#“the man that he is” *lip bite* - pen probably | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonsgemini · 2 months ago

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kinda sorry - firefighter!rafe

summary: After months of a cat & mouse game Rafe finally gets his favorite waitress alone. He doesn’t even care if it’s at his place of work.

warning: 18+, firefighter!rafe x waitress!reader, fem reader, SMUT! these people are freaks!! dirty talk, oral, cum play & eating (I’m so sorry?), praise kink, fingering, cursing, p in v

an: hiiiii this is so smutty I actually need to repent my sins. I promise I’m working on the next part of cherry wine I just cannot figure out how to end it so in the mean time enjoy another firefighter rafe fic. Does it kinda suck ? yeah.

You wiped the same spot on the counter for the fifth time as you looked at the clock on the wall behind you. It was already fifteen past seven and they weren’t here yet. You were starting to get antsy. They always showed up at seven like clock work and you hadn’t seen them leave for a call. No flashing lights and loud sirens had been heard or seen.

God you felt pathetic. When did your life come this?

Pining over a hot firefighter who worked across the street and probably only acknowledges your existence for free slices of pie and haphazard flirting. He was so handsome you’d let him flirt with you for free pie any time. You really did feel pathetic, but it had been a long time since a very attractive man made your palms sweat and stomach flutter. Even if there was a chance it was all just out of boredom on his end.

When that hope in your chest that they’d come began to diminish you looked up one more time, just in case. That’s when you spotted the group men walking out of the fire station across the street. A smile involuntarily appeared on your lips. Your favorite part of the week finally arrived.

You’ve been working at Penny’s since high school so you were familiar with the little routine the men across the street carried on. You had grown up with most of the guys having known them since you were a teenager. A couple of them now even being your old classmates. Except for him.

Rafe had started a few months ago and you hadn’t stopped thinking about him since his first visit to Penny’s. It was rare to see a handsome face like his in this small town. It was rare to see a new face period.

You spotted him right away. He could surprisingly pull off the buzzcut and mustaches always did something for you. He was tall with big arms, how could anyone not like him.

From behind the register you watch through the windows as he laughed at something one of the other guys said rubbing his hand over his mustache. A habit you noticed he had. God did he look as handsome as ever. You wanted to know what his mustache felt like against the skin of your neck and against your inner thighs.

The bell above the door rang as the group of men walked into the small diner. You pretended to be busy by wiping the spot next to the one that you had spent the last fifteen minutes on. Doing your best to seem nonchalant like you hadn’t been anticipating their arrival all day by staring out the windows. You would never do something like that.

You looked up and smiled at the familiar faces welcoming them in. They greeted you as they walked to their usual booth in the corner.

Rafe was the last to walk in giving you a smirk and a small nod as he passed. His navy blue tee shirt fit tightly over his chest and biceps. Always a sight for sore eyes. You were practically drooling, you wanted to bite him. Wanted to feel his big hands all over your skin.

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath feeling your cheeks get hot. You needed to push those thoughts away or you’d do something embarrassing. Brushing your hands on your apron you approached them, pulling out your favorite pen and sticker covered order book.

You may or may not have put a little more effort into your appearance today. For no particular reason of course, but if he was going to flirt with you then you might as well play into it. At least that’s what you told yourself when you applied lashes and added some blush to your cheeks.

“Hey guys, what can I get you all to drink?” You asked once standing in front of the table as if they didn’t order the same thing every time.

“I’ll take a coffee my dear,” Captain Morales said smiling. He’s known you for years now and looked out for you as if you were his own daughter.

Rafe was last to order. That smirk making it’s way to his lips again, “I’ll take a coffee y/n,” His eyes lingered on your glossy lips. Little did you know that he was thinking about how he could just eat you up.

As his eyes raked over you face he didn’t miss the red tinge in your cheeks. He’d do anything to make it an even deeper red. Specifically have you blushing profusely under him or even on top of him. Then he started to think about you bent over and ready for him.

“Coming right up!” You said sweetly before heading off to get the coffees breaking whatever trance he was in.

Wednesday’s had become Rafe’s favorite day of the week. Not only was it technically his friday but he got to see his favorite girl. He always thinks about the first time he saw you. You were arguing with a customer who thought their expired coupon should still be valid. He watched as the guy threw his soda at you and before him or any one else could step in you punched the guy in the nose and dragged him out by his collar. The idiot cradling his nose bleeding nose.

That has been the hottest thing Rafe had ever witnessed.

“Now it’s free! Never come back dick head!” You yelled at him as you stomped back into the diner. After spending a few minutes in the back changing into a tee shirt you had in your locker you went to their table. Your tough demeanor had vanished and you held a soft smile on your face. That’s when he knew he was fucked.

Y/n walked back behind the counter to grab mugs and the coffee pot. You knew you’d probably have to make another fresh pot after serving them. Your best friend, Grace, had returned from her break and was wiping menus staring at the table of men.

“Matt looks so good. If we don’t get laid by these hot men we need to quit and become nuns,” Grace said quietly as she eyed the firefighter she’s had her eye on since he moved to town a few years ago.

Y/n snorted, “I’ve given up on mine. It’s been months and it’s just flirting and checking me out,” she shrugged, “Our hook ups and incredibly romantic dates will remain in my fantasies.”

“Don’t say that when I’ve been waiting a year now for mr brown eyes,” Grace huffed, “Why doesn’t he do anything. He acts like I’d say no to him.”

“You could ask him out,” You said handing her three mugs to help you take everything. Mostly so she could get closer to Matt.

She laughed dramatically, “You’re so funny Y/n! And after that I’ll call my dad since we’re saying things that are never going to happen.”

“Oh come on he could never say no to you,” You encouraged.

“Then you ask blondie out.”

You stared blankly at her.

She snorted, “That’s what I thought. Lets just continue to admire from afar so the hottest men we’ve ever seen don’t reject us.”

You followed behind her with a sigh. It’s not like you hadn’t thought about asking Rafe to hang out. It’s just that you had that nagging feeling in your chest that maybe he didn’t want to see you anywhere outside the diner. You cleared your throat to rid the anxiety that began to bubble in your stomach. You didn’t have time to over think that right now.

Grace placed one of the cups in front of Matt and he looked up at her with a shy smile, thanking her softly. They were two idiots in love.

“Are we ready to order?” You asked after filling the last mug.

“Yes ma’am,” Stanford said. One of the other older fire fighters.

It was always hard paying attention to their orders when Rafe’s ocean eyes were boring into you. He always had that affect of turning you into complete mush.

“For you Rafe?” You asked tilting your head to the side slightly.

A teasing smile pulled at his mouth, “Bacon cheeseburger with fries please.”

“No onions?”

He nodded. His pants getting a bit tight at the thought of you remembering something about him.

“You got it, I’ll put this is for you boys.” You smiled an walked away. A little extra sway to your hips hoping Rafe was watching but hoping you weren’t making a fool of yourself.

A slap to the back of his head got Rafe out of his trance. He ducked rubbing his head turning towards the culprit. His wonderful view of your ass ruined.

“Ow?” He muttered looking over at Miguel next to him.

“Are you just going to check her out every fucking week or are you going to do something?” He asked with a teasing tone.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t have time for a girl right now.”

“You’re such a fuckin liar,” Morales laughed as he sipped his black coffee.

Rafe rubbed his face, “I’m working on it okay.”

Morales smirked knowing he was getting under his skin, “You and baby face over here need to grow a pair or someone else is gonna realize how wonderful those women are and beat you to it.”

“Hey what do I have to do with this,” Matt muttered rubbing his mustache.

Miguel laughed, “Dude Grace has been pining for you for forever and don’t act like you don’t feel the same.”

His began blushing at the thought of her, “Whatever. She’s too good for me anyways.”

“Spare me the pity party Anderson and ask the woman out,” Morales said and then pointed at Rafe, “And you. Do something or don’t. Don’t string her along with whatever flirting shit you do.”

Rafe huffed, “Yeah Yeah.”

He turned to look for you tuning out whatever new conversation started between the men. He found you laughing with Grace as you both rolled napkins with silverware. He loved your laugh and your smile. It was so infectious and warm. Rafe had no idea he could feel this way towards someone.

At first it was all lust. Your attractiveness captivated him, especially knowing you didn’t put up with anyone’s shit but also still a complete sweetheart. He moved to this town because he needed a fresh start. He didn’t expect to pine after a woman who was way too good for him.

Rafe continued to watch as you walked around helping other customers. The sway of your hips made him want to grab onto them. Pull you against him as he kissed down your neck from behind. He’d love to hear your laugh as his mustache tickled your ear. He could already see how pink your cheeks would get at the dirty words he’d whisper in your ear if you let him.

You had no idea that you could have him on his hands and knees for you.

Captain Morales had paid for their dinner and they had gone back to the station. Of course the meal was filled with Rafe’s longing glances towards you. Some not so subtle flirting on his end, you of course didn’t do it back in front of the other guys. But when they’d al go outside to wait for the captain to pay he would linger as you wiped down their table.

That nights conversation had firmly planted that seed of hope. Hope that he’d finally pull a move on you since there was a fundraiser barbecue at the station this weekend. Obviously you would be there because you would never miss an opportunity to support your community. It had nothing to do with the fact that Rafe was going to be there.

“You’re coming this weekend right? Or do they have you working?” He had asked with a smirk.

You shook your head with a teasing smile, “Not working, don’t worry I’ll be there.”

“Good.”

“Good?” You teased tilting your head a little in a questioning manor.

He nodded, “I’d be bored without my favorite girl.”

You huffed a flustered laugh, “You mean server?”

He shook his head, “I meant what I said.”

Rafe watched as you laughed with Mrs.Garcia about something as you helped pass out desserts. It had been almost three hours since the fundraiser started and he had gotten to talk to you only a handful of times.

He was put on grill duty and you had been pulled in all directions by people. Rafe liked the small town atmosphere of the place and it was one of the reasons why he was glad he got hired at that station, but now he was starting to hate it. Why did everyone have to know you and take you away from him.

You were just as disappointed as him. Every time you would try and make your way to the grill someone would pull you to help with something or the kids would want you to watch their dance routine they made up. You could feel his eyes on you and when you looked back at him he’d smirk. That stupid devilish handsome smirk.

The sun had begun to set and people were starting to clear out. You looked around and found Rafe helping take down all of the tables and put away chairs. Being ordered around by Captain Morales. You sighed, maybe you and Rafe were always meant to just have flirty banter. Nothing more.

You didn’t want to wait around until he was free again and you didn’t want to bother him so you accepted your fate. Before you left you wanted to use the restroom so you made your way into the firehouse.

Once Rafe was done helping clean up he looked around for you. He didn’t see you anywhere. His chest filled with disappointment as to how the night went. He thought this would be his chance to talk to you outside your job and maybe even take you home. His disappointment was clear on his face as he continued to look around as if you’d come out of thin air any moment.

Beside him someone cleared their throat, “She went inside a couple minutes ago,” Captain Morales said.

Rafe looked over at him with furrowed brows, “huh?”

“Your girl. She’s inside. Now hurry before you miss your chance,” He nodded towards the open door.

Rafe laughed, “How do you even-“

“Son you two look at each other like you both hung the moon I’d be an idiot to not know. Now please go get her I don’t want to have to deal with your attitude later if you miss your chance.”

Rafe nodded his head with a wide smile, “Yes sir.”

He made his way into the firehouse to look for you. Hopefully you hadn’t slipped by him. As he turned the corner to where the restrooms were he found you standing looking at some pictures hanging on the wall.

He stood there for a minute just admiring you. Your soft cheeks and long lashes. Your long smooth legs in that sundress that looked a bit too short and tight on you. It made something in his stomach stir. He cleared his throat to gain your attention.

Your head snapped towards him. Eyes widening in surprise, you weren’t expecting him. Rafe walked over to stand by you and see what you were staring at. It was a picture of the whole station. Then a picture of him and a couple other guys.

“Staring at me huh?” He asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes playfully, “You wish Cameron.”

“I do.” He turned to look at you. That dreamy look in his eyes, “You almost got away from me today.”

You laughed softly, “Sorry. I was trying to come up to you but you know how it is.”

He nodded, “That’s the unfortunate thing about liking a girl everyone loves. You couldn’t help the hear that creeped up your neck at his confession.

He didn’t let you say anything as he continued, “Guess that just means I’ll need to take you out on a date to get you alone.”

You let out a surprised huff, “Oh yeah? Well we’re alone right now.” You looked around making a show of it.

He smirked, “So you don’t want to go on a date with me baby?”

This man was going to be the death of you, “Of course I do. Been waiting for you to ask.”

He laughed and took a step closer to you, “Sorry it’s taken me so long. I liked that little dance we were doing, but let me make it up to you.”

Your body was on fire at everything he was saying. This man had to have been created in a lab with the way he was speaking to you. He was walking closer to you now and you took a few steps back until your back hit the wall of the hallway.

“How are you gonna do that hm?” You tried to play cool as if your pulse wasn’t racing in anticipation. Now you weren’t usually a girl that hooked up with a guy before going on a date but that was going all out the window today if Rafe wanted to have his way with you.

He reached forward and stroked your cheek with his thumb. His eyes going down to your lips. His tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip as your parted, “By fucking you.”

Your eyes widened slightly. Thighs clenching at his non filtered confession, he really was done playing the cat and mouse game. You didn’t even care. Your brain became complete mush and you would let him fuck you in this hallway right now if he wanted to.

“You gonna let me do that hm?” He asked as if he didn’t already know the answer by the way your thighs clenched and your nipples hardened underneath your dress.

You nodded slowly as if you were under a spell. Your heart was erratic as you pictured this tall handsome man fucking you in his big arms. You could cum just thinking about it.

His thumb tugged gently as your bottom lip, “Words baby come on.”

“Yes please,” You said softly.

That’s all he needed to hear before he took your hand and dragged you into the room next to you. It was one of the rooms where they came to sleep during over night shifts. It had a desk, bunk beds, and one single bed. He locked the door behind him before pushing you up against the desk. Rafe and you were panting and you hadn’t even touched each other yet.

He cupped your face in his hands and groaned, “You’re so beautiful I can’t keep my hands to myself anymore.”

“Then don’t,” You murmured in a haze as he dove in to capture your lips in his.

He groaned and moved his hands down to your waist and then to your hips. Pulling you even closer to him as you parted your mouth to let him have more access. He was everywhere and it felt so good. His tongue explored your mouth as his hands grabbed and squeezed at your body. The light whimpers and moans leaving your mouth sending him into a frenzy.

He pulled away with hazy eyes and swollen lips, “Fuck I’ve been thinking about this for long.”

You nodded your head rapidly, “Me too.” You said breathlessly. You felt like you were in a Rafe enduced trance. He moaned at the sight of your swollen lips and the strap of your dress had fallen in the haste.

He pushed you back so you were sitting on the desk now with him between your parted legs. He leaned forward and began pressing open mouthed kisses to your neck. You tilted your head back giving him more room. Your fingers tangled in his hair. Tugging when he kissed that one particular spot below your ear. He bit at your neck and you gasped as his tongue soothed the sting. You had never been so turned on in your life, and he hadn’t even touched you really.

That changed when his hands slid down your hips to your thighs. He squeezed them loving the feel of them. Rafe couldn’t wait to have them wrapped around his head, he wanted you to suffocate him. He needed you to suffocate him with your pussy.

He played with the hem of your dress as he kissed your collarbone. He was being a tease, “I thought the teasing was over.” You mumbled with hooded eyes. You wanted him to just shove the dress up and fuck you.

He chuckled against the swell of your breast that he had been peppering with kisses, “Patience sweetheart. I’ll fill you up with my cock, tongue, and fingers in no time.”

You moaned at his words as he slipped the straps of your dress down and tugged the top part down to reveal your tits. He groaned at the sight of your perked nipples and leaned down taking one in his mouth. His other hand reaching for the other and brushing his thumb over the sensitive bud.

The moans that left your mouth were pornographic. It was like you had been touched in years which was only partly true.

“Mmm you’re so sweet,” He groaned as he moved to the other one.

You sighed with pleasure, “I need you.”

He laughed softly going back to kiss you, “Don’t worry baby I’ll give you what you need.”

His big hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the desk in a swift motion. You thought he was going to take you to the bed and finally have his way. You should have known better with him, you’re starting to get that Rafe loves the anticipation. The chase of it all because he turned you around so his chest was on your back.

You could feel him aching agains your lower back. He felt so big and your mouth watered at the thought. You barely had any time to question what he was doing when you felt him press kisses from in between your shoulders and down your back. As he did he gently pushed you down to be basically bent over the desk. Then he was kneeling behind you.

His hands stroking your thighs as they shook in anticipation. He playfully bit your butt with a small groan. Rafe pushed your dress up to rest around your waist. Almost on instinct you arched your back and pushed your hips towards him. Needing for him to do something.

“Please Rafe,” You murmured desperately.

He grinned sweetly, “You sound so pretty asking nicely baby.” He reached his hand down to lightly stroke you over your underwear.

You gasped at the minimal contact. Then he was fully rubbing circles onto your clit. The wet patch at your center growing. He pulled your cheeks apart as he dove in and pressed wet kisses to your clothes pussy.

“Fuck,” He groaned, “Let me have a taste yeah?”

You whined. Literally whined, “Please Rafey please please.” You never thought you could be this desperate for a man. You could feel his smirk against your cunt.

He slid your panties to the side and dove in like a starved man. You gasped in surprised not expecting him to go all in since he had been teasing so much, but you’d thank God every day for it. You already knew you’d be thinking about his mouth for the rest of your life.

Rafe’s tongue massaged your clit in the best way and with the position his nose nudged at your entrance. His hands reached up to grab a handful of your ass and squeeze making you moan louder.

The room was filled with the sounds of his sucking and lapping as well as your whines. His hand then came down to slap one cheek. A motion that made you push yourself against his mouth even more.

Rafe would be a happy man if this is the way he went out. Drowning in your pussy. Your juices dripping down his chin as he mercilessly worked his tongue over you. The groans he let out adding to the pleasure.

Pressure built up in your lower stomach as that knot of pleasure tightened. You had never gotten so close so fast besides with your own hand. The way this man was lapping you up had your legs shaking.

“Yes Rafe!” You exclaimed, “Gonna cum!”

Your head flew back as your eyes shut in pleasure. The white hot euphoric feeling of your orgasm taking over.

“Mhmmm,” He groaned as he continued to lick and suck, “Fuck baby so good.” He mumbled as he continued his ministrations prolonging the intense feeling.

He pulled away once he had cleaned you up of everything you gave him, “Such a messy girl huh,” He mumbled as he pulled your hair so your back was against his chest again. Your head tilted back onto his shoulder. Rafe had a way with words, it had your mind in a haze.

He moved his hand to cup your face and tilt it towards him even more so he could capture your lips in his. The kiss was sloppy and so hot.

You pulled away slightly and mumbled against his lips, “Please please fuck me Rafey.”

He but his lip and groaned, “Of course baby anything you want.”

You expected him to shove his pants down and stuff his cock in you but you should have known him better. He spun you around so your back was pressed to the desk again. He tapped on the back of your thighs to get you to sit on it again and as you did he mumbled, “So obedient.”

The scene in front of him looked so vulgar. You were sat at the desk with your dress bunched around your stomach. All the delicious parts Rafe wanted to dive into exposed. He took a mental picture to remember it even though this definitely wouldn’t be the last time he’d have his way with you.

You reach out for him and tugged at his shirt wanting it off. He smirked as he took the hint and pulled it off. The sight of his toned chest and broad arms had you gushing all over again.

“We should be quick now before they come looking,” He muttered as he began to undo his belt. He pulled his pants and boxers down to rest around his ankles. His cock on full display for you and you bit your lip as you took in the sight. Glassy eyes widening at the size, you had never seen one like that.

He tugged at it a few times to relieve the tension. The way you were looking at him was making his ego grow, and Rafe didn’t really need that.

Grabbing where your knees crease he pushed your legs up so your feet were almost flat on the desk. Your core glistening and on display for him.

“Fuck I can’t wait to be in that nice wet pussy,” He couldn’t away. He let you hold yourself up now as he grabbed himself and began sliding his tip through your folds. You let out small whimpers at the feeling. Then rubbed it over your clit, making you even wetter.

Rafe was having the time of his life. You felt so good against him he never wanted to stop. The way your nipples perked and your eyes practically watered in pleasure.

“You’re so wet baby,” He slipped the tip into your entrance, “mmmph feel s’good huh.” He smirked cockily as he pushed himself in deeper and deeper.

Your brows furrowed in pleasure as he stretched you deliciously. His thumb finding your clit and rubbing soft circles. Your head fell back with a sigh as he bottomed out.

He leaned forwards and kissed you softly as he started moving. You both moaned as he pushed back in hitting that sweet spot. He pulled away and leaned down to take a nipple in his mouth. Sucking and gently tugging.

Your hands were tangled un his short locks. As his movements grew faster and harder your hands moved all over. His shoulders, chest, back anywhere you could touch. Your nails leaving crescents in his skin as he continued to mumble obscenities into your ear.

‘so good baby’ ‘the most perfect pussy’ ‘my good girl letting me fuck her so well’

The feeling of euphoria increasing as he continued. Rafe groaned as he felt you tighten around him. He was regretting one thing right now and that was waiting this long to fuck you.

“M’close Rafe,” You whined as that familiar feeling spread throughout your body.

“I know,” He panted and started working faster, “Cum for me baby come on. I know you can do it.”

His encouragement helped your release. As he felt you orgasm and tighten around him he neared the edge of his own orgasm.

“Need you to cum in me,” You mumbled as he milked you for all you had.

His eyes rolled back at your statement, “Fuuuck.” Then his hips snapped into you a few more times before he released inside you coating your walls in his cum. It felt so good to have him stuffed inside you. His head resting on your chest as he groaned. After a few minutes of your labored breaths Rafe slowly pulled out. The loss of him causing you to whimper and he just smirked.

You thought you guys were done but then Rafe looked down and slipped two fingers inside you.

“Oh Rafe,” You gasped, “W-what are you doing?”

He bit his lip as he continued to watch his fingers pump in and out slowly, “Feeling how well you took all my cum baby.”

Then as if he couldn’t be hotter and dirtier he removed his fingers and his cum was all over them. He took them and began rubbing it over your clit. The overstimulation made your toes curl and your mouth fall open.

The scene in front of him was so filthy and will be on constant reply for the rest of his life. The entire last hour he would be thinking about that forever.

He removed his fingers and you reached out grabbing his wrist to tug the fingers into your mouth. Licking and sucking his fingers clean.

“Dirty girl,” He mumbled as you pulled them out with a pop.

He leaned in and kissed you softly, no more lust behind it. It was something else now. Rafe helped you fix your dress and pull your underwear back on after he pulled his pants back up.

“I’m kind of sorry I didn’t take you out first but I also don’t regret it because I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you for months,” Rafe said as you fixed your ruffled hair.

You smiled at him, “I’m not at all. You can still take me out and we can do that all over again.”

A loud banging on the door made you jump and rafe whip his head around.

“You guys done yet? I need a nap,” one of the other guys yelled through the door.

Your face paled at the realization that you might now have been very quiet. Rafe just laughed, “One minute!”

“Oh god. I need to quit my job and move towns now,” You put your hands on your face in embarrassment.

Rafe laughed and kissed the back of your hands that covered your face, “Nuh uh. Not running from me now.”

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fastandcarlos · 6 months ago

Text

My Worst Nightmare : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

Your eyes went wide as you watched it all unfold.

Your heart beat faster than it ever had done before.

The feeling of your hand gripping his arm made Max jump beside you as you watched Lando’s front wheel clip against the front wheel of Charles. As soon as the incident happened you saw an aggression in Lando that you had never seen before, biting your bottom lip as he edges closer and closer to Charles’ car, almost inviting himself to get into some sort of incident against the other driver.

“What’s he playing at?” Max hissed next to you, eyes rolling at what he was seeing from his best friend.

“It’s like he wants to go crashing into the barriers,” you murmured, shaking your head in disbelief.

You could picture Lando getting frustrated in his car, eyes rolling, mouth tutting.

But he was the reason that he almost crashed out of the race. The only person responsible for any potential accident was Lando. The man who promised you every single race that he’d drive safe and that things would be okay.

Max’s eyes stay on you for a few moments as you carry on watching the race. He knows you worry and fret, but he could see frustration in you too. Frustration that your boyfriend was willing to crash so dangerously just because his front wheel got clipped, something you’d seen happen so easily in races plenty of times.

You hoped that would be enough to make him stop.

Lando kept on pushing though, every opportunity he tested the water, keen to try and scrape through whenever even a millimetre presented itself. You struggled to watch after a while, terrified that you’d ultimately end up watching your boyfriend get seriously hurt.

You’d never felt so relieved when the race was finished, watching Lando drive back into the garage in fifth. When he climbed out the car he expected to see you ready to enter his open arms, but instead you remained rather standoffish with him, shooting him a glare.

“Well done,” you told him, your face flat, taking him by surprise.

“Try and be happy for me, yeah?”

“Sorry,” you coldly sighed, “can’t help it.”

Lando walks across and presses a kiss against your cheek before being pulled back to get weighed. He wanted to play dumb, but Lando knew just from the tone of your voice why you were upset with him, and truthfully, he understood why.

He kept looking at you as he finished off race proceedings, hoping for something from you. A couple of times you offered him a weak smile, but other than that you remained with Max, struggling to listen to Lando try and make excuses in the media pen for his erratic driving. Eventually Lando headed off to grab his things, leaving you and Max alone.

Max poked your side to get your attention, “try not to be too hard on him tonight.”

“But he was being stupid Max.”

“I know, but I can tell he regrets it.”

A sign came from you, “what was he thinking?”

“Probably just adrenaline,” Max tried to defend, “maybe he saw something there that we missed.”

The ride home was pretty silent between the two of you, Lando tried to make small talk but you were still unimpressed. You headed back to your hotel room, Lando following just behind to give you enough space. As soon as the door shut and you were all alone, he finally cleared his throat.

He waited for you to sit down, throwing himself down beside you before you could protest.

“You might as well say what you want to say.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Lando chuckled, “I already knew that.”

You shot a glare across at him.

Lando’s attempts to lighten the mood fell flat as you silently scolded him. The tight corners and near misses were part of the job, but what happened today took all of that to the extreme.

“I wasn’t going to crash,” Lando told you, reading your mind and figuring what you were thinking.

“How do you know that?”

“We’re professionals,” he reminded you.

Your eyes rolled as he tried to brush off what you were saying, trying his best to reassure you in his own Lando way.

After a few moments Lando shuffled across the sofa, resting his hand against your thigh. “Maybe things were a little too close for comfort today.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day,” you hummed, “being a pro doesn’t mean being stupid.”

“I’m sorry if I made you worry about me.”

“I thought you were going to crash,” you sighed.

“I didn’t though.”

“My point is though, you could have,” you reminded him, keeping your voice firm. “That would be my worst nightmare Lando.”

Your admission took him by surprise, his eyes soften as he looks at you. The hand that was on your thigh moved to intertwine in with your own, Lando moved even closer towards you, nudging against your side. He could hear the hurt in your voice, terrified that your worst nightmare would end up coming true.

Lando squeezes gently against your hand, whispering your name. “Perhaps I let my frustrations get the better of me today, I should’ve been more careful and not risked anything dangerous happening.”

“I don’t ever want a repeat of Vegas Lan.”

“Me too, I don’t ever set out to do anything like that,” he assured you.

You nodded in reply to him. “I don’t know what I’d do if something ever did happen.”

“Hey, let’s not think about that.”

You went to speak but your voice faltered as Lando pulled you into his side. Luckily for you, Lando knew exactly what you were trying to say to him.

“I promise that I won’t do it again,” he whispered.

A smile of relief appears on Lando’s face as the corners of your mouth slowly turn up into a smile of your own. “I hate you for scaring me like that today,” you jokingly told him.

Lando’s head shook as you hit against his chest, trying your best to sound serious through the few giggles that escaped.

“You love me really,” Lando whispered, pressing a kiss against the side of your head.

You hummed back at him, “I do, that’s why I’d hate to ever see you get hurt.”

Lando cups against the side of your face, bringing you towards him for a gentle kiss as if to remind you one more time, he really was alright.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 reaction #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #lando norris drabble #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 fic #formula one #f1 fic

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miley1442111 · 7 months ago

Text

cookies-a.hotchner

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a/n: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 1000 FOLLOWERS, Y'ALL MEAN SO MUCH TO ME I CAN'T BEGIN TO EXPLAIN IT!!!!

summary: you're the cute barista he sees everyday.

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem barista reader

warnings: fluff, mentions of sa, aaron is a cutie in this, sorry if this doesn't make sense, i was studying german all day and idk if I have the patience to re-write this :)

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Aaron’s nervousness grew as he stepped closer and closer to the counter. Aaron Hotchner was not a man to be anxious, nervous, or shy when it came to speaking to people, even new people. Aaron Hotchner was a confident, intelligent man who was very important and powerful in both his personal and work life.

So why was he so nervous to speak to the cute barista he saw every morning?

In his defence, you were drop-dead gorgeous. Aaron loved everything about you, your hair, your style, your face, your lips (he spent a lot of time looking at them), and everything about you. You were so interesting, so nice, and very good at making him a good cup of coffee.

“Aaron! How are you today?” You asked, a smile on your face as he got to the top of the queue.

“I’m fine thank you, how are you?” he smiled. Good, I got through the first sentence.

“I’m great! It’s so nice out today,” you mentioned the weather everyday without fail, Aaron smiled and agreed with whatever positive outlook you had, even on the gloomiest of days.

“It is,” he nodded.

“The usual?” you asked, getting a cup ready.

“Please,” he nodded. “And one of the cookies please.”

You stopped your writing on the cup to look up at him. “A cookie? I wouldn’t have put you down for a cookie guy, Aaron.”

“It’s not for me, my son loves the cookies from your shop,” he admitted, since he’d brought Jack here on your day off (yes, he had your schedule memorised. You worked Mondays to Fridays between 7am and 1pm, Saturday off, then on Sundays you worked the closing shift), and he’d enjoyed the cookie quite a lot.

Your eyes flickered with something like… disappointment, but it was immediately replaced with your signature smile. “Any specific one?” You asked, eyes moving from him to the display case.

“The red one, he loves spiderman,” he decided after a moment of deliberation.

“A man after my own heart,” you smiled, and bagged the cookie, giving him a soft goodbye as he waited for his drink and cookie down by the other side of the till.

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

Your co-worker gave you a sad smile as you deflated. Your cute regular, Aaron, was obviously married with children, who wouldn’t want to make him a dad? Who wouldn’t want to give him anything he wants forever? He was just so handsome and so sweet and so-

You get the point.

You were smitten with a married man you had no chance with. Sigh.

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Saturday 4pm

Aaron walked in with Jack’s hand in his and the rest of the BAU team behind him. He was in his marathon wear, after just running the town's marathon. The shop was practically empty, it probably had something to do with the time and the fact that they were giving out free food at the finish line. But Aaron wanted nothing more than to b-line it straight to your cafe and get a latte and a cookie (he tried a bite of Jack’s and he very much enjoyed it).

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

The bell above the door rang and you put on your best customer service face to be met with Penelope Garcia. Your sister’s friend from college that visits every summer.

“Pen?” you smiled

“Y/n!” she squealed, opening her arms for a hug. You came out from behind the counter to hug her.

“How are you?” You asked as the rest of the group looked at the two of you.

“I’m so amazing! I cannot believe your sister didn’t tell me you opened the cafe?!” She practically scolded.

“Don’t be too hard on her, she doesn’t exactly… know,” you chuckled uncomfortably as Penelope’s face fell.

“Why wouldn’t she know?” She whispered, turning you both away from the prying eyes of the group.

“She… she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore,” you shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Why? What happened?”

“After the… after Ryan did, y’know, what he did, she told me she believed his version and not mine. C’est la vie,” you sighed, picking at your nails as you explained.

“What?!” Penelope was practically crying. “That’s awful!” “I’m fine,” you chuckled, going back behind the counter. “Now, what can I get you?”

“I have the order written down, it’s a lot,” a tall man from the group offered.

“Sounds great,” you smiled at him. He handed you over a piece of paper with various drink orders and food orders and you started working on them right away, since you were the only one working that day too. Penelope paid, and watched over you as the group chatted about various cases and congratulated Aaron on his performance. She soon realised she wasn’t the only one watching you, Aaron’s eyes were firmly planted on either you, or Jack.

Interesting.

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

As you brought over all the drinks, you finally let yourself look at Aaron.

Fuck, he looked good in a t-shirt and running shorts. It was becoming unfair.

There were three women on the team. Penelope, not his wife for sure- she was dating Kevin. A blonde woman, showing photos of her kids to the group and sitting far away from Aaron- not his wife. A brunette woman who was gorgeous who sat right beside him, but there was no physical contact- maybe his wife? You couldn’t tell.

As the night wore on and they started trickling out, you were left alone with Aaron for a split second. While clearing their table, you accidentally knocked into him and spilt coffee on his shirt.

“Shit, I am so sorry!” You immediately apologised and Aaron just stared at you with this dazed look for a second, then smiled.

“It’s fine, I promise,” he nodded, but you felt awful.

“Please let me get you some tissue or something Aaron,” you pleaded, bringing the cups over to the till before running to grab some tissue paper, not even waiting for his response.

“It’s really not a big-” Aaron started but you hushed him, trying to get some of the coffee off of his shirt. He stared down at you as you worked, muttering soft apologies and sighs or annoyance at your carelessness. “Can I ask you out to dinner?” He blurted out, not even thinking. God, his head felt so hazy when he was around you.

You slowly looked up in shock. “Pardon?”

“I’m asking you out,” he repeated.

“But don’t you have a wife-?”

“She and I got divorced a while ago. I get Jack- my son- on the weekends,” he explained.

“Oh, then in that case, yes please,” you smiled. “I’d love to go out.”

“Good,” he smiled, then he turned quite serious. “I promise to just move things at your speed, I overheard what you and Penelope were talking about,” he sighed. “You’ll call all of the shots, I promise.”

Your heart swelled. He was a gentleman, a dad, and a lovely person? How could you be more lucky? “Thank you, that means a lot.”

Aaron walked out of the coffee shop, a large stain on his white shirt, but a date too, so he really didn’t mind.

He also didn't mind the teasing he got from Penelope on the way home.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fandom #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fluff #thomas gibson x reader #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

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theemporium · 1 year ago

Note

poly drivers (literally any idk they can all take me to Paris) reacting to a media personnel making a comment about reader… 👀👀

a mood💀thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“My next question goes to the two fellas on the right.”

You pressed your lips together to try and bite back your smile as you watched Max subtly roll his eyes as he reached for his microphone.

It never failed to amuse you how much the boy hated media duties, even after so many years being involved with the sport. He hated it, he thought it was a waste of time, and if he could avoid it, he would.

Meanwhile, Charles sat next to him with a charming smile on his face. Despite his questionable acting skills, he was a performer in front of the cameras. He seemed to naturally know what people wanted to hear, what they wanted to hear from him. He seemed to have the media stuff under lock and key after so many years of having a camera shoved in his face.

And conferences like this one—where both your boys were in one group—were your absolute favourite to watch. Just seeing the mere difference in the men you loved never failed to entertain you.

But as quickly as your good mood came, it quickly dropped when you heard the reporter's question.

“Do you think sharing the same woman has helped your relationship on track or made it worse?”

Your stomach dipped as the room fell silent, only the clicking of cameras and scribbling of pens on notepads could be heard. You didn’t care about the other journalists gawking at you, or even the other drivers on the couch. Your eyes were firmly glued to your boys.

Charles was frowning, a look mixed with shock and disbelief written across his face. Your boy in red liked to see the best in people, expect the best in people. And you could actively see his brain trying to work around the question to see if he just misunderstood what the man had just asked.

But Max was a different story.

His face was stoic and the glare he sent the reporter was almost bone-chilling. You honestly expected him to storm off, or even throw something at the reporter—to act out in the way you knew he was constantly scolded about by the Red Bull PR team.

What you weren’t expecting was for Charles to be the first one to speak.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The shock and surprise was clear on everybody’s face as Charles straightened up in his seat, his brows furrowed as he stared at the reporter in disgust. The man opened his mouth to speak, to probably defend himself, but Charles didn’t give him the chance.

“No, seriously, who do you think you are?” Charles continued, his accent coming out a little thicker as he spoke. “We are racers. This is our job. Our relationship has nothing to do with anything, and it’s disrespectful that you would even bring it up, let alone talk about our girlfriend like she’s an object. She’s a human, unlike whatever you are.”

You stood there, mouth agape at the words that just came out of your boyfriend’s mouth.

However, Max almost looked proud before he lifted the microphone to his lips.

“You’re a fucking dickhead, have fun completely ending your career,” he stated simply with a smug look on his face before he dropped the microphone, not even bothering to listen to the media managers as they scrambled to get him to sit back down as he walked out with Charles following.

Your cheeks burned as everyone turned to look at you, but you didn’t pay them any attention as you quickly slid out of the conference room. You barely made it three steps out the door before you felt an arm winding around your waist and tugging you towards a hard body, the smell of Charles’ cologne hitting you seconds later.

“Amour,” he murmured as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you like he was scared you would disappear. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Shh, it’s not your fault,” you cooed as you wrapped your arms around him, your fingers running through the hair on the nape of his neck as his body sagged against yours. “You were quite bold in there.”

“Didn’t like the way they were talking about us,” he grumbled.

You lifted your head when you spotted Max a few steps away, the smug look still painted across his face as he reached for you, his hand placed on the small of your back.

“Personally, I think that was the best conference I have ever been a part of,” Max commented with a shrug, his smile widening a little when he saw you snort.

“Be nice,” you chastised.

“I am,” he defended. “It was hot.”

“It was,” you agreed, and Charles’ arms tightened around you.

“Let’s get him fired,” Charles said suddenly as he lifted his head to look at you both, trying to ignore the fact his cheeks were burning at your words.

“I think he did that fine on his own,” Max said.

“No, I want him fired,” Charles frowned. “I don’t want to see him near a paddock ever again.”

“Okay, calm down,” you murmured as you ran your hands up and down his back. “Let’s just get out of here and let you cool down before you do something irrational. I think you’re on an adrenaline high.”

“I don’t like people who say things about us, about you,” Charles huffed.

You smiled as you leaned up, pressing a lingering kiss against his pouting lips. “And I appreciate that very much, baby.”

“Our knight in shining armour,” Max teased, only to wince a little when you pinched his side. “Kidding, schatz, I love you both.”

“Better,” you grinned before pecking his lips too. “Let’s stop by the Red Bull motorhome before we head back to the hotel, I want more of those churros.”

Max snorted. “Whatever you want.”

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago

Text

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 | kitten braden x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | being a peep show girl can be sort of solitary work, so it's nice to spend the day with miss kitten... and your time together proves to be not only profitable, but a chance to act on a secret crush.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4.4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (18+ only!!), voyeurism/exhibitionism, fingering, oral sex, girldick <3, penetration/top!kitten, creampie, come eating, titty sucking, brief transphobia (t-slur), friends/coworkers to lovers, lots of filth with some feelings in there too c:

You laid back across the massive velvet ottoman, sighing as you glanced at Kitten— she was laying on her stomach but propped up by her elbows, feet kicked up and crossed as she wrote in her journal with a fluffy-tipped pen.

“What are you writing?” you asked her.

“A letter,” she answered sweetly, tilting her head a bit, “to my friend Charlie.”

“Will you tell her about me?” you asked with a smile.

“I already did,” she answered, “just here— sometimes they have me working with other girls,” she read aloud from the page, “like today, I’m paired up with the biggest slag in the whole place—”

“Fuck off!” you laughed, grabbing one of the nearby pillows and smacking her in the back with it, and she grinned at you. “You didn’t really say that, did you?”

“No, of course,” she rolled her eyes. “I told her that I made a friend. That was what I said about you.”

You felt a little warmth in your cheeks as you sat up, tossing the pillow away— the whole thing was set up to look like a slumber party, so pillows were plentiful. Of course, you’d never actually worn lingerie and heels to a slumber party, nor had you ever had a sexy pillow fight… but you probably would have if you were getting paid then, as you were now.

Speaking of, it was only a moment after Kitten finished her letter and tucked the journal and pen away that the red light flicked on— and you knew you had a customer on the other side of the glass.

“Well, hello Mister,” Kitten greeted with that sultry voice of hers, and you smiled as you knelt on the plushy surface beneath you, turning your body towards her but keeping your eyes on the barely-visible silhouette behind the wall.

“Look at you two,” a deep, rough voice praised as you smiled and moved a little closer to your companion.

“Do you like to watch girls play with each other, Mister?” Kitten asked coyly, running her fingers up your arm delicately.

The gruff voice chuckled, a scratchy sort of sound as it came through the speaker. “You’re a couple of naughty little birds, aren’tcha?”

You giggled as you shook your head, before tenderly laying it on Kitten’s shoulder. “No, sir, we’re very good girls— we like to do exactly as we’re told.”

“Mm, bet ya do,” he replied.

“Care to introduce yourself, Mister?” Kitten asked quietly. “We like to know who we’re talking to.”

“I think you two are the more interesting ones,” he replied. “What are your names?”

“I’m Kitten,” she answered, seeming even more coy as she said that, “and this is my friend Lovely.”

“Lovely indeed,” the man growled. “Just a friend, eh?”

“Well,” you feigned hesitation, looking up at Kitten and biting your lip, “sometimes we… experiment.”

It was all about the innocent act— you weren’t sure why, but it drew them in like moths to a flame: Kitten had always specialised in this, looking and acting like a little naive ingénue before revealing her dirty side. You were used to the more classic stuff… you know, just acting like the most horny, whorish creature who ever lived. You liked this more, especially since you didn’t have to do it alone.

“And today we’re having our special playtime,” Kitten continued, moving in closer to you but keeping a teasing distance between you— for the customer’s benefit, of course, not yours. So why was it having an effect on you? “Would you like to watch?”

“Yeah,” the man said instantly, “wanna see you ladies kiss each other.”

You smiled and sat up to eye-level with her, both of you shutting your eyes and leaning in. The kiss was gentle and sweet, your fingers carefully brushing over her hair and then cupping her face as your lips moved together. It was almost routine now, with how much you’d kissed each other today… almost. You still felt your hips shift slightly, a hot feeling gathering between your legs.

The man groaned in approval through the speaker, but it was Kitten’s teeth brushing over your lip that made a chill run up your spine.

“Fuck, your tits are getting hard, aren’t they?” the man noticed— you hadn’t even realised it, but yes, your nipples were starting to poke up through the lace. “Play with ‘em, Kitten.”

Slender, delicate hands ran up your body, carefully teasing your breasts at first before starting to really properly grope them; you moaned softly at the feeling, deepening the kiss and feeling yourself try to press in a little closer to her. You were already so needy for friction of some kind, and you held on to Kitten’s thighs as you tried not to grip them too hard.

“Betcha wanna put those pretty lips on her tits, don’t ya, Kitten?” the man presumed. The kiss broke quickly, making you almost lean in for more before you came back to reality.

“Yes,” Kitten sighed, “I do— and they’re so beautiful, do you want to see them?”

“‘Course I do, fuck,” the man groaned.

She was slow about it— she was slow about everything. That was the idea, after all— to run the clock as best you could so they’d keep paying for more. Her fingers delicately pulled down the straps of your lingerie, leaving little goosebumps behind as you sighed with anticipation. She gently tugged the top down until your tits were free, and all three of you groaned a little as they were revealed.

She held them again, and you loved the feeling of her touch against your bare skin. Leaning down, she teasingly licked the bud as those big blue eyes blinked up at you sweetly. You wanted to keep holding her gaze, but you couldn’t help your eyes falling shut with pleasure when she swirled her tongue around your nipple, holding tighter onto your breast before closing her lips around it and suckling.

“Fuck,” you breathed, but you smiled— not just from the feeling, but from realizing that your time would’ve run out by now if your customer had only paid once. He must have added more coins to extend the time… teasing works, it seems.

She moved her mouth to the other nipple as you moaned louder, your hands sliding up her legs to run over her sides, her back, even teasing her tits to try to make it fair. You couldn’t help it: you just wanted to touch her everywhere.

“You don’t quite fit in those panties anymore, Miss Kitten,” the man noticed, and she blushed a little as she pulled back from you and bit her lip.

“W-well, I can’t help that,” she defended, and you felt your chest deflate a bit at the sight of how hard she was, the tight lace looking like it was restraining her as the leaking tip bobbed up against her stomach, obscured slightly by the see-through material of her babydoll lingerie.

“Mm, maybe your friend can,” the man suggested. “I bet you know how to use your mouth, don’t you, Lovely?”

You tried not to seem too eager as you reminded yourself internally that you needed to go as slow as you could get away with. You nodded and started to sink your head down into Kitten’s lap, before stopping and looking at the mirror again— almost losing your train of thought when you saw how hot you looked together in the reflection.

“Would you like to see me use it, Mister?” you asked shyly.

“Yeah— show me what a good little cocksucker you are.”

Kitten leaned back slightly, giving you a little more room to reach down and tenderly slide the panties down her pale, smooth thighs. You tried to be real cute about it, just giving one little lick to the tip and giggling proudly when it flexed up towards you for a second. “Oh! Does that feel good, Kitten?”

“Y-yes,” she breathed. You did it again, purring at the moan she let out; she watched you with that pretty mouth fallen slack and smeared with pink gloss, throat bobbing for a second when you met her gaze and even gave her a little wink that your customer couldn’t see from this angle.

You licked all the way from the base to the tip, hoping to cover the whole thing just with your tongue before you even did anything else. You teased her for a while, trying to hear her little mewls and whimpers over the sounds of the man’s moaning through the speaker.

Wrapping your lips around her fat tip, she bit her lip and dropped her head back with a sigh.

“That’s good,” the man groaned proudly, “y’like that, Kitten?”

“Yes,” she panted, starting to push your head down so you would take more, “s-so good…”

“You can stop now,” he decided, and you both hesitated before you pulled away and sat up. Poor Kitten, she looked almost heartbroken at getting cut off like that— you would’ve given anything to make her come…

Sitting up, she reached for your lips— you hoped she would kiss you again, but instead she wiped up where some of your lipstick had smeared, and you felt almost shy again as she did it. Such a sweet gesture had no place in a job like this.

“C’mon, let’s see how wet little Lovely is after that,” the man demanded, and Kitten pulled you into her lap— your back to her chest, her arms wrapping around you— as she slowly spread your legs for you. “Fuck, soaked through the panties, did you?”

“Did you?” Kitten repeated in a surprised whisper just to you, slipping two fingers down to tease you and feel the wet patch on the lace. In your defence, these things weren’t really built for absorption, were they?

“Lemme see that pretty hole, then,” he ordered. “Show me her cunt.”

Kitten gingerly pulled your panties aside, and you caught in the reflection not only how soaked and swollen you really were, but how absolutely wrecked your facial expression had become.

“Shit, s’a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” the voice praised darkly, groaning again when Kitten used her fingers to spread your slick lips and give the customer a better look at your opening.

“Should I rub her a little more, Mister?” Kitten asked sweetly, starting before he’d even agreed to it.

Your back arched up as she ran her finger over your clit, teasing it with gentle circles. You shut your eyes and sighed, losing control of your hips as they rocked into her touch. “R-right there, Kitten,” you pleaded softly, but apparently your customer had other plans.

“Put two fingers inside her,” he ordered Kitten, making you whine in frustration at the separation from where you were most sensitive.

She was careful about it— she had to be, with her nails— but it still felt intense as she pushed her fingers inside you, even just two stretching you quite a bit as you moaned lowly. They moved slowly and deliberately within you, and her heavy breathing began to tickle your neck as your legs almost tried to push together from the sensation.

You were starting to really get into it, moaning and rocking against her as she kissed your neck and played with one of your tits with her free hand. So, of course, he had to stop you again. “I wanna see you fuck her,” the man said suddenly, and your heart skipped for a half-second. It had never gone that far— you didn’t even know if she did that— but you felt your channel clench on her fingers at just the thought.

“Oh, my— you’re very dirty, aren’t you, Mister?” Kitten noticed.

“Just do it,” he insisted, “wanna see how she looks with a cock in her.”

You could hear the coins rolling in the slot, so you obeyed; it ended up with both of you kneeling a bit on the ottoman, her body still slotted behind yours, your heavy eyes transfixed on the reflection— and ostensibly on the man on the other side— as she looked down at where she was about to enter you.

“So hot,” the man praised, but you could barely hear him— you just heard Kitten softly ask you if you were ready. Instead of answering or nodding, you just started to slowly sink down onto her, making both of you moan. “Yeah, fuck,” he went on, and Kitten suddenly grabbed your hip to keep you steady, guiding you just how she needed until your ass was flush against her lap and your back was pressed to her chest.

“Oh,” you breathed, melting slightly against her as you both adjusted to the feeling. Slowly, she started to move— and you moved with her, less like thrusting and more like writhing. It was sensual, it was sexy; it was driving you fucking crazy.

She ran her tongue along the edge of your ear as she grinded against you, your eyes rolling back at the feeling. “Fuck, Kitten,” you mumbled under your breath, arching your back as her hand slipped down over the front of your body, reaching between your legs to start teasing your clit.

“Yeah, like that,” the man agreed, breathing heavily himself. “So fuckin’ dirty…”

You moved together in perfect harmony, her body seeming to fit so naturally against yours— and inside it. She moaned softly by your ear, a little deeper than you were used to hearing it, and you shuddered with delight as you imagined that was how her real pleasure sounded.

“Feels good, does it, Lovely?” he prompted, his grin obvious in his voice.

“Yes,” you moaned loudly, “yes, so good…”

You were so sensitive from being essentially teased all day, from the joy of pleasing her and the effortless way she played with your body like her toy. Still, it was a little embarrassing how quickly you became overwhelmed with the feeling.

She moved a little faster, egging on your needy moans and holding on tighter to your hips as she filled you just right. “Oh, fuck,” you yelped, feeling the pressure start to build as you tried your best to push back against her thrusts and get her that much deeper.

“You like how she fucks you, eh?” the man taunted.

“Yes! Yes, she’s amazing,” you panted, biting your lip as you fought the urge to beg Kitten for more.

“Never been fucked by a tranny before, have ya?” the man asked with a rough laugh.

You reached back behind your own head to hold onto the back of Kitten’s neck, pulling her closer so you could lean in to whisper in her ear— the ear your hidden watcher couldn’t see. “Don’t listen to him, Kit,” you breathed, “you’re so fucking beautiful. I’m so close.”

She turned her head and kissed you, sloppy and needy with heavy breaths passing between your lips to hers and back; it was all getting blurry and sweaty and that feeling just kept getting heavier and sharper as you rocked your hips back against hers. Every movement pushed you just that much closer—

“Fuck, I’m out of coins!” you heard the voice announce, but you were barely paying attention— until the red light suddenly went off. Then, both of you stopped, panting and breaking away from the kiss to look up at the light. You waited a moment to see if it would turn back on, only to glance at each other and begin to laugh as you realised you weren’t going to be hearing from your visitor again.

“We can stop,” Kitten noticed— but she didn’t move away, she only looked at your eyes, and you saw a hint of nervousness in hers.

“I don’t wanna stop,” you admitted in a whisper.

“Me either,” she smiled, speaking under her breath as one of her hands came up to hold your face sweetly. “I don’t ever want to stop.”

You kissed her, and the whole thing felt different without anyone watching. Sweeter, softer— you loved feeling her smile against you, and you smiled back, until she started to move again and your lips dropped to a moan. “Oh, Kitten,” you breathed, writhing against her as her hands moved all over you, touching anywhere they could reach. She pet and teased your thighs with one hand, pinching a hard nipple with the other, until you were shaking with desperation.

“You’re easy to please,” she noticed with a teasing laugh, trailing kisses along your neck and shoulder, and you groaned through a grin.

“Easier when you’ve had me worked up all day,” you admitted. “Kissing and touching you for hours but never getting to come… you should see me when I get home from work, Kit, I can’t stop touching myself— beat my poor clit all night, soak the sheets—”

“Poor thing,” she clicked her tongue at you, and you shivered again.

“You never got naughty after work?” you pressed.

“I didn’t say that,” she mumbled with a smirk, and you laughed softly. “I thought about you… about how soft your lips are… your sweet tongue…”

“I wanted to taste you, Kit,” you blurted out, excited that she might have had the same fantasy. “Fuck, I wanted someone to tell us to do it today— to make me put my mouth on you. I wanted it so bad—”

“It felt better than I imagined it,” she admitted.

“God, I wasn’t— I didn’t even do it like I wanted,” you admitted with a groan. “I wanted so much more…”

“Show me,” she begged— it almost reminded you of those men you had to listen to all day, except unimaginably perfect.

You sat up and spun around in a moment, pushing her down onto the ottoman with a sigh. She smiled at your eagerness, only to moan when you instantly dove down and licked her again— but harder and faster this time, with a wide tongue and a dark stare up at her.

“O-oh, darling,” she praised, but could only choke on a moan when you wrapped your mouth around her and sunk down in one quick motion. Yes, you choked, but you wanted to— you wanted as much of her as you could get, any way you could get it. “Oh!”

You hummed happily as you sucked hard and bobbed fast, too desperate for any teasing now.

“You are a dirty girl,” she cooed, holding onto your hair as you stroked what your lips couldn’t reach and did your best to pleasure her every way you knew how. “You can taste yourself, can’t you?”

You hummed again, agreement this time, and she tightened her grip on your hair.

You could only take a few more minutes of that— your poor cunt was dripping, flexing on nothing, desperate to be filled again. “Fuck, I need you,” you explained as you pulled away and climbed up to straddle her lap, that grip on her now guiding the swollen head to your entrance. She looked up at you with the slightest smirk around her open mouth, and you could tell she was aching for you, too.

Sinking down, you both moaned loudly— and you almost whimpered when she went even deeper than she had before. Balancing your hands on her chest, you tried to adjust to it as quickly as possible because you had absolutely burned through all your patience already.

When you were ready to move, the pace seemed to pick up right away: in a moment, you were a blur on her, lifting yourself over and over as each stroke created the perfect friction against your sensitive walls. You rode her hard and fast, desperate for release, letting your head fall back at the feeling. “Oh, Kitten— y-you feel so good—”

“You too, dear,” she breathed, grabbing your hands and holding them tightly— your fingers interlaced with hers, and you held onto them for balance as you bounced on her. “You too— so warm inside…”

“Fuck, fuck!” you whined. “Wh-what if someone puts in a coin now,” you panted, “and sees us doing this?”

“Then they’ll probably blow in their britches,” she suggested with a grin, and you laughed before another movement forced her tip right up against your spot, making you gasp again.

“G-god, don’t make me laugh, Kitten— I’m so close, I’m so fucking close—”

“I know,” she breathed, “I know— I can feel your little pussy, squeezin’ me—”

“Fuck,” you whined.

“What if we came together, darling?” she suggested as she panted under you. “Wouldn’t it be filthy, if I came inside you?”

“O-oh, fuck, perfect,” you moaned, “it would be perfect, Kit— please, please—”

“Yes,” she hissed, holding your hands tighter. “Let’s see you come, darling— no faking it like you do for the boys.”

“Gonna come,” you promised, nodding fervently as you felt yourself moving (inside and out) completely on instinct.

It made you shake all over, it made you bite down on your lip and dig your nails into her hands; it was sharp and hot and you had never felt anything quite like it… probably because you’d never had the patience for being on the edge for so long. You didn’t want to be too loud, not only to avoid getting caught but to make sure you could hear her and the precious way she moaned as she spilled inside you, her hips shakily bucking up into you when your own strength failed.

Slowly, it came to a shaky and shivery stop, and you blinked your eyes open to find the world a little blurrier, but sweeter, than it was before.

You sunk down, still holding her hands and sliding them upward as you brought your face to hers, smiling and almost losing yourself in her eyes. She kissed you— slow, soft, both of you still catching your breath— and hummed in delight as you relaxed on top of her.

“That was perfect,” she whispered to you, and you moaned quietly in agreement before breaking the kiss to lay your head down beside hers on the velvet. She turned her face to keep looking at you, and you must have been that way for one of those brief-yet-infinite moments, just looking at each other and trying to soothe your hearts as they raced.

“We should clean up,” you finally sighed, “before someone sees us…”

“How will we explain all that come leaking out of your pretty hole, hm?” she asked with a proud smile, making you bite your lip.

“Maybe I’ll just be very wet for our next customer,” you laughed, barely finding the strength— mental or physical— to let go of her hands and roll off of her onto your back.

You both pulled yourself together as best you could— gone soft now, she tucked herself between her legs again and slipped her panties back up, and you found your discarded lingerie top laying off the side to put back on.

You were about to reapply your lipstick when she stopped you, gently laying her hand on yours, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Kiss me again,” she pleaded softly, “before someone puts a coin in—”

You jumped forward and pressed your lips to hers, tossing the lipstick aside; she hummed against you and pulled you closer, giggling into the kiss in the most adorable way.

Neither of you noticed the light turning on, but you both jumped slightly when another man’s voice— a little higher-pitched and smoother than the last— came over the speaker. “My my,” he purred, both of you breaking away and looking at your reflection in the glass. “Looks like you two started without me.”

“We couldn’t help it,” you panted out as you draped your arms around Kitten, giving the man on the other side a pitiful-yet-pleading sort of look. “We’re just so worked up, is all… do you know that feeling?”

This was your wheelhouse— needy, horny, raunchy. Much more natural for you than Kitten’s innocent style; but she did just fine with this one, too, leaning in to nibble at your ear as she stroked your back. “Don’t stop on my account,” the man offered, “you two look perfect together.”

“We do,” Kitten agreed in a whisper as you both saw your reflection, before holding your face tenderly and turning it to hers, kissing you harder this time. So much for the teasing, soft kisses you’d been trading all day— you were both smiling and panting into it, falling all over each other until she was leaning back and you were between her legs, running your fingers over her hips and chest until she moaned for you.

“You do more than just kiss, don't you?" the man asked, and you grinned against Kitten's sweet lips as you nodded.

"We do whatever you want," you promised, glancing to the side at him— or, where he would be, if you could see him.

"Shit, almost out of time," he noticed, and you both grinned at the sound of more coins rolling in.

Kitten's hand slipped down the front of your body, into your panties, as she purred sweetly at you. "Oh, right there," you moaned— certainly overdoing it for the benefit of your watcher, but not entirely lying about how good it felt.

Just when she was doing exactly what you needed her too, and getting you all needy again in the process, she pulled her hand away and smirked as you whined softly.

“She’s so wet,” Kitten informed the man with a purr. “See how she’s soaked my fingers?”

She held up the manicured hand, a mix of your come and hers dripping down her fingers as you heard a happy moan from the man on the other side. “Wily minx,” he scolded you playfully.

“Why don’t you clean these off for me, Lovely?” Kitten instructed you, tilting her chin up a bit and watching you as she brought the fingers to your lips and watched you lick them slowly. You hummed at the taste, loving having a secret with her while this man watched, none the wiser. You fluttered your eyes shut as you started to suck them properly, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the digits inside your mouth.

"So naughty," the man praised, "can't wait to see all you girls can do."

More coins, more time; you gave Kitten a knowing look, and her expression in return was understandably a little weary and yet obviously excited. You both knew you had a long night ahead of you, and your heart was already fluttering with excitement. Not just your heart, of course, but your heart most of all.

#kitten braden x reader #kitten braden smut #patricia braden x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

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atrirose · 1 year ago

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𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍

ft. enhypen members x f!reader

synopsis: perks of dating your fav ! members

before you dive in : hcs , sfw , enjoy and don’t get too delusional.

HEESEUNG : sings / makes songs for you , heeseung giving you private concerts for free , likes to sing songs about how much he is infatuated with you or to express his love , favorite time to sing for is probably when he takes outside to watch the stars at night “i want to be remembered by your name , as the mad man deeply was in love with you”

JAY : using his card jk having the privilege of him cooking all your meals for you , loves packing meals for you if you have classes that day , roams with apron on the whole day (the pink one of course) , will never let you go hungry , will spoon feed you if disagree to eat. his ears will always perk up and turn red when you compliment his cooking , his sole goal is to leave you flabbergasted with his skill , loves biting your cheeks when you stuff it with food “sorry you just looked so cute i had to”

JAKE : dating jake has many benefits, free tutoring / layla / cuddles , as you can see jake comes with a lot of perks but his favorite time probably is seeing you struggle with the physics question he insisted that you do yourself ‘to understand the topic better’ but you can clearly see him giggling and enjoying your distress “you look so cute” jake said as he kissed your pout and took over the pen and book to solve the question for you “you are so mean” you hit his shoulders as he worked on the question but he makes sure that you understand the question. “yn , on every right answer you get a kiss , work hard” he winked as he handed you a worksheet.

SUNGHOON : free head massages , he loves your hair especially when you apply shampoo and your hair is in the lil wet kinda state , he loves to thread his hands through your hair , lightly scratching your scalp to make you relax after a long day , makes sure your head is always in his lap as he looks at you lovingly as if he has never seen anything more beautiful than you , tries to learn new hairstyles to try on your hair , loves to be a big spoon so he can bury his face in your hair “i love your new shampoo”

SUNOO : using his skin care , i swear after you started dating him your skin is blinding , it’s smooth and glowing. sunoo loves applying his products on you after he is done with the step on his , you get lazy sometimes but he his too stubborn to get you go to sleep without cleansing your face , texts you a hundred times a day to apply your lip balm, it’s like he has a sixth sense to sense your chapped lips. “yn stop moving , you are going get the foam in your eyes”

JUNGWON : eating pizza crust , he is the ‘give it to me’ kind of guy when you don’t like to eating something. oh you don’t like pickles , tomato’s , crusts , just give it to him he will eat it gladly , if you don’t like anything in your food he would 100% remove it before you eat , it’s like he knows you better than you know yourself “stop making that face , i know give it to me , i will eat it”

NIKI : borrowing his cool clothes , niki has an amazing collection of hoodies you love to steal , i mean come on it’s not your fault they are soft , comfy , oversized and cool. he rolls his eyes every time he sees you in his clothes but he is secretly super proud of his fashion sense because you like it , he do gets cocky on that fact but we love our boy 😫🫶🏻 , will always show the clothes he brought to you , like a little fashion show “yn is that my tie you are wearing as your belt”

an.! the way jake scenario i dreamed about and it always gives me butterflies 😭🫶🏻🫶🏻

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years ago

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Creep

Summary: You sneak out of the house to go on a midnight supply run, which inadvertently sends Ari into panic mode.

Warnings: Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Periods, Discussions of PTSD, Harassment, Slight Manhandling, Light D/s Overtones, Ass Slapping, Punishments (mentioned), Handcuffs (mentioned), Hair Pulling, Fun in the Shower, Discussions of Religion, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt suggested by my darling @writer84. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s House – 11:47pm

You stare down at the crumpled piece of toilet tissue in your hand. Of all the nights Aunt Flow could’ve picked to come calling, she’d chosen the only night you’d decided to sleepover at Ari’s place this week. Which sucked because you were also completely unprepared since it had arrived ahead of schedule.

Fuck! Sometimes you really did have the most awful luck.

Heaving a dramatic sigh, you quickly pull up your shorts and flush before washing your hands and heading back towards your man’s bedroom. After racking your brain, you were pretty sure that you didn’t have a spare in your glovebox either.

Which meant that you would need to make a special trip to the store. At this point, it was either that or sleeping on a towel. And the last thing you wanted to do was ruin one of Ari’s towels or, worse yet, his sheets.

Mind made up, you quietly gather up your things so as not to disturb your slumbering lawman before going off in search of your flip flops. Feeling uncomfortable walking out in just a tank top that you normally reserved for sleeping, you decide to help yourself to one of your man’s freshly laundered t-shirts he’d left folded on the counter.

Smiling, you slip it over your head and then you grab a random piece of scratch paper and pen so that you can leave your overprotective bounty hunter a brief note. In a few words, you let him know that you were leaving for the night and that you’d call him in the morning.

Once that’s done you grab your phone off the charger, as well as your purse and keys, before exiting through the front door and then locking it behind you. You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to Ari because of your carelessness.

You hustle to your car, engaging the locks the moment you climb inside. From there, you waste almost no time turning on the vehicle and putting it in reverse before slowly backing out of the driveway.

Hopefully you hadn’t woken Ari. Because even if the man did manage to drive you up the wall from time to time, it didn’t mean he didn’t deserve a good night’s sleep. Which was why you were so hell bent on not bothering him with any of this.

Sure, he’d probably grump and growl about it tomorrow. But he’d get over it eventually, especially once he realized that he hadn’t signed up to deal with you while you danced with the red devil in your belly.

At just after midnight you knew your only option for your late night supply run was going to be Wilson’s Drugmart. While you usually preferred to do all your shopping at Herb & Twine, they weren’t open late. Not even on the weekends.

So, while Wilson’s wasn’t ideal, it would simply have to do. Your hands clench around the steering wheel as you find yourself questioning your decision to just up and leave without waking Ari. If you were being honest, you probably should’ve at least had the decency to say goodbye.

Biting your lip, you make a mental note to apologize to the gruff bounty hunter first thing in the morning. Maybe you'd even stop by Stella’s Coffee House to pick up some breakfast for you both. Assuming you could manage to haul your ass out of bed early enough to catch your man before he hit the road.

Yep. That was officially the plan. A carefully worded apology with a side of fresh baked apple strudel and a cup of coffee.

It’s not long before you finally find yourself pulling into the convenience store’s parking lot, which is virtually empty. This doesn’t come as much of a surprise, however, especially since the hour was growing increasingly late.

The way you saw it, being the only one in the store had its perks. It meant that you’d be able to get in and get out with minimal hassle. Which was exactly what you’d been hoping for.

Shutting off your car, you sling your purse over your shoulder before stepping out into the warm summer night once again. You hustle across the lot all the while battling a particularly persistent swarm of gnats.

“Gross!” You hiss, praying that none of them got stuck in your curls. Otherwise you were liable to have a fit.

As you reach the double doors, you notice an old, withered man sitting off to the side. His head is bowed as he rocks back and forth from his perch on the concrete, his faded green coat looking oddly out of place due to the season.

He looks up as you pass by, muttering something that you can’t quite make out. Not wanting to be rude, you offer him a smile. And when he holds out a dirty cup, you find yourself feeling compelled to dig some spare change out of your purse and hand it over.

His eyes narrow at the clinking of the coins, but he doesn’t say anything. Which you take as your cue to continue on with your plans to locate some tampons and then get your butt home.

You welcome the blast of air conditioning that hits you the moment you step into the store.

You spend a minute or two looking around for an associate, but when your search comes up empty, you decide you’d rather go it alone insteading of wasting any more time. All you had to do was scan the aisles until you found the section that housed their selection of feminine products.

As you make your way around you can’t help but hum along to James Taylor’s version of “How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved by You)”. The lyrics made you think of the man you’d left behind a few miles down the road. More often than not, being with him tended to conjure up all kinds of confusing emotions.

But for some reason you simply couldn’t get enough of him. It was actually starting to become a bit of a problem.

Hanging a left you finally find the aisle you need. You were almost at the finish line. Just a couple more minutes and you’d be headed home. To your pleasant surprise, you’re thrilled to see that they’ve actually got quite a few options to choose from.

You allow yourself to stand there for a few minutes as you debate over whether or not to stick with your tried and true brand or try their competitor. You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice that someone has joined you in the aisle until you hear them speak.

“Jezebel.”

“Excuse me?” You reply, turning your head in the direction of the voice. The last person you expect to see is the homeless man who’d been loitering outside.

What the hell was he doing in this aisle? Surely he’d be better off scraping together what little change he’d managed to collect in favor of buying himself a sandwich. Maybe he didn’t have enough so he came to ask you for more.

If that was the case, then you’d be more than happy to purchase it for him when you paid for the rest of your items.

You open up your mouth to make him an offer, only to be cut off when he speaks again. “I know what you are. I might be old, but I’m not easily fooled.” He points a bony finger in your direction. “I can smell you.”

“Oookay.” You mumble under your breath before quickly returning your attention to the rows of tampons and pads. While you were confident that you smelled just fine, you were now officially anxious to get your shit and get out.

“You go by many names.” He continues, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “Many. Many. Many names. I’m familiar with them all.” He takes a step towards you, his unfocused eyes filled with an emotion you don’t quite recognize.

But you can certainly tell that it isn’t friendly. Time to get far away from this creep.

“Pretty sure I’ve just got the one though.” Sensing that you’ve run out of time you decide to snag a couple boxes of your preferred brand and keep it moving. You’d try the other guys next time. Right now, what mattered was putting some distance between yourself and this would-be dollar store prophet. “Is there something I can help you with?”

He shakes his head “no” as he takes another step. “They call you Jezebel. Delilah. Herodia. Athaliah. I recognize you as a direct descendant of Eve. The Mother of all that is evil.”

“Nope. That is definitely not me.” Spinning on your heel, you go to exit the aisle. Only to stop short when you realize your path is blocked by a stack of boxes that were in the process of being stocked.

Shit! Why hadn’t your dumbass been paying better attention?

“Your beauty betrays you. It’s impossible to hide the stench of the impure. Of the unclean.”

Duly noted.

“You tried to tempt me outside. Tempt me with 30 pieces of silver!” His voice rises with each word. And coincidentally, so does your blood pressure. “But I am no Judas, you witch. And I will not betray my Lord and Master!” He dumps his cup of change onto the ground, making you jump back as coins go scattering this way and that.

Okey dokey, pal. Time to get lost.

“Look, I didn’t mean any harm earlier.” Your gaze strays to the pile of boxes in your way. Maybe you could throw one if you had to. Perhaps you could scare him into leaving you alone. “I–I wasn’t trying to, uh, tempt you. I was trying to help you, that’s all.”

Alright, new plan. You’d scream your head off while assaulting him with pads and tampons until help arrived.

“Lies. All honeyed lies of my enemy. I will not fall prey to your charms, Delilah. I am not as weak as my brother Samson!” His mottled face appears to be almost vibrating with rage.

But thankfully, just as you’re about to scream for your life, a Wilson’s employee appears holding a walkie talkie as well as something that looks akin to pepper spray. You’re so grateful you could kiss him. Although you’d settle for throwing a $20 bill at him and dashing out the store.

And he could keep the fucking change.

“Everything okay here, Ma’am?” The associate is young, possibly in his early to mid-twenties. But his body is packed with lean muscle which hopefully signals that he could handle himself should a skirmish happen ensue.

He moves to insert himself between you and the assumed threat. And even though he’s talking to you his eyes remain trained to the man in your path.

“Be careful. Don’t you see?” The disheveled vagrant goes to grab the worker’s arm, attempting to pull him closer to his own body and away from you. This time, the clerk has the sense to appear just as unsettled as you feel. “When a woman has a discharge and it is of blood, she shall continue in her menstrual impurity for seven days; and whoever touches her shall be unclean.” His wide eyes glimmer as he speaks, drops of spittle flying from his mouth. “Leviticus 15:19. She taints this space just by existing within it.”

“Right.” You mumble, taking a hesitant step back while maintaining your grip on your box of tampons. “I–In that case, I think I’m ready to check out now. Please.” You feel yourself beginning to sweat as you watch the clerk attempt to dislodge the disturbed man’s grasp.

“Go on, Ma’am. I’ll meet you at the front.” He grunts as he breaks free, shoving the older man backwards. “Just need a moment to have a word with our good buddy, Julius, here.”

“See? She’s already corrupting you, young man. Using her wicked femininity to seduce you as Eve did Adam. Soon she’ll have you worshiping at the shrine of Baal and then…”

You don’t bother sticking around to hear the rest. While it had been a long time since you’d been in Sunday school, it didn’t take a theological scholar to deduce that all of those names he’d mentioned had come straight from the darkest chapters of the Bible. And you were pretty damn sure that none of those women were known for their charming wit or sparkling personality.

Oh well. Guess you’d have to chalk it up to another Thursday night in the town of Bell’s Creek.

After a few moments, another associate comes from somewhere in the back to ring you out. You don’t say much, instead offering a strained smile as he proceeds to quickly bag the tampons as well as a couple of chocolate bars.

You all but snatch the receipt before concluding that it probably wouldn’t hurt to request an escort to your car. So you do. Which does absolute wonders for your anxiety. And it’s only once you’re safely back in your vehicle do you finally allow yourself to let out the breath you’d been holding.

You peel out the lot a few seconds later, your body remaining tense behind the wheel for what feels like much of the entire drive. All fifteen minutes of it.

Fifteen Minutes Later…

Relief fills you when you finally spy your house coming up in the distance. However, your celebration proves to be short-lived when you notice a familiar black Nissan Titan parked on the street out front.

Fuck! What the hell was Ari doing here at this hour?

You throw your car in park and kill the engine. You even manage to undo the belt before Ari opens the door and drags you out of the seat and into his arms, leaving you momentarily speechless

“God, I’m so sorry, baby.” He murmurs, the sound of his voice partially muffled by your curls. “So sorry.” One of his large hands begins rubbing soothing circles along your back. “I’m so sorry.”

“Huh?”

Seriously. Nothing about tonight was going the way you thought it would. Perhaps Mercury was in retrograde or something. That was a thing…right?

“What happened?” Ari presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “What’d I do?” He pulls away after a beat, holding you at arms length so that he can look you over, his worried blue eyes scanning your body from head to toe. “D–did I say something?” He swallows thickly as his hands drop to his sides. “Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Sensing your bounty hunter was in distress, you reach up to cup his bearded cheek, smoothing your thumb along his ticking jaw. “Why on earth would you think that?”

Instead of responding, Ari continues to stare blankly ahead. His gaze trained on some unknown point just behind you. Rising on your toes, you place your other hand on his face, willing him to look at you. But for some reason he still refuses to meet your eyes.

“What makes you think you hurt me?” You try, keeping your tone light as you attempt to coax some answers out of him. “Talk to me, Beast.” You’d already had your fill of cryptic and crazy for the night.

“Woke up and you were gone.” Comes his quiet rasp, his voice sounding hollow. “Bed was cold. Empty. Got nothing when I called your phone.”

You wince when you recall that the damned thing was probably on silent. But even still, there was something about all this that just wasn’t making any sense.

“Okay…” Although you’re quick to point out that you left him a note, he’s just as quick to brush it off. Almost as if he’s not actually hearing you. “But that doesn’t explain why you thought you might’ve hurt me.”

There was an uneasy feeling forming in the pit of your stomach.

“Did two tours in Afghanistan a while back. I’m man enough to admit I came back a little fucked up. The nightmares have been quiet lately but, uh –” He cuts himself off before taking a deep breath. “But sometimes I say things. An ex said I used to cry. Mostly.” He takes another shuddering breath. “Except one time when I…”

“When you what?” Your teeth begin to worry your bottom lip as you wait for him to get on with it. But you refuse to rush him, your own impatience be damned.

“I woke up screaming. Except it was like I couldn’t leave the dream behind. For a moment I was…back there and…and I shoved my ex hard enough to send her crashing onto the bedroom floor. Left her with a pretty gnarly bruise.”

“Jesus Christ.” You didn’t know what else to say. Clearly whatever had taken place that night had left a mark on the man who stood before you today.

No wonder he looked so…haunted.

“We parted ways soon after that. Said I was too unpredictable. That she was afraid I might hurt her even worse next time.” He finishes with a shrug, looking more lost than perhaps he actually cared to admit.

“That’s not – it was an accident, honey.” You mean every word, all the while wishing you could do more to get him to understand that he hadn’t done anything wrong tonight. Or any other night for that matter.

Had you known the way things were going to unfold this evening, you would’ve woken him up and told him about your plans. You would’ve let him see that you were okay. Made sure he was fully conscious when you said goodbye.

But instead you’d gone and crept out of his house like a thief in the night.

Again, your gentle giant shakes his head. “But she was right though, Bird. So, I got myself a counselor for a time. Thought maybe I’d win her back, or at the very least prove to myself that I was stable enough to deserve another chance. If not with her, then maybe with somebody else.”

Someone like you. The unspoken words hang in the air, buzzing around your head like an overzealous bumblebee.

“And did it help?” As soon as the question leaves your mouth, you find yourself swiftly rephrasing so that he doesn’t think you’re asking about his former lover. “The therapy, I mean.”

“Some.” In truth, he hadn’t had a single night terror since he’d met you. But at the time he’d been too afraid to question anything. “Hasn’t happened in a while.” However, he also wasn’t the type to believe in coincidences either.

“Progress is progress, Ari. If you say it helped, then I believe it did.” You move to grab one of his hands with both of yours. “But I promise you didn’t hurt me.” You bring your clasped hands up to your lips for a kiss. “And I’m so sorry I worried you tonight.”

All you receive is a grunt for your trouble. Which lets you know that he doesn’t quite believe you.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you left. Snuck out in the middle of the goddamned night without so much as a goodbye.” His free hand comes up to lightly grip the back of your neck, hauling you forward. “You’ve never done that. In all the time we’ve been building whatever the fuck this is, you’ve never pulled that shit. Which means something happened. So forgive me if I don’t readily believe the sweet lies coming out of your pretty little mouth.”

Little did he know that he was actually the second man to accuse you of being a liar in the span of less than thirty minutes. One was a lover, and the other, a creep. You were certainly racking ‘em up tonight.

Unsure of what else to say – and not wanting to risk upsetting him further – you decide to go with the truth and let the chips fall where they may.

“I…I got my period.” You tell him, wincing as the words spill out. “It came a couple days early.” Now it’s your turn to offer up your own lame shrug, all the while still holding his hand. “I didn’t notice until after you fell asleep and I didn’t have my stuff with me…”

You watch as his eyes narrow, his brain working overtime to make sense of the story you’re telling him. Quite honestly, you felt horrible that the man had spent even a minute thinking he had caused you harm when, in all reality, you’d just dipped out to go on an embarrassing supply run.

“Bullshit.” He scoffs as he rocks back on his heels, effectively dislodging your grip.

“I–I’m serious, Ari.” Wanting to prove you were telling the truth, you reach inside the car to procure the plastic bag that contained your goodies. “I mean I’m usually better prepared, but for once I didn’t have anything with me, so I had to run out and buy some tampons. Which turned out to be a literal flipping nightmare. But once I was done, I figured I’d head on home.”

“Is that right?” He shoves his hands in his pockets. And that’s when you notice that tick in his jaw is back. “Just like that?”

Why did you all of the sudden get the feeling that you’d fucked up?

“Well, I didn’t think it would be overly kind of me to risk your sheets like that.” You press on as he snatches the bag from you and peers inside. “And not only that, but I also figured you probably wouldn’t be up for dealing with me during my time, so I–”

“So you just waltzed the fuck out my front door in the middle of the night?” There’s no mistaking the dangerous edge in his tone and your casual admission of being on your period does nothing to satisfy him.

“I left you a note, honey.”

“Fuck your note!” Ari all but snarls, scrubbing a hand over his beard. “I grew up with sisters. I don’t give a shit about you being on the rag.” He tosses the bag back at you. “It ain’t nothin’ but a little blood, baby. It’s not like you’ve got the goddamned plague.”

“There’s no need to be crass.” You mutter, lightly rubbing your hands up and down your arms. “Although I take your meaning well enough. I suppose I shouldn’t have run out like that. But if you were in my shoes you might’ve done the same.”

“Bird.” Your tall bounty hunter huffs before taking a step towards you. It’s followed by another. And then another. Until he has you almost pinned against the side of your car. “I’m gonna tell you something. And I really want you to hear me when I do. So, you let me know when you’ve got your listening ears on, alright?”

A hand fists its way into your curls, wrenching your head back just enough so that you can look into his eyes. Right now, your man required your full attention. And if you knew what was good for you, you’d make sure he got it.

“I…I’m listening.” Your spine stiffens as your breasts heave.

“Good. Because the way I see it, you and me…we’re building something here.” He leans in to brush his lips over yours. Once. Twice. “Which means I care about you. Your wants, your needs. Whether you had a good day or a bad one. What you had for lunch, right along with what you’re thinking about for dinner. I wanna be the one who loves you to sleep. And if I can’t be there in person, then I at least wanna be the last voice you hear before you drift off at night.”

The bag you’ve been holding drops to the ground in a forgotten heap as your hands fly to his chest. You grip the front of his shirt, your legs turning into jelly. But Ari doesn’t mind. He’s determined to finish what he’s started here.

“I wanna be the guy who takes care of you. Not just because you need it, sweetheart. But because you deserve it. Which means that from here on out, your solo midnight tampon runs are officially a thing of the past.” Ari releases your hair in favor of grasping your chin, dragging the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip.

“Ari…” You breathe as your eyes flutter closed.

“I wanna keep exploring what’s between us, little Bird. So in the meantime, as your man, I’m asking you not to fly away on me.”

“I–I’m right here.” You assure him as you move to loop your arms around his neck so that you can bring him down to your level. “I won’t…I won’t fly away on you again.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs before allowing his forehead to rest against your own, nuzzling your nose with his. You only break apart when a nearby porch light comes on.

Apparently you’d woken Ms. Evelyn. The last thing the two of you needed was an audience, especially with your nosy nextdoor neighbor. It’s clear Ari agrees with you as he bends down to pick up the fallen bag before motioning you in the direction of the house.

Guess it was finally time to take the party inside.

“You, uh…” You begin as you busy yourself with fishing your keys out of your purse. “Are you coming in? Wait. Dumb question. I meant to ask whether you were intending to stay the night.”

“I reckon so.” Ari grunts as he brings up the rear. He keeps a watchful eye on your surroundings as you unlock the front door. “Especially since you and I still have a few more things to sort out.” You know without requiring further explanation that your man’s not asking so much as he is telling.

“If you say so. But can we maybe table it until after my shower?” You toe off your shoes and leave them by the door, satisfied when Ari follows suit. “If it were any other time I’d ask if you wanted to join.” You pull your t-shirt over your head as you walk farther into the house before draping it over the arm of your couch. “But given the circumstances it’s probably best if I wash up alone.”

By the time you reach the bedroom you’re already undoing the zipper on your shorts. Ari is hot on your heels of course. And when you finally spare him a glance you see he’s sporting a pretty heavy frown.

“And what circumstances might those be?” He growls, cocking his hip against your dresser.

“Um. Could’ve sworn we just established that I started my period, big guy.” You toss him a playfully exasperated look over your shoulder. Only to be taken aback by the seriousness written all over his features. “I mean, surely you wouldn’t want to…” You trail off, confused by the bounty hunter’s renewed wave of annoyance.

“What?” Ari snaps, running an agitated hand through his hair. “What else have you decided on my behalf, Duchess? I love learning about myself like this.”

Oof. You really weren’t a fan of that tone he was using. Apparently you’d somehow gone and pricked his temper once again.

“I just meant…” You lose your train of thought as you watch him remove a pair of what looks a lot like handcuffs from his back pocket. “W–what do you plan on doing with those?”

“Not a damn thing.” Ari huffs before removing his shirt and tossing it to the side. “Unless you plan on leaving me to wake up alone all over again. Because if that’s the case we can start thinking of ‘em as an insurance policy.” And while he chuckles, you don’t believe he’s joking for a second.

“I already told you I’m not gonna run. If you’re really that damn paranoid you can wait outside the bathroom door.” You slide your shorts down your legs before kicking them into the corner. As far as you were concerned you’d worry about cleaning up later.

“I’ll do you one better, sweetness.” Comes your man’s answering grunt. He suddenly lunges forward without warning, throwing you over his shoulder before striding off in the direction of the shower. “My nerves are shot thanks to you. So we’re simply gonna shower together and call it a day.”

He delivers a sharp blow to your ass, delighting in your responding growl. In fact he’s glad you’re frustrated. Because so was he.

“Put me down you Beast!” You cry, snagging the box of tampons on your way out of the room.

“In a minute.” He gifts you with another smack.

Once you reach the bathroom he finally sets you back on the floor. In a flash, he tears panties from your body. “Add it to my tab, baby.” Is all he says when he notices your pursed lips.

“You owe me a trip to Victoria’s Secret, cowboy.” You sniff, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Your Beast has already made a significant dent in the size of your underwear drawer. Which meant he owed you a shopping spree. And he was going to pay up before you were forced to do something drastic and uncomfortable like going commando.

“Can’t wait.”

An indulgent smile flits across Ari’s lips as he helps you inside the shower before joining you. You shiver when he gives you his back so that he can adjust the temperature of the water. You take a moment to drink him in, marveling at the sight of his sinewy muscles moving and bunching beneath his smooth, lightly freckled skin.

Once he’s got it just how he knows you like it he turns around to reach for a cloth as well as your favorite body wash. “You still okay with letting me take care of you, sweet Bird?” He asks while he lathers up, his patient smile easing your own nerves.

You give him a silent nod. But even as you do, you find yourself feeling shy when Ari beckons you closer. How could you not be? This was all brand new territory for you. And now that you found yourself sharing a shower with your strapping beast of a man, it made for tight quarters.

“Relax for me, sweetheart.” He purrs as he pulls you under the warm spray before dragging the soapy cloth down between the valley of your breasts. “I got you.”

A tiny whimper escapes as he takes his time lavishing attention on your chest, teasing each of your pebbled nipples as he does. And then he dips lower, trailing the suds down your belly. Again he takes his time doting on you. There would be no rushing things tonight.

In Ari’s mind, this was your punishment for sneaking out the way you had. Your punishment for making him feel things he never thought he would again. Your punishment for making him fall in love with you.

And while he couldn’t give you those words tonight, he knew without a doubt he was capable of loving you soft and sweet. He was going to earn you. Prove to you that he was deserving of your trust.

Of you.

Because tonight he knew without a doubt that he wanted to keep you for good. Now, all he had to do was convince you to allow yourself to be kept. His beautifully stubborn little Bird. He couldn’t possibly allow you to fly away from him again.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle that.

“You’re so gorgeous, baby.” Ari rasps as he pulls you flush against his big body so that he can wash your back, scrubbing the cloth across the blades of your shoulders and then along the curve of your spine. “It’s like you don’t even see it. But I do. I see all of it. And I’ll be damned if I don’t admit that I want it all for myself.”

You rise on your toes when he reaches the globes of your ass. He continues gentle ministrations without fail, only pausing to give into temptation long enough to squeeze your cheeks with both hands.

“I–you’re very sweet, Ari.” Comes your unsure reply. Your man had quite a knack getting you off balance.

“If you let me, I’ll make it my mission to tell you every day. Remind you how I feel about all these delectable curves.” Ari offers you a warm smile as he drops you to his knees right there in the shower, eliciting a surprised sound from you.

“What are you doing?” You ask, your fingers sinking into the damp strands of his chestnut brown hair.

“Worshiping you.” He responds without missing a beat. “The way you deserve.” And then he begins to wash your feet, gently working his way up along your calves before moving even higher, stopping just short of the delicate juncture between your thighs. “And I want you to let me.”

“There isn’t a single part of you that I don’t cherish, down to the very marks that adorn your hips.” He trails the pads of his thumbs across your skin as he marvels at the faint stripes. “I can’t wait to learn all of you.”

Tears blur your vision as his quiet plea resounds in your head. Because you couldn’t ever recall a time where someone had treated you with so much care or tenderness. It’s enough to overwhelm you, but at the same time, you also can’t bring yourself to ask him to stop.

“Swear to God, you have the most divine pussy, baby.” Your eyes meet as he presses the cloth against your core. Not a word is spoken as he tends to his task of washing you. And when he’s finished, he bestows a reverent kiss on your mound before rising to his feet once again.

“See?” Ari murmurs, holding the lightly soiled rag under the water before ringing it out so that you can watch the pink rivulets go down the drain. “Ain’t nothing but a little bit of blood. That’s literally all it is.”

Now it’s your turn to smile as you reach for another cloth. You wet it under the spray you then reach for your body wash, squirting a generous amount on the fabric before sudsing it up.

“My turn, please.” You whisper, placing it against his hard chest. “I wanna…” You force yourself to pause, swallowing to get rid of the lump in your throat. “You matter to me too.”

Ari’s vibrant blue eyes shine with emotion as he opens his arms to you, effectively giving you permission to do as you wish. Which is something you take full advantage of, regardless of your trembling hands.

By the time you’re through, your bounty hunter is both squeaky clean and also painfully hard. However, he makes no move to remedy the situation. In fact, he even playfully swats you away the moment your attentions become a little too much for him to handle.

You didn’t know it, but tonight Ari wanted to show you that he was capable of intimacy outside the realm of sex. Even if it left him with the worst case of blue balls he’s experienced in recent memory.

“Not tonight, Bird.” Comes his gentle purr. “Aw, don’t pout now. I want to, believe me. But it can wait.” He places a soft, sweet kiss on your lips before shutting off the water. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he leans out of the shower to hand you a towel before finding one for himself.

“Thank you.” With that, you’re back to feeling shy again.

After patting himself dry, he drapes the towel across his shoulders. “I’ll leave you to take care of your feminine business.” And then he saunters out the room, gifting you with a nice long look at his shapely ass.

Damn Ari Levinson was one handsome hunk of man.

“Quit staring and hurry up already. The longer I’m left alone, the stronger the urge to make use of my cuffs.”

And with that, the spell is broken. Argh! Him and those damned things. You already knew he traveled with two pairs. If he kept this shit up you were liable to swipe one of them for when your oversized menace finally managed to push you too far. But for now, you’d settle for handling your so-called “feminine business” so that you could rejoin your man in your bedroom.

A few minutes later, you find Ari lounging on your bed. You also notice that he has laid out a pair of panties, sleep shorts, and a cami for you as well. His thoughtfulness is enough to leave you feeling warm and tingly all over as you hastily dress.

“Come to bed, Bird.” Your bounty hunter holds out his hand, beckoning you forward with his outstretched palm. “You’ve deprived me of your sweet body for long enough.”

“Yes Sir.” That makes you giggle even as your cheeks heat. Ari just had this way about him. He was so good at making you feel wanted. Cherished. Desired. Loved.

Loved? Oh God. Is that what this was? Is this what it felt like to actually be in love?

Deciding you’d be better off sorting through those confusing emotions in private, you climb into bed with Ari. Frankly, you’d had enough excitement for one night. You’d much rather spend the remainder of the evening curled up in the arms of this beautifully complex man.

Only once he’s got you settled on top of him does he finally relax. “I’m not too heavy, am I?” Of course you already knew what he would say, but his typical response always seemed to give you butterflies when you heard it. And tonight was no exception.

“You ain’t nothing but a feather, little Bird.”

Feeling content, the two of you allow yourselves to fall into a comfortable silence that’s only broken by the occasional whispered caress of his lips along your brow.

“Ari?”

“Hm?” He grunts, his deep voice growing heavy with sleep.

“Maybe…would you mind if I kept a few things at your place?” You ask once you’ve gathered up your nerve. “Nothing too crazy. Just some clothes. And maybe an emergency stash of tampons.” You offer him a cheeky grin, loving the warmth and affection you see in his eyes as he gazes down at you.

“Baby, I already memorized the details on the box sitting on the vanity. You’ll have a new supply of the brand you like under my sink by sundown tomorrow, okay?”

He hoped to God that your preferred brand had a variety pack. But if not, he’d play it safe and buy his girl a box in every size.

“I can buy them if –”

“If what?” Ari playfully interrupts as his hand wanders down to grab a chunk of your ass. “If I decide I’m not secure enough in my masculinity to purchase a box of tampons on my own? Nah. I’ll be fine, you just worry about packing a bag to leave at my place and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Well…” You brush your lips across his pec. “If you’re sure.” You snuggle even deeper into his chest, draping a leg over his hips. “Good night, my handsome Beast.”

“Sweet dreams, my beautiful Bird.”

Eventually you doze off with James Taylor’s “How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved by You)” playing on loop in your mind. But you decide not to question it. You’d deal with the man who was currently creeping his way into your heart first thing in the morning…

And not a moment before.

END

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cvlutos · 2 years ago

Text

“No Nut November” Pt.2

| Repost: 01.09.23 | 1.3K | Mature |

NRC 2nd Years X GN!Reader

♡ RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS ♡

LOSER #ONE

He honestly doesn’t know about NNN, until he heard Ace and Deuce talking about it and so he asks Trey. Who simply laughs out loud and sorta explains it. Riddle literally goes red in the face and wants to collar anyone who speaks about something that is so embarrassing. Until you casually mention it and think it’s funny. He’s sorta like that’s dumb. He’s totally not doing NNN, not even for you. But he thinks about it, various times throughout the day. I honestly believe that Riddle isn’t a very horny person, so he rarely gets hard till the most random of times. He sorta just plainly ignores it as he does homework in his bedroom. Absentmindedly chewing on his pen, think about you and how’d you touch—

He'll win, simply because he can’t bring himself to jack off. Though most likely had the most intense wet dream known to man. He woke up shaking and shuddering, sweating as if he fucked fr. He swears that would never happen. He would never put his dick in you—can’t make eye contact with you for weeks without becoming red in the face.

“Off with anyone’s head who participates in something so disgusting—No, I’m not red in the place!”

♡ RUGGIE BUCCHI ♡

LOSER #TWO

Loud and proud with “winning”. Knows all about NNN and he and his friends probably keep track to make sure each other doesn’t fail. So at the same time, he’s tryna preserve his NNN streak, he’s tryna ruin it for everyone else. He’s taking the most outta pocket pictures and will just casually show everyone, like one where you slip in a puddle, another why are you biting your lip. Leona is his biggest victim. He thinks he’s untouchable until you go outta your way to get him a gift. The only gifts Ruggie ever receives are the rare gifts from friends and family from the Afterglow Savannah, or the various things Leona “gives” him. So a gift from his crush.

He’s crashing and burning. Fumbling over his words as he darts off to his room. Tripping over himself as he struggles to unbuckle this belt, kicking his door close with a slam. He’s almost shaking from excitement, like a dog in front of a fresh meal. Leaning against his dorm and bucking wildly into his hand. Will act like he never came to the thought of you, though several say some heard him whimper your name.

“No, I didn’t lose… no, I don’t whimper.”

♡ AZUL ASHENGROTTO ♡

ULTIMATE LOSER.

I’m sorry but when it comes to you and trying to not masturbate. He’s failing. Losing before he even knew about NNN. Like, he’s so embarrassed when Floyd and Jade talk about as they walk to class, his face is pink before he’s coughing it off and calling NNN a children’s game. He’ll not participate in something so silly. Like bsfr.

As if he hadn’t his face shoved into a pillow and his blankets shoved between his legs. Hair, disheveled, and face red as he grinds into the multiple blankets, at exactly November 1st, 4:13AM. Like the sun isn’t even out.

“That is a childish game—No! I didn’t ‘jizz’—Don’t say such brash things! Especially in public, Floyd!”

♡ JADE LEECH ♡

WINNER #ONE

He wins simply because he wants to win. He has no carnal desire to ‘fuck his hand’ nor ‘ruin his bedsheets’, both kindly phrased by Floyd. Don’t be mistaken, he has before, seeing as he’s extremely interested in the human body. But he already knows what he likes and what makes him tick, of sorts. But you. What makes you hot and bothered? Are you into biting? Maybe blood? Maybe you like it rough, or maybe you like it soft. Which one is it?

This NNN isn’t going to be for him to have self-control. It’s going to be for you. He simply loves the embarrassed look you have when he gives you shy touches or whispers in your ear. He loves to see the way humans react. His goal isn’t to just make you lose NNN by cumming, he wants to be there and be the one that makes you cum.

“Please do tell, what is it you’re into? Shall we explore together?”

♡ FLOYD LEECH ♡

LOSER #FOUR

Loud and proud, this time with losing. Zero shame in talking to you about it. All in your ear, whispering about how hard you made him and how he came to you. Not even in a private place, probably during passing period when the halls were all crowded. Now don’t be mistaken, he “tried” for a good 60 minutes till you were minding your own business. Probably you yawned in his vicinity. He blames you for losing.

Floyd is such a flip-floppy person. Like he’s mad, he’s lost one moment, cause if you didn’t just walk around all alluring, then he wouldn’t have fucked his hand. But he’s also happy, cause he gets this type of reaction outta you. Plans to fuck you at the end of the month. One way or another.

“Don’t be like that Shrimpy~ I was just tryna have some funn hallway chit chat~”

♡ KALIM AL-ASIM ♡

LOSER #FIVE

Don’t feel bad for him. Everybody and their momma knew Kalim wasn’t winning. Everybody in that dorm knew that the moment he said he was doing NNN, he was going to lose. Like he’s the only one shocked when he’s having difficulty winning like he isn’t a huge simp. Like you say ‘jump’, Kalim is like ‘How high?’ He’d jump off a cliff into the ocean if you asked him to.

Lasts a day. A day. Longer than Jamil thought, who gave him 5 hours max. Others betting 20 minutes. So he shocks everyone, but at the same time is it a flex if everyone can hear you getting down and dirty in your room and everyone in a 10-mile radius can hear the person who has a crush on name being moaned. Kalim acts normally the next day, but Jamil looks so ashamed.

“Yeah, I lost, but it’s just a game. And I don’t mind losing [Name] is just so irresistible!”

♡ JAMIL VIPER ♡

UNDECIDED.

Truly can’t decide whether he would win or not. He’s only participating because of Kalim, who begged. So he’s playing. Which he’s proudly like, ‘I got this, no way I’m losing.’ Until you pull up, and around a lot more and he’s genuinely enjoying spending time with you, to the point you showing up in his dreams. One day in class he blanked out and had written your name with his last name. Suddenly he’s avoiding you like the bubonic plague. Like he sees you in the hall, he’s spinning around, dragging Kalim the other way.

I’ve changed my mind. He’s losing. He probably got a huge boner from spending time with you in his dorm room and thought that he could ease the pain and annoyance of his boner without cumming. For someone who’s in the dorm of mindfulness, why did he think that work, as he stares at his homework that’s now painted in his mess.

“I’m not avoiding them… I’m just taking a shortcut.”

♡ SILVER ♡

WINNER #TWO

He can barely stay awake to do homework. He sure ain’t staying awake to jerk off. Though he knows about NNN, because of his very loud dormmate, known as Sebek Zigvolt. Who challenges him. Silver, half awake and tired, agrees. Definitely forgets, and his only saving grace is him falling asleep mid-masturbation. Kid, you not. Has woken to his limp dick in hand on multiple occasions. Though I do believe that Silver stays very alert even in his sleep, so no one has caught him with his dick out. He’s been close.

“I won… oh okay…”

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gilverrwrites · 6 months ago

Text

Say His Name

Tim Drake/Reader, ≈1.1K

AN: Someone asked for cute smut with Tim Drake and this certainly isn’t it, but it is on the burner. I’m imagining him like mid 20s here, but you could go older or even a bit younger if you wanted. It really was just a thought, I did not expect this to surpass a couple 100 words but here we are.

CWs: Breach of trust, teasing, masturbation, vouyerism, withheld information, vaguely dom/sub dynamics. GN!Reader

Thinking about heroes with semi/famous secret identities finding out their favourite civilians used to have a big ol’ crush on them and being so.fucking.normal. about it, especially because you don’t know what, who you’re confessing to.

Particularly the bats (Bruce, Dick, Jason) but could also be like Oliver, or Clark. But in this case Tim.

Like he came to your home in the night, now he’s supposed to be sleeping off an injury or rough patrol in your childhood bed but he just can’t nod off so he starts looking around, searching for a book or anything to calm his mind when he find a draw full off magazine/paper clippings of himself. There are little stickers on them, your paired initials surrounded by hearts written in glitter pen. So cute.

The discovery plays on his mind until he sees you again, probably the next morning. He’s suited and booted getting ready to head out when you poke your head in to check on him. He knows he shouldn’t say anything, asking would mean admitting to snooping, to invading your privacy, abusing your hospitality but… “So umm, what’s with the Tim Drake murder shrine in your desk drawer?”

Your eyes bulge, lips pulled tight as you process the question, you’re adorable when you’re frazzled.

“Tim Drake-Wayne.” You correct with an awkward laugh, trying to diffuse your own nerves with humour. “What that? Doesn’t everyone have one of those?”

“Nope, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one.”

“Maybe, probably.” Your laughter is more relaxed now, but there’s still a sheepish edge to your tone. The fact that you’re accepting his teasing, despite having every right to be mad only fuels his fire. “This is embarrassing, I used to have such a huge crush on him. They used to be on the wall, but I didn’t have the heart to throw them out when I took them down.”

He’d hoped your confession would satiate his curiosity, the burn in his loins, but he’s still not satisfied and you’re not refuting him so he keeps pushing. Metaphorically and physically. He’s not touching you but he’s close enough to smell your body soap as he asks, “Are you still into him?”

Fuck he’s too intense, you can barely maintain eye contact with him. Why is talking about another man getting you so riled?

“I don’t really follow him but I guess he’s still pretty hot.” Music to his ears, a nice long therapeutic scratch to his ego. “Why?”

“Just curious.” He replies and though his tone is unbothered, he’s body language is not; he’s all sharp moves and tense muscles. He averts his gaze for a moment, examining your sheets for the hundredth time then looks back to you. Your hands are preoccupied, anxiously fiddling with the hem of your top and he’s suddenly overwhelmed by the image of you touching yourself to the thought of him with those same hands.

“So…” he cocks his thumb to the bed you know too well. “I guess you used to sit in that bed and think about him, huh?”

His drift is caught, he can tell by the way you look upward, that you’re thinking, hard. Considering your next move and he’s praying you’ll keep biting his hook. Your shoulders sag as you look back at him and he knows he’s got you cause that means you’re relaxing, letting your walls down.

“If I show you something, promise not to judge?”

“I promise.” There’s more! “Scout’s honour.”

He was never a fucking scout, but he gives you his best approximation of a salute anyway.

The bedside table had been locked last night, the key was hidden under the reading lamp but he’d figured you wanted it locked for a reason. He wasn’t completely without shame. Now that you’re rifling through it though, he figures it’s free game for peeking. Once you find what you’re searching for you snap the drawer shut but not before he catches a glimpse of a few choice items, things that could come in useful, if he gets his way.

“These are what I looked at when I was thinking of him.” You hand him a small batch of photos, print outs of him Tim Drake, most are from a specific day. He remembers when they were taken, he was 18? 19 maybe? It had been an unusually hot day at Ivy U. After a long workout out he’d left the campus gym without a shirt. The paparazzi had had a field day, and apparently so had you.

His mind is drifting again to how that might look and he has to see it, has to convince you to show him. Without warning he closes the distance between you. Your hands fly up, settling gently on his chest. Your touch is so soft, nothing like the way he grips your hips for dear life.

The two of you had kissed before, but not like this, never like this. This is searing and needy. He’s completely invading your sense and it’s making you dizzy. Body to body, tongue to tongue. He groans into your mouth and it makes your already tense core begin to throb. Wanting to hear it again you roll your hips, grinding onto him and there it is again; He moans as you rub against the solid bulge in the crotch of his suit. Eager to coax more of those beautiful noises out of him you reach down, hungry to run your palm over his length but he stops you with a fast, iron like grip around your wrist.

Without a word, he guides you onto the bed. The control he has over you is driving you wild, it’s in your eyes, in your blown-out pupil and the way they watch his every move, waiting for what he’ll do next.

When you’re snug against the mattress, he tucks your hand into your waistband, tugging at the fabric until you get the idea and start stripping them yourself. Once exposed, you don’t wait for instruction, unable to stop from stroking your arousal.

You’re not sure what’s come over you, just that something about Red Robin gets you so inexplicably turned on and you’d do anything to have him relieve that tension.

“You want me to touch myself?” It’s a redundant question you’re already touching yourself. He nods anyway, mask hiding most of the heat that has flooded to his face.

His hand reaches for yours and you hope for a moment that he plans to take over but instead, he cups your wrist, turning your hand just enough to spit on your palm, offering additional lubrication. The lewdness of his actions has you breathless

“Say his name.” He states it firmly, you’re lost for a second, looking at him with big empty eyes, dumb on building ecstasy. “Say Tim while you’re touching yourself.”

#red robin #red robin x reader #Red Robin/reader #tim drake #tim drake x reader #Tim Drake/reader #reader insert #gn reader #gilverrwrites #nsft #smut #dc #divider by @anitalenia

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sweettofuki · 6 months ago

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Hoshina Soushirou | Coffee routine

Genre: Fluff Summary: y/n works at a cafe, one which Hoshina regulars at. Slowly, their brief conversations spark something deeper between them. warning: none a/n: When the reader gets shy or nervous, she smiles unconsciously. But she tries to hide it ><. Word count: 1.3k

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

“y/n! There’s a customer in the front!” my coworker shouted from the back. “Got it!” you yelled back.

You walked out to the cashier and glanced up at the customer, biting back a smile. “Hi, welcome to The Velvet Cafe! What can I get for you?” “Just the usual please,” he smiled. “So one ice Americano with an extra espresso shot and a club sandwich. Total will be $12.47. I will just write your name down if that’s alright Mr. Hoshina?”

“Of course.”

The customer in question is your cafe's regular, the Vice-captain of the Third Division Defense Force. He comes in every morning at 7.30 am exactly, just before his work starts, since our cafe is the only one that opens early and is conveniently located near the Third Division’s headquarters. He’s one of the reasons why you take the morning shifts. (Ok he’s the only reason.)

“Please have a seat while I get your order,” you said. Hoshina nods slightly before turning around and sliding into one of the empty booths.

You placed his order on the counter but before you could call him, he already got up to collect his order, nodded slightly towards you as a thank you, and left promptly. That is how your usual morning routine plays out.

As soon as you could no longer visibly see him, you dropped your face into your hands. “I hope he didn’t notice that I was smiling like a damn idiot!” you mumbled. As if on cue your coworker walked out from the back, grinning smugly at you. “Soo how was it?” she said. “Shut it” you nudged her as she chuckled. “You sneaky little... you always making me take his order.”

“That’s because you need to talk to him! Bag him up!! I have been wanting a double date forever.” She sighed. You smacked her with a dish rag. “Even if I talked to him, it’s not like he would be interested in me! He probably has a girlfriend already with his looks.” you sighed. “How would you know that if you never shoot your shot.” she flicked your forehead. “OW!”

The next morning, Hoshina came in as usual. And as usual, you were (forced to) man the cashier.

"Alright, that's $12.47. If that's okay, I'll just write—"

"Soshiro," he cut you off.

You paused, your pen hovering before you could even start the second letter of his name.

"Um... excuse me? Mr—"

"Ya can call me Soushirou," he said, the ends of his lips curled up to a grin.

A pink hue creeps up your face. “O-okay Soshirou.” you stuttered nervously.

That was the most you had heard him talk. You hadn’t noticed his Kansai dialect before, or how smoothly it rolled off his tongue.

As you were busy berating yourself for stammering, you didn’t notice Hoshina studying your features. He chuckled “How cute..” He thought to himself.

As he approached to pick up his order, he glanced down at the crossed-out "H" and chuckled quietly. Turning to leave with his order, Hoshina paused before stepping out. Just as you were about to head to the back, you heard his voice, "Thank you, y/n!”

You froze for a moment before replying, “No problem Soshiro!" you waved goodbye to him, watching through the glass door as he raised his hand to mimic your gesture.

“HE KNOWS MY NAME SHIRA” “NO SHIT, ITS ON YOUR TAG-”

Over the next few days, this became our regular routine: at precisely 7:30 am, he comes in. You would prepare his order as usual, he would wait at his customary booth, collect his black coffee and sandwich, and leave in the same manner.

However, one morning Hoshina didn’t come in.

He didn’t come in the morning after too. Or for a week either.

Since then, you have been waiting for him, even waiting past your shift, watching the door for that purple bowl haircut. You stayed up all night since he disappeared. Unconsciously, you also switched on the news to find any recent kaiju attacks to explain his sudden disappearance. Thinking of all the outcomes the Vice-Captain could be in: Is he severely injured? Is he in a coma? Did he wake up one day sick of the coffee I make? Did the caffeine finally get to him?!

Ring Ring. The bell rang. You whipped your head at the sound to look at the clock. 7.30 AM! You burst through the doors ready to greet-

“Morning, y/n” Shira greeted as she yawned. “What’s with that pout? If you worry any longer, you’re gonna get wrinkles.” you turned around and sulked against the counter. “I swear to god Shira I’m gonna-”

Ring Ring

Behind Shira, another person entered.

Someone with bandages wrapped around his body under his clothes. Someone with bandages also wrapped around his purple bowl haircut.

Your eyes widened as you took in Hoshina’s figure.

At first glance, it’s not obvious. However, if you were to see him regularly, you’d notice how his eyebrows slightly furrowed more than usual with a slight hunch over one side.

You also noticed he had swapped out his usual loose overalls for a tight compression shirt with sweatpants. In contrast to his baggy overalls, his current laid-back outfit showed off years of trained muscles in his arms, shoulders, and back. Your eyes flickered back to his face, trying to keep your gaze above his neck.

So many questions filled your head.

“H-How are you, Mr Hos- Soushiou? We hadn’t seen you recently.” you finally managed to squeeze out after moments of just gawking at him. (casually)

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long! HAHAHA It has been quite the week. I apologized if ya had a loss in your sales.” Hoshina joked. Then he pointed both his index fingers out. “Don’t worry. I’m still alive.”

“H-how are you doing?” you asked.

“I’m alright. I just got banged up pretty badly by a recent Kaiju attack. Have you heard about Kaiju no. 9?”

You nodded.

“You should be in bed resting! What are you doing here so early in the morning?”

He chuckled. “My bad, It’s my body clock, 'M too used to the routine.” He said, smiling at me. "Besides..," he added while stepping closer, his eyes opening wide. "I miss seeing my favorite pretty barista.”

You stared into his eyes in a daze. “Did I hear him correctly?”

You coughed to cover it up. “Are you sure you’re not saying that just to get your coffee on the house today? Fighting kaiju doesn't earn you a free meal. You know capitalism and all.” You teased him back.

Hoshina let out a small laugh, tilting his head while holding his chin. “Well, is it working?”

You raised one of your eyebrows at him, before turning around to start on his order, trying to hold back a smile that didn’t go unnoticed by his scrutiny.

Once his order was ready, I walked over to his seated figure to hand it to him.

“P-Please take care of yourself Soushirou,” you said while looking down.

His stoic eyes glanced up at you, realizing he hadn't seen your face this closely before.

It was the first time he noticed how long your lashes were, or the softness of your lips, slightly swollen from unconsciously biting your lips whenever you're nervous. He took his order from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours, lingering for a moment as he spoke, “Thank you y/n. I will see you tomorrow.” He said, flashing a tooth grin.

As Hoshina was walking back to his office, he was about to take a sip of his coffee when he noticed a blue ink smudged against his thumb. He turned the cup around to find a message written that read, “Call me if u want to have coffee sometime. Not at the place I make it though. :>” with a phone number written below.

Fortunately for him, there was no one in sight to notice the tips of his ears turning red.

Meanwhile back at the cafe…

“Hey, why is the marker uncapped? I don't remember using it.” you asked.

Behind your back, you heard Shira stifle a giggle.

#kaiju no. 8 #hoshina soshiro x reader #god i love him #cafe au #hoshino

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trippinsorrows · 6 months ago

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looking through your eyes + six

authors note: i really like how this one came out. hope you guys do too.

i use some psych terminology, so just as a lil glossary: pt=patient, dx=diagnosis, hx =history, fx=functioning status (mental stability, essentially) and hopefully everyone can understand the rest with context clues.

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: fluff, language, medical report following suicide attempt, discussion of sexual abuse, mention of torture

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

words: 10k (i don't know how to write short chapters, clearly)

The last thing Solana expected to wake up to is a handwritten note left for her in the same journal she deposited on Roman’s bed despite her better judgment. She was filled to the brim with anxiety regarding that bold decision, asking him to do something she’s certain is miles outside of his comfort zone.

She expected him to ignore her.

What she didn’t expect was for him to reply.

Reading over his words, Solana struggles with the ease of his acquiescence. He indicated it could be short term, but she’ll take that, because it’s a hell of a lot easier for her to talk to this man if it’s through written word.

And the last part.

There’s nothing you can’t tell me.

There’s actually a lot she can’t tell him. A lot he can never know. No one can know, but the sentiment behind it…..it has her puzzled. He has her puzzled.

Solana grabs the journal and scans the kitchen for a pen when a thought crosses her mind. She bites down on her bottom lip, forever battling with the idea of something vs the actuality of carrying out the plan.

In a plot twist, she sides with the plan and pulls out her phone, searching for Roman’s contact.

She types, deletes, and does so again at least three times before settling on a text that really could have been conjured and sent in seconds vs the solid ten minutes she takes to issue it out.

Solana: Hi. Thank you. Do you think we could text too? I know that writing is my thing, but I can text if that’s easier for you too….thanks.

Solana nearly tosses her cell phone on the large slab that is his granite kitchen island and moves around to figure out what she’s going to fix for breakfast. The perfect excuse for her to not think about the knots in her stomach at her message. It doesn’t stop the overthinking though.

What if she’s asking too much? Pushing him too far out of his comfort zone? It doesn’t take long for her to regret her decision, wishing it was still within the time limits to unsend her message.

And then her phone dings.

Solana nearly drops the egg she was about to crack over the skillet. Swallowing, she places it back in the bowel as her feet slowly carry her to the phone that has now dinged a second time. Her fingers dance against the sides of her pants, stretching and scratching the cotton.

Lifting her phone, she unlocks her phone and heads straight to his thread.

Roman: Yes.

It’s a simple response that makes sense for him and is beneficial for Solana who sighs in relief at his agreement. She stews on how to respond, eventually settling on a simple thank you as well as answering his question. The least she can do.

Solana: Thank you…

Solana: And I don’t work this weekend.

Solana: Can I ask you something?

Solana again starts chewing on her bottom lip as she mentally berates herself for bombarding him with messages when he’s probably in the middle of working.

But even so, that doesn’t stop him from replying almost instantly.

Roman: You don’t have to ask if you can ask me something, Solana. Just ask.

It’s hard not to imagine the frustration on his face at answering her question while also having to remind her of what he’s already stated at one point or another.

Solana: Okay…

Solana: Where are we going?

She’s unsure if he will respond and has accepted that he may not, which is okay with her. He’s already being more responsive than she initially anticipated he would. And Solana is barely able to put the skillet on the fire before her phone is buzzing again.

Roman: You’ll see.

His answer makes her frown. It’s not what she wanted to hear, but it’s also not a complete disregard or verbal lashing for asking a simple question.

Solana prepares to leave it as is when Roman’s voice is in the back of her mind, nudging and reminding her of his desire for her to communicate with him more.

Nervous fingers type out an expression of said nerves.

Solana: Okay….surprises just make me nervous.

She doesn’t have time to put her phone down when those three dots appear, indicating he’s typing.

Roman: It’s nothing bad.

Roman: I wouldn’t lie to you.

And for some strange reason, Solana believes that. Roman doesn't seem like a man to lie in general, because he’s too blunt for that.

Unless….

Unless it’s one of his mind games, because he is notorious for that. Still, she can’t find a reason why he would waste his time playing one of those with her.

Solana: Okay. Sorry to text you while you’re working.

Roman: You’re apologizing again.

Roman: And I don’t care.

Roman: I’d rather talk to you than listen to the twins bullshit.

Solana tries to not put too much into his words, into him saying that he wants to talk to her. It’s not that he directly wants to speak to her, more she’s the lesser of two evils. Nothing to get into her head about.

Solana: They’re kinda funny….🙈

Roman: You’d feel differently if you had to deal with them all the time.

Solana: Fair.

The exchange is so in the moment, back to back, that she doesn’t put her phone down again until her last message. She then returns to preparing her breakfast.

Solana is frying her eggs, adding in seasoning when her phone dings again. Wiping her hands on her apron, she expects a message from Bayley or even Naomi.

Especially Naomi. She needs to talk to her about what happened, apologize for putting her in what must have been an awkward situation.

It’s neither of them.

Roman: How’d you start writing?

Roman continuing or prolonging the conversation isn’t something she saw coming. But, the message is right there in white writing against that gray background.

Solana briefly debates how honest to be in her answer, deciding to step a bit out of her comfort zone in offering more than just her usual three to five word responses.

Solana: My mom. She spoke English, but she wasn’t fluent, so she’d write letters to me in Spanish, and I’d have to respond in English so we both could learn.

Solana: My dad wouldn’t let her teach or speak it around me and Wes so that was the only way I/she could learn.

He stops replying after that, and Solana feels stupid for being so open, for not just giving him a simple answer with all of the unnecessary verbiage.

And then her phone goes off.

Roman: Not surprising.

When he doesn’t say anything else, Solana debates on whether to end it there or follow up with another question given that he asked one first. It feels like returning the favor or reciprocating manners.

Hence, she decides on texting him again.

Solana: What is that language you speak to the twins sometimes?

Roman: Samoan. I’m fluent. Italian and English as well.

That’s not entirely surprising. Roman is obviously a well educated, well rounded man.

Roman: You’re more perceptive than you let off.

Solana: Maybe. But no one ever cares what I have to say or think, so it doesn’t make sense to share it.

He stops replying after that.

And Solana tries to not think too much about her disappointment, moving around the kitchen to finish fixing breakfast as a distraction.

A poor distraction, because not even twenty minutes later, she’s ready to check her phone again even if it hasn’t made the special sound that makes her belly flutter. However, the sound of the doorbell pulls her from that premature excitement.

Solo comes to meet her in the kitchen informing matter-of-factly, “it’s Naomi and Bayley.”

Solana stills. That’s definitely not someone she expected to see so soon. Neither of them.

“Invite them in?” Solo’s voice tinges with borderline irritation, which she can understand.

Cheeks reddening, she apologizes. “Yes. Sorry. Of—of course.”

Solana hears Bayley before she sees her. “Damn. This is how it’s like to live as the Tribal Chief's wife? Maybe shit isn’t so bad after all.” The two walking in wearing friendly smiles brings back Solana’s grin.

“Hey there. We wanted to come check on you.” Naomi introduces, the first to ask, “is it okay if we hug you?”

Solana doesn’t hesitate as much as she would expect herself to. “Yes.”

Naomi also doesn’t hesitate and steps forward, hugging Solana in such a sincere way she’s not sure she’s experienced in years. Since her mom.

And Bayley does the same, maybe even a little tighter.

The three of them sit down at the kitchen island as Bayley asks in a sympathetic tone. “How you doing, lady?”

“Better.” It’s an honest answer, and Solana can’t help but think about the additive that it’s largely due to Roman. But, she keeps that part to herself. She looks at Naomi. “I’m so sorry—“

Naomi lifts a manicured finger to silence her. “Girl, you have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I’m sorry I didn’t know what was going on. You could have told me too, but I get it must have been hard for you.”

This part had Solana deeply nervous, the part where she’d have to ‘face’ Naomi after causing such a scene and getting the whole place shut down for an entire day, So, for the woman with the penchant for bold colors that look delightful against her complexion to be so understanding and empathetic, it means a lot to Solana.

It means a lot that Bayley would also even tag along when she wasn’t even part of that chaotic ordeal.

“Just know you can tell us anything. We’ve got your back,” Bayley affirms, adding with a smirk. “And clearly your big bad husband does too.”

We’ve got your back.

Solana doesn’t even know where to begin comprehending and swallowing that.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have too long to be in her head, because Naomi starts talking again. “That was wild,” she comments with a shake of her head and then looks at Solana. “Oh shit, you probably don’t know, do you?”

Solana’s stomach does the opposite of butterflies, the uncomfortable clenching and twisting that accompanies anxiety. “Know what?”

There’s no delay with the answer.

“Theory and Waller are dead.” Solana wasn’t sure what to expect to hear Naomi say, but even if she tried to guess, that would have never been one of her options.

Confusion is painted all over her face. “Wha—what?”

Dead.

The two men who just yesterday caused her to breakdown and revert back to her teenage years where dissociation was her coping mechanism, the men who’d been sexually harassing her with zero regards for her as a human and even more, as Roman’s wife….are dead.

It feels almost impossible to be true.

Bayley backs up Naomi’s assertion, adding, “yeah, he had their bodies, or what was left, displayed at the Warehouse this morning.”

Chills travel up her spine. “W–why?”

It’a a word aimed towards a lot of the questions Solana has unanswered. Why are they dead? Why did Roman kill or have them killed? Sure, she expected there to be some form of punishment, merely for the simple fact that messing with her was a clear sign of disrespect toward him, which the Tribal Chief would never tolerate. But, for them to be killed, in such a what sounds like a gruesome manner, and their remains to be left for all to see?

Why?

Bayley answers with a shrug of her shoulders. “To send a message.”

Solana is surprisingly fast with her follow up. “W-what message?”

Naomi is quick with the answer, but in general, she seems to be knowledgeable about a lot of things Bloodline. “You’re Bloodline now. No one messes with us. And you’re Roman’s wife? Yeah, he’s making sure everyone knows what happens if they even think about fucking with you.”

It lines up, Solana reflecting back on Roman’s departing declaration the night before.

“I told you. No one lays a hand on you. I’m gonna make sure everyone understands that shit from here on out.”

She just never expected such a….big message.

“Honestly, they were fucking creeps anyway.” Solana cannot and does not disagree with the first part of Bayley’s statement, the second part, however, is iffy for her. “They got exactly what they deserved.”

Solana neither agrees or disagrees with that.

“I’m thinking we do your training from here for a little while,” Naomi suggests. While her initial response is to apologize for any inconvenience this may cause Naomi, Solana can’t deny the fact that just the thought of walking back in that building right now makes her physically ill. “I know Roman got a state of the art gym here and that massive backyard of yalls? This will do just fine.”

“Oooh, I gotta see this.” Bayley then asks, “Solana, are you working today?”

“No, I called out.” Solana needs at least a day to get her mind right, hence taking today off.

Bayley then suggests, “Naomi and I were gonna go shopping. Why don’t you come with us?”

It's an interestingly timed question given one of Solana’s text exchanges with Roman not even an hour ago included him informing her that the stack of envelopes on the kitchen island earlier were her new set of cards, all linked to his accounts.

And he made sure to reiterate again that there is no limit. For any of them.

Bayley then decides and declares, slapping her hand on the island. “Matter of fact, we’re not asking. We’re telling you that you’re going shopping with us.” That is something Solana is familiar with, never being asked, always being told.

It’s just rare, if ever, it’s something that isn't entirely bad or terrible she’s being told she needs to do.

“I’ve been wanting to take you shopping for forever anyway. Because as sweet and great as you are, Solana, you dress like college freshman meets Billie Eilish.” Before Solana can ask what exactly that means, Naomi explains. “So much neutral and dark colors. And everything is oversized. I can tell you’re kind of insecure about your body, but you literally have no reason to be because you have an amazing shape.”

Solana doesn’t say anything, but her hand naturally goes to one of the scars on her arm from that night.

Naomi notices this and advises in a gentle voice, “we all have scars, Solana. Some you can see and others you don’t.” Solana has both, and it’s a miserable experience. “That doesn’t mean you have to hide them and be ashamed.”

“Naomi is right.” Bayley agrees, and something tells Solana she’s going out shopping today whether she wants to or not. “We are going to help you learn to embrace your curves one better fashionable choice at a time.”

________

Solana can probably count on one hand how many times she’s gone shopping in person over the past couple years. Maybe longer. She mostly sticks to online shopping when she is in need of a couple new pieces, always sizing way up so she can assure that it fits. More so drapes over her body, but that’s always been the preference.

She’s also never shopped at stores where the price for a single item can be upwards to three to four figures, which apparently isn’t the case for Bayley and Naomi.

Cause one of the first items they pick up for her is a single blouse that reads $650.00 on the price tag. Solana nearly faints when she reads that. That’s probably the entire cost of her wardrobe put together.

She’s starting to regret telling them about Roman adding her to his accounts. Naomi especially seemed thrilled at that, and she seems to be the one piling the cart with more and more items. Bayley also offering her fair share of contributions.

All the while Solo keeps a safe but comfortable distance, wearing that infamous stoic expression, Solana can’t help but wonder how he must be feeling about this, about having to spend his time watching her while she shops. It can’t be enjoyable for him at all. She feels sort of bad.

“Oh my god, you have to try this on.”

Feeling bad for someone else morphs into feeling bad for herself, to a certain extent, when Solana sees the dress that Naomi is holding up for her.

In all interactions, Solana does her best to be polite and kind, to never invite a volatile or mean response. “Ummm, I don’t—I don’t think that’ll look good on me.”

It won’t look good for a lot of reasons, the main one being it’s too small. Solana can see the thin sleeved dress is intended to be form-fitting—another major red flag—but even with that, it’s obviously a size, or eight, too small.

Naomi makes a sound. “Girl, that’s just how it looks. It molds to your shape, and with all your curves, I know it’s going to be a killer look.” She then pushes it in Solana’s direction again. “At least try it on. You never know unless you try.”

But Solana does know. She knows this dress is going to draw attention to all of her flaws. The rolls, the pudge of her belly, her big arms, and those damn scars. But, she also doesn’t want to be rude, so she agrees, disappearing in the dressing room before emerging a couple minutes later, never once checking her reflection before doing so.

She walks to where the ladies are waiting, asking with an awkward shrug of her shoulders, “well?”

Naomi gasps. “Holy shit, that looks amazing on you, Solana!”

“Of course it does. You see that body?” Bayley joins in on gassing her up, adding, “it really does look good, Solana. We wouldn't lie to you.”

Huh. That’s the second time today Solana has been told that.

Bayley then instructs her to look at her reflection in the full body mirror of the dressing room, a dreaded task but one she makes herself complete.

Solana does her best to try to be as neutral and not negative towards her appearance, but it’s hard when she keeps honing in on the scars on her arms, the one on her face, not to mention her weight and how, to her, it just seems too much.

Her father’s sharp and consistent criticism starts to return to the forefront of her mind when she notices Naomi snap a photo. Turning on her heel, she asks with a level of nervousness, “w–what are you doing?”

“Helping you to realize how bad as hell you are.” Naomi says it so casually, so calmly, turning her phone toward Solana. “See.”

It’s a thread, a group chat, and along with the picture Naomi just snapped, there’s an accompanying text.

Naomi: Solana is being stupid and thinks she looks bad in this dress. Please prove me and Bayley’s point.

Solana’s eyes go wide when she realizes just who is in this group text. Jimmy, Jey, and Roman.

Her stomach is twisting all over again. “Naomi, I—I don’t think—”

Naomi’s phone chimes, and a smile grows on her face as Bayley moves closer to Solana.

Naomi starts laughing and then smirks as she flips it so Solana and Bayley can read. “I rest my case.”

Jey: Damn, Soso 👀 Hell yeah, she look good. Goddamn! 😫

Jimmy: I GYAT to start coming over to ya’ll house more, Uce. 🍑

Bayley makes a wolf sound, playfully shoving Solana whose cheeks are reddening by the second after reading the surprising response from the twins. She definitely either expected no response or an either kind or unkind disagreement. “We told you, girl. You look amazing.” Bayley then comments, directing her statement to Naomi. “Man, you and Jimmy definitely have a strong ass relationship, cause I’d be ready to kick his ass.”

Naomi shrugs, simply responding. “We trust each other. I know it stops at just looking for him. Same for me.”

Her phone makes a sound, and she reads whatever the latest incoming messages are, instantly rolling her eyes. “Roman is such an ass sometimes.”

Solana’s ear perks up at the mention of his name as she asks, “what did he say?”

Naomi turns her phone again so Solana can read for herself, her stomach twisting with anxiety when she reads his trenchant reply.

Roman: Shut the fuck up.

Roman: Unsend this shit, Naomi. Now.

But before Solana can panic about his response, her phone dings and she pulls it out to see his name on her lockscreen. Instead of delaying the inevitable, she unlocks to read his response, anticipating the worst.

Roman: You look good.

Roman: But you always look good.

Solana has to read his text a couple of times before it actually registers. He thinks she looks good. Roman thinks she looks good. Even more, he thinks she always looks good. Solana doesn’t know how to take that, even though there really is only one way to take such a message.

Bayley and Naomi being the bit of nosy Nancy’s that they are, sneak a peek at Solana’s phone and also read his text. Bayley is the first to speak, displaying that knowing dimpled smile. “Ha! See. The Tribal Chief himself has spoken.”

Naomi and her share a laugh as Solana finds herself also with a small smile. Roman had told her the night of WarGames that she looked beautiful, and she hadn’t really known how to take that either, chalking it up to the face full of makeup and fancy updo.

But this photo Naomi snapped and sent shows her without a lick of makeup on, hair messily pulled back and out of the way. It’s literally just her in a dress, a dress she normally would never dare to brave, but something Roman apparently thinks she looks good in.

“Does…..does he really think I’m beautiful?” It’s a question she never intended to leave the safe confines of her mind, but it’s a rebel, sneaking its way out and landing on the doorstep of the two women before her.

Bayley, as per usual, is the first to speak. “Is that a serious question? Of course he thinks you’re beautiful, because you are. You’re absolutely stunning, Solana. You have to see that.”

“Most of the men at your wedding kept commenting on how pretty you are. And your boobs, of course, because men have no couth.” Naomi rolls her eyes but continues. “And as someone who has had the displeasure of knowing Roman literally since we were in elementary school, I can tell you that you’re 1000% his type.”

Solana doesn’t believe that Naomi has reason to lie to her. Bayley either. And as Naomi has been around the family for so long, her word has to be true. But, Solana has a hard time separating the fact that Roman, who has someone as beautiful and unflawed like Samantha, in the same vein, could think someone like her is beautiful.

Samantha is beautiful, and someone he can actually touch.

Because regardless of how he views her, it all comes down to that. Physical intimacy. One of many things that Solana can’t give him.

But Samantha can.

Samantha does.

That’s why she was in the house that day, doing what Solana should but can’t because she’s too fucked up, too damaged, too broken.

Bayley reaches over with a comforting hand, switching to Spanish. “Whatever you’re thinking right now, don’t. You’re beautiful, Solana. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less. Fuck anyone who’s ever said different.”

Solana isn’t quite sure how to describe how grateful she feels in this moment, to have such support, to have people be so genuinely and sincerely supportive. She hasn’t had that in so long, she’d almost forgotten that it was possible.

Emotion thick, she responds in the same language, “thank you, Bayley.”

“Okay, now that’s just not fair. I wanna know what’s going on too.” Naomi’s protest and almost childlike pout makes Solana smile, a nice break from the heavy emotional experience going on in her head.

“Just some girls supporting girls shit.” Bayley shrugs and claps her hands together. “Okay, now let’s see what sexy little red pieces we can find for you….”

________

Texting and writing with Roman on and off for the rest of the week was never on Solana’s agenda, but it’s exactly what’s been happening.

And she has no idea what to make of it.

Every time there’s a delay with his response, she assumes that’s it. That’s the end of the conversation. Only for her phone to buzz with not only a response but usually a follow up question.

It’s almost as if he wants to keep the conversation going, but that can’t be it. She can’t see why he’d want to speak with her.

Even if he literally stated that he’d prefer to talk to her than listen to his cousins bicker. Still, his entire day can’t involve their presence. There has to be some separation at one point or another.

But even with that, he’s consistent with eventually replying, acknowledging her messages even if the responses come hours after her first one was sent.

And for the life of her, Solana cannot find a good or logical reason as to why her stomach flutters with a modicum to medium level of excitement every time her phone dings.

Because she thinks it’s another text from Roman.

Because she’s enjoying speaking with him. Because she seeks out opportunities even while working to check her phone and see if he’s text her. It’s not traditional communication, and she’s certain there’s no way in hell she’d be able to talk to him this freely, this comfortably if it was verbal.

Not a chance.

But in texting, she finds a level of ease that makes it significantly easier to get to know him. And maybe that’s what it is, she has some level of desire to get to know him more. If this “marriage” is to last, whatever that looks like, it feels like she needs to know more about him other than that he’s big, strong, and a killer.

Those traits more than speak for themselves, but there’s gotta be more, and there is. Like her now knowing he speaks three languages fluently and would like to pick up another someday if he ever has the time. Or that he works out at least twice every day and doesn’t feel right if he can’t get in at least one workout.

Similarly, Solana finds herself reciprocating his sharing of information, small facts that aren’t major but make a smidge of difference. Like her love of books and words. The few shows she enjoys. She especially doesn’t understand where that comes from. The sharing on her end. It’s something similar like her growing relationships with Bayley and Naomi.

But that’s different, so so different, for a variety of reasons. One, they’re women, and while anxiety is something she struggles with in interactions with all individuals, regardless of sex, it’s much easier with them than men.

And Roman is not the average man, far from it.

He scares her.

Or does he?

Solana has been struggling to make sense of the fear that often cripples her and the behavior he’s shown her thus far. They don’t add up. Sure, he’s expressed irritation and a level of anger towards her, but both were more than warranted. And even in those moments, there was still a level of control and composure. He didn’t scream at her. Didn’t belittle her. Didn’t hit her.

And his words from earlier that week circle back around to the front of her mind.

Even that day at her job.

He’s made it clear now two times that he has no plans or desire to ever hit her. Initially, that didn’t mean anything to Solana, because she’s never known a man in her life to never beat on her. The second time, it made her start to wonder if he was telling the truth.

And now, in a week of genuine and okay interactions, maybe even good interactions, that wondering of the truth is gradually meshing into believing.

Especially because something tells her Roman’s not a man to lie, not unless he’s playing one of his infamous mind games. And what reason would he have to play a mind game with her of all people?

She’s nobody.

But not enough of a nobody for him to end the conversation, which she’s expected all week but yet to see happen. Even more, a part of Solana feels like he’s also wanting to keep the conversation going, matching her with the questions vs just responding and leaving it as is.

And Solana appreciates it a lot, maybe even to the point where she’s gradually starting to appreciate him.

If she doesn’t already.

It’s why she doesn’t mind waking up earlier than she already does to fix breakfast and get ready for work to do something for him that she hopes he views as nice while he gets in his morning workout in the home gym.

Finished and almost too nervous to stay around for his response, she grabs the notebook, leaving a quick message before heading up the stairs to get in at least another hour of sleep as there’s still leftovers from yesterday’s breakfast.

Roman,

I noticed you tend to start off your breakfast with a protein shake. I saw how you make it, so I figured I’d just make it for you. Less for you to do.

Hope that was alright.

Solana

________

Roman didn’t plan to text and write Solana as often as he has. It just…..happened.

She was right in that communication does seem smoother and even easier through this channel. It’s also nice to “hear” her communicate without all that damn stuttering and stammering. Her texts and letters read so much better than actually listening to her speak aloud.

Not that her voice isn’t pleasing to some extent. It is. Soft and almost melodic, minus the fucking stutters.

Roman is in the middle of reviewing income spreadsheets when Jimmy walks into his office and

drops a stack of paperwork on top of Roman’s desk. He then plops down in one of two chairs opposite his cousin. “Solana’s medical records.”

Roman is pleased, thankful to the Wise Man for his promptness regarding his request.

“There is something you should know though.”

Instantly, Roman is annoyed, because he recognizes that tone of Jimmy’s. The tone that lets Roman know he’s not going to like what he’s about to hear. “What?”

“Apparently, information is missing.”

“What do you mean it’s missing? Find the fucking hospital that has them. I want all of her records.” Roman’s orders were clear as day, and he fucking hates when even with comprehensible issuance, there’s still a fucking problem.

“That’s all that’s available. Paul said the records indicate shit was deleted or something. Like cleared out of the system.” Before Roman can express his dissatisfaction and suggestions, Jimmy explains, “He said he consulted with Pearce to see if he could retrieve the files, but even he couldn’t get them. Something about systems changing over time and not being compatible. You know, all that tech shit Pearce be talking.”

Roman was right. As always. He’s annoyed.

Because he knows exactly who would have had a hand in something like this.

Xavier.

He expresses as such. “It was Xavier. Son of a bitch probably had it deleted somehow.” Roman knows Miller has hands and ties in the medical community as well as social services, though that power and leverage has definitely dwindled over the years due to Miller’s mounting financial problems. However, around the time Solana was a kid was very much the peak of Miller’s paltry empire.

“What exactly are you looking for, man?” Jimmy asks, trying to get a read on his cousin, never an easy feat. If at all possible. “I’m not trying to be mean, but it’s obvious Solana been through some shit. You really need to know all of it?”

It’s a sound question that Roman isn’t certain he has the answer for. Knowing just what Solana has been through could be helpful in helping him understand her better, but there’s also a part of him that doesn’t know why he’s even bothering with that. Why does he even need to understand her better?

“I mean, just what happened to her mom could be the reason for a lot of her….struggles.”

“That’s part of it.” Roman’s certain of that, but he also knows there’s more. “Her father and brother were abusive.”

At that, Jimmy appears shocked. “What?” His expression quickly turns into a scowl. “That’s why you had us handle up on ole’ boy? You should have said that was why. Would have broke that bitch left hand too.”

“I’m going to kill them both before all is said and done.” And that’s a fucking promise, an oath. Their days are numbered. “But until then, I’ll keep them away from her.”

“That must piss them the fuck off.”

“Exactly.” Beyond making sure they don’t fucking touch Solana, Roman recognizes flexing his power and authority by cutting off all contact between them is something Miller and his boy must find infuriating. They’ve clearly thrived on controlling and torturing Solana, but that shit is over.

Solana is Bloodline now.

No one fucking touches her.

“Well.” Jimmy blows out a big breath and shrugs his shoulders. “I just hope you know what you doing, Big Dog.”

“Don’t I always.” Roman mutters, opening the manilla envelope to start going over the files. “Jimmy.”

“Yeah?”

“Have Naomi continue to do Solana’s training from the house.”

“Come on, man, my girl is already on that. She said Soso’s been getting better and better too. ” Jimmy answers, explaining, “I think she and Bey should be over there right about now anyway. Feels like they always over there these days.”

Roman wouldn’t entirely disagree. He gets regular updates from security regarding any and all happenings at his home, which includes a list of visitors, and Naomi and Bayley have been consistent on that list.

Roman also understands now why Solana hasn’t replied to his latest text.

Not that it bothers him. A lot, at least. He has shit to do anyway.

A couple minutes later, Jimmy leaves, and Roman is left alone to venture into the next task on his to-do list.

As expected, Solana’s medical records consist of a lot of emergency visits for accidents. Sprains. Broken bones. Fractures. Endless bruising, hematomas even. The visits eventually die down, but Roman suspects it’s not because the abuse stopped or paused. More likely they stopped taking her and she tended to her wounds herself.

But, the largest section of her records is the most telling.

Subjective: PT is a 16 y/o mixed race female currently admitted following SI attempt. PT was reportedly found in bathroom by family maid and transported to ER by ambulance where she was formally admitted. PT does not appear fully oriented to person, place, and time. PT offered minimal responses to questions and would only speak when prompted. PT denies auditory and visual hallucinations. PT reports wanting to be with mother who is deceased. PT reports no will to live. PT indicated yes with a head nod when asked about hx of sexual trauma. PT observed to become teary eyed following this acknowledgment and would not speak on nature of trauma. PT began to cry and moved into fetal position after being asked reasons for attempt. PT was heard repeating the question, “why didn’t you let me die?” PT became unresponsive after this exchange.

Assessment: PT presents with flat affect and depressed mood. Presents with poor insight and impulse control. PT’s wrists medically wrapped. Faded scars and bruises observed on PT’s arms, legs and partially faded bruise on left eye. PT also has scars on both arms and face, reportedly from knife attack during childhood.

Objective: PT does not appear stable enough to be released from care. Fx is severely impaired. I suspect a long history of complex trauma, confirmed sexual abuse, and suspected physical abuse. Medical records from client’s initial admission indicate “numerous” pre-existing cuts on PT’s inner forearms, indicating repeated incidents of self-harm. I deem PT to be an imminent danger to herself and suspect a release would result in another SI attempt.

Plan: I strongly recommend client be transferred to an adolescent residential facility or kept inpatient at hospital where she can be monitored and placed on medication regimen as well as participate in intensive individual and group therapy to assist in mood stabilization.

If released and left untreated, it is my belief and professional opinion that PT will eventually be successful in efforts to end life.

Diagnosis: F43.10 Posttraumatic Stress Disorder w/ Dissociation

Roman keeps reading over this section of the file, but there’s one part that stands out the most.

PT indicated yes with a head nod when asked about hx of sexual trauma.

That’s the part that Roman can’t seem to move past. He’s read it all. Every fucking word. And it’s all horrific. But, it’s that one sentence, that one damn sentence that confirms what he’d started to suspect, had gradually started to put the pieces together to see the much larger, darker picture.

She’d been touched. He doesn’t know to what extent, but regardless of the specific nature, at fucking sixteen years old, she’d already been violated.

A single swoop of his big arm across the desk sends all of the items once neatly situated sprawled across the cherry wood flooring. Roman stands up and slams his fist down on the table, head down as he tries to calm his suddenly shot nerves.

Livid. He’s livid.

The Bloodline is a lot of things but that has never and will be one of them. It only took one time for some fucking piece of shit to even suggest the Bloodline enter the world of Human Trafficing to increase their reach and profits even more for everyone to know that’s where the line in the sand is drawn.

Roman’s never put a fucking bullet in someone’s head so fast.

The same urge he has currently.

An urge that’s almost instantly lessened by a small amount when his phone lights up and a name appears across his lock screen.

Solana

Eyes shutting, Roman runs his hand over his face and snatches the phone, unlocking it to view her text.

Solana: What time will you be home tonight?

Instantly, Roman feels a lessening of his anger, reading her message, almost hearing said message in her gentle voice. It’s a distraction but both a reminder of why he’s all upset. Solana’s softness doesn’t equate with the violence she’s experienced, the violation, the pain. Especially as a fucking child. Roman has never understood and has always been especially infuriated by violence against children. There’s wrong and then there’s immoral.

That’s beyond immoral.

Roman will never deny he’s committed his fair share of sins, earning a VIP spot in hell when that time finally comes, but that is something he could and will never get behind.

Solana: Just so I know what time to have dinner ready by…..

Her follow up is typical, always explaining what she doesn’t have to.

Roman gives her the best reply he can muster up at this moment in time.

Roman: Not sure. Don’t worry about that. Probably won’t get in until late.

And he truly doesn’t know, because going home in this state of anger won’t do her any good. He told her he’d try to be mindful of his temper around her, and this is just that. He doesn’t want to scare her.

He needs an outlet.

But, here lies the fucking dilemma.

Since he was a teenager, Roman’s outlet has always been sex. He’s the type to fuck away his feelings. Working out also helps, but sex always took the cake, helped out sometimes just a smidge or a shit ton more.

And in a different kind of world, he’d do just that working out with the same woman he finds himself infatuated over. His dick stiffens in his pants thinking back on the picture Naomi sent and wisely unsent to his disrespectful ass cousins.

But not before he could save it to his camera roll.

Roman has never and will never deny his physical attraction to Solana. She checks every box for him in that category, but she’s not an option. He can’t touch her. He can’t touch her because some fucking piece of shit did just that to her when she was essentially a child, and now she can’t stand to be touched because of it.

Roman finds himself returning to his previous level of rage.

He needs to work this off him.

And he knows just how.

Grabbing his phone and switching from Solana’s thread to hers, he shoots out a simple text.

Roman: I’m coming over.

________

True to his word, Roman gets back late after an…..interesting visit to see Samantha. Somewhat worth it, but mostly now just another irritating thing he has to handle. Not that her being upset bothers him in the slightest.

She can fuck off and ride off into the sunset for all he cares.

Granted, the non-asshole side of him, more a small section than a side, can understand why she was upset with him.

He just can’t find it in him to give a fuck.

What he does find, however, is something else.

Roman steps into the living room and sees none other than Solana sleeping on the sofa. Confused, he quietly moves closer in her direction and sits opposite of her on the sturdy, mahogany wood coffee table.

And he watches her, studies her sleeping expression, wondering if she had another nightmare. The possibility drags him back to his earlier disposition, the reason he didn’t allow himself to come back to the mansion at a more reasonable time.

He didn’t want to expose her to that. To that side of him.

Without much thought, he reaches for her face, fingers gently caressing the smooth skin of her cheek. She feels so soft, a stark contrast against his roughness.

In more than one area.

He’s not sure if she felt his gesture or, like him, is just a light sleeper because her eyes slowly start fluttering open. He waits for her to become more aware and cognizant, and she does, whispering, “hey.”

He matches her low volume. “Hey.” Roman studies her, asking, “you alright?”

She nods, gradually sitting up, and he tries not to notice how instead of wearing the type of baggy shirts he’s noticed she likes to sleep in, she’s donning a thin sleeved top that accentuates her chest. “Yeah, I—” She closes her mouth, and he can tell by the way her brows furrow slightly that she’s trying to figure out how to word whatever she wants to say. “You seemed off. I just—just wanted to make sure you were okay, but I guess I fell asleep….”

It’s Roman’s turn now to not quite understand or make sense of what he’s hearing, so he asks, still in that subdued voice, “you waited up for me?”

Roman can’t recall the last time anyone cared when and even if he made it home. He doesn’t know how to feel about this. At all.

With a sheepish expression, she nods, “tried to, at least.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” And it’s the truth. He doesn’t know why she would in the first place anyway. “It was just….a long day.”

Solana nods, “I get that.” He also takes note of the fact that she’s not stammering as much, doesn’t seem as jittery as he’s used to seeing her. “I should—I guess I’ll go to bed now.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, just sits back so she can stand up without him being too in her space. He especially understands now why that’s such a big thing for her.

But, it’s when she stands that his gaze seems to travel to her inner forearms, faded scars now having an even bleaker meaning as he now has the full story.

Another sentence from her medical report whizzes back to him.

If released and left untreated, it is my belief and professional opinion that PT will eventually be successful in efforts to end life.

He should write it. Roman knows this. Knows that she’d probably respond better and be more comfortable writing, but he also knows it makes him feel almost physically uncomfortable with having to wait to get a response.

He’s much too impatient for that shit.

He needs to say this shit now.

“Solana.”

She’s halfway to the staircase and turns around, “yes?”

Roman’s never been one to beat around the bush, so he gets straight to the point. “You used to cut, right?”

Always perceptive, Roman sees the shock in her face at his question, the unease that brews as she nervously runs her hand along the side of her cardigan pajama pants. “I—yes, but—not since….it’s been a long time.”

He half expected to have to ask her about the last time she actually did it, though he can tell by how faded the scars are that it has been quite some time, so he believes her. Knows she’s telling the truth.

Still, he needs to make something perfectly clear.

“Any of those thoughts come back, you tell me. I don’t care if you have to paint it on the fucking wall. I want to know.” His intense expression is set right on her, needing to make sure she understands what he’s asking of her. “Understand?”

Solana looks just as confused as he feels as to why this is suddenly important to him, important that she knows she can come to him if those dark thoughts and urges occur. But still, she agrees, acknowledging in that same small voice.

“I understand….”

________

The breeder is only about a half hour out from the mansion, allowing for a drive that’s on the shorter side than what Roman was initially anticipating.

Just like he successfully anticipated Solana’s nervousness throughout that entire drive. She keeps looking out the window, most likely trying to navigate where they’re going. And if not for the unexpected but necessary business call he had to take that lasted almost the entirety of the drive, he would have tried to calm her nerves.

He’s realizing he doesn’t like seeing her so on edge.

When they arrive, Roman is the first to exit the SUV, circling around to open the door for her. She offers a nervous smile and steps out, Roman’s eyes darting to her ass, the sway of it in her yoga pants as she moves a bit away, taking in the average two story house in front of them.

She looks back at him, and he redirects his focus to her eyes, big, brown, and just as innocent as the rest of her. “Where—where are we?”

Paul also steps out of the car, almost immediately coughing and waving at some flying insect that whizzed at him. “In the middle of nowhere.” He then sets his cautious gaze on Roman. “My Tribal Chief, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I have terrible allergies—”

“I don’t care.” Roman cuts him off, speaking to Solana, gesturing with a nod of his head. “Come with me.”

A part of him wonders if she’ll hesitate, freeze up on him, maybe even refuse. But she instead moves closer to him, walking along his side as he leads them up the steps of the porch. He reaches for the doorbell and is almost instantaneously met with the sound of barking. Interestingly enough, one glance down at Solana and he sees a spark of excitement that chips away at her nerves.

A couple seconds later, the door opens revealing a middle aged white woman wearing an inauthentic smile. The kind of smile someone forces for a business meeting or possible transaction.

“You must be Mr. Reigns?” She correctly guesses, eyes then landing on Solana. “And you must be the Mrs?”

Roman places his hand on the small of Solana’s back, noticing how she initially tenses but, surprisingly, relaxes just a few seconds later. “My wife, Solana.”

Solana offers a small wave and polite hello but nothing more.

“I’m Beverly.” She introduces, but Roman doesn’t care. He doesn’t need to know shit about her except whatever her price is. She steps aside, motioning for them to come in. “Please.” He allows Solana to walk in first, followed by himself. When Paul doesn’t also follow suit, Roman turns around. “Wise Man.”

Paul, complexion starting to become pinkish, politely declines. “I’ll just wait here—”

“Wise Man.”

“Coming, My Tribal Chief.”

Once all three are inside, Betty or whoever, offers something to drink which all three decline, shortly after which the woman asks, “so, are we looking for—”

“It’s for her.” Roman motions to Solana who looks at him still wholly confused as a teenage girl, who looks like the spitting image of her mother, descends down the stairs. “Whatever she wants.”

Betty’s eyes light up as she directs the teenager. “Honey, can you take her outside to see the puppies?”

“Sure.” The teen’s voice is annoyingly preppy, like nails on the chalkboard, like a fucking cheerleader or something. “Follow me.”

Solana again looks at Roman, as if for guidance, but he only nods, encouraging her to follow. She’s still reluctant—he can see as such—but ultimately follows the blonde out the backdoor.

As soon as she’s out the door. Betty starts with the irritating sales pitch, talking to him about the history of Pomeranians, the benefits of that breed, dietary guidelines and other things he couldn’t give two shits about. It’s why he doesn’t hesitate to take the business call the minute his phone rings and instead advises Paul to listen to the woman talk.

He moves to the front of the house, securing another layer of privacy and doesn’t even hesitate to walk right past a wheezing Paul to head out back where Solana is once the call is over.

Roman finds her outside in the spacious yet somehow closed in yard. She’s sitting in the grass, legs open as a tiny dog, a puppy, moves back and forth between sitting in Solana’s lap and running in a circle before coming right back to her. Roman realizes she’s playing with the freakishly small animal, but beyond that, she’s smiling.

And laughing.

Roman can’t recall the last time, if ever, he’s seen her do the latter of the two. Even her smile is much larger, much more genuine than he’s seen her offer in the short time he’s known her..

“That one.” The woman, Bonnie, who came outside at one point with Paul, moves toward Roman. “She wants that one.”

Bonnie steps forward and frowns, slapping on that disingenuous smile he’s learned how to read all too well with years of experience working with people. “Oh no, that one’s not supposed to be out there. My daughter must have forgotten to pull her.”

Roman really does try sometimes with people, but they always end up fucking annoying him one way or another. “She wants that one.”

The woman stutters. “I–I’m sorry, but that dog is already under contract.”

Rolling his eyes, he asks, surprisingly calmly, not wanting to necessarily cause a scene in front of Solana. “How much?”

“Pardon?”

Roman does his best to hide his irritation at having to repeat himself. “How much?”

Betty releases a nervous smile, crossing her arms across her badly built body. “I—I can’t sell you a dog that’s already under contract, sir.”

Politics. It’s all politics. Roman knew the second Betty’s smile grew as her eyes landed on his Hublot watch that she saw this as a great, unexpected windfall. And she’s not entirely wrong. “Everyone has a fucking price, lady. Name yours.”

She stutters again. “Sir, I—I appreciate the interest, but that dog comes from a champion bloodline. The buyers intend to show her, so they’re paying a pretty penny.” She throws out casually, as if he can’t tell what she’s trying to do, the deal she’s trying to see if she can score. “They’re paying $10,000—”

There it is. The sin of greed that gets us all at one point or another.

Without second thought or guess, Roman states, “I’ll give you $20,000.”

As expected, her eyes nearly bulge out of her head, the expression highlighting excessive crows feet no doubt caused by unnecessary time spent under this scorching sun. “$20,000?” He doesn’t even have to counter again. “Well, I suppose I could offer them another puppy—”

“Good.” Roman knew right away “negotiating” with this woman wouldn’t take much. She’s in it for a clean, high profit, which is fair considering one could say that for all business owners. But, if all else failed, he had…..other strategies. But those are much messier, and he’d rather just throw a stack of cash her way so they could be on their merry fucking way. “Wise Man.”

Paul steps forward, pudgy cheeks reddened and eyes watering. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Pay the woman.”

Paul swallows. “But, my—”

“Wise Man.”

Paul’s cheeks redden as he nods and motions to the house. Roman doesn’t need to say anything else. “I will handle the sale. Shall we?”

As Roman allows his counsel to handle the closing of the deal, he walks over to Solana who looks over at him with that same smile. He crouches down near her, observing, “she seems to like you.” And it’s the truth, seeing how the other puppies are content with playing with each other, this one is sticking with Solana.

She looks at Roman, petting the top of its head carefully, looking back down with that happy smile.“Thank you for taking me—”

“She’s yours.”

Her head snaps in his direction, right as the dog climbs into her lap. “W–what?” Solana blinks, face painted in plausible confusion. “M–mine?”

Roman chuckles. “It’s certainly not for me.”

“Really?” Roman watches the hairy ass creature stand on its legs, as if demanding her attention. Attention whore ass.

“Yes, if you want her—”

“Yes,” she answers almost immediately, suddenly. And true to her nature, she’s already backtracking. “I mean—“

“You want her, so she’s yours,” he reiterates his previous statement, but there’s a tone of finality that lets Solana know he’s not open to a discussion or debate.

It’s a sure thing.

“She’d be your dog. Not mine.” He clarifies. Solana can tell it’s also his way of telling her he’s not doing shit to help her take care of this dog, which is more than fair since Solana would bet he had no plans to purchase a dog anytime soon.

So why is he?

She just has to ask again. “You don’t—-you really don’t care?”

It feels unreal. Too much like not an option. Not a reality. Why would he allow her a pet? Buy her a pet?

He eyes the animal that’s seemingly already taken so well to Solana. “She’s so damn small I’ll probably forget she’s there half the time.”

There’s that laugh again, and Roman finds himself with a small smile of his own, not as big, nor as genuine, but a smile nonetheless. But just as quick as it’s there, it’s gone. Clearing his throat, he asks, “what are you gonna name her?”

Solana looks down at the puppy in her lap, nestled so comfortably against her stomach, eyes fluttering close like she’s about to fall asleep. With a soft smile and gentle caress of her coat, she answers. “Dulce.”

Roman’s thick brows arch together as he asks, “is that Spanish?”

She nods, glancing over at him just long enough to answer. “It means sweet.”

He makes a sound. That lines up. For both of them.

The dog's eyes then land on him with as much disinterest he feels about it, quickly focusing back on Solana. “I suppose we’ll have to get supplies and shit for her.”

Roman doesn’t consider himself having a childhood, so he refers to what most call just that as his ‘formative year.’ And during those formative years, he never had a pet, so this is new to him as well, outside of just the common sense parts of owning a dog.

She’s petting the sleeping puppy “Aren’t you busy today?”

Yes. Always. Roman’s to-do list is on subscribe and save, constantly delivering him new shit when he’s still working on the old shit. It’s just a part of the job though.

“No,” he answers. “It can wait.”

________

A couple of stops at different stores to pick up all of the shit Solana needs for Dulce along with getting the first vet appointment scheduled for the puppy takes just under three hours, which still grants Roman plenty of time to head into the office. Not until, though, he makes sure Solana is good to go, good with being left alone with the dog.

He meant it when he said it was her dog and he wouldn’t be helping out and shit, but given it’s the first day, he can see how there could be some nerves there.

But, there’s not. She’s good to go, hence his okayness with leaving for a little while to get some work done.

She doesn’t text him as much during the day, a noticeable thing that he understands is because she’s spending time with the dog.

But, he does come home for lunch to get in a workout where he finds an entry in the notebook.

Roman,

Thank you so much.

I promise I’ll take care of her and keep her out of your way. Paul’s too. I’ll keep her in the room with me when he’s over.

I always wanted a dog, but my dad hates them, and even if he didn’t, I was always too scared Wes would do something to it or worse….just to hurt me. He hates me, if you didn’t notice….

Solana

Roman doesn’t take much, if any time, to reply. He’d prefer to talk to her in person, but Bayley and Naomi are over, the three women in the backyard playing with the dog. So, he allows her that time, settling for a written response.

Solana,

You’re welcome.

Don’t worry about Paul. He won’t fucking die from allergies, and if he does, oh well.

I noticed. It’s why I’ll never leave you alone with him or your shitty father. Ever.

Why does he hate you?

Roman

Solana is partially upset when she realizes she missed Roman coming home for a workout, not that she wanted to bother him, just maybe….see him. Maybe even talk to him. Possibly tell him thank you again in person vs writing it in the notebook, but after Naomi and Bayley are gone and she’s fed Dulce her dinner, Solana sees Roman replied, leaving the notebook on her bed this time.

Most likely for privacy.

The first part of his note makes her laugh, even if she doesn’t enjoy Paul clearly suffering from his allergies. The second part, however, Solana struggles with.

She doesn’t know how honest to be with Roman, doesn’t know where she should draw that line in the sand. However, it’s not missed upon her that everything she’s shared with him, he’s been surprisingly okay with. Never having such a major reaction that it made her second guess her sharing.

And the man just bought her a fucking dog, something she’s always wanted. For no apparent reason.

Maybe….maybe she can be a bit more honest, a bit more forthcoming, even if it is a somber truth.

Roman,

I don’t want to inconvenience Paul. That’s not fair to him….

Wes blames me for our mother’s murder, says it was my fault.

And he’s not wrong.

She is dead because of me.

Solana

The minute Solana brings the notebook to Roman’s room, she regrets it. She regrets opening up, regrets being so vulnerable with him. Just because he answers her questions and bought her a puppy doesn’t mean he gives two shits about her trauma.

She’s so tempted to sneak into his room and take the journal back. It keeps her up, makes her toss and turn as Dulce sleeps peacefully in her pink dog bed beside Solana’s.

But, it’s when Solana wakes up at 4am and notices the notebook on her nightstand, her anxiety reaches another level. Instead of avoiding it until morning, she sits up and snatches it, flipping to the page they’re on.

And her stomach achieves a new level of butterflies when she reads his response.

Solana,

It’s not your fault.

Also, you were wrong.

I care what you have to say and think.

Roman

#roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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literallydontknowdontcare · 1 year ago

Note

I’m literally BEGGING a Vanessa x fem!reader where Vanessa gets jelly and it ends up in rough/angry sex

You DO Own Me

Vanessa Shelly/Afton x Fem Reader

PLUS this request: “Can we get Vanessa fucking y/n roughly? Like pulling hair, biting neck and scratching back type of rough?”

a/n: yessir 😜 merged this request with another anon as they coincide… sorry for the delay in fics. I am still sick but that not my excuse: my excuse is I'm lazy lol. This may be shit, sorry ;')

Content/Warnings: Top/Rough Vanessa, Bottom sub reader, smut, choking, strap use [r receiving], rough sex, not proofread/edited, Vanessas kind of an asshole but that's hot

w/c: 2024

The ride home was silent. Well, not completely. Though Vanessa was extremely unimpressed, her lips pressed together and her hands gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white, you were having the time of your life. Under the influence of alcohol, you were giddy and chatty, oblivious to your girlfriend's simmering anger beside you.

“And I literally told Mike that he was insane for thinking those robots cut him in his sleep, but of COURSE he decided to ignore me and continued to take those pills. I mean, really? The poor man is half asleep most of the time!”, you huff, recalling your last shift. “What do you think?”, you turn to Vanessa, your half dazed, half-blushed face informing her that you really did have no idea that she was mad.

“Mm”, she replied, uninterested. You, again, didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. “I know! Maybe I should replace them with some melatonin gummies.. He probably wouldn’t notice”, you giggle, rolling down the front window to breathe. Fanning yourself, the alcohol making you overheated, you gaze at the stars outside in awe. The outdoors really does hit differently when you’re drunk. Unbeknownst to you, Vanessa was seconds from snapping. Pulling into the driveway of your shared home and parking her personal vehicle beside her cop car, she immediately stepped outside as soon as the gas turned off and slammed the door shut, ignoring your own door and walking to the front of the house. You frown, beginning to zone back in.

“Maybe she just forgot”, you think, in reference to her not racing to open your door or offering to carry you inside as she usually would. Stumbling out of the car, you follow behind her into the house. “Vanessa?”, you ask aloud, wondering where she disappeared to in the span of two seconds. Pausing, you try to listen for any footsteps around the house for any indication of her location. Nothing. “Vanessa? Baby?”, you repeat, concerned now. Half limping, you shrug off your jacket and kick off your heels, wandering around the house. Finally, in the corner of your eye, you see the upstairs office light getting turned on.

Sprinting up the stairs, going as fast as your tipsy body would allow you to, you head for the office. Before you could open the door you heard a mumbling sound. Cracking the door open, you witness your girlfriend pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance, talking to someone on the phone.

“Yes, yes. I understand. I just thought- no thank you. I’ll be alright. Sorry for the misunderstanding”, Vanessa answered someone on the line, grinding her teeth when she saw you enter. “Thank you. Have a good one”, she hung up the phone, turning away from you and leaning against the desk.

“Vanessa? What’s wrong?”, you whisper. She snorted.

“What? Now you notice?”, she spits, still not turning around.

You bit your lip, anxious at her reply. “What was the phone call about?”

“Work. Nothing for you to worry about”, she then laughs. “Not that you were, to begin with”. She leans over the desk, reaching for a pen and paper to jot something down, and you try to not let your mind race with thoughts of her rolling her hips forward as you can tell she needs comfort right now, not a horny girlfriend.

You walk towards her nervously. “Are you okay baby? You were fine in the car-”

She snaps at you. “No. I wasn’t. If you weren’t so lightweight you would know that”. Stillness filled the air, the only noise coming from the scribbles of the pen as Vanessa jotted down the information from the phone call.

Coming up behind her, you gently place your hand on the back of her arm. “Is this- is this about Mike?”, you watch her jaw clench from the side. Blinking in surprise, you reiterate. “It is? Isn’t it?”

“Drop it”, Vanessa scowls, shoving herself off the table. Your foggy brain couldn’t help but think ‘muscle memory’ with the way she practically ground against it in annoyance.

“Are you serious? He’s a respectful guy! His old crush means nothing”, you protest.

“Nothing? You make me sick”

“What do you want from me? For me to spit on him and never talk to him again?”, you snap, frustrated now.

She crosses her arms. “Preferably”, she snickers. She comes closer to you. “Or maybe you like the attention? Hm?”

You pull away, hurt. You’d like to believe she was drunk saying this, but she was completely sober. “Vanessa-”

“Poor you, huh? Do I not give you enough attention? Is my poor baby always so needy”, she mocked, snarling.

You blink away tears and begin to walk out of the office when you feel a gust of wind and a sudden thud against your back. Gasping, you slam into the wall, your head narrowly missing the collision. Before you could turn around, you felt Vanessa pin your hands behind your back, her cuffs clenching around your wrists and shutting with a loud ‘click’.

“What the fuck Van-FUCK”, your sentence gets cut off as you hear a loud smack; Vanessa had just hit your ass. You feel numb for a few seconds, and then everything after that. You whine out, trying to cover yourself as she grabs your cuffed wrists and pins them above your head, her other hand coming around your waist to arch your back towards her. “Always whining. Never taking what I give you”. She slaps you again, the force of her hand biting your skin, surely leaving red marks that would turn purple tomorrow. You bite your lip, pain, and pleasure fighting to take over your emotions. You settle on both and she digs into your scalp, raising you up to her. You whimper out as she turns your head to the side and begins to suck at the front of your neck. Your life flashes before your eyes; having to walk in tomorrow at Freddy’s, a hickey so prominent that any efforts to hide it with makeup make it look evening trashier, and Mike seeing exactly what she did to you. You never understood her anger when it came to Mike; she liked him well enough. You just were never allowed to talk to him, apparently.

“Vanessa, please”, you whisper as she bites the side of your neck, pain seeping in. Squirming, she finally releases you. You flop against the wall, breathing heavily as she stares you down.

“Look at you”, she hisses. Everything about Vanessa commanded respect. Not one part of her demonstrated sex except for her slightly flushed cheeks and large pupils. Her hair was perfectly in place, her shirt was properly ironed. You, on the other hand, were tied up, beaten, and most definitely not commanding respect. It was exactly how Vanessa liked it on days like this.

She leans forward, tangling her hands gently in your hair. She tugs on your strands gently, lulling you into a false sense of security as you close your eyes, content. You should have known it wouldn’t last. “Pathetic, you are”, she says. Suddenly, she drags you to the office desk, making you gasp out in pain, flinging your hands to hers in a poor attempt to release her grip. Shoving you over the desk, she had you right where she wanted you in the first place; bent over and tied. “What, you thought I was going to treat you?”, she laughs. You stutter, words being unable to properly form. “Nothing happened! You were there the whole time! Why am I being punished for your jealousy issues?”, you yell out as she begins to scratch your back deeply. Her nails dig into your skin, fire spreading everywhere you touch. Wailing and twitching in her grasp, you hear her from behind. “Stupid girl. So disappointing when you act out against me”, she taps on the handcuffs. “Are you forgetting who protects you? I can harm you instead if you want baby, just ask”. She pauses, waiting for your reply. Nothing.

She smiles. You can feel the cockiness being emitted without even seeing her. Instead, you intently stare at the table, wishing you were in bed right now instead of feeling the humiliation of your girlfriend lifting up your skirt to check your panties.

The cold table was a harsh polarity to your pussy; you hated how your pussy was throbbing faster than your heart. Vanessa hummed from behind you, clearly amused and proud of you. Leaning over you, the shape of her breasts being felt against your back despite her clothing, she whispers a soft “I love how much of a whore you are”, before standing back up and softly grinding her front against your bare ass. You widen your eyes as you feel something hard press against you. You love how hot and cold Vanessa can be. No matter how rough and angry she can get, she can never resist treating you first.

The sound of her unzipping her pants was as close as you were ever going to get to hearing church bells. Hell, even angels singing couldn’t replicate the sound of her strap slapping your pussy. Shutting your eyes, your brace yourself against the table, moaning as her cock dipped into your soft entrance.

“You think you deserve this?”, she asks, moving your hair back with her hands, a gesture she couldn’t help doing. Not when she knew you did nothing wrong.

You nod desperately, grinding your ass back into her strap, your pussies walls clenching around nothing in a desperate attempt for friction.

Vanessa stayed silent as she plunged her cock into your pussy. You, however, most definitely did not. Your screams filled the quaint neighbourhood as she thrusted into you at a brutal pace that didn’t account for your lack of adjustment. Your hands gripped anything on the table in sight, your body becoming simultaneously needy and overstimulated. “P-please Vanessa slow- oh FUCK yes-”, you cry out, conflicted with the pain.

She rakes her hands over your ass, switching between slapping your reddened cheeks and clawing at your lower back. Hearing her deep, ragged breaths, you knew she was close; the strap hit her clit at every thrust, making her let out lowly strained moans. “Van-”, you roll your eyes back, your vision turning white. She was hitting your gummy walls so right that it felt insane. Your arousal was streaming down the table and her legs, which Vanessa acknowledged by letting out a snort.

“Need to come, baby?”, she hummed. You whine, grinding back. You needed this release so badly; anything Vanessa had told you had already been forgiven.

“V- nessa I need to.. Please”, you bite your lip and squint your eyes, begging yourself to not release before she allowed you to do so. You couldn’t risk more punishment. She sighed as if thinking about it. She sped up the pace, pounding the strap in a way that made it ten times more pleasurable for her as it did for you.

As your fingers grabbed at the table, she let out the smallest whimper that made you go feral. You pleaded, over and over again, to come. You felt extremely betrayed and turned on as Vanessa slumped forward, her chest heaving from cumming quietly. “Oh y/n”, she moaned, “Cum now baby”, she snaked her arm around your waist to bring your ass up even higher as you came with a loud cry.

You let go of the table, your body now going limp. “Vanessa”, you sigh, unable to move. Despite your comfortable position, consisting of you flopping across the table and Vanessa holding you loosely with her strap still half inside of you, she pulls out and forcefully slips you over way too soon for your brain. The pleasure was turning into pain again, and you hiss as your ass makes contact with the table, the marks making it unbearable.

“Don’t think this is over”, she murmurs as you pull her closer.

You look at her, confused.

“It’s only 1 am. If you think I’m done with you, you are sorely mistaken”

#five nights at freddys #fnaf vanessa #fnaf movie #fnaf vanessa x reader #vanessa shelly #vanessa monroe #vanessa shelly x reader #vanny #elizabeth lail #fnaf au #vanessa x reader #vanessa afton #fnaf vanny #fnaf #mike schmidt

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museandwords · 9 months ago

Text

Warnings: female!reader, 1940’s setting, dubious consent, mentions of war, age difference (hinted), innocent!reader, insecure!reader, bucky is a bit of a fuck boy, i feel like i should mention they do have sex with reader’s parents being in the house so i’ll throw that out there, bucharest!bucky (my beloved come home the kids miss you), reincarnation (kind of?)

Author’s Note: It's finally here! I don’t know what the end goal of this was but I listened to illicit affairs by taylor swift and this was born? To be honest this has just morphed into something and it’s moreso just me rambling but anyway enjoy. Feedback is always welcome!

MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY

----

The first time you meet James Buchanan Barnes and his best friend Steve Rogers, you're the new waitress at a diner on a corner in Brooklyn. It’s your first shift, and you're wearing a satin bow in your hair. You wore lipstick to look more mature, and you gave a dazzling, sweet smile at all those who walked in.

You wanted to look pretty.

You were eager to get a job, loved the idea of some independence and wanted to do your best.

“Hi, what can I get you?” You ask as you grip your pocket-sized notepad in your right hand, a blue pen in your left.

When you look up from your pad, your hand stills and your heart skips a beat. It’s almost like the wind gets sucked out of you, and you can feel your cheeks heat up, you've never been so enamored by a man at first sight before.

He isn’t looking back at you, not right away. His eyes were downcast, focused on the menu in front of him as he contemplated what to get.

From this angle, You can see how pink his lips are, how devastating the cut of his jaw is, and how utterly soft his cropped brown hair looks.

It's almost as if it’s in slow motion, the way his eyes move over the menu, and how he licks his lips in thought.

You think he must be older, you don't recognize him or his friend.

He’s gorgeous, and he doesn’t even seem to take notice.

You only have milliseconds to recover, and your deflated smile returns with vigor.

“Get whatever you want Stevie, I’m gonna take another minute.” He says as he finally glances over to his friend – Stevie.

Stevie is a tiny little thing, all slumped shoulders and pale skin, and probably the same size as you, but you like how large his eyes are, how gold his blonde hair is, despite the clear indicators that he isn’t well.

“Uh, yes…Can I just get a chocolate milkshake and fries?” Stevie asks you, looking up with those crystal eyes and you begin to write his order down. You nod, warm and polite the whole time.

“Of course.” You tell him gently, finishing your writing before your eyes dart over to his companion, who is now looking up at you.

And you're met with the breathtaking blue eyes you have ever seen.

You try your best not to outwardly react to him, after all that wouldn’t be very professional of you.

But how can you not feel weak in the knees when he looks up at you like that, how can you not get butterflies when he’s the most gorgeous boy – man – to ever exist?

“And you?” You ask softly, not even realizing you're nervously biting your lip before his gaze glances towards your mouth, and he smiles – amused!

“Well, Princess, can I please get a chocolate milkshake as well and…a burger?” He asks. You swallow, before nodding your head, writing down his order.

“Just a regular burger or would you like cheese on it?” You ask – rather dumbly.

And he just keeps on smiling, eyes sparkling with delight as you nervously press your pen to your paper.

“What would you recommend?” He asks, leaning forward and batting those perfectly long, curled lashes.

You flush…

“I-I normally like it with cheese…” You reply, bringing your pad closer to your face in hopes of hiding behind it.

“Alright, princess, I trust you on this.” He says with a wink.

You barely recover.

—-------

You are quite proud to say you have successfully survived any and all encounters with one James Buchanan Barnes after that.

He frequents the diner on a weekly basis, normally with Steve, or his sister or – and the most disappointing of them all – his dates.

And, you learn against your own will, that Bucky indeed goes on lots of dates. Which, you suppose you should’ve known.

You never serve him when he comes in with a girl because when he comes in you're either on a break or you haven't clocked in yet or you're just ending your shift, and you're thankful for it.

You know that you wouldn’t be able to be the friendliest you could be when he brings girl after girl through those double doors and orders milkshake after milkshake.

It doesn’t take you long to come to the conclusion that the tiny little crush you harbored for him turned into a not-so-tiny-and-little crush.

It was big, bigger than anything you've ever felt for a man, for sure. Which is pathetic considering you only ever spoke to him when he came in to order some food.

So every time Bucky Barnes came in with a new girl under his arm, you could feel yourself deflate just a little more.

They’re never the same girl.

Every few weeks Bucky comes in with a new one tucked into him.

Every time it’s the same thing, he’s got that stupidly boyish charming smile on his mouth, those intense, breath-taking blue eyes focused on nothing but his date, and he’s always so well-dressed, even in the simplest of clothes.

Every time, you see each of them fall under his spell.

You can’t really blame them.

One thing you do notice is that it seems Bucky just likes women, they have no particular similarities; blondes, brunettes, girls with hair as black night. Wide brown doe eyes, siren-like blue eyes, and everything in between.

Bucky just really seems to appreciate women.

But the thing is…they’re always older than you.

—--

You remember the first time the two of you had a moment.

It’s later in the evening, and he looks exhausted, smelling of salt water and sweat and sun. His usually pale skin has a soft glow to it, and he’s sitting on one of the stools rather than a booth. You had just come back from your break and was surprised to see him.

“Hi, have you been helped?” You ask as you slip back on your apron.

Bucky looks up at you, those startling blue eyes shining with mild recognition, and then there it is, that easy, disarming smile that never fails to make your stomach swoop.

“Oh, not yet princess,” He says and your heart skips a beat at the pet name, an echo from the first time you unofficially met.

You blush, nodding your head as you pull out a notepad and the pen that had been nestled in the bun of your hair. “What can I get you?” You ask.

He glances at the menu. You know what he’s going to get, he orders it every time.

“Milkshake and a cheeseburger, please.”

—--

It becomes a thing after that. After that first night when he sat on the stools. Something changes.

Bucky comes in every week, sometimes twice.

He always comes in during your shift. Always the exact same time; right after working from the docks, and he sits in the same spot. And he always orders a milkshake with a cheeseburger.

He chats you up in between tables, waits for your break so he can follow you and take you for a little walk down the street, waits until your shift is done so he can walk you home.

He talks about anything and everything with you, his childhood, his passions, his dreams, his mother and sister and his dear friend Steve Rogers.

And in turn you tell him about your own ambitions, what you strive for in life once you get a little older and more sure of yourself.

Not once does he laugh or belittle your dreams.

“Hey, princess?” He asks, one evening when it’s late and the sun has gone to bed and it’s pouring rain outside.

“Yes, Bucky?” You answer as you go about your closing duties, you only spare a glance at him with a small, pointed smile.

“When are you gonna let me take you out?” He asks, leaning forward on the bar as his eyes are zeroed in on just you.

You know that look, you’ve seen him use it countless times – girl after girl – and you know, instinctively, that maybe you shouldn’t. You’ve seen how this plays out. Bucky gets interested, gets what he wants, then he’s off to the shiny new toy.

So, the odds aren’t in your favor, you know this.

But who are you to say no?

—

It's your first date. The very first one.

Your parents never allowed you to date and well — you had never been asked out before.

So of course, it is both an exhilarating and anxious affair, you had worn your best dress, washed your hair and applied your mother’s lipstick.

Bucky shows up with flowers, he impresses your mother and even manages to successfully charm your father.

It’s a simple date, ice cream and a stroll in the neighborhood.

He eats chocolate ice cream, you have strawberry.

The thing is Bucky is a great conversationalist. You can see why girls swoon and sigh when he talks to them.

He asks questions, genuinely listens and responds with a meaningful response. He is also insanely funny, his quick wit is impressive.

He tells you he wanted to be a writer, but university just wasn’t in the cards to pursue this dream, so he settled for the docks. He tells you he wanted to write science fiction stories and dreams about a futuristic society where there is magic, flying cars and talking animals.

“And what about you, princess?” He asked as he held your hand.

Your brain is so overcome with the sensation of how big and warm and calloused his hand was that you barely processed the question.

“Hmm, what?” You ask, taking a lick of your strawberry ice cream to focus on something – anything. The cool sensation against your tongue is enough to alert your senses. Bucky laughs softly.

“What do you wanna be when you’re all grown up?” He asks in that endearing way.

“Oh,” You say as you think. It wasn’t like you had some big ambition, girls like you – life was pretty much about survival in this day and age.

“I always wanted to have my own little shop, like with food or coffee maybe, somewhere people can come and just be.” You tell him.

“Yeah?” He asks, genuinely interested. You nod.

“Tell you what, when you get your little shop, I’ll come and do my writing there.” He says as he beams at you, his eyes full of sparkles and wonder and hope.

You laugh.

“Only if I get to read the rough drafts.”

“Deal.”

—--

As much as you like the little dates, the walks in the parks, the little rendezvous, you also long for the more serious ones, the dinners, the dancing.

But you notice Bucky never takes you, and he always insists on you two meeting up on your own, he says he likes the intimacy of just the two of you.

But you also think about how when Bucky would date other women, he was very, very into showing them off.

You try not to read too much into that.

But it seeps into your soul, crawls into your brain when you’re alone and the thoughts just won’t stop. So, one day, while you’re walking by the water and he’s rambling on about some fight with Steve, you interrupt him.

“Bucky?” You ask, your voice so small, so unsure. He immediately notices your tone and his attention is on you in full.

“Yes, princess?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“How come you don’t…” You take a breath, figuring that isn’t the best choice of language. “How come we don’t ever go dancing?” You ask.

Bucky looks surprised by the question, though his gaze softens as he brings his hand up to cup your cheek tenderly. You know by his touch, by the way he’s looking at you, that he knows.

“I’d love to go dancing with you, princess, it’s just…I know you’re always on your feet at work and I didn’t wanna make you feel obligated or forced…” He admits as he leans closer, his lips ghosting yours as he looks earnestly in your eyes.

And, you hadn’t been considering that, automatically you had assumed maybe he was ashamed to be seen with you. And your heart melts faster than an ice cream on a hot summer’s day.

“I’ll take you dancing, girl.”

—--

So, the two of you become a thing. An unofficial, official thing where Bucky is unofficially your boyfriend. And it’s been longer than a few weeks, his usual dating pattern.

It’s been a thing that’s been sitting in the depth of your body, somewhere where your stomach meets your abdomen and it’s warm.

It happens every time Bucky holds your hand, or when he brings a straw or spoon to his mouth and sucks, or when he gets that hyper focused intense look in his eye while he’s deep in thought or doing something.

You feel it in the depth of your core, and every time your heart skips several beats and you lose your breath.

It happens the most when he kisses you.

And he kisses you a lot.

In the beginning it was small pecks goodbye, gentle kisses on your mouth that felt like soft summer rain and tasted like chocolate and salt.

Lately he’s been more zealous in his kisses. More aggressive and handsy. He’ll grab you by the waist, his hand finding the small of your back as he tilts your chin up to him so he can place a hot, open mouth kiss on yours.

It’s always during your break, or when right before he goes home, or when you’re on one of your little dates and he just can’t seem to relax.

You like kissing Bucky. You love it.

He’s all-consuming, he wants everything you can possibly give him. Your mouth, your sounds, your soul.

And you give it all to him.

Which is how you find yourself in your current predicament.

You weren’t being the greatest daughter when Bucky Barnes snuck in through your window.

“What are you doing?” You whisper scream at him, exhilarated as he moves to close the window, that boyish mischievous grin you’ve come to know beaming on his face.

“I missed you, princess. Couldn’t stop thinking about you, had to come see you.” He whispers back as he stands to his full height and turns.

He’s looking around your room. It’s a little messy, some clothes were resting on your vanity desk chair, and flush from the fact that he’s seeing this intimate part of you. Bucky doesn’t say anything, if anything you can’t help but notice the way his eyes soften, especially when he sees the posters on your wall, and the records you have on a shelf.

Or the family portrait of you and your parents that hangs above your bed.

Then, suddenly he’s sitting on your bed, and he’s pulling you into his lap.

“Bucky–!” You say before his lips sufficiently cut you off from whatever you were about to say.

It’s one of the more urgent kisses, the one where his mouth is licking into yours, his hands are moving up and down the expanse of your back, his fingers feel dry against the cotton fabric of your white nightgown. And then they’re tangling in your hair. His fingertips playfully tease the straps that rest on your shoulders.

It’s like he can’t get enough.

You’ve made out in the past, but he’s never had the urgency that he is currently encompassing. It makes your body flush, your heart rate picks up. And you’re completely still in his lap, especially once you start feeling your pussy begin to throb in response to the way he’s touching you.

This isn’t the first time he’s had this effect on you, far from it. There were a few times in the past where he’s made you so wet you had to squeeze your thighs shut and let out a strangled “Bucky–wait…” And he always respected your limits.

But now, he can’t stop. Not when he has you right where he wants you, all breathy and soft and all he could think about on the way over was how plump your lips looked after he kissed you, or how soft the curves of your body were when you wore those summer dresses he loved so much.

And you can’t help but whimper in his mouth as his hand comes up to massage your right breast over your nightgown.

“Shit,” He whispers as he finally breaks the kiss and looks where his hand is on your breast. He realizes then, that the flimsy fabric is the only thing between him and your breast. He squeezes once, twice. It’s almost like he’s entranced as he palms your breast, rubbing the fabric against your nipple.

“You’re so beautiful, baby girl.” He tells you as he finally breaks his gaze from where he’s touching you and he looks up into your half-lidded, hazy eyes.

He did that. He made you look so hazy and besotted, just from his mouth, his hand.

He feels his cock twitch in his pants just from the sight of you.

He didn’t mean for it to get this far, not really. He just wanted to come and kiss you goodnight, to hold you for a little, but once he crawled in through that window, saw you in your nightgown, and was engulfed in the scent of just you from being in your bedroom, something inside of him snapped.

“Am I?” You ask back, and you look so vulnerable, so precious as you look down at him, all swollen lips and glassy eyes. He nods.

“Most beautiful girl in the world, my beautiful girl,” He murmurs. His hands come back up, and his fingers find the straps again. His beautiful eyes meet yours, and you notice how dilated his pupils are, how heavy with lust he looks. And there's a question in his eyes, and you nod your head.

You suppose, in a way, you should’ve known it was going to come to this.

What other way was it going to go? Especially when the feelings you have for him grew, bloomed into something so beautiful and intense that you’d give your soul to him.

Bucky swallows, before he slips the straps off your shoulders, and you both move to push the fabric down and off your torso, and it pools at your waist.

Your chest is flushed, and your eyes are wider as you suck in a breath as his eyes fall to the exposed skin of your breasts. He lets out a low, soft, groan, before his hands come up to rest on your back again, and he leans forward to capture your left nipple into his mouth.

You let out a muted whine once his hot, wet mouth latches on, and his tongue comes to flick and swirl around the sensitive bud with just the right amount of pressure.

Before you think against it, your hips begin to grind down against his, back and forth, gently, just enough to tease his bulge against your clothed pussy. The only thing between you and the fabric of his pants is your panties.

Bucky groans, the vibration reverberating around your nipple which causes your hips to stutter.

“Shit…I don’t want to stop.” Bucky murmurs as his mouth finally unlatches from your nipple with a soft pop and he moves to kiss and nibble the expanse of your breasts.

Then he takes a deep inhale of air and rests his forehead on your collar bone, willing himself to calm down.

Except.

“I don’t want you to either.” You whisper, your heart pounding in your chest as your skin flushes the most beautiful scarlet.

And it’s like something snaps, in both of you.

—

You hadn't seen him in a while, not since that night.

You try to move forward, try not to dwell too much on it, but your brain continues to throw images of that night in your mind's eye.

Bucky's body, naked and pressed against yours. Bucky on top of you, his hot breath against the expanse of your neck, over your breasts.

Bucky's forehead pressed to yours as he looked down between the two of you, watching his cock move in and out of your tight heat with each thrust. You can hear the way he groans, echoing in the recesses of your mind as he —

You always snap back to reality just as you feel your stomach drop.

And you feel so, so stupid when you remember what you told him.

Why did I tell him I loved him?

So, imagine your surprise, when the man of all your dreams and nightmares walks through the diner’s door, dressed in army green, standing tall with his chin confidentiality tilted back.

But you can't help but think that the uniform is wearing him.

And your heart sinks.

No.

You're helping another customer when you spot him, and his eyes are on you in an instant, moving toward the bar stool as he waits for you to finish.

Your lips purse together as his gaze lowers. And he never looked more like a kicked puppy than he did in that moment.

“Shelly? Can you cover me for a minute?” You ask your co-worker, who is pouring one of the regulars another cup of coffee.

“Sure thing!” She calls back. And you take off your apron before you move to walk to the back door of the diner. You don’t say anything to Bucky, but he knows to follow just the same.

You feel a whirlwind of emotions swirl inside of you, anger, relief, confusion, fear. And it bubbles up and sits heavily in your chest as your mind races a mile a minute.

When the two of you are in the back alley, you turn to him, resting your hands on both of your hips as your gaze burns a hole through his face. Bucky looks downward for a moment, avoiding you.

How the hell does he think that any of this was okay?

You want to rip his head off, chew him a new one, tell him to stay away from you. And you're gonna tell him! You're gonna —

“Please tell me you're not going.” You're surprised by how soft, how vulnerable and hopeless you sound.

Bucky's breath comes out fast, and he stands a little straighter.

“I ship out tomorrow.” He tells you, and he tries to look so brave, but you can't help but notice the fear in his eyes.

This is the first time you don't see Bucky as this great, impressive man, he looks more like a little boy.

Your eyes begin to water. Tomorrow.

That’s too soon. He can't.

“...What am I supposed to do?” You ask as you begin to really cry now, your voice cracks and you can feel your face become hot.

Bucky is quick to cross the space between you, quick to scoop you into his arms and begin shushing you as his hand comes to rest gently against the back of your head.

He holds you so tenderly.

“Wait for me.” Bucky whispers. “Wait for me sweet girl, I know I messed up…I got scared. You didn't do anything wrong, I swear it. I just got scared.” Bucky whispers into your hair.

“But after I got my papers I just. It made me realize that I love you too. God, I love you.” He says, and his own voice is swelling with emotion as he holds onto you tighter.

This is it…

“When we win, I want you to be here when I land.” He tells you so softly, his blue eyes are almost watering too as he searches your depths.

And it's all you've ever wanted, it's all there in his eyes, in his words.

“You have to come back.” You whisper, bringing your hand up to his cheek as your eyes are watery and bleary. “You have to come back this time…” You beg him.

Bucky brings his lips to your forehead, pressing his mouth so gently as he places a long, tender kiss there. “I'm gonna come back, I'm gonna come right back home to you and make you a wife, sweet girl.” He whispers.

You close your eyes, and you smile but it's so heartbroken and sad. Your hand comes over his, where it's placed on your hair. You can't help the feeling that is crawling in your throat, pooling in the depth of your belly.

It doesn't feel right.

“You’d better, James Buchanan Barnes, or I’m going to tell your mother.” You threaten, and he laughs.

—---

So, Bucky ships out.

The two of you agree to write, Bucky's letter comes first. He tells you of the travel, the living conditions, some of the friends he's making, and how much he misses milkshakes and cheese burgers and your kisses.

You tell him you love him, over and over and over again. Because you feel like you can't tell him enough. And you feel that there is nothing you could tell him about back home that would make him feel any better.

The clock keeps ticking…

He tells you about his capture, but nothing too graphic, you notice the change of tone in his writing and how he seems to be more unsure of this whole Howling Commandos thing with Steve. He seems more urgent, more desperate in his wording, and how he tells you he can’t wait to come home and help you open that little shop you always wanted.

Your heart breaks when you notice the smudged letters, the way the pen seems to drag and move more often than not, and that he crosses things out, and there are tear stains.

And then one day, they just stop coming, and you know something happened.

You can't explain it, but you know it was bad.

And then you get the official notice, the letter signed by Colonel Phillips.

And your whole world shatters.

—-

2016…

Bucky is in Bucharest, he just got off of a long shift at the construction site..

More days than not, he's been haunted by non-linear memories, and anything triggers them.

Sights, smells, sounds. They all bring back 80 years worth of memories, but they're so miniscule, so quick to pass by in his mind that he has to write them down before he forgets. To try and tether himself to who he used to be all the while trying to figure out who he is now.

He remembers the smell of his mother’s laundry, the pigtails his sister wore, he remembers hot summer days in a tiny little home. He remembers the taste of something chocolate and frozen and the smell of grease and salt.

Just glimpses of the man he was before a lifetime ago. And all he wants to do is grab them and hold onto them tight.

Tonight, he's tired, genuinely has no energy to cook.

So he decides to go down to the little restaurant on the corner of his street, a local favourite, or so he’s been told by the sweet little old ladies of his apartment building.

Bucky takes a seat in one of the corner booths and he keeps his eyes down, making sure not to draw too much attention to himself as he brings his baseball cap lower.

He nearly has a heart attack when he feels the presence of someone beside him. Though he relaxes once he realizes it’s a waitress.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

And Bucky freezes. That phrase echoes in his mind, over and over before it morphs into something that smells like caramel, and he thinks of moonlight, neon signs and I love you.

He knows, undoubtedly, that he knows that voice too. He looks up, startled and shocked because he knows. He knows it’s you.

Or it looks like you…

He doesn’t even know who you are, but he knows by the way his heart stops beating, and he feels a rush of blood through his body, and the way he feels like he’s been punched in the gut that he knows you, he knows you from when he was James Buchanan Barnes, boy from Brooklyn.

But how can it be you?

“Um…” Bucky doesn't even look down at the menu. He's too scared to look away because what if you disappear?

“Oh um…do you have milkshakes and cheeseburgers?”

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader

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