Gatsby.

Maybe her story—hers and Jey’s—was still unfolding, and it didn’t have to end in heartbreak.

After their heartfelt conversation, Jon felt a surge of inspiration. "You know what? I still have my laptop in the car," he said suddenly, his eyes brightening. "How about we watch a movie together? It might be nice to unwind after everything."

Rhea and Trinity exchanged hopeful glances, their spirits lifting at the suggestion. "That sounds perfect!" Trinity replied, her enthusiasm breaking the heavy air that had settled around them.

As Jon stepped out to retrieve his laptop, he felt a sense of urgency. He needed to talk to Jey about the birthday party he was planning for Rhea. This was a critical moment; he had to make sure that whatever celebration was in store wouldn’t inadvertently remind Rhea of her current struggles. He dialed Jey’s number, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor.

“Hey, what’s up?” Jey answered, his tone warm but laced with an underlying tension.

"Listen, man," Jon started, taking a breath to steady himself. "I was thinking about the birthday party for Rhea."

“Yeah? What about it?” Jey sounded curious but slightly distracted.

“I think you should rethink the theme. The Great Gatsby might not be the best choice right now,” Jon said, his voice steady but urgent.

There was a pause on the other end. Jon could almost hear Jey’s gears turning. “Why’s that?” he finally asked.

Jon knew he had to be candid. “Rhea’s been watching that movie on repeat. It’s an emotional story for her, and with everything going on, celebrating her birthday with that theme could stir up feelings she’s still processing.”

A moment of silence lingered, and Jon could hear the faint sounds of the venue around Jey. He imagined his friend standing there, a mix of surprise and contemplation washing over him. “I thought something was off when she started watching it so much,” Jey admitted, his tone softening. "Damian, the Great Gatsby is off.."

Suddenly, Jon heard Damian's voice in the background, animatedly arguing in rapid Spanish. “What’s he saying?” he asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.

“Damian, ENGLISH AGAIN!” Jey snapped, a hint of amusement breaking through his frustration.

Jon chuckled, picturing the chaos unfolding on the other side of the line. “Sounds like a classic Damian moment. Always trying to keep things spicy.”

“I’ll find a different theme,” Jey said, sounding resolute. “Thanks for the heads-up, Jon. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, man. Just looking out for her,” Jon replied, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. Changing the theme would be a significant step toward creating a celebration filled with joy rather than reminders of heartache.

After ending the call, Jon returned to the living room, where Rhea and Trinity were waiting expectantly. He settled onto the couch, opening his laptop and searching for something lighthearted to watch. The weight of their earlier conversation lingered in the air, but the anticipation of a fun movie night began to lift their spirits.

Rhea, still processing her feelings, snuggled up beside Trinity, who threw an arm around her in a comforting embrace. "You know, we could go for something funny," Jon suggested, scrolling through options. "How about a classic comedy? Something to make us laugh."

"That sounds perfect," Rhea replied, her voice a touch lighter. "I could use a good laugh."

The camaraderie of Rhea's family was a balm for her weary heart. While shadows of her situation still loomed large, moments like these reminded her that she wasn’t alone. She felt grateful for Jon and Trinity, their unwavering support providing her with a sense of stability amidst the chaos.

As the movie played, Rhea found herself laughing along with Jon and Trinity. The shared joy, the lighthearted jokes, and the easy banter made her momentarily forget the heaviness she had been carrying. Each laugh was like a small victory, a reminder that even in the midst of turmoil, happiness could still find its way through.

Yet, deep down, Rhea grappled with her emotions. The thoughts of Jey, the affair, and the impending changes weighed heavily on her. She knew their love was real, but the fear of hurting him, of being the Daisy to his Gatsby, was overwhelming. She silently wished for clarity, for strength, to navigate the storm that lay ahead.

As laughter echoed in the room, Rhea felt a sense of warmth envelop her. She glanced at her family, their faces lit with joy, and for the first time in days, she allowed herself to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, she could find a way forward—one day, one moment at a time.

Jey sat on the edge of the hotel bed, running his hand through his hair in frustration as Damian paced the room, tossing out random ideas for Rhea’s birthday theme. "What about a ‘90s retro vibe?” Damian suggested, to which Jey shook his head.

"Nah, man. She’s not into that." Jey sighed. Ever since Jon had warned them not to go with the Great Gatsby theme, they had been stuck, unable to agree on a new direction for Rhea’s 28th birthday.

They were still deep in discussion when Damian’s phone buzzed. He checked it and grinned. “Kayden wants to hit up a club tonight.”

Jey looked up, feeling a mix of hesitation and exhaustion. "A club? I don’t know, man. You know I’m not really feeling all that right now."

Damian, always the persuasive one, nudged him. "Come on, bro. You need a break. All we’ve been doing is planning and stressing. It’s just one night. You need to chill."

Jey paused, thinking about how much backlash he and Rhea had faced since their relationship became public. He had been trying to lay low ever since, avoiding the spotlight outside the ring. “I don’t know, D. What if we run into trouble?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “No one’s gonna bother us, man. We’ll keep it lowkey. Just a couple of drinks, good music, and we’re out. I swear.”

After a few moments, Jey gave in, deciding to put Rhea’s birthday plans on hold for the night. “Alright, fine. But I’m holding you to that lowkey promise.”

Both guys got dressed—Jey pulling on a black hoodie and Damian in his usual all-black outfit with his signature leather jacket. They met Kayden in the hotel lobby, and she greeted Damian with a huge smile, throwing her arms around him. “You guys ready?”

Jey stayed quiet, still unsure about the whole idea, but followed them as they climbed into an Uber and made their way to the club. When they arrived, there was a long line out the door, and Jey’s nerves flared up again. But as they exited the car, the bouncer spotted Damian and grinned, pointing at his Damian Priest shirt.

“Ayo, Priest! Come on in, man, WEPA!” the bouncer said, pulling the velvet rope to let them inside. Jey shot Damian a look.

Damian just shrugged. “What can I say? Lowkey, right?”

Inside, the music was loud, the crowd packed and buzzing with energy. The lights flashed in every direction, and Jey instantly regretted agreeing to come. He slouched a little, trying to disappear into his hoodie, but Damian was already calling over a waitress.

“Three Coronas, three shots of Patrón with lime,” Damian ordered, handing her his credit card.

Jey blinked at him, confused. “What the fuck happened to lowkey?”

Damian just grinned. “This is how I do lowkey.”

Jey reluctantly took the first shot, feeling the heat of the Patrón hit him instantly. The lime did little to help. A few shots later, the hesitation he had felt all night started to fade. He found himself grinning, laughing at Kayden and Damian’s drunken jokes, the trio on the verge of tipping over in the booth. The stress of the last few weeks seemed to lift, if only temporarily.

Jey then had an idea. Not his best one. “Yo, should I ask the DJ to play my theme song?”

Kayden snorted with laughter, and Damian, clearly just as buzzed, grinned wide. “I bet you 200 bucks you won’t do it.”

Fueled by the alcohol and Damian’s dare, Jey downed another shot of Patrón and staggered toward the DJ booth. The security guard standing nearby recognized him and smiled.

“Jey Uso, right? Big fan, man.”

Jey smirked, the alcohol making him bolder. “I bet you won’t play my theme music.”

The DJ, clearly up for the challenge, grabbed the mic and hyped up the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got the honor of hosting WWE’s newest Intercontinental Champion, Jey Uso!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, and Jey felt a surge of adrenaline as the DJ blasted his theme song. His heart pounded with the bass, the crowd's energy sweeping him up.

Then, in another questionable decision, Jey grabbed the mic and started shouting, “YEET! YEET!” The crowd caught on quickly, chanting along with him.

In that moment, Jey was completely in his element, lost in the noise and the chants. The worries and backlash melted away as the crowd responded with deafening YEETs, each one louder than the last. But deep down, as the music blared and the shots continued to burn through him, Jey couldn’t shake the feeling that this was going to come back to bite him.

After Jey led the crowd in a rowdy YEET chant, he tipped the DJ generously and leaned in, asking, “Yo, can you play some early 2000s hip-hop?” The DJ nodded, and Jey smiled, stumbling slightly as he made his way back to the booth, still riding the high of the crowd's energy.

But before he could get there, he felt someone grab his hand. Turning around, he was met with a mischievous grin from a random woman who had made her way toward him. “Hey, you wanna party in the bathroom?” she asked, her eyes flashing with something Jey wasn’t entirely comfortable with. He was still processing what was happening when suddenly, Kayden stepped between them, glaring at the woman.

“He’s not interested. Jey’s with us,” Kayden snapped, her voice firm.

The woman’s smile faded, and she gave Jey a smug look. “We all know you cheat,” she said, her words dripping with venom. Jey’s heart skipped a beat. For a split second, the alcohol’s haze lifted, and reality came crashing back. All the backlash, the judgment, and the scrutiny he and Rhea had been facing since their relationship became public hit him like a punch in the gut.

Kayden grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the woman before things could escalate. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” she said, her voice low but urgent.

Jey didn’t argue. Kayden led him back to Damian, who was still laughing, completely oblivious to what had just happened. “We need to go,” she told him quickly, not waiting for Damian to ask why.

The three of them pushed through the packed club, weaving between groups of people, the flashing lights and pounding music making Jey’s head spin. Just as they reached the exit, they were greeted by the one thing Jey didn’t want to deal with: paparazzi.

Cameras flashed in their faces, blinding him. Jey tried to block the flashes with his arm, frustration bubbling up as the photographers shouted his name, asking intrusive questions. "Jey! Over here! Is Rhea with you tonight? What's going on with the relationship?"

The alcohol made everything worse, clouding his judgment and making his annoyance flare. Kayden, seeing the situation spiraling, acted fast. She spotted a line of taxis nearby and grabbed both Jey and Damian by the hands, tugging them toward a free cab.

“Royal Sonesta, please!” Kayden called out to the driver as they climbed inside. The taxi sped off just as the paparazzi gathered around, trying to snap more photos, but the car pulled away too quickly for them to follow.

Inside the taxi, Jey leaned back, rubbing his face. “Man, I knew this was a bad idea.”

Kayden, still holding Damian’s hand, looked over at him. “Yeah, you’re right. But we’re out now. Let’s just get back to the hotel and call it a night.”

Damian, still buzzed but sensing the shift in energy, nodded in agreement. “Lowkey, right?” he said, giving Jey a half-smile.

Jey didn’t laugh this time. He just stared out the window, feeling the weight of the night—and his choices—settle heavily on his shoulders.

The taxi finally pulled up to the Royal Sonesta, and the three of them stumbled out, struggling to walk straight. Jey felt like his mind was clearer now, but his body was still betraying him, the alcohol lingering in his system. “I may be alert now, but my body is still messed up,” he muttered, trying to laugh it off, but the words slurred as they left his mouth.

Damian stretched, still riding the buzz. “I’m gonna spend the night with Kayden,” he said, giving Jey a lazy grin before he and Kayden disappeared down the hallway toward their room.

Jey nodded, trying to focus on his own journey down the hall. He felt the room spin slightly as he walked, forcing him to grab onto the wall every few steps. “Come on, Uso… you got this,” he whispered to himself, determined to make it to his door without puking.

When he finally reached his room, he fumbled with his key card, barely managing to get it into the slot. The door clicked open, and Jey stumbled inside. That’s when everything started to go downhill.

His head started spinning, the room tilting and swaying like he was on a boat. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He bent down to take off his shoes, but the motion sent his body off balance. Before he could stop it, he pitched forward, hitting the carpet with a dull thud.

Jey groaned, his mind too foggy to process the situation. The last thing he remembered before darkness took over was the sensation of his cheek pressed against the floor, and then he was out cold, knocked out by the weight of exhaustion and alcohol.

—

9:08 AM Thursday October 3rd.

Rhea groggily turned off her alarm without even glancing at her phone. She shuffled toward the bathroom, her body still half-asleep. As she washed her face, she reached for her toothbrush but paused when she realized she was out of toothpaste. With a frustrated sigh, she decided to head to Jon and Trinity’s room to borrow some.

Still rubbing her eyes, Rhea knocked lightly before stepping inside. She barely noticed how quickly both Jon and Trinity put away their phones as soon as she entered. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "Hey, can I borrow some toothpaste?"

Trinity, looking alarmed, didn’t respond right away. She glanced at Jon, who just kept his head down, pretending to be busy with something else. Without saying a word, Trinity pointed toward the bathroom. Rhea now had the most curious and annoyed look on her face.

Rhea, now fully awake and sensing something was off, hesitated. "Okay... What’s going on?" she asked, looking between them.

Trinity sighed, exchanging another glance with Jon. After a brief pause, she reached over to her nightstand and handed Rhea her phone, a look of reluctance on her face. "You might want to see this," Trinity said softly.

Confused, Rhea took the phone and saw the screen filled with social media posts—pictures of Jey at the club the night before, stumbling out, surrounded by paparazzi, looking drunk and out of control. There were headlines, too, speculating about his behavior and dragging their relationship back into the spotlight.

Her stomach sank. “What the hell?” Rhea muttered, scrolling through the comments, each one harsher than the last. All the backlash she and Jey had fought was suddenly flaring up again even worse.

Trinity watched her carefully. “We didn’t want you to find out like this. Jon’s been trying to get ahold of Jey all morning, but he hasn’t answered.”

Rhea's hands tightened around the phone as she felt a wave of frustration, anger, and disappointment wash over her. "I can’t believe this..." she whispered, feeling her heart race as she tried to make sense of it all.

Rhea handed Trinity her phone back, her mind racing as she headed back to her room. She needed to check her own phone and see if Jey had reached out. As she opened her messages, she noticed a series of texts from him, sent late last night while she had been asleep. Her heart sank as she scrolled through them, each message progressively more incoherent and filled with typos.

9:38 PM

Hey Rhea, just wanna say goodnight. You’re the best. ❤️

10:08 PM

I’m out with Damian… we’re just chillin. You shoulda come!

11:49 PM

Dude, this place is crazy! I feel like a champ! U should be here!

12:12 Am

Can’t believe it…. I’m thaaaaa champ.! YEET! Where u at?!

1:48 AM

U should’ve come with me! Rhea plz! Everyone’s here and they know me. I miss u. Where’d u go? I love u!🤍

Her heart ached at the sight of the last message, the way his affection spilled out in a drunken haze mixed with desperation. Just then, her phone rang, and she glanced at the screen to see it was Paul calling. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she answered, “Hi, Paul.”

“Rhea, hey,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Have you been in touch with Jey?”

She hesitated for a moment before replying, “I received a goodnight text from him at 9:30, but that was it,” she lied, trying to keep her tone professional.

“Okay, I just wanted to check in. We’re getting a lot of press about his night out, and I need to know if he is okay…” Paul said, his voice filled with concern.

“I’ll try to reach him,” Rhea replied, her heart racing. After hanging up, she immediately attempted to call Jey, but it went straight to voicemail. Panic set in as she left a message, her voice shaky. “Jey, it’s Rhea. Please call me back. I need to know you’re okay. I’m worried about you.”

She ended the call, staring at her phone, unsure of what to do next. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on her chest, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was going to change everything.

—

Damian woke up with a splitting headache, a throbbing reminder of the chaotic night before. He squinted against the sunlight streaming through the curtains, the brightness only amplifying his discomfort. In the corner of the room, Kayden was doing yoga, gracefully transitioning into the King Pigeon pose. She took a deep breath, her focus unwavering, and as she held the position, she glanced back at him.

“Good morning,” Damian mumbled, still rubbing his temples.

“Morning! You look rough,” Kayden replied with a teasing smile before taking another deep breath. “Jey, Press, Paul,” she added, her tone shifting slightly as she remembered the events of the night before.

Damian kissed her on the cheek, his mind racing. He quickly got dressed and left the room, making his way to his and Jey’s hotel room. When he opened the door, his heart dropped. Jey was passed out on the floor, tangled in his clothes, and it was clear he hadn’t made it to bed.

“Jey!” Damian exclaimed, rushing over and rolling him onto his back. He shook him vigorously, trying to rouse him from his slumber. Jey struggled to open his eyes, but when he finally managed to do so, he immediately shut them again, groaning.

“Come on, man! Wake up!” Damian shouted, panic creeping into his voice. He could see that Jey was disoriented, his expression blank as he tried to piece together where he was and what had happened.

“What... what time is it?” Jey mumbled, his words slurred and barely coherent.

“It’s late, dude! We have a situation,” Damian urged, looking at Jey with urgency. “Paul’s been trying to reach you. You’re all over the news! You can’t just sleep this off!”

Jey finally blinked a few times, slowly processing Damian's words. “What do you mean? What’s going on?” he asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, clearly still struggling to shake off the remnants of the night.

“Last night was a mess! You need to get up!” Damian said, feeling the pressure mounting as he watched Jey try to come to terms with reality. The gravity of the situation was beginning to dawn on Jey, and the look in his eyes shifted from confusion to concern as he realized he had to take responsibility for his actions.

“Fucking told you ‘lowkey’ would get us into trouble!” Jey yelled, his voice hoarse from the night’s escapades. But Damian ignored him, staring intently at his phone.

“We're going to be in big trouble,” Damian muttered, swiping through notifications. He turned the screen towards Jey, showing him the litany of missed calls and messages. Jey's heart sank as he processed the numbers: three missed calls from Paul, four messages from Rhea, seven missed calls from Rhea, and two voicemails.

Jey took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. His hands trembled slightly as he quickly grabbed his own phone, the screen lighting up with notifications. His heart raced as he saw the chaos unfold before him: seven missed calls from Jon, four missed calls from Trinity, four from Paul, and that’s when it hit him like a freight train—fifteen missed calls from Rhea, along with several voicemails.

“Oh no,” he muttered, his stomach dropping. “What the hell did I do last night?”

Damian ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “We need to figure this out, like, now. Rhea’s worried sick, and you know how Paul can get. We can't just ignore this.”

Jey’s mind raced as he tried to piece together the fragmented memories of the previous night. “I didn’t mean to cause this mess,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to have a good time for once. I didn’t think it would spiral like this.”

“Yeah, well, it did,” Damian replied sharply. “We need to face the music. Start by calling Paul back.”

Jey nodded, swallowing hard as he dialed Paul’s number. The phone rang, and with each tone, his anxiety grew. He could only hope he would pick up and that somehow, he could make this right before it went any further downhill.

After what felt like an eternity, Paul answered the phone after just two rings. His tone was clipped, and Jey braced himself for the inevitable lecture.

“Jey, listen to me. Just listen. I don’t want to hear excuses right now,” Paul began, his voice heavy with frustration. “I understand that the relationship being leaked has been eating at your mentality, but this? Getting completely fucked up at a club? That’s not how you handle things.”

Jey winced, guilt flooding through him. He opened his mouth to respond, but Paul cut him off again.

“Worse yet, you thought it was a good idea to go up to the DJ and ask him to play your theme song? What were you thinking?” Paul continued, his voice rising. “You’re representing WWE, and this behavior is unacceptable. You’re supposed to be a professional!”

“I didn’t mean to—” Jey began, but Paul was relentless.

“You didn’t mean to what? Make a spectacle of yourself? You didn’t think your actions could have repercussions? This isn’t just about you, Jey; it affects the entire roster and the company’s reputation!”

Jey felt his stomach churn as he absorbed the weight of Paul’s words. “I know, Paul. I messed up. I just... I wanted to get my mind off everything, you know? With the whole situation with Rhea—”

“Save it!” Paul snapped. “You’re dismissed for the remainder of the weekend. You’re lucky I’m not taking your title away from you right now. You’re also being fined five thousand dollars for this stunt.”

Jey’s heart sank. “Five thousand?”

“Yeah, five thousand,” Paul replied, his tone still icy. “Also have Damian call me. He’s going to have to deal with this too. You need to get it together and face the consequences of your actions.”

“Understood,” Jey muttered, feeling defeated.

“Good. We’ll talk later.” With that, Paul hung up.

As Jey ended the call, the weight of his choices crashed down on him. He looked over at Damian, who was watching him intently. “Well?” Damian asked, crossing his arms.

“Paul’s furious,” Jey admitted, running a hand through his hair. “He’s dismissing me for the weekend and fining me five grand. Said I’m lucky I’m keeping my title. He wants you to call him as well.”

“Damn, Jey,” Damian said, shaking his head. “We really stepped in it this time.”

“I know,” Jey replied, a sense of urgency flooding through him. “I need to fix this with Rhea before it gets any worse.”

“Then let’s go,” Damian said, determination in his eyes. “You’ve got to make it right.”

With a deep breath, Jey steeled himself for what lay ahead. He couldn’t let his mistakes define him; he needed to confront the fallout of his actions and salvage what was left of his relationship with Rhea.

Jey took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart as he dialed Rhea’s number. When she picked up, her voice was soft, almost fragile, and it sent a jolt of guilt through him.

“Jey?” she said, and he could hear the tension in her voice. Before he could explain himself, she interrupted him.

“Please, just come home,” Rhea pleaded, her words laced with urgency. “I’d rather talk to you in person. Just come home to me…”

Before he could respond, she hung up, leaving him with nothing but the dial tone. Jey’s heart sank, the weight of her words crashing down on him. He felt like he really fucked up this time.

“Fuck!” he yelled, frustration boiling over. He began throwing his clothes into his duffel bag, each item representing his anger and regret. He didn’t care how it looked; he just wanted to leave. He tossed in his toiletries with reckless abandon, not even bothering to organize them.

“Jey, wait!” Damian called, trying to intervene as he watched his friend spiral. “You need to calm down!”

But Jey was beyond listening. The feelings of letting Rhea down clawed at him, igniting a fire that he couldn’t extinguish. He zipped up his bag with a swift motion and stormed out of the hotel room, ignoring Damian’s attempts to calm him.

The hallway felt suffocating as Jey marched toward the elevator. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the anger propelling him forward. Each step brought the weight of his mistakes into sharper focus, and he was determined to face Rhea and make things right, no matter what it took. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel alone or abandoned.

As he waited for the elevator, he replayed their conversation in his mind, his stomach twisting in knots. He had to show her that he cared, that he was there for her—even if it meant confronting his own demons along the way.

#fanfic #jey uso #rhea and jey #rhea ripley #fanfiction #wwe #wwe smackdown #wwe raw #yeet #the judgement day #wweraw #rhea x jey #jey x rhea #wwe jey uso #wwe monday night raw #kayden carter #damian priest #wwe damian priest #wwe fanfiction

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captain-joongz · 13 hours

Note

Thinking about free use husband!Joshua…

Coming home to him and wrapping your arms around him from behind while he is cooking .. kissing his neck and shoulders and teasing him until he gets hard

Making him keep cooking while you start to touch him cruelly, praising and degrading him in the same breath

And he loves it, letting you do whatever you want to him, making him submit, even though he would do it willingly, this way makes his body shake, until he has to turn off everything and stop before he collapses on the floor…

Maybe this doesn’t make any sense, maybe it does, I cant really tell im too tired 😭

- ✨

(Btw you’re gonna get that job!!)

so sorry for the delay darling, i ended up taking a little break for dinner and a shower, but now i'm back and more ready than ever to tackle this delicious scenario~

and thank you for the encouragement! i honestly don't know how to feel about the interview today, but hopefully it didn't go completely awfully haha! i have another one tomorrow afternoon, so there's more awaiting ! but that one is for an english teacher, which i think should be perfect for me <3

here's your delicious little story ✨anon <3 and as always, hard hours continue and will continue for another week !!

warnings: cursing, marking, subby Shua, handjob, cumming in pants

ooooh now, Joshua is a little bit of a wild card, isn't he? i feel that he has a strong and easy-going enough personality that people would assume he'd like to naturally lead, but also there's this air of gentleness and prettiness about him that just screams "i'll let someone take care of me", not to mention that he's a sassy little bastard

so maybe he would sometimes brat out a little, have some cheeky remarks, but deep down he just loved submitting to you, especially when you came home all fired up from a long hard day at work. oh he'd know that you'd need to get your hands on him and unwind with the fierce aura of exhaustion and frustration enveloping you

he'd at least hoped he'd be able to finish the dinner he was preparing for the two of you, but then you were in the kitchen, wrapping your hands around him in a back-hug, smushing your face into his shoulder

"hard day?"

"oh god, you don't even know. janet from accounting is being a cunt again, it's crazy."

for a few moments the chatter between you flowed without interruption, you hanging off of him and loudly complaining about a coworker that's been making your life ten thousand times harder, and he'd started to relax and focused back onto cooking

but that's what you were waiting for

the second you could feel him untense in your hold, your hands started to wander. at first only slowly caressing his sides or across his tummy, touches that could easily be read as comfort, but then your hand strayed a little too up and pressed up on his nipple just as you pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, both feeling and hearing his breath hitch under you

"baby..." he'd say breathlessly, trying to reprimand you but his body would already be heating up with the promises it came to understand from your hands

you wouldn't stop, for anything, busying yourself by leaving hot laving kisses to his neck and behind his ear, one hand carefully massaging his scalp and tugging at his hair while the other one slyly made its way under his t-shirt to tease his nipple without the barrier of clothing

you'd love the feeling of him tensing under you, his body going all high-strung when you'd press down on the stiff little peak and push it around with your lazy fingers, breaths leaving him in huffs and sighs every time you'd tug his hair a little harder

he'd still try to pretend to be fully focused on cooking, but it would all grow hazy in front of his eyes, his lids threatening to fall shut with every electrifying rush of lust and pleasure from your ministrations, and soon he'd start messing up - clumsy hands dropping the spoon, crushing the ingredients in his palms on every hard bite you distributed to his neck, and you'd chuckle at his plight

"what is it, baby? aren't you a little clumsy tonight?"

he'd huff at your words but say nothing, stubbornly trying to ignore you and your games - and that would only stoke your fire and provoke you into upping the ante

now sticking your both your hands under his clothes, one migrating to give attention to the other nipple while the second naughty hand travelled south until you were cupping his half-hard cock and punching a moan out of him

"Shua, baby, you're not paying attention to the food at all, i'm so disappointed. i was looking forward to your cooking all day, but you can't focus long enough to not burn it..."

"don't be so mean" he'd whine and you'd tsk at him

"is that any way to talk to me?" gripping him harder, you'd love the way he'd groan under you, hands abandoning the utensils to grip at the counter, but you'd quickly grab them and push them back to the pot

"go on, baby, cook for me if you want my praises"

and Joshua would give it a valiant try, he really would, stirring the food in little aborted motions while you rolled his nipples between your fingers and kissed at the bitten and marked skin of his neck, hand massaging and squeezing the growing bulge in his pants, and the kitchen would be full of the sounds of hissing cooking food and his little sighs and breathless moans

but he'd know it's game over town the moment your hand slipped into his pants and gripped his cock. the skin on skin contact was almost enough to send him crashing to the ground, knees buckling and knocking into each other with the surge of pleasure. and yeah, he definitely didn't even see what he was doing anymore, head tipped back and whines spilling out with every slow measured stroke on his cock

you'd see his hands shaking on the utensils, you'd see how he'd start losing focus, not moving them anymore, instead jerking his hips in tiny little circles to fuck into your hand - and of course you'd still him and tell him he needed to do better - and of course he'd moan at that, his cock jumping in excitement

"i c-can't, fuck, wanna cum please-" you'd recognise the tell tale signs he was close, the way he'd squeeze his eyes shut while his mouth fell open, the way his whines got more and more high-pitched and his hips shook as he supressed the need to pump them into the tightness of your fist

"go on, baby, you've been such a good boy for me"

and that would be all it took for him to frantically start turning the stove off, barely managing to catch onto the counter before the combined stimulation of you biting his ear and squeezing the tip of his throbbing cock sent him over the edge and he came in his pants, shaking in your arms with soft cries

Shua would turn to jelly in your embrace, barely even holding up on his own two feet while the half-cooked food cooled down on the stove, but it would be hard to pay attention to anything else except for his body thrumming with the release and the gentle kisses and praises you whispered into his lips for listening to you so well

divider by @cafekitsune

#hard hours #svt hard hours #svt smut #seventeen smut #joshua smut

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pdriesta · 1 day

Text

a lifetime of us — 3

an —a series of blurbs from past or present, following the main couple from “a lapse of us". this chapter contains smut (minors dni)

with 24 hours left in his hometown, pedri couldn’t imagine a better way to spend it than in between your legs.

he listened to your sounds, the pleasure bouncing off the walls of your room, his face dampened not just from his own arousal but from the heat emanating from your skin. you gripped his hair tightly, trying to keep your legs apart — failing miserably each time you tightened your grip around his head.

pedri ate like you were his last meal, and to him, you were. he knew his schedule would be packed once he touched down in barcelona tomorrow, but right now, nothing mattered more than you.

you felt the usual flood of pleasure rake through your body, but that didn’t stop pedri. after coming down from your high, he kissed you passionately, prepared to hold you for as long as he could before your parents came and insisted on spending time with him.

“that was —,” you breathed out, slumping your sweaty body on top of his. “unreal. how do you get better every time?” you asked seriously.

pedri chuckled, “isn’t it obvious? you’re my favorite topic to study, all the ways i can take care of my girl.”

your face was already flushed after the 30 minutes pedri spent between your legs. however, you felt your body heat up even more at his words.

“pedri,” you groaned, feeling his lips and his body rock against yours, clothed in what he usually slept in when he stayed over.

“sí, mi vida,” (yes, my life) he replied absentmindedly, peppering kisses along your collarbone. unlike him, whose shirt had been discarded as soon as your lips met, yours remained on.

contrary to your mom’s constant nagging about pregnancies and birth control, you and pedri had never taken that step. after growing so much together over the years and entering adulthood side by side, you always assumed waiting was your best bet.

you never imagined the thoughts and worries that flooded your mind now that the boy you loved would be away for the majority of the year after moving to barcelona. he promised to come back during the summer and any international breaks, but knowing how amazing he was, you had a sneaking suspicion it would be hard to align schedules.

today, however, with pedri on top of you, tenderly kissing your body, you knew in your heart what you needed.

“pedri,” you said again, threading your hands in his hair and tugging the strands the way he liked to meet his brown eyes with yours.

“mi vida,” (my life) he said back, staring at your swollen lips, feeling proud of his handiwork before pecking your lips.

suddenly, you sat up, and he moved to sit on his feet on your bed. without saying anything, and keeping your eyes fixed on his, you removed your shirt.

watching as you tossed it over the bed, pedri was confused, to say the least.

“what’s wrong, baby? are you too hot? i can adjust the thermostat,” he offered.

“no!” you quickly replied, not wanting him to leave in his shirtless glory. your body shivered at the sight of the slick layer of sweat on his skin. he had changed and grown so much into the man in front of you, and you were in awe, feeling a bit embarrassed now that you sat in front of him in just a bra.

“no, it’s not the temperature,” you finally said, “i’m ready.”

pedri’s mind went blank. after being together for so long, he knew what those words entailed, but he just couldn’t believe it.

“r-ready?” he repeated your words, not wanting to assume. you shyly nodded in response, dropping your eyes to your duvet-covered lap.

“sí, mi corazón. quiero tener sexo. quiero que nos quitemos la virginidad mutuamente,” (yes, my heart. I want to have sex. I want us to lose our virginity to each other) you finally spoke up. you didn’t want to lose your nerve; this was your best friend. he knew you like the back of his hand. you were the love of his life, and the only future he was certain of was the one with you.

however, in this moment, he wasn’t so sure. sure, there had been times where you both almost took the next step, but something always got in the way — whether it meant annoying siblings or demanding schedules, the stars never aligned until now.

“are you sure, mi amor?” (my love) he reached for your trembling hands in your lap. you wordlessly nodded but didn’t meet his eyes, and that’s how he knew you weren’t okay.

“y/n, baby, talk to me. what is this really about?” he moved from his spot in front of you to beside you, his arm around your shoulder, bringing you into his arms. he used his free hand to grasp your chin between his fingers, making you meet his eyes.

“nothing. i just want you,” you said barely above a whisper. “i want to be close to you. i want all of you, even if this is the last time,” your voice broke at the last words.

pedri felt like he was doused with a bucket of ice water at the realization. she thinks i’ll leave her behind.

“hey, hey,” he soothed, pulling you completely onto his lap. “mi niña bonita,” (my pretty girl) he cupped the side of your face, swiping your tears away. he looked at you with so much love in his eyes that you felt even more choked up.

“do you know why i call you mi vida? it’s the perfect term for you to understand that you’re my entire world. everything i do is for you. even when it isn’t about you, it’s for you. i’ve loved you since the very first day i saw you fall onto our football pitch. i’ve loved you through everything, and i will love you through this. this is your dream as much as it’s mine.”

“te amo también, mi corazón,” (I love you too, my heart) you sniffed while wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his neck. “i can’t help but think, though, you’ll find someone better, more experienced, and toss me away. you know how many women will flock to you. i don’t want you to leave and me not give you what was always yours,” you confessed.

“that’s what this is about?” he realized. “y/n, there is no one else on this planet meant for me but you. it’s never about experience because guess what? you’re my first everything. there’s no one else in the world i would ever want to be with intimately,” he ran his hands over your back.

even though pedri was shy himself, it being his first time too, he wanted to reassure you.

“are you sure? we don’t have to rush this. i’ll be back sooner than you know it,” he asked you once again.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, anchoring his body to yours. he braced himself on his elbows beside your head, making sure he didn’t crush you.

“i am sure, pedri. i want everything with you,” you said back.

this was enough for pedri to crash his lips onto yours like a madman. you moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips, and he took this as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

finally, amidst the haze and the fog of arousal, pedri pulled back. “espera, amor,” (wait, love) he breathed out, feeling his heart beating out of his chest.

“i don’t have anything, you know?” he gestured to where you ground on him through his briefs. you smiled at how shy your boyfriend was, even after all the dirty things he’d done to you.

“we don’t need any,” you replied, before registering your boyfriend’s shock.

“y/n, we can’t! i don’t want to get you pregnant. your family will kill me. hell, my family will kill me,” he quickly pulled back.

“no, no, baby,” you quickly sat up, following his movements, holding back a laugh. “you know how my mom is. she’s all about contraception and preventing accidental pregnancies. she took me to get birth control months ago. i’m safe. we’re safe,” you blushed, still feeling shy at the idea of your mom’s face while she encouraged contraception with your boyfriend.

pedri was beyond shocked now. he knew you weren’t a spontaneous person. you always thought about a million and one possible outcomes before making decisions. knowing you endured your mom’s goading to prepare for this moment was enough reassurance he needed.

“eres perfecta,” (you’re perfect) pedri murmured, meeting your lips once again, falling into you once more.

“mi vida,” (my life) he said while lining up. “esto va a doler.” (this is going to hurt.) he remembered how much you had to adjust to his mere fingers. he was shaking with fear at what might happen and all the ways he might hurt you.

“lo sé,” (I know) you nodded. “confío en ti con todo,” (I trust you with everything) you caressed his head before guiding him forward.

finally buried in you, he felt the tightness and restriction and shuddered. he looked at you, seeing the crease between your eyebrows and the pain on your face.

“mi vida,” (my life) pedri managed to let out.

“me duele,” (it hurts) you choked out, tears spilling from your eyes. if the enveloping warmth didn’t feel as good as it did, pedri would’ve pulled out right then and there, not wanting to hurt you. but after feeling you like this, there was no going back.

“lo sé, mi vida, lo sé,” (I know, my life, I know) he said, kissing your tear-streaked face. “¿qué puedo hacer para mejorar esto?” (What can I do to make this better?) he asked, desperate to ease your discomfort.

you shook your head, gripping his shoulders tightly. “solo quédate conmigo,” (just stay with me) you whispered, your voice trembling. the pain was intense, but you knew it would pass, and the idea of stopping now, of not sharing this moment with him, was unbearable.

“estoy aquí,” (I’m here) pedri murmured, brushing his lips over your forehead. he held still, giving you time to adjust, his heart aching at the sight of your tears. he wanted to take the pain away, to make this perfect for you, but all he could do was be there, holding you through it.

slowly, the pain began to subside, replaced by a dull ache that was easier to bear. you shifted slightly, and pedri took it as a sign to move, beginning to rock gently into you.

“está mejor ahora?” (Is it better now?) he asked, his voice full of concern as he watched your expression.

“sí, mejor,” yYes, better) you breathed out, a small smile tugging at your lips. the discomfort was still there, but so was something else—something deeper, more intimate, a connection that went beyond the physical.

pedri kissed you softly, his movements tender and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. he murmured sweet nothings against your lips, his love for you evident in every word, every touch.

“te amo,” (I love you) he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“te amo, pedri,” (I love you, Pedri) you replied, your heart swelling with love for the boy who was now your first in every way.

the pain continued to fade, replaced by a warmth that spread through your body, making your toes curl and your breath hitch. pedri noticed, his movements becoming slightly more confident, though he was still careful, still gentle.

“you’re so beautiful, mi vida,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to hold himself back, not wanting to rush this moment, not wanting to lose control.

you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, pulling him down for a kiss. it was messy, full of heat and desperation, and pedri groaned into your mouth, finally giving in, his hips moving more urgently now.

the discomfort was almost entirely gone, replaced by pleasure that built steadily, making you gasp and cling to him, your nails digging into his back.

“pedri,” you whimpered, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

pedri’s breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding in his chest as he moved inside you with slow, deliberate strokes. every thrust was measured, as if he was trying to commit every moment to memory. it wasn’t just about the pleasure; it was about the love he poured into each motion, the way his hands roamed your body like he was trying to memorize the feel of you beneath him.

“y/n,” he whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion. “i love you more than anything, más que todo, mi vida. you’re everything to me. please, don’t ever forget that.”

your heart clenched at the intensity in his voice, and tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from pain—they were from the overwhelming love you felt for him. “i won’t, pedri,” you whispered back, your voice trembling with emotion. “i love you too. so much. i don’t want you to go.”

he paused, his forehead resting against yours as he struggled to catch his breath. “i don’t want to go either,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “but i promise you, y/n, i’ll come back to you. siempre voy a volver, okay? nothing will keep me away from you.”

you nodded, swallowing hard to keep from crying. “i know, pedri. i know you will. just… don’t forget about me, okay?”

his eyes softened as he looked at you, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “never, mi amor,” he vowed, his voice thick with emotion. “you’re the only thing on my mind. siempre estás en mi mente y en mi corazón. you’re my world, y/n. no one could ever take your place.”

as he spoke, he began to move again, slow and gentle, his hands gripping your waist as if he was afraid you’d slip away. each thrust was filled with love, with a desperation that mirrored your own. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him, to hold him as close as possible.

“pedri,” you breathed out, your voice hitching with emotion. “te necesito. i need you, now more than ever. i want you to remember this moment, every single detail, so you know that i’m always yours.”

“i’m yours too, y/n,” he whispered back, his voice trembling as he kissed you deeply, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that made your heart ache. “completamente tuyo, siempre. nothing will ever change that.”

you moaned softly against his lips, the sound muffled as he kissed you harder, pouring every ounce of love he had into it. the rhythm of his movements quickened, but he was still careful, still trying to ensure your comfort above all else. the pleasure built between you, a slow burn that intensified with each passing second, until you felt like you were on the edge of something beautiful, something that would forever bind you to him.

“mi vida, i can’t—” he gasped, his voice raw with emotion. “i’m close, so close. i need to feel you with me. por favor, mi amor, come with me.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded, unable to speak as the pleasure reached its peak. your hands tightened in his hair, your nails digging into his scalp as you felt yourself unraveling beneath him.

“pedri,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you teetered on the edge. “te amo. te amo tanto.”

that was all it took. with a low groan, pedri buried his face in your neck, his body trembling as he came, his release triggering yours. you clung to him, your body arching into his as the pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and spent.

for a long moment, neither of you moved, both too overwhelmed by the intensity of what you had just shared. pedri’s breathing was ragged against your skin, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if he was afraid to let go.

“don’t let me go, pedri,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “please, don’t let me go.”

he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his heart aching at the vulnerability in your voice. “never, mi vida. i’m never letting you go,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “no matter where i am, you’ll always be with me. en mi corazón, siempre.”

you buried your face in his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, and for the first time, you truly believed him. you knew that no matter the distance, no matter the time apart, he would always come back to you.

“i’ll wait for you,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, but you knew he heard you. “i’ll always wait for you, pedri.”

he held you tighter, his lips brushing against your hair as he whispered, “and i’ll always come back to you, y/n. always. you’re my home.”

and as the two of you lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside ceased to exist. it was just you and pedri, in a moment of pure love and connection, a bond that no amount of time or distance could ever break.

you knew that tomorrow would come, and with it, the challenges of a long-distance relationship. but for now, in this quiet, stolen moment, you had everything you needed. you had pedri, and that was more than enough.

the airport was filled with the usual chaos—announcements echoing, people rushing by with luggage, and the occasional laughter from a distant group. but for you, the world had narrowed down to just one thing: saying goodbye to pedri. he was moving to barcelona to pursue his dreams, and while you were beyond proud of him, the thought of being apart was like a dull ache in your chest.

your families were there, gathered around in a small, tight-knit circle. pedri’s mom hugged him first, her eyes glistening with tears that she tried to blink away. “cuídate, mi niño,” she whispered, holding him close for a few seconds longer than usual. his dad gave him a firm, reassuring pat on the back, followed by fer, who pulled him into a brotherly embrace.

your mom was next, wrapping her arms around pedri like he was one of her own. “we’re all so proud of you,” she said, her voice warm but edged with the same sadness you felt. your dad followed, giving pedri a quick hug and a nod that conveyed more than words ever could.

caro was last, and as usual, she couldn’t resist teasing him, even in a moment like this. “now, you better watch out for those girls in barcelona,” she said, trying to keep it light but her tone carried a hint of protectiveness. “don’t let them distract you from your girl at home and your goals, okay?”

pedri chuckled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “i promise, caro,” he replied, squeezing her hand before letting go.

rafael, still young enough to not fully grasp the gravity of the situation, gave pedri a quick hug and an innocent smile. “you’ll be back soon, right?”

“sooner than you think,” pedri assured him, ruffling his hair.

finally, it was your turn. but instead of stepping forward, you found yourself rooted to the spot, your eyes fixed on the floor. your heart was pounding, each beat echoing with the reality that this was it—he was leaving.

pedri noticed your hesitation, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “mi amor,” he called softly, his voice filled with an understanding that made your heart ache even more. “mírame, por favor.”

slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his, finding the strength in his gaze that you desperately needed. he took a step closer, closing the distance between you two. “ven aquí,” (come here)he murmured, holding out his hand to you.

you hesitated for a moment, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe, let alone move. but the sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered, made it impossible to resist. you stepped forward, slipping your hand into his, the warmth of his touch grounding you in a way that nothing else could.

“it’s going to be okay,” pedri whispered, pulling you closer until your forehead rested against his. “we’ll make this work, no matter what. i promise.”

“i know,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky. “i just… i’m going to miss you so much.”

he tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped down your cheek. “i’m going to miss you too, more than you know,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “but this isn’t goodbye, okay? it’s just ‘see you later.’”

you nodded, trying to hold onto his words like a lifeline. but the reality of him leaving, of not having him by your side every day, was overwhelming. “pedri… what if—”

“shh,” he interrupted gently, pressing his lips to your forehead in a lingering kiss. “don’t think about the ‘what ifs.’ we’ve got this. i’ll call you every day, text you all the time—you’ll probably get sick of me.”

a small, shaky laugh escaped you, and you finally allowed yourself to wrap your arms around him, holding on as tightly as you could. “never,” you whispered, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “i could never get sick of you.”

he held you just as tightly, his hands stroking your back in soothing circles. for a moment, the noise of the airport faded away, leaving just the two of you in a quiet, bittersweet embrace.

finally, after what felt like both an eternity and a single heartbeat, pedri pulled back just enough to look at you. “i love you,” he said, his voice steady but filled with all the emotion he was holding back. “and nothing is going to change that. distance doesn’t matter when it comes to us.”

“i love you too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “so much.”

he smiled, the kind of smile that was meant just for you, the kind that made everything else fade away. “then that’s all that matters,” he said softly. “we’ll figure out the rest.”

before you could say anything else, his parents gently intervened, suggesting that they give you two a moment alone. with a few soft words and understanding looks, your families quietly walked away, giving you the privacy you needed for this final, heartfelt goodbye.

with the terminal now feeling strangely empty, you turned back to pedri, taking in every detail of his face as if trying to memorize it. “promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “and don’t forget to eat properly, and—”

“i promise,” he cut you off, a tender smile playing on his lips. “and you promise me you’ll keep smiling, okay? don’t let yourself get too sad, because i’ll be back before you know it.”

you nodded, though your heart felt heavy with the weight of the impending separation. “i’ll try,” you whispered, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

pedri leaned in, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips, his hand cupping your cheek as if to hold you there a little longer. when he finally pulled away, his eyes were filled with the same mix of sadness and determination that mirrored your own.

as you stood there, your hands lingering on his chest, pedri couldn’t resist teasing you, hoping to bring a smile back to your face. “you know,” he began, a playful glint in his eyes, “it’s funny how you’re still so shy around me, even after everything we’ve done.” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and the memory of your last night together flooded back, making your cheeks flush a deep red.

“pedri,” you whined, half-embarrassed, half-amused, as you playfully swatted his chest. but the light teasing worked—your heart felt a little less heavy, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips.

“there it is,” he murmured, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “that’s the smile i love. just remember that, okay? we’re going to be okay.”

with one last, fleeting touch—his fingers brushing against yours—he turned and walked toward the gate, his figure growing smaller with each step. you stood there, watching until he disappeared from sight, your heart aching with the emptiness he left behind.

but even as the tears finally fell, you clung to the hope in his words, the love in his eyes. this wasn’t the end—it was just the beginning of a new chapter. and no matter the distance, you knew your love was strong enough to bridge it.

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