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mallowsweetmiri · 1 year ago

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Black Bikini • FW x Reader

Part 2 • Strawberry Pie

Summary: You arrive at the burrow for summer break. Fred really likes your new bikini.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: swearing and smut

18+

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You sat out on the front porch basking in the early morning sun before the afternoon swelter settled in. It was yet another summer at the burrow, and you couldn’t wait to get into all sorts of trouble with your favorite Weasleys. You had known them since you were young, as your dad worked closely with Arthur at the ministry. Once you started at Hogwarts, you quickly became friends with the Weasley twins who were in your year. Ever since then, you often spent a good chunk of your summer at the burrow, playing quidditch or swimming in the lake during the day and staying up late playing chess at night. Just a few weeks ago, you had helped Gryffindor win the quidditch cup, so you knew the quidditch matches would be superb this summer.

“Morning, sunshine!” Fred cheered as he pushed through the front door, running past you and into the yard, George following quick on his heels.

“What are you two up to?” You yelled after them, squinting your eyes as they ran further away and towards the pond.

“YOU BLOODY WANKERS GET BACK HERE AND FIX THIS!”

You whipped your head around to see a very angry Ron standing on the front porch with a fist in the air like an angry old man. His pajamas were a violent shade of pink. You almost spit out your coffee.

“New look?” You choked out, making Ron frown and shake is head.

“You’re just as bad as them,” he grumbled before walking back inside.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you saw the twins walking back to the house with mud all over their hands.

“Its not even noon and you two have already started wreaking havoc, what have you gotten yourselves into now?” You raised a brow at them. As they approached closer, their bodies absolutely loomed over you on the steps. Two identical grins blocked the bright sun from your eyes.

“Just catching some bullfrogs while we waited for Ronnykins to leave the premises,” George grinned.

“That bloke is always angry, what could he possibly be mad about on such a fine day?” Fred inhaled sharply and let out a sigh of contentment as he threw his head back into the sun. A blush rose to your cheeks. You may or may not have begun developing the slightest crush on the older twin.

“Hmm, I wonder. Well, what are we going to do today? I bet Gin would be up for a game, I don’t know if Ron will want to play with you two though,” you chuckled, standing up and brushing the dirt off the back of your shorts. The twins grinned at you.

“How about we go swimming at the lake? We could make a day out of it,” Fred suggested, leaning against the post of the railing.

“Hmm, yeah. We could pack some lunches and games, spend all day in the sun,” George said thoughtfully, pursing his lips to one side.

“Sounds like a plan, let’s go get Ginny up, and maybe you should fix Ronald’s clothes so he’s not in a foul mood all day,” you said, patting George on the shoulder before turning to head inside.

It was around noon by the time everybody got out of the house and started down the path to the lake. The walk wasn’t too long, but it was far enough where Ron could complain and Ginny could convince George to let her ride on his back. The sun beamed down on your backs, beads of sweat forming on your skin, sticky and hot. You guys were practically racing to the shore once you gained view of the water.

“The walk will be worth it!” Fred cheered as he raced ahead to the sand. He recklessly threw his bag onto the ground before pulling off his shirt, saving no time before diving straight into the water. It seemed you’d completely lost interest in walking as the rest of the Weasley children had already reached the shore ahead of you. You didn’t allow your mind to wander any further as you too started running down the hill of sand.

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” George shouted, already running into the water. You tore off your t-shirt and shorts, refusing to be the last one into the lake. Ginny had already dove under so it was just you and Ron left. You both began sprinting towards the water, but you laughed as you dove straight in, leaving Ron to be last. The twins left him no time to pout however, as they started to splash and fight with their brother. You and Ginny swam away from the chaos and floated on your backs, enjoying the contrast between the warm sun and the cool lake.

“I’m so glad you’re here again, Y/N,” Ginny said, shifting her position to talk to you better, “I love my brothers but it’s nice to have another girl around. Sometimes I feel like I’m too much like them. I don’t want to be a tomboy, I want to be pretty so boys like me.” She dunked her head back to wet her hair again. A soft smile rose to your face as you listened to her banter.

“Gin, don’t you think you’re a little young to be thinking about boys like that?” You couldn’t help but to laugh a little at her naivety.

“You sound like my brothers,” Ginny scrunched her nose at you.

“All I’m saying is you’re perfect just how you are. You’re smart and funny and anybody would be lucky to know you. Besides, you are nothing like your brothers, you know that,” you reassured her, pointing over her shoulder at her brothers who were currently trying to stick slimy plants onto each others foreheads. Ginny snorted.

“Okay, you have a point, but I just want to be pretty like you, Y/N. Will you teach me how to do my hair and makeup? Please?” Ginny pleaded, putting on her best puppy eyes. You rolled your eyes at her before returning to your smile.

“Gin, I don’t even know how to do all of that. I guess I can show you some stuff, but your too young. I didn’t even start doing any of that stuff until this year,” you huffed. You wished she would appreciate her developing years without worrying about such superficial things. Your words seemed to go in one ear and out the other as Ginny began to beam and splash around.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! And you’re definitely good at that kind of stuff, Y/N. I mean ever since you started looking all pretty, Fred won’t shut up about you! I’m going to be so popular this year,” Ginny continued on babbling about her upcoming year but you couldn’t seem to focus. Had she just said something about Fred?

“We’re going in to eat! Best to come unless you want us to eat your share,” Ron called as he trudged out of the water. You broke out of your thoughts and hoisted Ginny on your back to head towards the boys. By the time you set Ginny down, the picnic basket had been opened. You sat down on your towel and grabbed a sandwich.

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Fred’s POV

I guess I hadn’t had time to look at her properly when we got down to the lake, because I hadn’t notice her wearing that tiny black bikini. Merlin, she looked so good this summer. I mean, she’d always been pretty but this was on a whole other level. Her normally cute face had turned into something of a more mature beauty. My eyes left her lips and scanned down a bit further. Her body, Merlin…

“Oi,” George laughed and nudged me. I whipped my head away to face him, being met with raised brows and a downturned smile.

“Mmm,” I grumbled, taking a huge bite of my sandwich. I was not just checking Y/N out. I’m just eating my sandwich. We ate in silence for a little while, hungry and tired from the sun.

“Welp, time for a little afternoon nap,” Y/N sighed, placing a hand on her full belly and lying down on her towel. As her back hit the sand, her chest bounced lightly, her skimpy top moving along with it. Okay, I was totally checking her out.

“I don’t know about you lot, but I’m getting back in the water, it’s far too hot out here,” I declared, standing up with a grunt and heading back into the water. If I didn’t know any better, it would seem that I may be slightly obsessed with my dear friend Y/N.

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Your POV

Your eyes fluttered open, squinting from the glare of the sun.

“Finally you’re up! I was about to roll you over so you didn’t burn,” Ginny laughed, moving from her seat to look down on you.

“Mm, I’m up now,” you mumbled sleepily, “Shall we go in the water? I’m absolutely frying.” You slowly sat up. Your skin felt slightly tight from baking in the sun.

“I’ll race you!” Ginny chirped, standing up and running to the water. Merlin, that girl had energy. You jogged down to the water and dove under, your skin soothed by the fresh water. As you came back up, you felt something slimy slap against your face.

“Ho! He gotchu good!” George yowled, falling back into the water with a splash. You reached up to grab the slime off of your cheek with your mouth agape, frozen in a wry smile.

“Who did that,” you scoffed, look up at the boys to find your culprit. Fred stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, a satisfied smirk plastered onto his face.

“You.”

You flung the lake slime at him before charging towards him at an impressive speed through the water. As you approached him, you reached down into the water with a devious expression.

“Catch,” you said, lifting up a ginormous ball of slime that had been placed in front of you by what you could only imagine was the hand of god. You flung the mass towards him before he could dodge out of the way. He tried to put his hands up to catch it, but it was no match. The sludge had flown onto his scrunched up face and dripped down his flared out hands. You put your hand on your mouth to stifle your laugh.

“Bloody hell!” Ron hollered, laughing his ass off with George. Fred dunked under the water to get off the slime. When he emerged from the water, he ran his hands through his hair, throwing his head back. You watched as if he was moving in slow motion, the sun glistening on his wet skin as his muscles flexed with the movement of his arms.

“You are so dead.”

And with that he picked you up with ease over his head.

“No! Fred please!” You said between chokes of laughter, but it was no use. He threw you down into the water and splashed you when you came back up to the surface. When he finally stopped you could see his goofy smile form around his sun kissed freckles.

“I think you’ve learned your lesson,” he said, relaxing back into the water. You couldn’t stop giggling as you swam towards him.

“Sorry Freddie, I had to get you back,” you teased, laying back into the water. He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I was away from you for a few weeks and forgot how ruthless you are,” he grumbled, but you could tell he was in high spirits.

“Oh please, how could you forget? Im just happy to be back for the summer, we’re going to get into much more trouble than this,” you giggled. He chuckled at that.

“Oh, I hope so Y/N,” he charmed, standing back up from the water. You looked up at him staring down at you, water dripping down his abs. You found your eyes wondering and forced yourself to look back up to his face. He was smirking down at you. “What are you looking at Y/N?” You practically choked on lake water as you stood up next to him.

“You still have slime on you git,” you brushed him off and went back up to the sand. You heard him laugh behind you as your cheeks flushed a deep red. You really hoped he hadn’t just caught you staring…

The rest of the day was spent roasting in the sun, passing around a quaffle in the water, and eating what was left of the picnic basket. By the time the sun began to set, the five of you set back on the trail to the burrow. You stayed up front with Ginny and Ron as they quarreled about quidditch, Fred and George behind you. The walk back felt long and tiring, and by the time you had reached the burrow, the sun had almost fully set.

“Dinner is ready!” You heard Molly call from the porch. At that, the five of you filed into the house to change for dinner. In the kitchen, the windows were all open to allow the cool night air into the room. On the table sat an amazing dinner spread, the mark of a fantastic summer with the Weasleys. You sat down next to Ginny, and began to pile your plate with all of Mollys fixings.

“So Y/N, how was your school year dear? I barely had time to chat with you on the platform,” Molly smiled at you, helping herself to some green beans.

“Well, I did well on all of my owls, but the end of the year was mostly spent studying for those,” you frowned, not happy to recall the stress from your end of year exams.

“And you were absolutely wicked in the final quidditch match! Mum, you should’ve seen her. Truly, I think she scored at least 50 points,” Ron excitedly recounted the match, where Gryffindor beat Slytherin and won the quidditch cup.

“Yes, well, Woods was certainly happy with me after that game,” you laughed, earning an immature laugh from George a scowl from Fred. You rolled your eyes at the two.

“Well that’s just fantastic Y/N. Say, how’s your mother been?” Arthur asked. And so the dinner went on, a lively and wholesome evening ending in a warm cherry pie for dessert. As everybody stood to mark the end of dinner, you began to collect plates.

“Nonsense, Y/N, go on! Run along!” Molly took the plates from you and shooed you off.

“You heard the woman,” Fred said, grabbing your hand and dragging you out the front door. The sun had completely set, the sounds of summer surrounded you as you ran down the steps of the house.

“Where are we going,” you laughed, still following Fred as you held hands, George running alongside you.

“On a quick pit stop,” George grinned, running up towards the shed. Fred let go of your hand as he opened the door. You heard a few bottles clanking together and before you know it, Fred’s standing in front of you holding up two bottles of fire whisky next to his grinning face. George follows suit but is instead holding a crate of fireworks.

“Did you guys bring this back from Hogsmeade?” You questioned in a hushed voice, astonished that they had managed to sneak this much past their mother.

“Yep,” George grinned, nodded his head fervently. Fred grasped the necks of both bottles into one head and nonchalantly closed the shed door. His hands were so big and definitely strong from playing quidditch all these years… You shook your head. Merlin, couldn’t stop thinking of him like that for two minutes?

“Follow this way,” Fred nodded over to a hill a bit down the path to the lake. You began to follow the twins, having to walk two steps at a time to keep up with their lanky legs. The deep blue of the night sky basked over the hill as the three of you trudged over the peak and over to the other side. The twins plopped down onto the grass and opened the bottles of fire whisky.

“To summer,” George cheered with Fred, their bottles clanking against each other. They both took a swig before sticking the bottles out to you. You giggled, grabbing the bottle from Fred and raising it up.

“To summer,” you cheered, taking a hefty swig of the fire whisky. Fred laughed and shook his head at you.

“So, shall we light these puppies up?” George grinned, gesturing to the box of fireworks. You grinned back at him.

“We should wait a bit Georgie. Hopefully the hill will help block most of the light and sound, but it wouldn’t hurt to wait until they’re in bed,” Fred pointed out, George nodding his head. He turned to face you.

“Mums been on our case about all the pranking and stuff. She took away a bunch of our creations already, so it be better if she just… doesn’t know too much,” George whispered. You nodded, laying back onto your elbow. With your free arm, you took another swig of whisky.

“Understood.” You replied, passing the bottle back to Fred.

“How about a game of exploding snaps and shots?” Fred asked with a lazy grin, pulling a deck of cards out from his pant pockets. You grinned back at him.

“Wait,” George snapped up, “did you hear something?”

You and a Fred sat up and looked up at to top of the hill. Two little heads of ginger hair peaked over the side. They tried to duck down, but George had already reached them, pulling them up by the arms.

“Please George, can we stay?” You heard Ron plead as he was guided down the hill.

“Not tonight, Ron. And we gotta get Ginny up to bed,” George’s voice rang over the slope. You turned to face Fred with pursed lips.

“Well, wanna play?” You laughed, relaxing back on your elbow. He mirrored your movements.

“Yes darling,” Fred smiled at you, shuffling the cards in his hands. A light blush managed to creep into your face. He kept eye contact with you as he dealt the cards.

“You start,” you said. He laughed and tidied up his hand.

“So, what kind of trouble have you been up to the past few weeks?” He asked, placing a card down.

“Oh you know, a few muggle clubs with my cousin, but nothing else really,” you shrugged, taking your turn. He smirked at you.

“Oh, yeah? Y/N’s a party girl now? I guess I do remember you having quite a good time at the quidditch house cup afterparty,” He winked. You rolled your eyes but one of your cards snapped, causing you to jump. “Drink.”

You brought the bottle to you lips and took a swig. A drop of whisky hung off your bottom lip, and Fred’s eyes were quick to notice. You licked the bottom of your lip and smiled at him. His head fell to his shoulder as he returned a lopsided smile. Your blush crept deeper on your face as you tried to focus back to the game. You’d hung out with Fred plenty of times, granted George was usually there too, but something felt different. You couldn’t help but feel like he was watching you the same way you were watching him…

“Well, speaking of party girls, you certainly seemed to like Angelina at that party, hmm?” You raised a brow at him while picking up a card. He put a card down and chuckled, shaking his head.

“Angelina sure is something, but we’re just good friends. Besides, George already has a thing for her, and I have to admit, I have eyes for someone else,” He raised his brow and picked up another card. Was Fred seeing someone else? Surely you’d have heard about it, he is pretty popular after all.

“Oh?” You questioned, putting down a card and picking up another. Fred opened his mouth to speak but another card exploded in your palm, startling the both of you. You gasped and Fred chuckled while he passed you the bottle.

“Mm, I think she might like me too…” Fred trailed off, watching you as you put your lips to the bottle and swallowed yet another shot. Your face cringed a bit this time, liquor dripping onto your lips. Fred put down his cards and moved closer to you. Your breathing quickened as you look at his face. He was staring at your lips. Was he about to kiss you?

“Y/N… ” his eyes panned up to yours, the moonlight illuminating his freckled nose and softened expression. You breathed in quick, unsure of your voice.

“Are you about to kiss me?” You breathed out quietly, Fred nodded softly before drawing closer. You closed your eyes as his lips pressed carefully against yours. You couldn’t help but let out a small sigh, it felt like you were dreaming. He brought his palm up to your face and caressed you gently while deepening the kiss. He was a good kisser. He pulled away gently, now almost on top of you. You watched his chest rising and the flush on his cheeks. You could tell by his demeanor that he wanted more. And so did you. You grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him more harshly this time, your hunger for Fred growing stronger. It felt like all day you were just itching to have him close to you, and now that you had the chance, you weren’t going to mess it up.

“Y/N, let me take you somewhere,” Fred breathed out in between a kiss. You hummed into his mouth. This caused him to start kissing down your neck.

“Do you think this is a good idea, you know, you and me?” You sighed, your back arching slightly off the ground as his hands explored down your body. He stopped and looked up at you, his lips parted and hair disheveled.

“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” he smiled charmingly, standing up and holding out his hand. You smiled and took it, he was so strong he practically lifted you off the ground. You stepped close to him and put your arms around his neck.

“Okay, then take me wherever you want to go, Fred,” you said in a low voice, leaning up to kiss him again. He moaned into your lips.

“Follow me,” Fred wasted no time and began to lead you down to the bottom of the hill. You guys walked for a few minutes, up into the surrounding woods. Soon you reached a small platform in the trees. It resembled a treehouse but it was made of fabric.

“Here?” You raised a brow, turning around to Fred. He flashed his signature smile and put his hands on your waist.

“Just trust me, love,” he walked you backwards while giving you sweet and sensual kisses. Soon he turned you around and lifted you so you could climb up to the platform. He followed suit.

“Wow,” you gasped. The platform had clearly been enchanted, the inside of the tent being filled with comfortable sack chairs and carpets. Fred kissed your neck as he guided you to a seat.

“Bill helped us out when he was home for a bit, me and George were going to show it to you tomorrow,” he sat down next to you as you admired the club house. This summer was going to be so much fun.

“I’ll have to thank Bill when I see him,” you chuckled, grabbing the back of Fred’s neck and pulling him back into a kiss.

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Fred’s POV

This day truly couldn’t have gotten better. Somehow, I was on top of Y/N, kissing her and feeling her little moans against my lips. It felt so good to have her under me, moaning because of me. I don’t know how long I’d been wanting this, but it sure as hell felt right. I slid my hand under her shirt and up her side, her back lifted up off the chair. Merlin, she wasn’t even wearing a bra under her sweatshirt. I felt my pants tighten, I’d never wanted anybody so bad.

“Fred,” she moaned, pulling at the hem of my shirt. I breathed out a laugh as I sat back to pull off my shirt. Her eyes were blown out as she watched me, she looked so sexy. I came back over her and set my forearm next to her head as I hovered over her body. My hand went down to the bottom of her sweatshirt and looked up to ask for permission. She nodded and I quickly removed the piece of clothing from her body. I sat back to take in the image of Y/N laying on her back in front of me. Her body was perfect, and her tits were tanned in the shape of that tiny fucking bikini top. I groaned hungrily as I bent down to take her nipple into my mouth. She gasped with pleasure as my hands explored her body, my lips attached to her sensitive skin. I just wanted to taste her, I wanted to kiss every inch of her body and show her how badly I’ve been wanting her.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” I whispered, kissing her neck softly, “so perfect. Do you know how fucking perfect you look right now?” She groaned as I sucked on her neck. We both knew it was a risk to leave mark on her, but neither of us cared. I began to leave a trail of gentle kisses down her body as my hands pulled down her cotton shorts.

“Fred,” she blushed, trying to close her thighs around my shoulder. I chuckled and kissed the inner part of her leg.

“Don’t be shy, Y/N. I want to taste you. Can I please? I promise it will be worth it,” I pleaded, linking my arms under her hips. She moaned at the action and quickly nodded her head, relaxing back into the chair. I slid off her shorts and panties, and linked my arms back under her hips. I’d never wanted to eat pussy so bad in my life. My mouth was salivating as I ran my tongue up her clit in one slick motion. She shuddered and locked her thighs around my head again. I used this time to bury my face in her, licking in soft circles around her bud. She began to grab my hair and gently fuck herself on my tongue. I felt like I was about to cum. Her face twisted up in pleasure which only made my pants tighter. She tasted so fucking good and all I wanted was to make her cum all over my mouth. I sped up my motions and she arched off the chair. Her full breasts bounced as she felt back down. I plunged my tongue into her hole and used my fingers to swipe circles around her clit.

“Merlin, Freddie,” she grunted, making a sound different from anything I’d heard out come out of her mouth before, “I’m- I’m going to-“ I locked my tongue on her clit as her thighs trembled around my head. She shuddered and moaned and released warm, sweet juices onto my tongue. I happily licked up every last drop.

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Your POV

You gasped for air as Fred came back up to you, kissing up your stomach with shiny lips. He kissed you on the mouth before grinding down onto your leg. You could feel how hard he was. You moaned into the kiss and pushed your hips up against him. You knew what you wanted, and besides, your friendship was already far gone. You knew you wouldn’t be able to give up that mouth after you knew what it was capable.

“Freddie,” you purred, looking up at him with starry eyes, “do you want to know what I feel like?” He groaned and pushed down harder into your leg.

“Godric, yes, Y/N. But are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, kissing your cheek and pushing your hair behind your ear. You chuckled and smiled at him. Here the two of you were, doing something completely out of the ordinary, and yet Fred was still just Fred. Charming and caring and reckless.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He flushed and gave you his crooked smile before sitting up to take off his pants. You sat up to watch as his cock slapped up against his abdomen, the sight causing you to groan. He was big, and while you weren’t scared, he was definitely the biggest you’d ever taken. You sat onto your knees and looked up and him for permission, not that you needed any at this point. You looked down at you with a strained expression and place his hand on the back of your head. You leaned forward and took the tip into your mouth, looking up at him again before taking his full length down your throat. This earned you deep growl as he thrusted into your mouth even deeper. Once you had properly wet his dick, you laid back down onto the chair, spreading your legs and grabbing your tits, mostly so you had something to hold onto. He hovered over you and placed a kiss on your lips.

“Just tell me if you need to stop,” he tried to whisper, but it came out as more of a throaty groan. You nodded and placed your hands around his neck. He positioned himself in front of you before testing the tip of his hard cock in your pussy. With each inch getting added into you, you scraped your nails into his neck. He kissed up and down your neck to soothe you as he sat inside of you to let your pussy adjust to the size.

“I’m okay Freddie, you can fuck me now,” you whispered into his ear. With no delay, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck and groaned as he began to thrust in and out of you. He felt so good fucking you like this. Especially after he had just eaten you so good, your entire pussy was pulsing around him.

“Y/N,” Fred moaned, grabbing your hips and thrusting into you even harder, “you’re taking me so well. Just like that darling.” You moaned as you bounced from his thrusts. His hand moved to cover your clit with pressure. You were going to cum again, and so soon. How was Fred doing this to you?

“Freddie, you’re going to make me cum again,” you whined, you grabbed your tits again in a desperate attempt to hold onto to something steady.

“That’s alright, Y/N. I love making your perfect pussy come for me,” he grunted, lifting up your hips and thrusting even harder into your pussy. Your moans turned erratic as you felt yourself building up once again. You clenched around him one last time before your back lifted up, your pussy pulsating around his cock. His thrusts began to waver as he fell apart. You made sure to push yourself up towards him so he knew it was okay to cum inside of you. With one final thrust, Fred groaned as he released himself, your pussy getting filled with hot spurts of his seed. The two of you laid like that for a few minutes, catching your breath and recognizing the fact that you’d just fucked your family friend. Fred slid your panties back up your legs before leisurely putting on his own clothes.

“Freddie, we should probably get back. It’s going to be hard enough trying to pretend like this didn’t happen to George,” you noted, pulling your sweatshirt over you head.

“We don’t have to pretend, Y/N. At least not in front of George. He’s going to find out eventually,” Fred chuckled, placing a finger under your chin and kissing your lips softly. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to this. His stupidly soft lips made you dizzy every time.

“I guess that’s true… so does that mean you want to continue this?” You asked sheepishly, a blush rising to your face again as he gave you a smile.

“You’re daft if you think I’m not going to make you mine, Y/N,” he smirked. How many times was he going to make you blush tonight? You tried to play it off as the two of you descended from the fort and started off towards the hill again. In the distance, you could see George sitting up on the hill next to the fireworks. As you and Fred approached him, he stood up with a half empty bottle in his head.

“There you are! I figured you two went off to the treehouse…” he eyed the two of suspiciously, and it didn’t help that you had a permanent blush to your face.

“Sorry Georgie, Y/N wanted to check it out,” Fred said nonchalantly as he took a seat next to his brother. You followed suit and looked up to the sky as the two of them began to set off the fireworks. The sounds of summer made you feel at home, and the visions of two lanky red heads laughing chaotically as they lit off the fireworks made you smile. It sure was good to be back at the burrow.

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ofbatsandballads · 2 months ago

Text

turn me into something tragic

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: slight suggestive thoughts from reader, brief mentions of Jason being hurt

a/n: been listening to the secret of us by gracie abrams and “let it happen” just feels so much like what falling in love with jay would be like. so here’s a song fic!

divider credit: saradika-graphics

You’re in deep. You wish you weren’t because this whole longing thing sucks. But you’re here now—so it goes, you guess. It’s not like you have any other options. You can’t just quit your job at the Robbinsville Public Library because there’s a very handsome man that always shows up from one to four in the afternoon. You can’t uproot your life and your ability to pay rent because he smiles at you whenever he returns his books, because his voice makes your chest feel warm when he asks if you can put a copy of Emma on hold for him.

No. You just need to suck it up and stop thinking about Jason fucking Todd.

A remarkably hard task, honestly. Especially when he shows up at one o’clock on the dot as always. The weather’s pouring rain today, a clockwork symptom of Gotham winters. You watch as he diligently drags his boots along the entry rugs, careful to not track water on the hardwood floors of the library. It’s sweet. He’s sweet—no. You don’t need to be thinking anything about him.

He walks up to your circulation desk, unzips his black leather jacket and places the books he’d been keeping safe from the rain on the old oak. He always returns them early. He must be a particularly voracious reader. It’s a trait you find ridiculously attractive. He reads all these classic romances, so he must have a good appreciation of longing and devotion and soul crushing love and what would it be like to be loved by a man like that—God, you need to stop.

“Hi Jason,” you greet him cheerfully.

“Hi,” he says quietly.

His voice is so pretty. It’s deep but not rough, and he’s got that lilt that all born and bred Gothamites have. He’s so soft spoken, whether by choice or nature, you don’t know. But it’s a beautiful combination, his tone and inflection. You could listen to him talk all day. You do listen to him talk for at least 30 minutes of each day you work.

“Your hair looks nice.”

It’s sheepish and it’s nearly a whisper, but it’s got your heart racing nonetheless. You’d cut your hair over the weekend, wanting a change. And if you’d hastily curled it this morning before work in a vain attempt to make it look extra pretty, then that was for you to know.

“Thank you,” you say, face growing warm, “Oh, your copy of Emma just came in!”

You reach into the cubby under your desk where you’d specifically placed the book once it was returned by a guy named Dick. You had asked how he liked it and he’d just said he didn’t get why his brother enjoyed these things so much. You didn’t talk to him much after that.

“Took ‘em long enough,” Jason mutters, shaking his head and causing little droplets of water to fall from his damp curls.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Most times people don’t wait over a month, but I got the sense that the guy didn’t really like it. Probably DNF’ed it,” you ramble as you push the book towards him.

Jason rolls his eyes.

“Some people have no taste,” he grumbles.

“Your taste is incredible.”

You don’t realize how horrible that double entendre is until you see the bright red of Jason’s cheeks. Oh, God, your inside thoughts are becoming outside thoughts. You really, really need to reel yourself in.

“I mean–I just meant–obviously books. Your taste in books. I have no idea about your taste otherwise.”

Yeah, that didn’t help. You want to crawl under your desk and die. Maybe the little old lady who works the morning shift will find your corpse when she clocks in.

“I–um–thank you?” Jason says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

He looks pretty when he’s flustered. You wonder just how pretty he’d look if he was under you all flustered like that. Jesus Christ, you want to gag your own inner monologue. You take one steadying deep breath.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a day,” it hasn’t, but he doesn’t know that, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

He pauses, shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He looks to be contemplating something of extreme importance. Then a resigned look crosses his face and his shoulders drop as he lets out a deep sigh.

“No, nothin’ yet. ‘M just gonna browse.”

And with that he’s off into the stacks. Once he’s out of your sight, you drop your burning face into your hands and groan. Humiliating. You’re so embarrassed that you’re jittery. You toss Jason’s books into the cart of returns and decide to make your way through the library returning them. The work distracts you from your own social suicide, as do the headphones you’ve pulled over your head.

You’re wandering along, head bobbing to the playlist you’ve entitled “book return bops”, when you encounter the source of your sudden emotional instability reading peacefully on the ground. He doesn’t notice or acknowledge you at first. It gives you time to admire him.

He truly is pretty. The cloudy light from the window throws shadows on his face, accentuating the sharpness of his cheekbones, his jaw, his nose. He’s like an old Roman statue. A beautiful man that reads, is kind, and is built like a brick house. You’re doomed.

You wheel your squeaky cart into the aisle and start placing the books back in their rightful homes. Jason looks up at you, a soft smile blooming on his face as he watches you work. Little do you know that he stares at you the same way you stare at him.

You glance over at him and see that he’s reading Frankenstein. You drag your headphones to hang around your neck and interrupt the peaceful quiet that’s settled between you.

“I need to know what you think of that book,” you demand.

Jason raises an eyebrow, gaze roaming from you to the book in his hands and back.

“It’s one of the best novels ever written. And one of the most widely misinterpreted by modern media. It’s a little infuriating, actually, just how much every adaptation misses the point.”

You’re in love with him. End of discussion.

“Thank you!” you exclaim. “First of all, the Creature isn’t green and bolted! Second, he’s not the fucking villain! Victor is! How do you create something, knowing every step of the way what you’ve made, then abandon it altogether once you’ve given it life. It’s bullshit. He’s neglectful and obtuse and utterly unaccountable.”

You continue to rant about Frankenstein for a good ten minutes, allowing Jason to make annotations to your verbal essay. In your literary fire, you completely miss the stars that are dancing in the eyes of the pretty boy sitting on the floor. If you did see them, maybe you’d realize that you’re not the only one with increasingly absurd inside thoughts.

“Anyways,” you sigh, “you’re the only person I’ve ever spoken to who gets it. So thank you.”

“No problem. You’re the only person I can talk to about it,” he says, voice going quiet at the last part.

You cock your head and raise an eyebrow in question.

“Well, my best friend isn’t much for reading. He prefers building weird shit. And my…dad,” he chokes the word out like it’s poison, “he just reads fuckin’ history books. Not even the good ones. He reads stuff like the history of semiconductors.”

You laugh so loud that it echoes. You slap your hand over your mouth, suddenly conscious of where you work. You’re still giggling as you sit down next to him. You look over and feel any of the air you’d regained leave your lungs. He’s smiling at you, bigger and brighter than he ever has before. And the way he’s looking at you…it’s not at all dissimilar to the way you look at him. Maybe you don’t have to stop thinking about him after all. You steel your nerves and dig your fingers into the shelf behind you.

“Well, maybe I could get your number so we can book club it sometime. Just so you don’t have to talk about semiconductors,” you joke, nerves coming through in the slight shake of your voice.

His smile grows even bigger.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he says as he hands over his phone to you.

As you punch in the numbers, you swear that you can see how it’ll all unfold. You don’t love him yet, but you will. One day you’ll love him so much you don’t know how it stays contained in your body. You’ll discover that he loves chocolate chip cookies and you’ll learn how to make them for him. You’ll learn he’s ticklish right under his ribs, that the muscle that joins his neck and shoulder is extremely sensitive to kisses.

You’ll have bitter arguments when he comes to pick you up for a date with a black eye or a busted lip or a bum shoulder. You’ll have a vicious screaming match where he finally tells you what he does at night. He’ll vanish for a week, then come back to find you curled up in a ball on your couch. He’ll never vanish again, he’ll make a home with you. You’ll worry every night he leaves your side. You’ll rejoice with every sunrise you watch together on your fire escape.

Jason Todd will turn you into something tragic, into a love-struck, devoted, messy version of yourself that you didn’t know existed before he walked into your life. And, just for him, you’ll let it happen.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #remy writes 🖋️#I may or may not have listened to let it happen the entire time I wrote this #just let me love jason todd goddamn it. the universe should isekai me if it has to. just gimme my boy!!!

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satorusugurugurl · 10 months ago

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JJK Men: Seeing You Without Makeup For the First Time

Warning: Fluffy sweetness, insecurities, suggestiveness, language

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Choso Kamo, Modern!Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento

Word Count: 2,993

A/N: Ah yes, I love this trope. It was fun to write!! Please Enjoy, don't blame me from any cavities from this sweet fluff. Request Open.

Gojo Satoru:

The smell of freshly brewed coffee was the only thing keeping your eyes open. You grumbled and cursed the sun for rising another day as you leaned over the kitchen counter, watching the magic bean juice filling your cup. The higher-ups must not like you because the mission they just sent you on was hell.

A week, a damn week, you were gone. A week from your bed, students, and your boyfriend. Stupid old men and their dumb missions. But who were you to complain if you paid your bills and you were able to teach the next generation of sorcerers? So life wasn't that bad.

Then again, your somewhat happy outlook on life might be the sleep deprivation talking.

The bastards were sweet enough to give you one day to recuperate. There was no time to relax, though. You had laundry to sort through, groceries to pick up, and the normal mundane things you'd missed out on during the WEEK you were gone!

A day off was a day off despite it being a busy one. You would get it all done after you drank this coffee Satoru got you from Mexico on his last mission. As soon as you downed it, you would off. You were already dressed to go. You had on sweats and a t-shirt, and you opted out of putting on any makeup, seeing that you would just be running around.

Your phone chimed as Satoru’s name popped up on your screen. You smiled as you opened the chat.

Satoru: Good morning, beautiful! 😙 Welcome back! I had breakfast delivered to you; enjoy! 🍳🥓🧇

“Oh, he's getting laid later.” You squealed, running for the door to your apartment.

You flung it open, staring at the ground, expecting a bag, but instead, you were greeted by shoes. Designer shoes that you knew all too well. Slowly trailing up dark uniform pants and jacket that was from the same school you worked at. Further up, you caught sight of a wide grin, a blindfold, and fluffy white hair. All of which belongs to your boyfriend, who was holding a takeout bag.

“Special delivery for Y/L/N Y/N!”

Your boyfriend was here. The same boyfriend who was utterly gorgeous no matter what condition he was in. The man could be caked in blood, and you still wanted to kiss him. Then there was you; you always put in the effort to look nice around him, hair styled, cute outfit, some form of makeup always on.

Today was not one of those days.

In a panic, you squeaked, slamming the door in his face. “What the fuck?! What the actual fuck!?” You glanced around for anything you could use to hide your appearance. You panicked and grabbed the first thing off the couch.

“Uhm, babe?” Satoru questioned, opening the door. “I know you were gone for a week. But I'm Gojo Satoru, your boyfriend.”

“I know!! Sorry, I wasn't expecting to see you!” you had your back turned to him, covering your face with your hands. “T-Thanks for the food! But I have so much to do!”

“Really?”

“Yep! Laundry!”

“I had Ijichi pick it up this morning.”

Fuuuuck.

“O-Okay! I have to get groceries!”

“Your fridge is fully stocked, courtesy of yours truly.”

The room felt like it was shrinking in on you as you listened to him come up behind you. The bag was discarded as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You weren't sure how he would react, seeing your bare face, and that was terrifying.

So many men thought women wearing makeup was like lying. You had always done very light and minimal makeup, but it didn't make it less scary. Sensing the tension, Satoru gently turned you around so you were facing him. He stiffened, his mouth turning from a grin to a shocked expression.

“Y/N?” His voice was so quiet.

“Y-Yeah?”

A choked laugh erupted from his throat. “I-Is that one of my blindfolded?!” He called as you stated at the darkness his blindfold provided. “Oh my god, hold on! Hold on!” You could feel him near you with the camera on his phone clicking. “Oh my god, wait until the second years see this!” Fingers hooked under the blindfold, yanking it up and off your head.

Your hands flew up, hiding your face. Your attempt was foiled as Satoru's gentle hands pulled them away. With a shuddering sigh, you looked up at him, biting your cheek as he fully saw you. For you, no makeup, fancy clothes, or styled hair.

Satoru just smiled, leaning down before he kissed your lips gently. “Welcome home.” He pulled back, tilting his head to the side. “What was with the off-brand cosplay?” Your cheeks are flushed, the darker pigment visible without any trace of makeup.

“I-I don't have any makeup on.”

“Oh!” He straightened, his large hand patting your head. “You're so cute.”

His grin grew wider at the confused expression inching its way over your face. “Seriously? Do you think that? Even without the makeup and the baggy clothes? You still think I'm cute?” Satoru’s head bobbed up and down so fast you thought his head would fall out. His sincere reaction made you giggle, shaking your head. “Satoru, you are so strange. But also extremely sweet.” When you looked up, you blinked, seeing Gojo holding up one side of his blindfold. His bright blue eye looked you over, inching over every curve and surface of you. “Satoru, stop staring.”

“I just was confirming something.” he snapped his blindfold back into place before draping an arm over you.

You poured yourself a cup of coffee while Satoru pulled your breakfast out of the bag. “Confirming what?”

“Just confirming with Six-Eyes that I have the prettiest girlfriend in the entire world.”

Gojo’s smile slowly faded as you slammed the coffee pot down. Oh fuck, what did he say?! You led around; fire swarmed in Y/E/C eyes as you stormed over to him, grabbing his wrist.

“W-What?! What did I say?” He huffed out a gasp as you shoved him onto the couch.

“Everything.”

You unzipped his pants, and Gojo’s eyes were wide behind his blindfold. Even with Six-Eyes, Gojo did not see this coming. Spoiler alert: It was him, he was going to cum.

Choso Kamo:

A knock at your door had you straightening from your spot on the couch. Looking at your phone, you quickly got up. It was well past midnight, and it was never a good sign when someone knocked that late at night on the door.

Much to your relief, when you opened the door to your apartment, your boyfriend looked down at you. “Choso?” a sigh of relief escaped your lips.

“I'm sorry. Did I wake you?” he asked before entering your apartment.

“No, I think you just saved me a stiff neck.” You yawned out before locking the door. “Did you and Yuuji finish up with that mission?”

“Yes, he went back home; I wanted to see you.”

Choso watched as you moved around the apartment. You straightened up the pillows on the couch and wiped down your kitchen before grabbing his hand and leading him to the bedroom. The entire time you went about your mundane tasks, Choso just stared. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was different about you.

Choso’s eyes moved over you. Trying to depict what was different tonight. Haircut? No. New pajamas? No, that wasn't it, either. Everything Choso tried to think of wasn't the right answer. Not knowing what it was frustrated him to the point that Choso’s eyebrow twitched.

What had you glowing in the lowlights of your bedroom as you pulled the sheets back? “Cho?” You finally asked with a nervous chuckle. “Are you okay? You're staring holes through me.” Realizing that he had been caught, Choso flinched.

“I'm sorry, sorry I just—” Words trailed off as his cheeks flushed.

You had noticed Choso staring at you since he came inside. The poor guy never saw you without makeup, which was probably strange. He seemed to be struggling, trying to find the words to the mountain of questions he might have.

“It's okay. I think I know what you're going to ask.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you’re going to ask what’s different.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I look different because I’m not wearing makeup.”

Choso tilted his head to the side.”Oh, no, I was going to say you look radiant tonight.�� The words that left his mouth had both of you standing in silence.

You just eyed Choso as he smiled, nodding his head like he'd figured out the mystery of what was different. Pleased with his conclusion, he helped you pull the sheets back. His hands smoothed out the covers before he peered up at you. You were blushing, smiling ear to ear as you finished pulling the bed back.

“I just finished doing my skincare routine,” you announced as you crawled into bed after Choso showered. “I have a new serum that is supposed to make you look luminescent.”

Choso studied you carefully as he crawled into bed with you. “Mmm, maybe that’s it.” He pulled you into his arms. “Or maybe it’s just me.” Choso hummed, staring into the face that he loved so much. “Falling in love.” Love?! “Yeah, I think that’s exactly what this is.”

That was the reasoning behind your radiant glow. A glow that always surrounded you no matter what you wore or looked like. Choso saw utter perfection in you. So it only made sense that the reason you looked extra stunning was that he had fallen in love with you even more.

You just snuggled closer into his chest, grinning wide as he yawned. “I love you too, Cho.”

Ryomen Sukuna:

Ten minutes. All it took was ten minutes before chaos erupted in Sukuna’s apartment. He had just finished changing when he heard the commotion. Yuuji and Choso were bickering before you gently tried to break up the argument. The next thing he heard was a scream, your scream, to be exact.

He bolted, running into the kitchen, where he found you wiping at your face. “What the fuck?!” His younger brothers both stood in shock, watching you in fear. Yuuji was holding a box of baking soda, and Choso held a bottle of vinegar.

In the center of the kitchen was the volcano experiment you had been helping Yuuji make. Sukuna was able to put it all together in an instant. He didn't bother yelling. He instead lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.

“What the hell happened?” You flinched when you felt a warm, wet rag gently cleaning your face off.

“The boys wanted to see how big of an explosion they could make. But you know the boys, they both were arguing about who should do what. Words were said, contents were thrown into a beaker, and I didn't have my safety goggles on.”

Sukuna sighed, continuing to rub off the mess on your face. “You're not hurt, are you?”

“Nope!” Your confident response had your boyfriend chuckling as he wiped more of the foamy goop off your face.

After about five minutes of wiping and rinsing the rag, Sukuna sat on the tub's edge, examining your face. It was without the small amount of makeup you had on and the lighting of the bathroom that he stared at you. You were stunning, gorgeous in everything. But here in the bathroom, his eyes mapped out your face.

“What happened here?” he asked, fingertips pressing against a small scar under your eye.

Thinking it was food coloring, you turned to the mirror, seeing your bare face. “EH?!” You touched it, groaning as you looked back at your boyfriend, who was smirking. “You wiped off all my makeup!” For a second, Sukuna thought he was dealing with a third child in his apartment.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want to have vinegar on your face?” You shook your head. “That's what I thought. So confess what happened there?”

“Acne scar.”

A soft him rumbled in his chest before he learned over, thumb grazing over a tiny scar at the bottom of your lip. “This?” gentle fingers moved up, brushing over your bottom lip as he stepped closer towards you.

“I-I fell off my bike.”

You swallowed hard, whimpering as Sukuna’s fingers grazed over your face. You were feeling how soft your delicate skin was. All of you mesmerized him. Every time you came over, he learned a little more about you. And god, he fuckin’ loved that.

His hands gently mapped your face out. The softness had you breathing heavily, his eyes glued to your lips. Having your boyfriend gaze over you with such a soft yet burning gaze had you shifting. The air in the bathroom became thick with need as he slowly slipped your tank top sleeve down.

“Y/N, let me see all of you. I want to map out your body and learn everything it has to say.”

“W-What’s gotten into you?”

The whisper tone of your voice had Sukuna sliding the other sleeve of your tank top down. “You. You’ve crept your way into my heart.” The confession that spilled from his lips has you leaning in, wanting him to touch you everywhere. The same way he had touched your face.

“Hey, is she okay?” Choso’s timid voice whispered through the door. “Yuuji’s worried.”

“Take Yuuji out for ice cream.” Your tank top is slowly pulled over your head. “My card is on my dresser.”

Silence spreads out as you tug Sukuna’s shirt up and off. “R-Really?” hands began working on jeans.

“Yes, I have my own project to work on.” Sukuna turned the shower on, and he never heard Choso collecting Yuuji so fast. Refusing to answer any questions as the door to the apartment slammed shut.

Sukuna’s antics had you giggling, licking your lip, and he stripped you completely. “A project, huh?” he nodded, following you into the shower.

“Yeah, but it won't be vinegar foam that covers that pretty face this time.”

Nanami Kento:

The hotel sheets were cold and crisp over your and your boyfriend's bodies. Between the chill and the heat Nanami was putting out, you felt so comfortable. It was the perfect combination that made you want to relish the feeling forever.

The sun was up, which meant you both would be going home soon. You both had been called out on a mission, one that took a bit longer to handle than you both were anticipating. You missed the last train back to Tokyo. Leaving you both stranded in Kawasaki for the night.

Instead of having one of the assistant supervisors drive all the way out to get you, you and Nanami decided to stay at a hotel. God, it was nice: room service, wine, a hot shower. Missing that last train was a reward for the two of you. Nothing more than relaxation and joy. But the moment Nanami pulled you tighter against him, you realized you didn't have your overnight bag.

Meaning you didn't have your makeup.

“Oh no, oh god no.” You whined as Nanami lifted his head.

“What’s wrong?” His groggy voice asked, trying to assess what was going on.

Burying your face in your pillow, you grumbled, cringing as you felt Nanami shift beside you. “I don't have my bag.” The covers move as Nanami props himself up.

“Your overnight bag?”

“Mhmm.”

Silence stretched out. “Did you need something out of it? Aspirin or tampons? I'll go grab you some.” The sincerity of his words made your heart soar. God, Nanami was the best boyfriend.

“No, no, I'm okay.” You shyly turned, swallowing hard. “I just realized you've never seen me without makeup.”

Nanami’s gaze was soft; honey-brown eyes slowly roamed over your face. He took his time, his hand reaching out, knuckles grazing your cheek. It was so gentle and sweet that you pressed yourself against his hand. The warmth spreads to every part of your body.

The bed shifts as Nanami’s hand cups your cheek, pulling you closer. “You are still as stunning in the morning bare-faced as you are all dolled up.” Before you could even think of what to say in response, his lips were on yours.

His lips were warm, like a spring day. You moaned happily, kissing him back as his hands slowly ran down your arms. Breaking the kiss, had you pouting with a displeased groan that shifted into a moan. Those warm lips slowly moved down your face. Nanami was trailing the softest, warmest kisses down your body, over your shoulders and upper arm.

“I want to see all of you.” Hot breath whispered over your skin. “See every part of you, body, mind, and soul in the raw.”

Soft kisses were replaced with gentle nips. The sensation had you arching your back as Nana crawled on top of you. His morning wood was pressing against your hip. It felt like you were melting into the mattress as the once-comfortable room suddenly became too warm. The need to get naked grew stronger and stronger.

“Kento~”

He didn't respond. He was too busy being love-drunk off of you. His fingers, lips, and teeth slowly mapped out every part of your body. Nanami’s actions left you a squirming mess underneath him. One that he was so pleased to see and feel.

Only once you were gasping for air, gripping his shirt, begging him for more, did Nanami finally pull back, taking his shirt off. “Every inch of you is the most beautiful thing that's graced this world, Y/N.” You sat up, pulling him into a starved kiss as he took your shorts off. Limbs entangling as he gently laid you down.

And yes, you missed the morning train. . .and the afternoon train. . .poor Ijichi had to pick you up.

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pearlessance · 6 months ago

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Moral Modification

Summary: When you decide to pierce your nipples, Joel Miller breaks his moral code to lend a helping hand.

Pairing: JacksonEra!Joel Miller/reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content MDNI, seduction, age gap(undefined), piercings and needles, nipple play, moral ambiguity, oral sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, size difference

NOTE: this one shot was written for my bff joelmillersgirlfriend and all of the bolded words are titles of her fics over on AO3!! if you haven't read any of her work i def recommend going over there to check it out she's incredible. we also have a 3-part co-write we did on AO3 called False Pretenses! thank you to everyone for reading, love u all <3

[cross posted on AO3]

[masterlist]

You find it on a scouting mission.

Maria had sent you and Joel out in search of books to fill the shelves of Jackson’s overused library. It was a leisurely mission, moving slowly from house to house, searching through broken shelves and dressers and nightstands.

The blistering summer heat has you feeling exhausted by midday, and so the sun hasn’t even set when you pick a still-standing apartment complex and settle in for the night.

You drop your pack and flop onto the moth-eaten couch while Joel triple-checks every exit and every entrance in the tiny apartment he’d picked on the very top floor. He’s going at it again, glancing out of the wide windows with his rifle in hand, when you say, “If there was a way in or out, I think you would’ve found it the third time.”

He doesn’t say anything. Not a man of many words, Joel Miller. But he was certainly fun to torture with lewd suggestions.

“It’s real hot today,” you say. And it’s the goddamn truth—your skin is warm and your shirt sticks to the small of your back, and even though you’re wearing jean shorts the fabric chafes at your thighs.

He does nothing but grunt in agreement as a reply. Few words.

Though you try, you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as you tell him, “We’d be a lot cooler if we took off some of these clothes, you know.”

Joel Miller is a good man. A really good man. This is why he pretends you don’t get to him, why he pretends to shrug you off as just a naive little girl whenever you brazenly flirt with him.

But you see it.

The way his calloused hands tighten around his rifle, the flush that creeps up his neck, the way he turns his head just enough to keep that smirk from out of view. “You’re ridiculous,” he says. But he leaves his spot at the window and joins you on the couch instead.

You set your legs in his lap and when he rests his hand on your calf you half expect him to push you away. But he doesn’t—his fingers linger, pressing into the tender muscle. “How am I ridiculous? It’s only common sense, Mr. Miller.”

His eyes catch yours at the name. He’s never directly said it, but you have a hunch that it does something to him, speaking to him as an authority. A part of you wonders if he ever thinks of you in the way you think of him, wonders if his mind is often filled with sinful, raw images. “You know why.”

“No, I don’t.” You do. Of course, you do. But you’re out here all alone and he’s sitting beside you and you can feel the heat of his skin against yours and he’s so big and warm and masculine. You want him, need him in a way you’ll never even try to understand. “Explain it to me,” you urge.

Joel leans his rifle against the arm of the couch and reaches up to rub the tension from his jaw. He smiles, one of those all-knowing smiles that makes your heart flutter. It’s a secret sort of smile, meant for just you and him. “You got any idea how old I am, girl?”

You shrug and say, “It doesn’t matter.” Because it doesn’t. “I like that you’re older. Besides, I’m not talking about that.” You are. “I’m talking about the weather. The heat. I’m going to take my shorts off.”

Slowly, carefully, you trail your fingertips over the curve of your chest, down the center of your abdomen. His eyes follow your every movement, pupils blown wide and jaw set firmly. His hand flexes around your calf, squeezing softly.

When you slip the edge of your pinky beneath the denim waistband his lips part. You trace the seam, from one hip to the other and back again, real slow. Joel watches you and you watch him, transfixed, thighs pressed together to abate the ache that forms between them.

For a moment, a single moment, you think you have him. You can see the temptation on his face, clear as day. You think you’ve finally cracked the eternal goodness and strength of one Joel Miller…but his hand covers yours the moment you reach for the silver button.

Embarrassment flushes your cheeks and you feel a little like you’ve been caught red handed.

His fingers squeeze yours, but his touch is so sudden and electrifying that the faintest whimper erupts from your chest. You want him to touch you with those hands, to touch you everywhere. You want him to take all that you offer and more.

But he’s just so good. “Stop,” he says, breathless.

The hesitance is palpable. The strain in his voice. You know he wants you, can see the growing erection pushing at the metallic zipper of his jeans from the other end of the couch. You know it’ll only take a little more convincing, a little more of the delicious chase…but you want the final decision to be his. You want him to need it, too.

So you relent.

You stand to your feet and move towards the staircase in the abandoned apartment. But when you step between his thighs, you linger. “Did you check for any books upstairs?”

He shakes his head. “No. Don’t think whoever lived here before were much the readin’ type.”

“Yeah, well…didn’t think you were much the reading type, either. But here you are.”

Joel shrugs. “Not much to do at the end of the world. Helps pass the time.”

You knock your knee against his playfully. “You even know how to read, old man?” He chuckles softly and it feels like a victory. “Never seen you in the library.”

He spreads his legs further to give you more room, settling into the couch with his head tilted back. You know he doesn’t mean to look that fucking good doing it, but he does. Taking up all that space, commanding without even trying. It makes your mouth water, makes your skin prickle in every spot he allows himself to look. And then he says lowly, “I’ve seen you.”

It gives you pause. Because if he’s seen you in the library back in Jackson but you haven’t seen him, it means he notices you. Even when you’re not out here alone, even when you’re not urging him to touch you, even when you’re not trying. A seductive smirk finds your lips. “You gotta crush on me or something, Mr. Miller?”

Joel scoffs and shakes his head, turning away from you to hide the redness on his face that has nothing to do with the heat.

You giggle softly and decide to grant him a little reprieve. “I’ll be back,” you say, escaping the growing tension and focusing instead on the task at hand. “If they don’t have books, maybe they have something else that could be useful. Clothes or shoes or batteries or something.”

It only takes a few minutes before you realize what he meant when he said the past inhabitants of the apartment don’t seem much like the reading type. There’s not a single bookshelf to be found. Nothing on the walls, nothing standing in the spare room. There are three computers, though. Not that they’re worth anything now.

Still, you try your damndest to find something. Anything. You rifle through drawers and find nothing but a cracked and weathered bible, of which you have a thousand and one copies in Jackson.

The closest thing you find to a real book is a stack of magazines in the cluttered bathroom. All are covered in a thick layer of dust and most have images of sports cars on the front, but they’re worth grabbing, anyway. You’re sure Tommy or Greg or someone wouldn’t mind skimming through them, so you grab the whole stack and return downstairs to Joel.

You’re halfway down the stairs when the magazine on the bottom of the stack tumbles from your hands. And it’s not a sports car on the front page.

Instead, it’s a woman all dressed up in leather. She wears platform boots that reach her knees, adorned with heavy silver buckles down the front. Even though you were born not long after the outbreak, you’re not oblivious. You know what pornography is, but you’ve never seen anything quite like this.

You pick it up and put it on the top of the pile.

When Joel sees the small stack in your hand he asks, “Anything good?”

“Mm. Not sure yet.” You set the pile onto the floor beside your pack, nestle back into your spot in the opposite corner of the couch, and flip open the magazine with the leather-clad woman on the front, reading the title aloud. “Have you ever heard of a porno mag named Dreadnought?”

“What are you—is that—?”

“I’m just curious, Mr. Miller. Relax.” You lift your feet and put them back in his lap and discover he is anything but relaxed. You can feel the stiffness in his thighs even through the thick soles of your high-top sneakers.

“No, what? No, you shouldn’t—you should…”

You ignore his stuttering, flipping quickly through the pages. Most of them are filled with erotic images of women dressed similarly to the one on the front page. They each have a man in a curious, submissive position. But none of this interests you, none of it even surprises you, in truth.

Near the end of the magazine is where you find exactly what you’re looking for. The woman on the front page is in different outfits, one in leather, another in red lace. But it’s the third page of her feature where she’s completely naked. Her breasts are full and sit too high on her chest to be real, but they’re beautiful. Not for any reason other than those pretty silver barbells that are pierced through her nipples.

You lean up, tucking your legs beneath yourself, and show Joel the image. “Was this common? You know, like…before?”

His face is red and you think maybe he’s forgotten how to speak. Because no words come out, he just sputters. “Is…what…which part—are you…I don’t—”

“I’ve never seen anyone with pierced nipples,” you interrupt. “That’s what I’m talking about. Was it common?”

He seems to find himself. “Uhm…no. Not really, I guess. Why do you ask?”

You shrug and find yourself leaning into his side, flipping to the next page. There’s another image of the woman, and though she’s back in that red lace again, you can see the piercings pushing against the thin fabric. “It’s pretty,” you say. “I like it. Do you think you could do something like that still?”

“Well, back then they had people who’d do that sorta thing professionally,” he says. “But as long as you’re careful, I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to.”

You let it go, and the two of you ration what food you have left, deciding to head back to the commune within the next day or two. You fall asleep leaning up against him, head resting on his shoulder. And you know Joel doesn’t rest much outside of Jackson’s walls, always too worried about being found or threatened in some way. But halfway through the night, you wake covered in a thin layer of sweat, scorched by the warmth of his head against your belly.

At some point in your sleep, you’d shifted, laying on the couch on your back, and Joel must have followed you. His arms are wrapped around your waist and his torso covers your legs, body heat warming you to uncomfortable temperatures.

But you don't dare move. Instead, you slide your fingers through the soft tendrils of his hair and scratch softly at his scalp, smiling in the dark as he moans in his sleep.

Your luck the following day is much better. You stumble upon an old strip mall, and inside there’s a small, indie bookstore. Joel picks through the science fiction section, stuffing his pack with everything he thinks might be interesting. He finds a few children’s books and pockets those, too, while you browse the romance section.

Half the books are crumbling dust in your hands and the others have so much water damage they’re hardly legible, but you pick up what you can. While you’re rifling through the horror books, stashing anything written by Stephen King or H.P. Lovecraft, Joel comes up behind you and says, “You really read that kinda thing?”

“What, scary stuff?”

He nods, takes the copy of Carrie from your hands, and flips it over. “Yeah. Ain’t we got enough horror out there already?”

You roll your eyes dramatically. “It’s not the same,” you explain. You flick the corner of the book in his hands and go back to browsing the shelves. “ This you can turn off,” you try to explain. “If you get too scared you can just close the book. Have you ever read anything scary before?”

Joel shakes his head. “Not really.”

“Try it one day,” you say. “The best time is in October, though. Under the sheets with a flashlight, scared out of your mind. It’s so good, Mr. Miller.”

His jaw feathers as if there’s something he wants to say. But the words never pass his lips. He simply slips the book into your pack and remains silent as he watches you.

It takes a while, but eventually, you’re satisfied with your haul. The day is still early, and so you say, “If we head back now we could save some time. Get home before dark tomorrow.”

To your surprise, he agrees with you. The extra weight of the books has you feeling sluggish an hour into your journey back home, but you persist. And even though it’s significantly less hot today than yesterday, at least once an hour Joel’s passing you his plastic bottle and urging you to drink water.

It’s a sweet gesture, in truth. Joel’s got this innate instinct to provide for others, you know. You’ve seen it a hundred times, the way he just silently takes care of the people he cares about. Ellie, Tommy, Maria, you. You’ve observed him for long enough to know that he’s a protector, a nurturer.

The only problem with Joel taking care of you is how much you like it. It makes you feel soft and gooey on the inside, producing sordid images in your brain of repaying the favor on your knees. You think about Joel’s big hands on you often—in your dreams, even.

But…today is different because you can feel the weight of the magazine at the bottom of your pack. You can’t shake the image of the woman on the cover and that metal through her breasts, can’t get over how elegant and edgy and bewitching she looked. You begin to wonder how it would feel to have Joel touch you if you had the same body modification—would his calloused hands feel more intense, sensations heightened with the sensitivity? Would he be gentle and slow-moving? How soft would his tongue feel against your skin over the adornment?

He seems to sense your distracted thoughts. “You okay? Seem quiet.”

“Fine,” you answer a little too quickly. “I’m just…just hot is all.”

Joel reaches behind him for his water bottle again but you shake your head.

“No, no. Not like…not like that.”

“Oh.” He clears his throat, and you can feel his eyes on the side of your face but you don’t have the energy to tease him about it. Not when you can’t stop thinking about his fucking hands. “Let's, uhm…let’s find someplace to rest for the night. Sun’s startin’ to set anyhow.”

“Yeah, that’ll be good.” As long as you stay six feet away from him. As long as you can keep your godforsaken hands to yourself. As long as he doesn’t look at you too long or ask too many questions or grunt an answer.

You find yourself praying, hoping to keep yourself from any further embarrassment, hoping to fight off that ache that seems to have made a home inside your belly. You cross your fingers at your sides and hope God’s got a private channel open for young girls with an insatiable desire for rugged, older men.

It feels like divine interference when you crest the hill of the street you're walking on to discover a run-down tattoo parlor. It still stands in perfect condition apart from the crumbling siding. Windows dirty but intact, door closed and stagnant.

A distraction will work.

And it looks sturdy enough to rest for the night. You know Joel will circle it a hundred times before he’s satisfied, but you think eventually he will be satisfied with it. “Didn’t people do piercings at tattoo shops, too?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, they did. At most of them, anyway.”

The thought seems to cross Joel’s mind the second you look at him. “Do you think I could…?”

“Maybe. Let’s see.”

You follow behind him as he approaches the building. He uses his knife to wedge the door open, and the two of you wait and listen for any approaching sound.

There’s nothing, though. Nothing but stale, empty air, and a whole lot of dust. You stick by his side for the first two rounds of inspection, as is your routine. But when he goes back in for a third, you decide to take a look around yourself.

In the front of the parlor, there’s a big, circular desk that sits atop the black and white tiles on the floor. The walls are painted maroon, and there’s a neon yellow leather couch near the door. You can only assume it’s where people would sit to wait, but the leather is smooth beneath your fingers even after all this time sitting unoccupied.

There are six smaller rooms behind the desk, each set up similarly with a blackout curtain and a medical-looking chair in the very center. In one of the rooms, there’s a binder flipped open, and as you begin to turn the pages you realize it’s an art portfolio.

For a moment, you wonder about the person who’d drawn all of these designs. How old were they when they drew them? Did they have tattoos themselves? Are they still alive, out there somewhere still creating art?

People in Jackson still get tattoos, you know. But not as often as you think it might have been before the outbreak. You trail your fingers lightly over the next page. It’s an image of a glass half-filled with amber liquid, some sloshing out of the side. Below it, the words Tennessee Whiskey are written in cursive.

“Should be good.” His voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. When you turn to face him, Joel’s got his rifle slung over one shoulder and he’s leaning against the doorframe, curtain pushed to the side. “Help me barricade the door?”

The two of you spend the next ten minutes moving furniture around the parlor, setting it all in front of the entrance. It’ll be harder to leave in the morning, you know. But you know, too, that a barricade like this means that Joel’s feeling too exhausted to spend another night pacing and you’re happy to give him the assurance of safety he needs.

When you’re done, he spreads out on the leather couch and you put your pack beside his. “Joel?”

He turns just his head to look at you.

You sift through the books in your pack and reach towards the bottom, pulling out the magazine that’s plagued your every waking thought. “I’m going to pierce my nipples, I think.”

For several seconds, he doesn’t say a word in response. He just swallows hard and when his eyes leave yours, trailing down your neck, he squeezes them closed before they reach your chest. But you know, you know, even without any words, that he’s thinking about it. That he’s thinking about you, forgetting his morals for a single second.

It isn’t until you stand to your feet and start towards the closed-off rooms, magazine in hand, that he finally speaks up.

“Be careful,” he says. “I don’t want you hurt.”

You smirk at him over your shoulder. “Is that the Mr. Miller version of saying, I care about your tits?”

He snorts incredulously, but a chuckle follows shortly after, erasing all of your earlier embarrassment.

It doesn’t take you long to find the materials you need. In one of the cases you pry open with your knife, you choose two matching silver barbells with dainty, white diamonds on each end. You use a cloth to clean off a tall mirror in one of the rooms, and there’s a bottle of isopropyl alcohol that you use to disinfect both a steel surgical tray and your hands.

You discard your shirt and bra, laying them in the chair in the middle of the room, and flip the magazine open to further observe the woman in the image. Thankfully, you find a drawer full of individually packaged needles and take out several just in case.

Sterilizing your hands with the alcohol again, you align the jewelry over your nipple, inspecting the placement and maneuvering it until you’re satisfied. You rip open one of the packaged needles with your teeth and sterilize it too for good measure.

Carefully, you orient the needle just right, inhale until your lungs ache, and when you exhale—

“God fucking dammit!”

You can hear his footsteps before the sound of his rifle, and then comes his voice. “You alright? What happened?”

Your exhale is somehow shakier than your hands. “I’m okay, Joel,” you say quickly. You knew it was going to hurt, you’re literally piercing a needle through your flesh. But you didn’t expect it to be so excruciating. It stings even now with the needle pushed through, completely still.

He stands in the doorway, rifle lowered and pointed at the ground. Through the reflection of the mirror, you can see him glance around the room, looking at everything but you. “Are you sure? Maybe you shouldn’t. This could be dangerous, you can wait until we’re back home and—”

“And have someone else pierce my nipples? Yeah, Joel, I’m good on all that.” You pick the jewelry up, sterilize it again, and breathe slowly as you push it through. This part, while uncomfortable, is a world easier than the piercing itself.

You twist on the tiny diamond ball at the end of the barbell and admire your work. It’s perfectly straight, much to your surprise. And though it’s just a small change, it makes you feel as entrancing as the woman in the magazine.

There’s no blood, which you take as a good sign. And as the seconds tick by the pain subsides and is replaced with a dull throbbing instead. It hurts, but it’s bearable. The only problem is that as you try to line up the second needle, your hands tremble too much to keep it straight.

Even though you try to take deep breaths, try to shake the tremors from your hand, nothing works. And you can’t just have one, can’t just leave this task unfinished, and so you gather your courage and turn fully towards him. “Joel? I need your help.”

You’ve never seen him quite like this, you think. There’s no flush to his face, no chagrin or hesitance or resistance. All of his morality seems to be replaced with a dark desire, a need unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

Immediately you know this is the Joel Miller he’s tried so hard to hide from you. Only glimpses of this terrifying man have slipped through the facade, each one smothered quickly by restraint.

Yet here he stands, hungry eyes swallowing you up, tracing the outline of the jewelry without remorse.

“I can’t…my hands are shaky. I need you to do the other one.”

His hands twitch at his sides. And even though you now know he longs to touch you just as much as you want to touch him, his words tell an entirely different story. “I shouldn’t,” he says. “It’s not…it’s not right. Shouldn’t even be seein’ you like this. Too…too young. Too sweet.”

The southern accent in his voice is thicker now than you’ve ever heard it. Deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine. “Please, Mr. Miller.”

His eyes snap up to meet yours. He pins you with that intense stare of his and you suddenly can’t move, can’t breathe. Flickering flames gather low in your belly.

“I promise I won’t try anything. I’ll just stand here. I just need you to…to push the needle through. That’s all.”

It takes him a second, but he nods. “Alright…alright. I, uhm…okay. Yeah.” He nears you slowly and you feel crowded. You can smell the salt and sweat of his skin, can feel that warmth even though he doesn’t yet touch you.

You pour the alcohol over his hands and hand him another packaged needle. “Here,” you say. “Just do it as straight as you can, and once the needle’s in I can do the rest.”

Joel peels apart the packaging and takes the needle between his fingers. He discards the plastic and you can hear each of his ragged breaths echo in your ears. Slowly, experimentally, he reaches out and presses his fingertips just below your ribcage and it makes you moan.

He pulls away immediately as if he’d been burned by your skin. “You said you wouldn’t—”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. Hold on.” You try again to catch your breath to no avail. “Let me close my eyes. I’m sorry.”

Joel nods, jaw feathering as he clenches his teeth. But you do as you say, closing your eyes and trying to convince yourself it’s not Joel touching you. It’s someone else. The same person who drew everything in that portfolio.

But when he does touch you again, his hands are warm and calloused and big and familiar. You know it’s Joel. Your Joel. The brooding man of few words. The too-good man who cares about you, who lets you sleep even though he never does, who gives you his water to guarantee you stay hydrated.

His hand moves upwards, palm pressed flat against your ribcage. It stops just below your breast as if he’s feeling the weight of it in his hand and you wonder if he can feel the hammering of your heart behind your sternum, too.

You don’t have time to think about it for long, though. Because his thumb slides across your nipple, hardening it into a peak, and all you can think about is the fact that he’s touching you. He’s touching you and you want more, want to feel him on every inch of your skin.

This time you’re able to hold back your moan, but only barely. It’s more like a whimper that gets caught in your throat instead. But he doesn’t pull away, and soon his other hand joins in. “Should I…uhm,” he clears his throat. “Should I count, or…?”

You shake your head. “No, no. Just…just do it. Please.” The words are desperate for a whole new reason. Your hands tremble even more at your sides.

The biting cold of the steel reaches you before you feel the pain. You try to breathe through it but the second one is somehow even worse and obscenities fall from your lips at the agony. It hurts so badly that you don’t even register as Joel slides the jewelry through and screws the diamond onto the barbell.

Ultimately, it’s his voice that cuts through the fog.

“Hey, hey. Shh. Hey, c’mon. Finished. Look at me, pretty girl. Open your eyes.” You do because that thick, southern drawl is more enticing than anything you’ve ever heard. You’d follow it anywhere, you think. Do anything it asks. “There you go. Atta girl.”

His words make your mouth water. You want to taste them. Joel’s hands are still on you, holding your hips, pressing into the exposed flesh. It’s all you can think about until he turns you away from him, forcing you to look into the mirror on the wall. “Oh my God.”

It surprises you a little just how much you love them. It makes you look powerful, like you are the one who belongs in a magazine.

“They’re perfect, Joel.”

“Did it hurt too bad?”

The question is so insane that it makes you laugh. “Are you kidding? It was awful. I don’t even know what to compare it to to try and explain it.”

He laughs too, a deep, throaty chuckle that brings a smile to your face. “Well, you have my sincere apologies, little lady.”

When you turn back to face him, you ask, “What do you think? Do they look good?”

You know you said you wouldn’t torture him, but the look on his face is so sweet that you can’t resist. “They’re real pretty,” he says. “They, uh…they suit you.”

“Think so?” You look up at him through your lashes, trying your damndest to look as desperate for him as you are. “Hurts a little,” you tell him, pressing your thumb gently over the center of your nipple, the one you’d pierced on your own. “Right here.”

He sees right through your false pretenses. You watch him swallow, watch his eyes darken. “Careful, little girl,” he warns, voice low and gravelly.

The name makes you squirm beneath his catastrophic gaze, thighs pressing together. He catches the movement—and you realize you want to be anything but careful with this terrifying, powerful man. Of course, you don’t heed his warning. “Might help if you kiss it better, you know.”

“S’that right?” You nod and a sinful smirk pulls at the corners of his full lips. He leans down and you can feel the scruff of his beard brushing the side of your face. Against your ear, he whispers, “You don’t know what you’re askin’ for, sweetheart.”

You know you shouldn’t. You know it, and yet you can’t fucking resist. You’ve never been able to resist him. “Then show me.”

And just like that, his resolve withers. The cord snaps and the good Joel you know vanishes into thin air, leaving nothing but this hungry, desperate man behind. He grabs your waist and hauls you up against him, legs wrapping around his hips on instinct.

Your chest presses against his but the pressure is bliss, fighting off both the ache in your breasts and the one between your legs. He swipes everything off the metal table in the corner. Alcohol and needles and portfolio all crashing to the floor.

Joel sets you atop it and his mouth hovers an inch above yours, breath fanning across your cheeks. “Last chance, little girl,” he says.

He’s giving you an out, you realize. One last opportunity to escape him. You lean up and press your lips tenderly to his instead.

It’s answer enough for him.

Joel’s mouth moves greedily against yours. One hand rests against the small of your back, pressing you against him, and the other holds the nape of your neck. His tongue slips into your mouth. He tastes like honey and whiskey and sunlight. You could drown in it, you think. But Joel doesn’t linger for long.

He trails open mouthed kisses down your neck, your chest—-and when he flicks his soft tongue across your nipple, your back arches and you forget how to breathe.

“Joel,” you say, voice needy and desperate. “Touch me. Please touch me.”

His hands flex against your skin, still holding himself back. You don't understand—can’t he feel how much you want it? Can’t he see it on your face, in your eyes? “I want to,” he admits.

You grind your hips against his and the sensation of the bulge in his jeans against your center has you shaking. “What’s stopping you?”

A self-deprecating laugh bubbles out of his throat. He presses his forehead against yours, kisses the tip of your nose gently. “You make me crazy, pretty girl.” His hand comes around your throat, cradling your face. With the rough pad of his thumb, he traces the outline of your lips and says, “You make me feel like I’m eighteen again.” His hand travels lower, down your neck, knuckles dragging between your breasts. “Like I’m some little boy who gets a hard-on over a bra strap.” Lower, down your belly, between your ribs. “Or these fuckin’ shorts, baby.”

Everything aches for him. Every cell in your body has been lit aflame beneath his touch, longing to feel his hands, his tongue, to feel all of him. “Joel,” you say. “Please.”

He kisses a trail that follows the path of his hand, but this time he stalls at your breasts. “Sound so fuckin’ pretty when you beg,” he mutters against your skin. And then he’s kissing and sucking and biting marks into the softness of your breast, leaving proof that he was here, evidence of his affection. “If I touch you, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

“I want you to,” you say. “ I think about it all the time.” Your head falls back, hips rolling against his, seeking out any sort of friction you can find. “God—I dream about it. I want you inside me.”

His eyes darken as he looks up at you.

A man of few words. This time it’s him who reaches for the metallic button. He pops it open in one smooth movement, tongue lapping over the metal barbell through your nipple. You can feel each pass over the sensitive flesh down to your toes.

He wriggles his hand into your shorts, deft fingers finding your clit easily. You let out a lewd moan at the commanding way he just takes —as if he’s right where he’s always supposed to be. Right where you want him, right where you’ve needed him for all these years.

Joel kisses a path across your sternum, mouth giving the same tender care to the opposite breast. He slides his fingers through your wetness, gathering your slick and using it to circle your clit. “M’gonna take care of her, sweetheart,” he says. “Gonna make her feel real good, s’that alright with you?”

His words are filthy and obscene and you love it. You’re nodding quickly and saying, “Yes, Joel, yes.”

A cold shiver passes through you as he rises back to his full height, towering over you when he takes a step back. “Let’s get these off,” he says. Joel helps you shimmy both your shorts and your panties down your legs until you’re sitting there in front of him completely naked. He’s still completely dressed and it makes you feel small and minuscule beneath the weight of his predatory stare.

He places both hands on your thighs and pushes them apart, spreading you open. And then he drops to his knees and lazily strokes his fingers through your wet heat. You can feel the chill of his breath against your clit and your fingers find the outgrown tendrils of dark hair on instinct, trying to pull him closer, wiggling your hips to the very edge of the table.

“Needy girl, hm?” He laughs softly. It’s not malicious but rather adoring, and you wonder how it is that someone so strong and authoritative can make you feel powerful and cherished in the same breath. “S’okay. I’ve got ya.”

And then his tongue is on you and it feels like heaven. So much better than you’d ever imagined, ever dreamed. His scruff scratches at the inside of your thighs as he slides his tongue through your pussy. Joel groans against you like this is more for him, and the vibration of the sound pulls staccato moans from your mouth.

He slips two fingers into you easily, encountering no resistance. You’re too wet, too eager to have him inside you. You whimper his name as he sucks your clit into his mouth, hands pulling tight in his hair. It feels so good it’s almost too much—but he seems to know what you can take more than you do.

Joel looks up at you from between your thighs and you can see the palpable hunger on his face. You think maybe he’s wanted this for longer than you, maybe he’s somehow been even more starved for this than you once thought.

You can feel your orgasm creep down your spine, inferno building and building, settling low in your belly. You try to tell him, to warn him—but then he hooks his fingers inside of you, pressing against that sweet spot and—

“Oh, God—God, fuck—Joel, I—!”

“S’alright, baby, go’head. Cum for me, oh—yeah, that’s it. There you go, sweetheart.” His voice is so gentle, a stark contrast to the assertive way he moves his hands, pulling from you everything your body can give. The southern accent is thick as he talks you through it. “Feels so much better now, huh? Y’look so fuckin’ pretty like this, baby. So pretty when you’re all full’a me.”

Your thighs tremble even as you begin to come down, trying to catch your breath, holding onto his arms to ground yourself as he stands back to his feet, thick cords of muscle sturdy beneath your shaking hands. And he’s right—it does feel better now, but as he eases his fingers out of you and you watch him lick them clean, your pussy clenches at the sight. It’s better, it is… but when it comes to good and moral Joel Miller you are insatiable.

A deep, rumbling groan reverberates in his chest when you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him towards you. Your slick stains the bulge in his jeans, darkening the denim material. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, big hands running slowly up and down your smooth thighs. “Shouldn’t be doin’ this…shouldn’t be takin’ advantage of you. Such a little thing, don’t know what you want.”

The answer comes quickly. “You, Joel. I want you.”

You reach for his belt and he watches your nimble fingers undo it, pulling the leather through the metal fastening. He hisses when you reach into his jeans and pull him out.

He’s bigger than you thought, and wrapping your hand around him completely is a troubling task. You’re not sure he’ll even fit but it makes your mouth water, makes your swollen clit pulse with need. “Please.”

“I can’t, baby. Believe me, I want it, too, but I…you’re too good for me. Too—” He stops when you slide the head of his cock through your pussy, coating him in your slick. You watch the movement together and this time it’s Joel’s hands that shake. He curses under his breath, admiring the way he fits so perfectly.

“Just a little?” Your own voice is hardly recognizable in your own ears, needy and deprived. You slide his cock back up towards your clit and it catches at your entrance. You both gasp in tandem. You love Joel and all his goodness but right now you want the worst of him. You want all of him.

He nods and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Okay…okay,” he says to himself. “Just a little. You sure? You’re positive you want—?”

You line him up and shift your hips forward, words fading into nothingness. It’s just a little like you promised, but the stretch is so delicious you find yourself wanting more. More, always more—you think you could die without it.

Joel pushes in further, a little less than halfway, and then pulls out slowly. He groans and you feel like crying. His cock is covered in your wetness and when he pushes back in you think this just might be enough to make you cum a second time.

It’s filthy and obscene and you love it. You love him. He reaches down and circles your clit with his thumb, fucking you slowly, eyes locked on the place you’re joined. “You’re so big,” you whimper.

You can feel the tension in his shoulders and you do your damnedest to smooth it out with small, massaging motions. He touches you just right but you want it to feel good for him, too.

That heat of an orgasm begins to build again. A low, incessant thrum between your hips.

“I have to,” he mutters so softly you hardly hear him the first time. “I have to, baby. I’ve gotta feel you. I’ve gotta…” And then he eases his cock into you to the hilt without any warning, filling you so full it hurts. The invasion stings but your body adjusts quickly, making room for him in the same way your heart has. His head falls to the crook of your neck and you can feel him shudder as he breathes the word fuck into your skin.

“Oh my God—it’s too much, too much—!”

“You can take it, baby. C’mon, spread your legs wider. I know s’alot,” he praises, circling your clit a little faster now. Your slick drips down your thighs, into the dark hair between his hips. “You got it, sweetheart. See? There you go.”

He pulls out just to sink into you again. This time there’s less pain and more divinity and your nails dig into his shoulder through his flannel as you adjust to the size of him.

Joel uses his free hand to tilt your chin up, pressing his mouth to yours and kissing you deep. He sets an unrelenting pace, hips grinding against yours with each thrust. It’s so much and you’re so full of him in all the best ways. When you moan into his mouth you can feel his lips turn up at the corners, a predatory grin saved just for you.

The sounds are filthy and echo in the room, an obscene symphony of devotion. You’d let him do anything right now—anything.

He picks up the pace, hips snapping against yours. All you can think about is how right this feels, how you were made for him, how well he fits inside you.

A low grunt filters through his teeth and he says, “Fuck, baby. You look so pretty. How’s it feel? Tell me. Use your words.”

“S’good,” you whimper in response. Your brain is mush and your thighs become a vise around his waist, pulling him in impossibly deeper. “So good, Joel, don’t stop. Please don’t stop, I’m—I’m close.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum again already, hm?” He pushes his palm against your belly, thumb still gently stroking your clit. And the pressure of it feels so intense you let out a whine of bliss. “Yeah, you are,” he whispers. “Can feel her squeezin’ me. S’alright, baby. Wanna feel it.”

His words send you tumbling over the edge of bliss, and he fucks you through it. Stars blind your vision and your ears fill with static. But you can hear Joel though, can hear him and feel him deep inside you through it all.

“Ohh, that’s it. Good fuckin’ girl. Pretty little thing’s just fuckin’ dripping all over me, feels so good. You feel so good.”

Before you even realize what’s happening, his rhythm falters. You can feel his cock pulse inside of you as Joel falls off the precipice. His head rolls back and the muscles in his forearms flex around the prominent veins. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, and you know you’ll never see anything as beautiful as this big, powerful man weak for you.

He’s panting when he slowly pulls out of you with a hiss. Sweat dots his hairline and that flush on his neck certainly seems like it’s staying for a little while longer. He’s beautiful, you think. Crafted by the hands of God himself, made with imperfect grace.

When he looks up at you he smiles in the way he always does, like the two of you share a secret. And maybe now you do. A sinful, dirty secret that’s all yours. You laugh softly and he mirrors the sound, helping you back to your feet.

You hold his shoulders for balance as he helps you back into your shorts. And when he hands you your bra and t-shirt, you’re starkly reminded of the dull throb in your breasts and think better of it before putting them on. “I think they might be too tight. I’ll look around and see if I can…”

Before you finish the sentence, he’s unbuttoning his red flannel and tossing it to you. He wears a light brown tshirt underneath, the arms just a little too tight on his biceps. He looks so good that you want to take him between your legs again even with the sweet ache that lingers. “Here,” he says. “Take this.”

You do. He helps you with the buttons and it’s too big but gives your new body modifications room to breathe and heal. You ask him how it looks.

“Better on you,” is his short response.

When you begin to fall asleep on the yellow leather couch later that night, all wrapped up in his arms, Joel presses his lips to your forehead and says, “When we get home, I wanna read that book of yours. Carrie, was it?”

You shift at his side, turning your head up to look at him. “You’re not gonna wait till October, like I said?”

Joel shakes his head. “You got any idea how old I am, girl? I’ve got no time for waitin’ till October.” He’s quiet for several seconds. And then his voice is nothing but a whisper as he says, “No time waitin’ on this to be right in the eyes of others, either.”

And you can feel the heat behind his words, can almost hear the unspoken meaning. No time for waiting until you’re older, no time for waiting until the perfect moment. Your mouth pulls into a wide grin. “Are you asking to go steady with me, Mr. Miller?”

With a scoff, he runs his hand playfully down your face and shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he says.

When he kisses you, you make a promise against his lips. “I’m yours, Joel.”

He doesn’t say much in the way of a reply, your big man of few words. But he pulls you closer, holds you tighter.

It’s more than enough.

#joel miller #ao3 fanfic #pearlessance #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #ao3 writer #joel tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou #joel miller self insert #smut #fanfic #tlou fanfiction #fluff #jackson era joel

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littlemiss-yeehaw · 11 months ago

Text

You're Gonna Be Quiet

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: It's just an undercover mission, anyone could be married for one night - even you two.

Warnings: profanity, flirting, yucky old men, suggestive content (?), possessive Bucky <3

MINORS PLS DNI

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: y'all.... im not an author. im an artist, not an author, so PLS go into this with that knowledge. but I have been convinced, no, coerced into posting this little funsy by @ellemj

she threatened to withhold vacation pictures from me as if I didn't draw her bucky barnes dick earlier today and I'll be damned

anyways,, please enjoy and manage your expectations :,)

“Okay, rumor has it the target, Mr. Beaumont, has a thing for married women,” Sam says casually as he holds a ring between his thumb and forefinger, “so for this mission, you get to be Mrs. Barnes.”

He tosses the ring in your direction and you catch it with a sour expression. You slip the rock on your finger and admire it, your scowl slipping just a moment as you watch how it catches the sun. That is until you see Bucky with an equally foul look on his face. Suddenly, your frown reappears.

“Sam, I feel like there is certainly someone better suited for this than me,” you grumble as you put your hand down and look back up at him, “I mean, aren’t these undercover missions more of a Natasha thing?”

Sam rolls his eyes before turning to face you, a hand on his hip. You were in for a scolding. “Natasha has her own mission. So today, you get to be Mrs. Hart. And you,” he turns to Bucky with a smug expression, “will be Mr. Hart. Any questions? No? Good, you two lovebirds go get your outfits on.”

You turn quickly, but not quick enough to miss the death stare Bucky shoots Sam. This one seems even more lethal than his typical one.

~~~

The ride to the gala is silent. Bucky is always silent, but this silence seems more… suffocating. You fiddle with the ring on your finger before glancing over at him. “Are you planning to even look at me before we get there? I mean, we’re supposed to be a marri-”

“You’re supposed to be a woman in an unhappy marriage who's looking to fuck a billionaire,” he says bluntly, not even turning towards you, “I’m just making sure that you look plenty unhappy.”

He would never admit out loud that the real reason he won’t spare you a second glance is because the first glimpse of you dolled up sent almost all the blood in his rational mind straight to his cock. He needs to preserve what little sense he has left.

~~~

You get out of the car with a huff. Just as Bucky intended, you look unhappy and thoroughly irritated. You pull the hem of your little black dress down in an attempt to recover some of your dignity, but all Bucky notices is how the little tug causes your breasts to be even more apparent. Yep, there went the rest of the blood.

He sighs and grabs your hand before plastering a fake smile onto his lips. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

You sigh and forget anymore yanking on your dress, looking up at him with a grim expression. “Let's,” you mutter under your breath before letting him lead you into the gala.

As expected, the event is extravagant and no doubt costly. You feel out of place, and you can’t help the way you move a little further into your ‘husband’s side. You let a breath of air past your lips as you look around the room for your target. Nowhere to be seen, you nearly move further into the room before Bucky squeezes your hand gently and nods to his left. You’re quick to ignore the flutter of butterflies that his touch sends shooting through you and casually look where he’s pointed. Surely enough, at the bar, sits a piggish man nursing a flute of champagne. Your eyes find Buckys and you shoot him a look before you drop his hand and make your way over.

You take a seat a few bar stools down from the man, making sure to fail at getting the bartender's attention. “Sir? Sir, could I-” You drop your hand with a sigh, feigning a disheartened expression.

“Sir, this lady would like a drink,” like a mouse in a trap, Mr. Beaumont waves him down for you and orders you a drink, “you look like you’d drink something fruity, a little thing like you. Maybe a sex on the beach?”

You wish you’d missed the way his lips pulled up in a foul grin and the way his eyebrow raised ever so slightly, and you really wish you hadn’t seen his greedy eyes rake over your body. Nonetheless, a soft laugh and a bat of your lashes grace him instead of the scowl that wants to pull at your lips.

“I’ve never had one before,” you say with a saccharine smile, “maybe we could share.”

You notice how his eyes nearly bug out of his head and then slowly trail to your hand. He slides his fingers, not dissimilar to link sausages, down to your left hand where he trails a thumb over your ring. “Are you sure your husband wouldn’t mind,” he asks with that same vile grin, moving his hand to rest on your knee.

“Not particularly, but I’m sure I don’t care,” you whisper teasingly, leaning forward and showing off your tits that practically beg to fall from your dress. ‘Hook, line, and sinker’ you think as the man runs a heavy hand up the side of your leg and his eyes trail down your neck to your cleavage.

Trembling anger washes over Bucky as he watches the man practically feel you up in the middle of the bar. The beads of perspiration running down the target's neck and the way he keeps nervously licking his lips give Bucky all the indication he needs to know this man thinks you’re his. Then Bucky turns to look at you. You. You’re just letting the man have his way, no, you’re encouraging it. Yes, it’s the mission. And, no, Bucky has no reason to feel such vile hatred for the target in any sense other than the professional one. But for some reason, he finds himself wanting to dismember any part of the man that graces your body where he hasn’t yet.

Yet?

Yet.

~~~

“Who’s this, darling?”

You bristle as you feel a breath of air pass your ear before the deep timbre of Bucky's voice even registers in your mind. You whip around to look at him, an expression of anger and bewilderment replacing the flirtatious grin you were just donning. You look back to the target, trying to mask your surprise.

“Honey,” you manage to say through gritted teeth, “I didn’t even see you come over.”

You pull your hands from the target's grasp, nearly cringing at the moist feeling left behind on your skin. You feel Bucky’s firm hold replace Mr. Beaumont’s slimy touch, and your body reacts all too positively. You lean back hardly at all, but it’s enough to feel his chest rigid against you. Was he standing too close or were you too eager? There was no way to be sure, but one thing you could be sure of was the fact that neither of you shied from the contact.

“Hmm,” he hummed lowly, a disapproving air oozing from the short sound, “when you never brought our drinks over, I got curious as to where you’d disappeared to.”

His eyes shift from the side of your face to the man across from you, who grows increasingly uneasy at the sight of your tall and broad ‘husband’. Bucky leans down close, so close that his lips brush against the curve of your ear and you hope he can’t hear your blood rushing in your head.

“I’ll ask again, who is this?”

You’re not sure if it's what he says, or the way he says it, but his words send a wave of arousal through your body. Suddenly, the too-tiny dress feels too hot and you’ve nearly forgotten his question. That is until he quirks an eyebrow and tilts his head expectantly. You clear your throat and look back to a flustered target, presumably intimidated by your colleague.

“This,” you reply before turning back to the sweaty man, “is Mr. Beaumont. He owns a software company and..”

You turn to the target, a ditsy smile on your lips as you try to recover your role, “what else did you do? I forget.”

He laughs nervously, shifting on his bar stool to make himself appear taller. Still pitiful in comparison to the man currently staring daggers at him over your shoulder. “I develop software and coding for various companies and organizations to use where they deem fit.”

Another low hum sounds from Bucky’s throat as he lifts his head from your ear, he meets Mr. Beaumont's eyes and sighs.

“Very impressive, Mr. B,” he says condescendingly. You frown, peeking over at him. What is he doing? This was not a part of the plan, “so you must be a smart man?”

The man in question smiles smugly and nods. “I’d think so, yes.”

“Well then, pray tell, why have you been feeling up my wife,” he asks coolly, Bucky’s turn to look smug. You, on the other hand, whip around to stare at him with an irate expression. He looks down at you with a matching frown, hardly able to mask his irritation, “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll handle you later.”

You’d like to think you were subtle in your shock, in the way his words leave you flustered. You had no idea Bucky could smell the wave of arousal that flooded your panties, or that he could hear the beat of your heart like a snare drum. Neither of you even noticed the target’s pitiful stuttering, too caught up in the most sexually charged staring contest ever.

~~~

“What the fuck, Barnes,” you hiss quietly, walking ahead of him to the car with steam practically flooding out of your ears, “I mean, what the actual fuck!”

You don’t wait for him to catch up before you get into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind you. You didn’t care for appearances, your mission having been sabotaged by your own partner. What appearances did you have left to keep up?

He gets into the driver's seat a few moments later, pulling his gloves off with a sigh before running his flesh hand over his face.

“Are you done?”

“No,” you snap, turning to face him, “I’m not. You have the audacity to call me reckless, but you go and pull a stunt like that? I had it under control.” Your cheeks are red with irritation and your hair is a mess from you running your fingers through it, but he’s too caught up with thinking what else would have you looking so flushed.

“If you’d just shut up and listen-” he starts, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“I was getting the intel,” you’re practically ranting now, “and you just had to swoop in. And for what? To be all macho? To fluster me?”

The scowl on his lips that once matched yours turns into a scoff, and you narrow your eyes at him. Why are you looking at his lips? And why can’t you pull your gaze away from them? “What? What now,” you ask with a huff.

“You really need to learn when to stop talking,” he mutters, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he tries to wipe the smug smile from his face, “y’know that?”

You’re startled by his words, the flush on your cheeks no longer caused by his irritating actions but by his shocking words. Your eyes travel over him shamelessly, ready to jeopardize everything just to get rid of the tension that has lingered and grown exponentially over the course of the evening.

“Then why don’t you shut me up,” you ask softly, your tone opposite to the defiant one you’d held only moments ago. Judging by the minuscule way his eyes widen and the way his lips part around a sharp inhale, you’d be safe to guess he’d beat you to the idea.

You aren’t sure who moved forward first, or even if you’d moved at all. All you can be sure of is the feeling of Bucky Barnes kissing you like he’d never have the privilege again.

Your lips move feverishly against his own, the car filled with quiet pants and sloppy smacking. His hands tangle in your hair and he tugs you away from him, his expression turning stern when you whine petulantly. “Did you know you were a fucking brat tonight,” he asks lowly, his stare hard. You swallow thickly, pressing your thighs together to relieve the ache between them.

“I was not,” you rebut, your brows furrowing and your lips turning down in a pout. He didn’t like that.

“You were,” he chides coolly, releasing his grip on your hair and sighing, “especially after we walked back to the car. You never even let me explain why I stopped you.”

You would like to focus on his words, but you’re too worried about the way his metal fingers nimbly undo the buckle of his belt. Silence sweeps over the car, the only sound being your shaky breath and the clank of metal on metal.

“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” he continues, “I’m gonna talk, and you’re gonna listen. Quietly.” You’re salivating as he tugs the zipper of his dress pants down, allowing the tent in his boxers some much-needed reprieve. “You know why you’re gonna be quiet?”

“Why,” you ask in a breathless whisper, only just now meeting his eyes again.

“Because your mouth is gonna be full."

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #mcu #the winter soldier #winter soldier #fanfic #reader insert #smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

Note

Okay, hear me out...

Sy as a mafia boss and reader who owns the coffee shop.

The Olde Bakery

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: mob!Syverson, plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Burly is most appropriate to describe the man. Tall, thick, looming. The door shuts behind him without a care as his eyes skim the small shop. In a town as isolated as Springfort everything is smaller; simpler. You can tell at a glance that this man is neither.

His eyes pass over the specials board and fall on you. More virulent than desolation in a small town is gossip. You’ve heard about the man already, though his appearance still surprises you. A man like him would go to the lawyer’s office and throw his weight around or trash the liquor store, but what business does he have in a cafe. Your cafe.

For as much as you’ve heard about the mysterious and mercurial newcomer, you know better than to ask that. Instead, you recite the usual. The boring daily routines are what make Springfort safe. Or did.

“Hello, what can I get you today?” You ask as he nears the counter. You move to face him over the small till.

There’s not much to the space; enough for you to work. Espresso machine, frother, blender, toaster oven, percolator... the basics and a little more. There’s the display case of your hand-crafted baked goods and not much else. It’s the only place in town beside the diner for locals to sit down, though there are only four tables inside.

The man doesn’t answer. He stares back at you. You can’t read his expressions. His blues fall to your hands as you place them on either side of the till.

He wears a quarter-zip with the tab pulled down. The collar folds over as chest hair peaks out unabashedly. His black cargo pants have a military cut to them and his fingerless gloves are a final peculiar accessory. He sports a thick beard but a shaved scalp, and his blunt brows give him a naturally angry affect.

“Sir? We have a new butterscotch mocha as today’s special,” you suggest.

“You.” He speaks at last.

You blink and hold your calm smile. You try to process his question. You point to your name tag an introduce yourself.

“No, you asked me what you can get me.”

You nod but don’t understand.

“I can help you, sir. Sure. What would you like?”

He looks you up and down and plants his hands on the counter. As he does that, you pull yours offer and fold them over your apron. He leans in and licks his lips.

“I would like...” he gives a crooked grin, “you.”

“I...” You open your mouth dumbly. “I don’t...” your voice is brittle. Your throat tightens and you choke on a disbelieving laugh.

“You laughing at me?” He challenges.

You gulp and snap your mouth shut, “no, sir. Sorry, I’m just... confused.”

“What’s confusing?” He bends until he’s leaning on his elbows and twines his fingers together. His knuckles bulge and whiten. You lean back on your heel, resisting the urge to flee.

“I don’t know,” you murmur. The look in his eyes fills you with icy fear.

“So, I put my order in...” he drawls.

“Um. I can’t... I... this is my...” you sputter and recall Sonia’s recount of Osborne and Meyers sacking. The older law partner ended up in emerge though his exact malady varied according the source. “I own the cafe so--”

“You go on and lock that door,” he says. “Since you’re the boss, you can take a break, can’t ya?” You sway on your feet and stare back at him. He untangles his fingers and brings a hand up to pull at a tuft of his beard. “I don’t know, I was told the service here was speedy.” He sucks his teeth. “But you’re here dragging your feet, wasting my time.”

You wince and take a cautious step back. He watches you, unmoving, though you brace yourself for him to lunge. You slowly come out around the counter and cross to the door. You twist the lock and flip the sign.

His footsteps scuff as he grunts into a long groan. You face him reluctantly as he drags one of the chairs from the table and puts it in front of the counter. His attention hangs on the seat as he considers it. You stand where you are, frightened.

“Come here,” he beckons with two fingers, his other hand on the back of the chair.

You approach and stop a foot away. He tilts his head to look at you. The gleam in his irises swells over you like frigid water. He lets go of the chair and turns to you fully. He steps closer and you wince as he reaches for you.

He loops his arms around you and tugs at the knot of the apron. It slackens and he brings his hands up to unhook the strap from around your neck. He pulls it away and drops it on the floor.

“Sir, I... what did I do?”

“Chh, chh, chh,” he tuts between his teeth.

You seal your lips and peer up at him. Your eyes meet again. He brings his large hands to cradle your face and tilts your head. He gives you an appraising look over.

“You just worry about what you need to do, sweetheart,” he growls.

His hands drift down to the top of your blouse. You shiver as he plucks open the buttons one at a time. As he does, gritty noises rise in his throat. He pushes the fabric away from your shoulders and down your arms. The blouse falls to your feet.

You turn your head away as he tugs at the knotted belt of your high-waisted pants. He unties it and stretches the elastic waistband, guiding it past your hips. You sniff as you focus on staying upright. Your pants pool at your feet, heaping over your round-toed flats.

You gasp as he cups your chest with his large hands. Your nipples harden and poke him through your bra. He purrs and gropes you harder. You shudder and waver with his force. He lifts your tits, jiggling them, and pushes them together.

“I was told you sell sweets,” he says, “but I wasn’t expecting these.”

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #sand castle #drabble

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bengals-barnesbabe · 7 months ago

Text

Coach Burrow

Pairing: Dad!Joe Burrow x Nurse!WifeReader

Description: Joe gets offered his favorite job yet!

Warnings: Fluffy, but suggestive towards the end ;)

Word Count: 2.4k

Main Masterlist

┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ °

Life after the NFL wasn’t that much different for Joe Burrow. The 4x SuperBowl MVP was practically handed an elite coaching position the second he announced his retirement. So yea, not much is different from when he started all those years ago.

“MOM, where’s dad? We need him ASAP! MOM!” Your 6th grade son, Leo shouted running into the house.

Ok some things are different.

“HEY NO RUNNING IN THE HOUSE! Take your shoes off please.” Rolling your eyes at the boy and his friend as they removed their muddy cleats then continued their rampage. You’d spent the entire afternoon cleaning the house and doing the laundry so when you left for your 13 hour shift tonight you wouldn’t have to worry about your kids not having anything to wear or your husband having to focus on anything but work and your 4 kids. So you were not letting some 11 year olds mess it up.

That's when you realized it was only 4:30, “hey!”

The two middle schoolers stop just before entering the backyard and turn to face you in the kitchen.

“Aren‘t you two supposed to be at practice? Why’d you take the bus?” You ask.

“Our coach was fired!” Chris, Leo’s partner in crime exclaims with a smile.

“Okay, that doesn’t answer the running in my house or the smile on your faces.” Your forehead creases looking at the overly giddy kids.

“We want dad to take his place.” Well that makes sense.

“Ok what makes you think he has time to coach both your team and Ohio State’s?” Joe’s job is flexible, but not that flexible.

“Easy, he goes to work from 9 to 4 and comes home at the same time practice is. So if he was our coach he could change our practice time from 4:30 to 5. BOOM he has time.” They say will full confidence in their plan.

If only he’d put that much effort into his math homework. But you give them credit for putting it together in such a short notice.

You chuckle and wave them off to pitch their idea to your husband of 15 years.

The boys find your husband outside “playing” around with his new grill.

“Dad!” The man turns around confused at his youngest son’s voice.

“Leo, what are you doing home? Chris does your mom know you’re not at practice?” He pulls the lid down on the grill and gives his best ‘dad glare.’

“We came to get you! We need a new coach! And we want it to be you.” They plead.

Joe smirks and crosses his built arms. “Oh yea? Give me one good reason why I should be your coach?”

The boys look at each other a bit panicked, so they discuss it in a little huddle that makes Joe smile.

When they break, Joe puts back on his serious facade.

“Ok dad here’s our offer, if you agree to be our coach, I’ll get all A’s this year.”

The dad’s brows raise in a surprised and impressed way.

Truth is, Joe knew all about their coach’s departure. Over a week ago, the school sent an email to him personally asking if he could fill the position temporarily or even permanently. He said he’d have to check with his family before making any decisions.

Yesterday they decided to inform him that a number of other dads/ supporters had already applied so there’d be a formal try out today at 5.

The boys walked into the house at 4:30 and all he’d been waiting for was his son’s approval.

“You know what bud, I’ll gladly take you up on that offer.” He says shaking his mini-me’s hand. The shake quickly turns into him being ‘dragged’ into the house.

“We gotta go! You need to be there right now.” Joe just shakes his head and grabs his keys.

“I see you didn’t take much convincing.” You give him a knowing look as he walks around the kitchen counter to where you’re seated.

He chuckles, “I may have had some insider knowledge of the situation. But here’s the kicker, he agreed to make all A’s if I tried out.” Your husband smiles widely knowing how hard you’ve been trying to get the 11 year old to take his schooling seriously.

You scrunch your face as he pecks both cheeks before placing a much deeper kiss to your lips that you can’t help but reciprocate.

“Mom… dad that’s gross, we need to go it’s 4:45!” Leo whines causing you to separate from his father.

“Yea go kick butt Shiesty!” You wink as he’s pulled out of the house laughing.

━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━

When the boys get to the field they are surprised by the sight of your 14 year old twins, Malia and Miles, standing by the fence.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite firstborns, what are you doing here?” Joe asked giving them side hugs, the only acts of affection they’ve allowed him to show outside the house.

“I wanted to get burgers, but was dragged here by her.” Miles dead tones.

Malia rolls her eyes. “I came to fill out your application for coach so you’re welcome, please come up with an adequate ‘daughter’s appreciation day’ present to thank me.” She smiles, Joe snorts at teenager.

“Are you sure you’re my daughter because that was all your mother? Thank you for helping out Lia and Miles…” The young boy shrugs. “Exactly. You guys plan on staying until we’re done or do I need to call mom?”

“We’ll stay, I wanna see the looks on the other dads’ faces when they see you.” Miles replies rubbing his hands together.

“I guess I’m staying too.” Malia shrugs.

“Ok then.”

The tryouts had barely already started by the time Joe finally got to the field and just as Miles anticipated, the reactions were priceless.

“Mr. Evans, he’s here!” Leo yells running onto the field. His wild presence causes everyone look in his direction.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“The kid’s dad is Joe Burrow?!”

“I don’t know if I should be honored or scared.”

“We should all just leave now, he has 4 rings.”

Leo’s teacher, Mr. Evans shakes the former quarterback’s hand and welcomes him onto the field.

“Mr. Burrow, it’s good to see you again.”

“Please call me Joe, it’s nice to be able to come out.” He says.

“Of course Joe, you’re right on time too. Would you like to introduce yourself to everyone?”

Joe nodded, “yea of course.” Then turned towards his competitors. “Hey guys I’m Joe, Leo’s dad. I guess I kind of played for a bit, but that’s all behind me now.” He chuckles.

“If played for a bit means leading the best team in LSU history to an undefeated championship then going from ‘the underdog’ of the NFL to a future hall of famer with 4 SuperBowl rings? Than the rest of us haven’t even heard of the game.” Will, Chris’ dad scoffed. Joe patted his long time friend on the back then joined him in line.

“Ok so first we’re going to test your football knowledge then see how well you coach other kids, not your own.” Evans claps his hands and they get to work.

By the end of the first round, half of the applicants have been dismissed and unsurprisingly Joe leads the pack going into the second round.

“You know this isn’t fair right?” Will says in between rounds.

Joe sighs, “you do realize Leo and Chris practically tracked mud through the house just to get me here right?” Then smirks as the other guy rolls his eyes.

“Hey what if we made it fair?”

Will looks at him intrigued, “I’m listening.”

“Split the job, we already know it’s going to come down to us. So what do you say, partners?” Joe suggests.

“Damn Burrow,” Will instantly agrees. “I don’t know how you stay so humble.” He laughs.

Joe just points to his fan club on the bleachers. “Chris is your oldest, so you don’t even know the degree of humility teenagers will teach you but my wife helps also helps with that.”

When the men line back up for the rest of try outs, all of the other guys had already left.

Then Mr. Evans walks up to them. “So, I think it’s pretty clear who’s going to get the position.”

“Actually, we’ve decided to split it.” Will leads, the teacher looks to Joe confused.

“Yup, it would actually work out better if both of us share responsibility. There’s a lot of benefits to having two coaches, plus we’re doing it for free.”

Mr. Evans couldn’t argue against the offer so he just shook their hands.

“Alright Coach Burrow and Coach Williams. Welcome to the Wildcats.”

❀。• *₊ meanwhile at the house °。 ❀°。

“Mommy, I need help...”

You had just finished putting on your scrubs before your 6 year old started crying bloody murder. “What is it my love?”

Walking into her My Little Pony room you scanned every crevice for threats, but only landed on the young girl sitting on her floor with a notebook.

“I don’t know how to do this.”

You melted at the cute pout on her face as she pointed to her math book. “Jazzy, babygirl. Are the fractions giving you a hard time?” She nodded her head, you checked your watch (5:15) and decided to join her on the floor.

“Ok I have some spare time to help you on a few, but when daddy gets home I have to go work okay pretty girl?” She happily nodded and scooched herself into your lap.

For the next 20 minutes you simply watched and fiddled with your daughter’s dark curls as she studied her math. It became very clear within seconds that she just wanted to be with her mother as she didn’t ask any questions about the material.

Being a charge nurse meant your hours were more unpredictable, especially at your hospital. Most nurses worked 12 hour shifts but you were currently understaffed so you took it upon yourself to be a leader and help your team. You usually worked 3 overnight shifts a week, so you could be there when the kids get home from school. Even though you were home more often than not, there are times when your babies need you, so if one of them wanted more time with you there was no way you were going to reject them of that opportunity.

While you and your youngest were cuddled up on the ground in your own little world, Joe and his fan club arrived right on time for dinner.

“I’m starving, why couldn’t we stop for burgers?” Miles groaned throwing his backpack onto the couch.

Joe picked up the bag and put it back in his son’s hands. “Because even though she didn’t have to, your mother cooked before her shift. So you’re going to take your stuff upstairs and get washed up for dinner.” He gave him a pointed look and dismissed the teenager.

“Wow, I can’t wait to deal with that.” Joe shook his head and led his friend to the kitchen.

“You have no idea. I love my kids, but the older they get the more of me I see in them. It would cool when all he wanted to do was throw the football around, but now the stubbornness gene is really coming to bite me in the ass.” He snorted while warming up their dinner.

“How’s he doing with that, has he made varsity yet?” Will asks as the kids make their way downstairs.

“He’s good for a sophomore but not there yet. If he put more of his time into practice instead of chasing cheerleaders he could be better.” He responds just as the boy rounds the corner.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game dad. I got Becky Jackson’s number in third period, nothing’s stopping me now.” He smiles taking his place at the table.

“What happened to Marissa? I thought she was nice.” Joe chuckles as his wife joins the crew.

“You know how he is babe.” You give him a quick kiss wrapping your arms around him.

“Yea mom, he’s for the streets.”

“I am not for the streets! At least I have a date.”

You shake your head and slowly make your rounds. You quickly greet Will, grab your work and dinner bags, kiss the kids and walk with Joe to the front door.

“You’re really going to leave me in this chaos.” He sighs his hands still holding yours.

“I heard my teacher was for the streets.”

“What’s for the streets?”

You smirk against his chest, “oh I think you got this Shiesty, this is nothing compared to your O Line in those early years.”

His hands quickly drop your hands and find your waist. “Ok alright I see how you want this to go.” His voice low against your ear.

“What, I’m simply saying your risks for injury are dramatically lower.” Your arms go around his neck as he backs you into the corner out of your children’s vision, then a hand on your waist moves to grip the meat of your ass. You bite your lip as a low moan muffles against his chest.

“You think you’re funny. If it was just us right now, I’d show your ass what being funny gets you. But when you get back, you’re all mine mama.” He groans nipping your ear then pressing a hungry kiss to your lips. You moan into his soft yet bruising lips, pulling him in further.

“Oh god, Jazmine close your eyes.”

You both sigh as the giggles from your permanent cockblockers acknowledge their existence to you.

“I’m sending them to my parents tomorrow.”

“Do that and we might end up adding to the population.” You chuckle pulling away from your husband, who raises his brows at your comment.

“Don’t tempt me, you know exactly how I like you.” He playfully slaps your behind. “Kids, say goodnight to mom!”

You shake your head at him while being engulfed in hugs. “I love you, I’ll see you when you get home from school.”

“Bye momma..” The chorus sings.

They return to the table and you turn back to a smirking Joe. “See you tomorrow beautiful.” You blush hugging him once more before opening the door.

“Goodnight Coach Burrow, can’t wait practice with you tomorrow.” You wink as his eyes cerulean eyes darken then shut the door.

“Fuck, who said 5 kids was too many.”

━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━

A/N: Looks like a bitch came back to life! My trip was nice but not writing for so long killed me. Can’t wait to see how much gets posted in the next week

Xoxo Babe

Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and treasured ♡

#black reader #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow bengals #nfl imagine #dad!joe burrow #bengals barnesbabe #cincinnati bengals #joey b #fluff #coach burrow #nurse!reader #wife!reader #mom!reader

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charliedawn · 1 year ago

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Heyyy :) glad your back 🖤🖤🖤 I don’t know if your doing requests or not but if you are could you do, how would the slashers flirt with nurse? (Particularly five since he is like a old man I thought that would be funny) no worries if you can’t, I love your work ❣️❣️❣️

Warning: Highly suggestive.

Bo Sinclair :

"Well…Hello there, sugar pie. Ya lookin’ mighty alone. Mind if I change that fer ya ?"

Captain Smooth and Sailing. Bo knows how to be charming and he’d just waltz in with the biggest grin on his face and lean back before shooting you a smouldering gaze.

He knows what he wants and will go to any means to get it. And I mean any…

Bo *sneaking up on you from behind and wrapping his arms around you before giving you a kiss on the shoulder* "…Good mornin’, sunflower…How ya doin’ ? Good ? That’s great…" *whispers in your ear* "Bet I could make it better fer ya though."

He can be smooth, but also filthy. Depends on the day. One day he’ll be whispering sweet nothings into your ear, the next he’ll be slapping your ass and calling it a day.

Pennywise:

Pennywise doesn’t touch. And doesn’t like being touched. His flirtation will be very limited and subtle. It’ll mostly be grins and cackles and mocking huffs…

Pennywise: "Well…Hello there, beautiful. Do you know that your hair is a mess and you look more like an asylum patient than a nurse today ?"

You *roll your eyes and start walking away* "Good morning to you too, Pennywise."

Him *snickers behind you* "Good morning indeed. If I still had to spook children to get my food, I’d certainly take your morning face…That’d do the trick."

Yeah…That’s Pennywise flirting. He wouldn’t flirt with you face to face…but he’d still do some things from time to time.

For example, you may find breakfast magically appearing on your desk, or a cup of (h/d) next to you when you finally sit and take a break.

Penny :

Penny *hugs you tightly and refuses to let you go*

You : "…Penny. I need to work."

Penny *squeezes you harder*

Yeah…You won’t get any work done. That’s for sure. Penny is stubborn. He will not leave you alone and will keep holding you until he has enough.

That’s his way of flirting.

But…He has another side to him.

He bites. He can use it to show affection. He does it sometimes with his brother and the other slashers, but he’d be extra gentle with you and be careful not to hurt you.

He’d bite your wrist, your neck, your cheek…Just to say that he appreciates you. And even if it’s just to say hello. That’s Penny flirting. He doesn’t use words, but actions.

Vincent :

He takes pictures of you. They were pretty innocent at first. He’d take pictures of you walking around the hospital and taking care of the patients. The staff even used his photographs to advertise the hospital.

But quickly…the photographs became recurrent and more intimate. He’d follow you around and almost beg you to pose for him.

He’d become obsessed and bring you some of his morbid art pieces for you two to simply talk and be close to you.

And you try to deny him attention ?

The man knows how to get what he wants. He’s similar to Bo in that way, but where Bo is demanding ? Vincent is all about begging and whining.

He’d go down on his knees and grab the hem of your shirt to pull you towards him and beg you to let him take photographs of you and keep them. Take some for his…personal use.

Vincent flirting is desperation.

He’d beg you until you give him the time of day.

Michael Myers :

Michael *wordlessly pats his thigh*

The seat is all yours if you want it.

Kidding. Or not.

*cough cough*

Michael likes to cook and he’d fix you meals to cheer you up and listen to you if you need to. He’d be the perfect gentleman and even though he can’t talk, he’d make it obvious that he likes you through other means.

He’d protect you and make sure you are happy.

Unfortunately, because he can’t help bu want to kill you all the time, it’d be very difficult for the both of you to actually go on a date or go more than flirting basis. But, he’d still try to let you know that he likes you sometimes.

Michael *takes your hand and pulls you into a tight hug*

Michael may look or sound unapproachable at first, but it is because he is afraid of giving into hate and just lose control over the little humanity he has left…

Freddy Krueger :

"Yo. Wanna bang ?"

Freddy is NOT subtle. He’s a slimy and sleazy little goblin who loves nothing more than touch, grab, grope and squeeze.

He’d follow you around like your personal horny demon.

"Coooome on ! I know ya wanna see what’s in my pants ! Just say yes, sweetheart ! See how daddy does it !"

Filthy language and sleazy smirks all the way. He’d be whistling after you and tip his fedora at you or lick his lips while looking you up and down.

To make it short: Flirty is his middle name and he’d just make sure to let you know that he is ALWAYS available and ready.

Freddy *smirks and takes your hand before dancing with you* "COME ON ! Move those curves, lovely !" *cackles*

Freddy may look and sound like a scumbag most of the time, but he is capable of being romantic. He only lets special people see it.

Jason :

Jason is shy and will never be confrontational when it comes to flirting.

He maybe waves at you and hugs you sometimes, but not enough for you to understand what he means.

But, he is good with his hands and soon enough, goes to work.

Jason leaves you gifts. On your desk, on your nightstand, or any place he thinks you and only you would find them.

He carves little wooden figurines, mostly of frogs that he leaves around for you to find. And you always do. You then put then on a special shelf in the living room for everyone to see and admire.

It may not have been the initial goal, but he is happy to see you smile. And that is all he needs…

Norman Bates :

"My darling…Would you…Would you do me the honour of going on a special outing with me ? Just the two of us ?"

Norman was an anxious wreck. He had sweaty hands and an nervous smile on his face. He wanted you to say yes. He had been thinking about a way to approach the matter with you for weeks…

You smiled back and when you accepted…he was overjoyed.

Norman is rather old-fashioned. His way of flirting is asking you out and treating you like a princess (or a prince)

He’d be more than happy to compliment you all day long and simply brush his fingers against yours while you stare deeply into each other’s eyes.

Five Hargreeves :

"Tell me, Y/N. Are you alright ?"

You glanced back at him and blinked twice at the child who just asked you that question.

"…Last time I checked. Yes."

You then focused back on your work and tried to forget about it, but then Five sat down on your desk to look at the papers you were signing.

You didn’t think much of it until he rested his hand on the back of your neck and his thumb traced circles there.

You looked up at him, and he stared right back. You knew he was technically older inside but…You still swapped his hand away.

"Okay. What do you want ?"

"You. Me. Drink."

Your eyes widened and you looked around.

"How about you come back to me when you are…say…15 years older ?"

Yeah. He may be older in his mind. But his body is still very much the one of a child so…Wait and see.

Patrick Bateman :

"Y/N. It has come to my attention that we haven’t had sex yet. Care to explain why ?"

That man has the ego of a mansion. He wouldn’t be flirting, he’d be practical.

Who needs feelings ? Who needs flirting ? He knows you find him attractive. And you know he finds you attractive. Why waste time on things like flirting ?

Patrick Bateman is a business man.

He sees a relationship as unnecessary as long as it doesn’t bring him anything.

So, if he starts showing interest in you ?

…

Run.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 2017 #pennywise 1990 #slashers #pennywise x reader #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader #jason voorhees x reader #five hargreeves x reader #norman bates x reader #patrick bateman x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #slashers au

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hearts4chriss · 10 months ago

Text

Teachers pet.

CollegeProfessor!Matt x CollegeStudent! black fem!

Prompt: in which you have a crush on ur teacher, yet he has a thing for you no matter how wrong it was, and he notices your little movements in class to get his attention, one day it pushes him over the edge and he teaches you a lesson for it, not with a bad grade

“I know I’m young but, my mind is well beyond my years”. - teachers pet by Melanie Martinez

Contains: teasing, loads of suggestive touching, neck sucking, spanking, desk sex!, backshots, m!oral receiving, degrading, dumification, f!oral receiving, mentions of Matt having a huge cock, overstimulation, pet names, HELLA dirty talk, choking, hair pulling, kissing, mentions of reader w fat ass, fantazing like this. HEAVYYY AFTERCARE

a/n: this one’s dirty as hell😭😭

Fuck.

I was in class sitting next to one of my friends trying my very hardest to focus on this lecture of business and finance 2, my teacher Matthew Sturniolo.

He made basically impossible, the all black pants with his sleeves rolled up and top buttons undone. And fuck those tattoos.

The way Matt’s rings would sit on his fingers, I’d desire for them to be on me and inside me.

He was undeniably attractive, and he knows that he is, he’s well aware of the affect he has on me, the same smirk he’d give me as he glanced around the class making sure we payed attention, whenever I was working and he’d whisper “you need any help, sweetheart?” His hot breath on my ear making my thighs close together.

Today was one of those days, I wanted to mess with him as I was well aware of what I could potentially make the 25 year old man feel.

I was in my dorm room with my roommate Anna @worldlxvlys as we were getting ready to head out to class.

I buttoned up my short sleeve white shirt with the red and navy plaid skirt just barely covering my ass as the thin pink material hugged my curves.

I slipped on my thigh length white socks with these stupid dress shoes putting my boho braids in a high ponytail.

I applied my lip gloss and soon enough I was ready to go just waiting for Anna.

“Girl let’s goooo”. I chuckled ushering her to the door and she rolled her eyes following suit.

“Let me guess you have Professor Sturniolo first period”. She nudged me playfully and I nodded

“Duh! That’s why I’m rushing you, so I can see that man”. I bite my finger mimicking a blowjob motion with my hands and she gasped slapping my shoulder as we walked up to the main hall.

Ur actually insane for that. She shook her head at me and I disagreed.

Soon after our chatters I made my way into my class.

The second she walked in I couldn’t help but let my eyes drift to her thighs, the way the thin white stockings cover her brown skin makes my pants tighten.

when she gave me that small smile, her lipgloss coating over her plump lips made me die to feel what they’d feel like on my cock.

When she turned to go to her desk, she bent down grabbing binder. Her skirt rose up making my cheeks turn a cherry shade as the thin pink material hugged the curves of her ass. I tried my hardest not to stare because she’s my student.

Of course she’s 8 minutes early.

I leaned back in my chair tilting my head back letting my mind wander.

oh fuck- you feel so good baby. I moaned as I thrusted deep inside her cunt, her legs shook against my desk as her nails clawed the front begging to cum for a 3rd time.

Please please- mm- let me cum I’ll be such a good girl I promise- she babbles as I lay a harsh smack on her ass and she jolts back against me.

should’ve thought about that before teasing me with that slutty skirt- I gripped her shoulder tightly thrusting harsher and quicker as he jaw dropped only producing whimpers and squeaks

I was stroking myself under the desk as low grunts flowed out my mouth just imagining this scenario.

She’s always do this shit on purpose. She never wore skirts this short unless I was teaching her that day.

Did she think I was clueless?

I’d been waiting for the right moment to bend her over and fuck the shit out of her, teach her her a lesson

The way she’d bite her lip at me as I was trying to teach, it all made sense she wanted to drive me crazy.

I threw my head back against my chair, completely forgetting she was in my class.

“Mr.Sturniolo are you- oh-“ my eyes widen when I turn around meeting him seeing his hand below the desk his cheeks turning a pink shade”

“Fuck just- shit I’m sorry sweetheart I can’t help myself around you-“ he mumbled groaning as his gaze met mine,- a wetness forming between my thighs.

“do you need my help?” I ask, realizing what I said I quickly turned my back and Matt let out a small laugh.

“I do actually, be a good girl for me and suck my cock yeah?” He smirks initiating for me to come over with 2 fingers and my throat tightens as I made my way to his desk.

I approach the side as he slides his chair out being met with his hand around his dick. Which was big.

hell the thickness of it was enough to make me squeeze my thighs together as well as the red tip along with the length. How was that supposed to fit in my mouth?

“What are you waiting for? Been dying to feel those lips on me all fucking semester”. Matt admits biting his bottom lip as I crawl on my hands and knees positing myself in front grabbing the base as he groans tilting his head back

I have his tip a few kitten licks making his hand gravitate towards my hair, the cool rings on my scalp before I started bobbing my head up and down.

“ah shit- feels so fucking good-“. He moaned watching me look so submissive below him, the sight of him alone in all black moaning my name turned me on so much more than It should’ve, and sucking him off was like a dream come true.

“Mmm fuck- ur such a good girl, helping ur professor out yeah?”. Matt shuddered pulling my braids slightly tighter and I nod as best I could before quickly resuming my actions, I had to make him cum in under 8 minutes.

“atta girl, keep going- gonna cum just watching you like this- sucking my cock like a little slut-“. His eyes flutter shut as I lick stripes up his dick, the veins on my tongue felt euphoric as well as hearing him sound like this just from me

“atta girl”, another thing he’d always call me, I wasn’t slow? No way he didn’t have maybe..have a thing for me. His student.

there was absolutely no doubt that I was a teachers pet. There was no other teacher I’d do this for, I’m not even failing his class I have an A-.

I felt him twitch in my throat, occasionally thrusting his hips tugging my hair.

“can i- fuck- fill ur pretty mouth up sweetheart?”. Matt pleads, almost as if the way he’s asking he wants to cum in my throat.

I tapped his thigh signaling he could and with that he came down my throat as I swallowed licking the excess from his dick.

“Was that okay Mr-“ I start off, slightly nervous because all I wanted was to make him feel good resulting in him laughing slightly.

“More than okay, you can call me Matt when I’m not teaching”. He gives me that signature sly smile that drives me up a wall helping me up as he fixed his pants and I began walking back to my seat.

As I watched her walk back, realizing how unbelievably sexy she looked in the skirt, a question filled my mind, biting lip watching her walk away.

“are you gonna behave today?” I said putting my belt back on, smirking slightly to see if she knew what I was talking about.

“What? I always behave”. I sit at my desk tilting my head to the side acting like a clueless puppy and he walks up placing his ringed hands on my desk staring down at me.

“If you consider wearing a skirt that short purposely bending over in front of me and giving me fuck me eyes, is behaving, I think your wrong honey”. He chuckles and my eyes widen as I bite my tongue. That’s was everything I was doing.

“So, if you don’t behave in class today, I might have to teach you a lesson sweetheart, you wouldn’t want that would you?”. His eyes pouring in my soul were captivating, almost immediately when those words left his lips I crossed my legs.

He tapped my shoulder going back to his desk and everyone started filing in the class and I let out a deep breath.

Nia @nicksmainbitch sat next to me and Scoots closer to me.

“Girl what’s tea, what happened?” She sat next to me and I side eyed Matt then opening my mouth showing her my throat and she gasped.

“NO F-“ she yelled before I shushed her seeing how he looked in my direction giving me a small wink making my stomach flutter.

“Ooo y’all nasty, I knew he liked you! Since the first fucking day, he’s been eyefucking you”. Nia whispered the last bit to me and tilted my head.

“Wait wait, how do you know? Tell me!”. I poke her teasingly and she laughs.

“Okay sooo….

August 31st Los Angeles California,

University of Southern California

somehow me and Nia applied for the same school and both got in and majored together in business so here we were roommates and in the same class.

I was pretty focused on my studies, hell I even got offered to Harvard and other ivy leagues guy USC seemed about right for me.

I walked into class immediately meeting eyes with my professor. Matthew Sturniolo.

the following week

I walked in class sitting next to y/n, the one thing I saw this past week was how he looked at her, the way he’d always make sure she was okay, the way he’d constantly pass her desk giving her a smile. No way he didn’t like her….

FASTFORWARD SECOND SEMESTER PRESENT

“Anddd yeah that’s basically what I noticed just within the first week”. She started before Matt let out an obnoxious cough.

“Do I need to separate you two?”. He said leaning on his desk speaking in his normal voice.

I bit my lip making eye contact with him watching his eyes widen.

“No Mr.Sturniolo I’ll stop talking”. I say slowly and nia taps my thigh and I let out a soft giggle looking up seeing Matt’s jaw clench I quickly remembered my punishment Id receive, but was that gonna stop me? Fuck no.

The majority of class consisted of me teasing him, purposely fixing my button down so my tits we’re practically falling out, dropping my pencil so I’d have to bend down, my ass poking out in front of him.

All of this justtt to push him over the edge.

If only I knew what I was in for.

Just as I was about to leave the class being I was the last one he pulled my arm closing the door and locking it.

“Where do you think you’re going?”. Matt tilts his head backing me against the wall the heat between my legs growing.

“You think I couldn’t see what you were doing sweetheart?”. His finger on my chin my eyes meeting his feeling my panties dampen.

“You have no idea what I’m about to do to you…” he smirks gripping my thighs wrapping them around his waist slamming me on his desk making me gasp when his lips come in contact with my neck.

“Matt..”. I sigh deeply tilting my head back as he continues sucking harshly on the soft skin closing my thighs.

Matt let’s put a chuckle as he marked me up, his stubble burning into my skin, the desire in my body growing the more he touched me. Wondering what he would do to me.

“Take this off for me”. He tugs on my shirt and I nodded un doing the buttons, watching how his breath would hitch, revealing my pink lacy bra matching with the panties I had on.

“God- you look so sexy in this”. Matt mumbles his hands groping my tits making me let out a soft moan as he pulled away and I whined before he slapped my thigh and I gasped watching him go down on his knees.

My heart beat picked up as he slid my skirt off and panties revealing my bare pussy directly in his face.

“Ur so fucking wet, did i do this to you sweetheart?” He smirks running two fingers through my folds making me whimper and my lips part slightly.

“I suggest you open that pretty mouth and answer me, because I have all day to fuck the attitude outta you”. He speaks somehow still dominate as he’s on his knees and my stomach flips at his filthy words.

“Yes- you did- it was you” I squirm impatiently and he chuckles.

“that’s more like it”. Matt said lowly before looking me in the eyes licking a stripe up my wetness making me moan out softly squeezing my eyes shut

“such a pretty pussy, can’t wait to see the mess you make”. His hot breath on my core sends vibrations through me as his lips attach make an obnoxious suction noise making me squeal and tug on his hair.

“O-oh god-“ my breathing picks up as I begin to moan without a pause as Matt’s tongue flicks at an inhumane pace, his nose grazing my bud and his stubble against my thighs.

His hands grip my thighs pulling me more onto his face and I shriek gripping Matt’s hair tighter only fueling his ego and desire to go quicker

I was in such a euphoric state, hearing his mouth mix with my wetness, I had lost it when he shook his head in my pussy, he was good

“fuck- oh my god-“. I shudder my chest heaving as I watch him feeling my eyes blur at the pace of Matt’s tongue, not wasting a second or a drop of my arousal as he became pussydrunk off of me.

“Mmm you taste so good..”. Matt’s warm breath against my dripping cunt leaving small kisses making me squeal from the pleasure, not removing his head from between my thighs once.

The sound of her moaning my name above me as I held onto her thighs keeping her upright. She tasted so good almost as if I was meant to do this to her. The way she would squirm in my grasp every time my nose brushed against her clit which was often because I couldn’t get enough of her. Her pussy was perfect and every wrong thought of the student-teacher was completely gone.

I’ve been waiting for this moment for months. My own fucking student whose thighs I was now buried in between.

“shit Matt-“. My eyes flutter shut letting him take over my body my hips occasionally shooting up before Matt pulls them back down holding me in place.

“yes- oh shittt im s-so close”. I moan loudly pulling on his hair tightly feeling my the pit in my stomach become hotter.

“yeah? I want all on my tongue baby, give it to me”. He speaks quickly before resuming thrusting his tongue in and out of me.

“Fuck! I’m c-cumming”. I squeal feeling my body loose control as I squirted all on his tongue and around his mouth as it dripped down his chin.

He laps up every last drop making sure not to waste any.

“Tired already?” He chuckles standing up beginning to unbuckle his belt again and that grabs my attention.

“Wait-what are you doing?” I gasp watching his pants drop followed by his boxers, his hard cock with that similar red tip from earlier, spring out hitting his stomach.

“Oh sweetheart you didn’t think I would keep you back and not fuck you?”. Matt smirks bending me over the desk, his hand holding my head sideways as I shriek and the sudden contact of the cool glass of his desk.

I feel his cool rings come in contact harshly with my ass leaving a stinging feeling along the soft skin.

“Just couldn’t behave today could you, hm?”. He taunts repeating the same action making me jolt, pushing against his cock.

“No? Looks like I’ll have to fuck some sense into you yeah?” Matt smacks my ass again slightly harder me squeal.

“Probably like this don’t you, getting treated like a whore by ur professor. Doesn’t it turn you on?” He grabs my neck making my throat tighten and i whimper at his words.

“That’s not a response sweetheart”. Matt shook his head chuckling whilst keeping that firm grip on my neck.

“I-f-fuck it turns me on-“. I choke out and he releases his grip to run his tip in between my folds, the sticky sound from my previous orgasm and his pre cum mixing caused him to groan out of pleasure.

“Fuck, can’t wait to fuck ur pussy loose”. Matt mumbles before sliding into me halfway and my legs already feel weak, the stretch of him was indescribable.

“I’m only halfway pretty girl, you gotta take all of me I know you can”. He presses a soft kiss to my back before pushing all the way bottoming out.

“matt-fuck p-please-“. I stutter on my words as he’s practically balls deep inside me.

“Please what? Use ur words baby”. He massages my hip.

“Fuck me”. I turn back to look at him, my bottom lip tucked between my teeth was more than enough for him to start moving, not letting me adjust to his large size.

Matt didn’t start off slow, he went right to hard rough thrusts causing his hips to connect with my ass roughly making all sorts of noises come out, hardly any words were formable.

“God you feel so good..been waiting for this”. Matt lets out a deep moan as his hands hold my hips forcing me to take all of him, his tip brushing my g spot making my legs shake and I scream each time.

“Mmph f-fuck..”. I cry out, babbling as he fucks me senseless becoming drunk on his cock.

“Can’t even get a word out? God ur such a slut”. His hands dig into my ass making me squeal gripping the edge of the desk.

Matt’s pace was like he didn’t plan on stopping, he wanted me to feel every thick inch of him, and that this was something I’d never forget.

“Can’t wait to see you full of my cum, gonna fill you up so good”. He grunts gripping my shoulder to snap his hips quicker and my jaw hangs open the only thing coming from are squeals, heavy breaths and moans of his name.

“shit shit- feels s-so good”. I squeak out just above a whisper, the way he was fucking me there was no way I’d be able to walk the next day.

Matt’s deep grunts and moans made my pussy clench around him, fuck I could probably cum in the next minute.

“Fuckk- I love this pussy so fuckin much-“. Matt shudders at the feeling of my walls closing in on his large cock, the pace and pleasure were enough to make me feel like this.

“Please please”. I babble out like a helpless puppy and he chuckles slowing his thrusts and I whine.

“Fuck-no please Matt I-i need to cum”. I whine impatiently and he slaps my ass and I jolt back again feeling the head of his dick abuse my g spot

“you sure? Didn’t seem that way in class”. He chuckles his pace more slow and deep still knocking the wind out of my lunges.

“No! I’m sorry i-I’ll be a good girl I promise just please let cum”. I beg and he rubs my side gently.

I let out a deep sigh to myself, I mean how awful would I be if I didn’t let my favourite student have an orgasm.

“Mm much better”. He mumbles resuming his pace and my head falls forward my stomach tightening again as I feel that knot begin to burst.

“Oh fuck! Yes yes I-I’m cumming-“. I squirm feeling a hot liquid trickle down his cock but yet, he doesn’t stop pounding inside me and I reach back to push his hand away but he grabs both of them placing them behind me.

“M-Matt too much I-I’m sensitive!”. I cry out and he shakes his head with a cocky grin slapping my ass harder than normal.

“Should’ve thought about that before misbehaving huh sweetheart”. Matt mocked me thrusts harshly as my cum coated his cock making a mess on his lower stomach and my ass.

Matt continued his harsh movements as I felt his dick twitch inside me.

“fuck I’m gonna cum inside you yeah? Fill you up with my mmph babies”. He groans not letting up on his pace as I already feel an orgasm approaching me again.

Tears roll down my face from overstimulation as I’m about to cum for a 3rd time today.

“O-oh god Matt-please cum inside me-“. I babble on my words feeling a bit of drool on the corner of my mouth begging him to fill me up with his cum.

“atta girl, cum for me sweetheart, I know you got one more in you”. He pants reaching down to rub my clit, feeling his fingers graze my overstimulated bud and I squeal at the pressure of his fingers.

“f-fuck!”. I scream curling my toes as I felt like I was going to pee but i began squirting all over his cock and lower stomach, Matt thrusted slowly before filling me full of his warm thick liquid.

Matt rested his head on my shoulder stuffing me full of his cum and catching our breath.

He slowly slid out of me. I winced at the loss of him, being he was quite large.

“Fuck-you look so hot like this”. Matt bit his lower lip, his voice raspy and tired as he looked at my abused hole, full of his and my cum leaking out dropping on the floor.

Matt noticed I hadn’t said a word, and my legs shook slightly from the pleasure and whimpers and pants left my mouth as I look like a rag doll, sheen layer of sweat covered my body.

“hey, baby you okay?”. Matt rubbed my shoulder waging for an answer.

“Yeah just- really tired”. I pant and he grabs my waist sitting me on his lap.

“I know, I wore ur ass out didn’t I”. He lets out a breathy chuckle and I slap his chest rolling my eyes.

1 month later

Ever since me and my teacher Matthew sturniolo had sex, we never stopped.

Literally never stopped.

“come on hurry up I have 10 minutes!” He pulls me into his office quickly beginning to unbuckle his belt

and the time after that…

“fuck fuck fuck!”. I threw my head back as he gripped my ass tightly rocking me on his cock as I rode him in his chair

“God you feel so fucking good on top of me sweetheart..”. Matt mumbles into my neck slapping my ass, his cool rings felt electric on my body

Shit I even started sleeping at his house on the weekends.

“morning gorgeous”. Matt yawns pulling me into his grasp again and I giggle pulling him into a kiss.

I was sleeping with, My professor, Mr. Sturniolo,

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trippinsorrows · 5 months ago

Text

looking through your eyes + eleven

authors note: i'm telling ya'll right now. this one will probably leave you with a certain number of questions. that's expected. all will, eventually, be revealed and make sense. don't be freaking out on me, por favor. 😭

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

cw/tw: fluff, angst, language, suggestive themes, and scene of victim blaming/justifying dv (from character's pov, not the authors)

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

masterlist

words: 13k (i need help)

The moment the cotton round soaked in hydrogen peroxide makes contact with the largest cut on Roman’s face, a slash across his eyebrow bone, is the first time he visibly displays any sort of reaction. The first indication that he is in fact in pain.

And he’s immediately regretful.

Nakoa, his father, a tall man of muscular build, a thick salt and pepper beard, and dark eyes that seem almost black in dim lighting, is before him with a previously unreadable expression that has now morphed into something different.

Something Roman hates to see on his father’s face.

Disappointment.

“Tell me what happened.”

Nakoa Reigns is a man who only needs to speak once, his deep, baritone voice emanating a level of power and authority that requires no repeating of anything. The first is the only.

Despite the sting of his cut and the bruising of his body, Roman sits up straight, all 78lbs of him and lifts his chin. “I—”

“He was trying to help us, fath—”

Nakoa lifts his hand, effectively silencing the voice of one of his older boys, Pika, Roman’s half brother.

“I asked your brother.”

Pika recognizes his fault and shares a brief look with his other brother, Tane, before both drop their heads, rendered to silent shame.

Nakoa brings his gaze back to Roman as Viviana continues to work on heeding to her son’s wounds.

Roman swallows and answers as evenly as possible. “They were talking about you.”

“So you attacked them?”

Roman quickly debates leaving out unnecessary details then easily remembers nothing gets past his father, and honesty, while uncomfortable, is the best route. “Pika and Tane did first, and then I joined them—”

“You were defending my honor.”

Nakoa’s tone, something of almost pride, takes a young Roman by surprise. Yet, he shows nothing, recognizing that can and typically does change with his father. “Yes.”

It’s a wise decision, because Nakoa’s tone instantly shifts to something chilly. “And yet you lost.” Roman winces again, and it has nothing to do with the dabbing of the hydrogen peroxide against another cut. “Tell me, son, where is the honor in that?”

Knowing that there is no excuse, Roman’s shoulders slump a bit. “There is none, father.”

“If you are to defend this family, you will do it to completion. There is no room for failure. Ever.” It’s a tale as old as time, a lesson Nakoa has drilled into all eight of his children, but especially Roman, the youngest and smallest of the bunch compared to his other sons. “Pika. Tane.”

The older boys stand at attention as their father, The Tribal Chief, turns his disappointed gaze towards them. “You have also failed me. Your brother is small, but you are not. There is no excuse.” His gaze sharpens. “If they disrespect you, then they disrespect me, and if they disrespect me, then they disrespect our entire family. Does this sound acceptable to you?”

Pika, the older of Tane and Roman, is the one to answer. “No, father.”

“Exactly.” Nakoa’s large, intimidating frame is stepping away from them as he instructs. “Come. We will fix this. Today.”

As usual, Tane and Pika fall in line, walking in silence behind their father until only Roman and his mother, Viviana, remain in their large kitchen.

That is when she finally speaks. Her fingers move under his chin, forcing him to look up, her icy blue eyes meeting with his light brown ones, a trait inherited from his father.

“Did you hit your head?” He shakes his head no, and she drops her fingers. “Good.” She studies him, lifting his shirt to see the purple bruises forming. A heavy sigh escapes her mouth as she moves across the kitchen, opening up the cabinet and grabbing the Children’s Tylenol. She pours the appropriate dosage into the medicinal cup and offers it to him. “Here. Take this. It will help with the pain.”

He’s immediately shaking his head, shoulder length hair brushing against his face. “I must pay for my failure.”

“You will learn nothing by suffering unnecessarily.” She again motions for him to take the medicine. Roman hesitates but obeys, downing the red liquid in a matter of seconds. She takes back the cup, rinses it, and puts it away before returning to finish tending to his wounds.

“Never pick or involve yourself in a fight you can’t win, Roman.” Viviana switches to Italian, an intentional tactic to ensure privacy as well as continue to push her eight-year-old son to better his fluency. He's advanced for his age but still not where she would like him to be. Where she needs him to be.

“Should I have done nothing, mother?” Viviana hears it. The edge in his voice, the hint of challenge to her authority.

Again, she grabs his chin, forcing him to look at her. “You should have been smart.”

“Pika and Tane—”

“I do not care about them.” Her dismissal is immediate and bitter. “They are not my sons. You are.” Roman is smart for his age. He’s always picked up on his mother’s dislike of his half–siblings, the five sons born to his father by his late ex-wife. No. His mother has only ever cared and focused on him and his two older sisters, Nesi and Sili. “And you are smarter than them.”

Viviana suddenly gives another sigh and places the cotton round on the counter. She crouches down in front of Roman, taking his hands in hers. “Do you know why your father and I are so hard on you?” She didn’t expect him to reply, verbally or nonverbally, and is therefore unsurprised when he does nothing. “It’s because you are not like your brothers and sisters. You are different. You come from two worlds. You are Bloodline, yes, but you are Cosa Nostra as well. That means you belong to the two biggest crime families in the world. It is your birthright to lead both of them.” Had he been looking up, he might have seen the almost sympathetic shift in her expression. “But the road ahead of you is not easy. They will challenge you. They will hate you. They will reject you, because you hail from two worlds instead of one over the other.” Any sign of sympathy quickly morphs into something determined and hardened. “That is why you must be better. You must be better than all of them. Faster. Smarter. Stronger. There is no room for you to be weak, Roman.” He lifts his head, mindful of maintaining and showing no sign of emotion, no indication of feeling. “You will show them, brutally, ruthlessly, and with no mercy who you are, and then, only then, you will rule them all.”

Roman straightens again, his posture representative of the alignment provided by his mother. By the reminder of his mother why he must always be the best and failure is never an option. He can succeed or he can succeed. There is no second option.

“Never forget, Roman.” She points to his chest, to his heart. “This is what makes you weak. It will distract you, it will deter you, and it will cost you everything.” Viviana speaks with almost sorrow to her, an almost unhealed scar from a time long ago. “But this….” She lifts her hand to his head, pointing to his brain. “This is power. This will bring and keep you on top. It is your greatest strength.”

Viviana presses a kiss to her son’s forehead and stands back up, motioning to the first aid kit. “Finish tending to your wounds, and go do your training.”

Roman is quick to hide his surprise, to hide the disappointment at still having to complete his daily combat training. He tries to be grateful though, thankful that his father, or mother, did not tack on additional training for his failure.

But it’s when Viviana leaves and he moves to grab the gauze, a new voice interrupts.

“Boy, I thought she’d never leave.”

Instantly, Roman’s spirits are lifted in a way only his tina matua can provide.

Her warm eyes are on him, a frown falling on her face as she sees the cuts. It’s unsurprising and one of many fights he’s already been in at such a young age. But, it’s because he’s a protector. She can already see that is one of his defining traits: his strong urge and sense of duty to protect the ones he loves.

To protect his family.

She grabs the supplies and starts finishing the cleaning and bandaging of his wounds. “Those boys got you some good, huh?” She shakes her head, cursing in Samoan. “Don’t you worry. In a couple of years, you’ll be bigger and stronger than them, and then you can get your receipt.”

Fetu Reigns is unsurprised when her nephew says nothing. She knows his small size is a deep insecurity he struggles with, especially when all of his brothers have exceeded expected height and weight. She knows he sees it as a hindrance.

“Did you know that your father was the smallest of our other siblings?” That is when Roman looks up and actually allows himself to show an emotion: surprise. His tina matua has always been the only person he can do as such with.

His parents would never approve, and his brothers would never let him live it down.

“It’s true,” Fetu discloses, adding. “And it bothered him too. Then one summer, he went through a growth spurt and suddenly the scrawny little boy we all teased towered over everyone.”

Fetu can see the continued struggle he has between the words she’s saying and the reality he’s living. She puts down the supplies and gently cups his face.

“Roman, I know there is pressure on you, my sweet boy. In this house and out. And you do carry a burden your brothers and sisters do not, but you also have something else, something they don’t have because your parents haven’t extinguished it out of you yet.” She lays her hand over his chest. “You have heart, Roman, and it does not make you weak. That is what makes you strong. A good leader, a great leader, leads with both his head and his heart.”

She hopes her words can penetrate the deep armor of stoicism that her brother and sister-in-law seem to want to bestow upon the child who already carries such a heavy weight at a young age.

Her heart aches for him a bit.

She then informs him, hoping it will lift his spirits, even just a little, “Rikishi brought the twins over.”

And it pleases her to see the way his eyes light up. For a brief second, he’s just a little boy who wants to play with his cousins. But, it’s just as quickly gone, his shoulders straightening. “I have to do my training for today.”

She’s briefly disappointed but quickly reminds him of the ‘completion’ of that task. “but you did, remember? You got up early this morning to get it done. I was there watching you.” She gives him a wink, and Roman smiles. The first of the day.

“Thank you, tina matua.” He starts to run off when she calls his name, forcing him to look back at her.

“And where is my hug?”

Still smiling, he runs back over, hugging her tightly, soaking in all of the warmth she provides in his dark world.

She kisses the top of his head. “I love you, Roman.”

And his eyes shut, because at the end of the day, when all is said and done, he’s still just an eight-year-old little boy who needs the space and time to just be that innocent little boy for however long it can last.

“I love you too, tina matua.”

“Roman.”

Solana’s almost worried expression is the last and least wanted thing Roman expects to find as he’s ripped away from a memory so long ago that it almost feels unreal. There’s a moment of adjustment, a brief delay as he returns to reality.

“Sorry.” It’s a bit gruff, a bit on the harsh side, an unintended side effect of resurfaced, previously buried memories he’d prefer to keep six feet under instead of at the forefront of his mind.

Solana steps forward, her hand on his forearm. “Are—are you okay?” Her frown deepens. “You’ve been kinda off the past few days.”

He can’t and won’t deny it, an inconvenient result of still trying to navigate just what the hell he’s supposed to do with information that feels almost too painful to sit on and do nothing about. He can’t march over and rip Xavier apart with his bare hands no matter how badly every fiber of his being wants him too. He can’t do that because he promised Solana he would let her make that call.

And now, more than ever, that’s the least he can give to her.

But the knowledge, the truth about the two events in her life he has no doubt sent her on that dark spiral, feels like something she should know.

It also, however, seems like something he feels could destroy her. And not even just the tremendous progress she’s made, but destroy her altogether.

“Just work shit.” There’s also that, but that’s nothing new nor noteworthy. It’s also insignificant compared to everything else.

He doesn’t know if it’s her naivety or his adept skills of persuasiveness, but she seems to buy it. “Okay.” He hates this. The lying to her part. Shit fucking sucks, but he also still has no goddamn idea what he wants or even needs to do, so it’s all he has. “I know—I know there’s probably nothing I can do to help—”

“You can.” It’s an obvious surprising statement to her judging by the shocked expression on her face. Roman moves towards her, hand reaching for the small of her back as he pulls her into him. He watches as Solana bites on her bottom lip but still lays her hands against his chest. It’s a great sign of progress, as he’s always noticed the way she seems almost uncomfortable around him when he’s shirtless. “I want you to think about something for me.”

She answers almost immediately. “Okay.”

He locks his gaze with hers. “Moving into my room.”

Solana is clearly taken back by his offer, the way her eyes widen almost instantly only to settle into something that’s an almost mixture of a smile and a frown. “Really?”

He nods, fingers dancing across her back. “If you want us to eventually have a sex life, then sleeping in the same bed seems like a good place to start.”

Solana is quiet, listening to his words but also still in a bit of shock. She knows he’s indicated a desire to be with her, to want her in that way at least, but she never really imagined he’d be okay with her being in his space like that.

They’ve shared a bed on roughly two occasions now, but those were both by unplanned circumstance. Something that he was okay with because of how they came about. But now, it seems he’s okay and maybe even wants it to be a regular thing.

And when she thinks about, thinks about his offer, there’s no anxiety, no fear. There’s just…okayness.

A state of peace, almost.

“Dulce has to come with me.” She chews on her bottom lip, nervous about this being a possible dealbreaker. “She’s used to sleeping with me now.”

He instead just shrugs. “She seems to keep finding her way in there anyway.” Dulce has also taken on the same squatter mentality of his twin cousins with her having walked her little ass into his room at various points in the middle of the night the past few days. It’s honestly a miracle he hasn’t stepped on her. “So, you’ll think about it?”

“No. I—” She gives a small shrug of her own, answering almost confidently. “I’ll do it. I’ll—I’ll move in.”

His eyes light with something that’s almost similar to excitement. “Good.” Her eyes shut when he dips his head, preparing for him to kiss her only for him to ghost his lips across hers, murmuring, “like you close to me.” He gestures down and adds with his gaze lingering on her chest a bit longer than what’s probably necessary. “I really like this outfit too.”

Roman’s noticed a shit ton of benefits from Solana being friends with Naomi and Bayley, which is a major reason why he didn’t rip them a new one for allowing her to get so shit faced drunk that night. Why he didn’t find a reason to justify keeping them apart. And one of the major benefits has become her change in wardrobe.

The baggy clothes have been swapped out for more form-fitting attire, outfits that accentuate her curves and showcase her beauty. He can also see the relationship between her wardrobe and self-esteem, specifically regarding her body. An increase.

And he likes it.

Happiness and confidence look good on her.

Roman kisses her, gentle at first, almost tentatively, just like most of their kisses. Like he’s always initially assessing her comfort level. And when she doesn’t push back, doesn’t tense, he deepens said kiss, tugging her close against him, their chests touching. Solana bites back a smile, giggling against his mouth, “Roman, you’re still sweaty from your workout.”

He’s unbothered, commenting suggestively with a wink, “you better get used to that, baby.”

Instead of discomfort, there’s only a strange, uncomfortable yet not feeling between her legs that’s unfamiliar but still….welcomed. It’s a hard thing to explain, and she’s thankful for the glance at the time on the microwave that provides her an out.

Still smiling, she informs him, “I’m gonna be late for work.” Solana is certain her cheeks are painted red judging by the heat that’s floating through her core.

He’s unbothered. “And?”

Rolling her eyes, she pries herself away, asking, “are you still going to meet me when I get off?”

He taps her hip, hand close to the side of her ass. There’s a brief slice of anxiety that’s quickly pushed back by her daily reminder. Safe. “Of course.”

Pleased, she leans up, kissing his cheek and backs away before he can pull her back for another kiss. She’ll definitely be late for work then. “Bye.”

He calls out bye after her, and by the time she’s outside, Solo is waiting expectedly by the SUV with that typical scowl. She expects the usual silence but is caught off guard when he observes as she climbs into the truck, “you’re late.”

Confused, she looks over at him, almost struggling with a reply as she reverts back to her overly apologetic state. “I’m sorry, I was—I was with Roman.”

He makes a sound and rolls his eyes. “Of course, you were.”

Her mouth dips into a frown. What’s that supposed to mean?

Before she can ask, or even consider asking a follow up question, he closes the door shut.

Literally and figuratively.

________

The work day seems to go by significantly faster when there’s something to look forward to. And for Solana, it’s being able to spend time with Roman. The more time they interact, the closer and more comfortable she feels.

There’s something so calming being around him. A strange dynamic, she recognizes, considering just who he is and the fact that his name alone strikes fear through most.

But that’s not who he is to her.

He’s….he’s a lot more than that, and though she still doesn’t quite know how to describe and label it accurately, she’s becoming less and less focused on the why and more focused on just allowing whatever this is between them to continue. To grow.

And that includes the intimacy portion, hence their current position, later that evening, laid out on his bed making out after being distracted in the midst of moving her items into his room.

Roman’s big hands are careful to remain in the safety zones of her body. The side of her stomach, the width of her shapely hips, the span of her back. It’s an intentional caution, she’s certain, one she’s appreciative of.

A boundary almost.

But, it’s a boundary she’s currently in the space and range to play around with.

Solana breaks their kiss, Roman instantly checking for her comfort level. “You okay?”

“Yes. I—” She’s not sure how exactly to word it but does the best she can, regardless. “You—you can touch me.” It sounds and even feels a bit weird leaving her mouth, maybe a tad bit uncomfortable too, but Solana knows that a lot about this whole thing will be uncomfortable at first. She just has to trust him.

Trust herself.

And when it dawns on her that a boundary within the exploration can be set, she stipulates, “just….just not there.” She doesn’t want to say it outright, a maybe silly sort of avoidance considering it’s what they’re eventually working up to, but for now, her comfort level is in the category of vague. “I can’t….not that. Not yet, at least.”

“Of course.” Roman looks at her with almost uncertainty. “You sure?”

She nods, fingers brushing through his hair that’s down instead of up like usual. She thinks she prefers it down. It makes him look…almost angelic. “Yes.”

His fingers dance across her back. “Can you lay down?”

Solana answers by allowing him to shift positions where he’s on top of her, hovering over her body. She closes her eyes when that nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach forms. It takes a second to redirect herself, to recenter herself to where she is and who she’s with.

And Roman helps with that, his lips brushing over her jawline as he reassures her, “it’s just me, baby….”

She nods, moving her hands to his face, resuming their kissing as Roman carefully navigates this newfound ability to explore her. His hand moves up her stomach in a way that makes her sigh and moan into his mouth. His touch is something that does something so different to her. It’s a combination of nerves but also something else she can’t describe nor label.

But it’s when he moves his hand to her breast, kneading them almost gently, her back arches on an accord of its own. And she exhales deeply, fingers clawing the soft sheets underneath him. “You’re so sensitive to my touch….” He’s peppers kisses against her neck, mouth opening as he sucks on her soft skin, murmuring, “I fuckin’ love that shit.”

She’s never felt this before, and while there’s a constant battle in her head to push away those dark thoughts that would rip her from this moment, there’s a growing level of almost pleasure that’s so unfamiliar.

But she likes it.

Solana reaches to touch him, her fingers lightly gliding across his stomach.

He hisses against her and says something she can’t make out before smashing his lips back onto hers with an elevated sense of urgency that she finds herself matching. Her arms move around his neck as she tugs him closer to her, Roman’s big hands continuing to explore her body, respecting her request that he stay away from the sensitive space between her legs.

And it’s okay. It’s a level she’s okay with outside of some anxiety.

But then it’s over.

Roman pulls away from her, almost suddenly, like he’d been zapped with something. Frowning, Solana sits up, panting, lips swollen. “What—what’s wrong?”

She watches with continued confusion as he lays on his back, eyes closed, chest moving up and down. “We have to stop.”

She shakes her head, hand moving to his forearm. Solana notices his jaw clenches at that interaction, a strange response. “But—I’m okay.” And she is, though this is broaching new territory, having his big hands explore more of her body, she feels a layer of protection at the fact that she’s still fully clothed. Her outfit is more revealing than what she would typically wear, but it’s another step she’s hoping continues to move her in the right direction.

If the goal is eventual sexual intimacy, then that most likely includes being naked in front of Roman. Working her way up into wearing more revealing clothes around him feels like a way for her to ease her way into developing that level of comfort.

When he still says nothing and Solana finds herself almost wanting to continue, she urges, “really, Roman, I’m—I’m okay. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

“It’s not you,” he finally says, eyes still closed, voice almost strained.

Now Solana is just stumped because if it’s not her, what reason would he have for stopping? Was he…..was he not enjoying it? It certainly didn’t feel like it.

She shakes her head, growing a bit self-conscious. “I don’t—I don’t under….” The trailing off of her words coincide with the way she trails his body, ceasing when she finally realizes why he stopped. “Oh.”

Solana’s cheeks are practically burning. She can only imagine how reddened she must look, and it has nothing to do with the intense makeout session from only minutes ago and everything to do with Roman’s very visible bulge.

He just makes a sound that’s equivalent to a “you get it now?”

“I’m—” She has no idea what to say, no idea how to respond. How did that happen? They weren’t even doing it. She voices her confusion. “But—but we were only kissing.”

Roman chuckles almost darkly. “You still don’t get how attracted I am to you, do you?”

She bites down on her lip, eyes briefly darting to his erection, quickly snapping back to anything but that. “I think—I think I’m starting to.” He smiles, and she asks, “do you….do you want me to leave?”

She may have no healthy sexual experience, but she knows enough to know that there are ways men tend to take care of….that kind of thing when actual sex isn’t an option. And Solana has no desire to be present for that. That’s just too much at this point.

Maybe at any point for her.

“No.” His answer surprises her. “Stay. Just….talk.”

“Talk?”

“Distract me,” he encourages. She has no idea how the hell she’s supposed to do that, how the hell her talking will help that to go away or go down. For her own mental wellbeing, she doesn’t even acknowledge the size of his bulge.

Being intimate with him is one thing, but realizing Roman is just a big human all over is something she’ll save for when that time comes. Another problem for another day.

Suddenly feeling on the spot, she blurts out without much consideration. “I—I bought a bathing suit.” It feels so random, but she doesn't know what else to say, so she continues on this maybe not so great distraction. “I—I also want to try to get in the pool, but I didn’t have a suit, so I bought one. It’s a two piece, and I—I don’t usually like wearing those, but Bay and Naomi said it looked nice.” She thinks about the colorful two piece bikini that shows off more skin than she’s ever shown in public. She’s not sure she could ever wear something like that in public, but maybe around Roman. “The top is…it’s more revealing than I’d like, but I—”

“Solana.”

“Yes?”

He sounds like he’s in some level of pain as he informs, almost kindly despite the suffering, “baby, that’s not helping.”

Her frown returns at hearing his tone, and another glance in his direction reveals why. “Oh. I’m—I’m sorry.” She can most definitely see why now. “I—I should just go.”

He doesn’t protest this time around, just nods, and Solana doesn’t waste any time climbing off the bed and walking out the door, making sure to shut it all the way. She almost wishes that she could lock it too.

Solana finds herself trying to settle her own body as she makes her way down the steps and into the living room where Dulce is curled into a little ball sleeping away.

She closes her eyes and blows out a big breath, a small smile falling on her face. It’s the little things. Like being able to make out with her husband, his hands on her with only a small to medium level of anxiety being generated during the act that brings on the smile. Not even four months ago, they’d been in an eerily similar position with an entirely different outcome. She’d had a panic attack, and while he’d helped her through it, she was also left alone to navigate her big emotions on that even bigger day.

It feels almost like night and day how far they’d come. How far she’s come because this time around, Solana liked the feelings of his hands on her. There was still some uncertainty, but his gentleness with her, the way he kept reminding her that it was him and not them….it made a difference.

It makes a difference.

She finds herself reaching for her airpods, plugging them in her ears as well as the sketchbook on the coffee table.

Years.

It’s been years since she picked up a sketchbook and pencil, years since she escaped in the form of art. Writing has been her main outlet for years, but once upon a time, she had writing and art.

Passions she shared with her mom.

And in moving through her workbook, one of the exercises inquired about passions that died following the traumatic event, and in doing the hard work, Solana realized that the last time she drew was before she was raped.

It was a favorite hobby at one point, and she’d love to tap back into that. Even if just for the connection with her mom.

And it’s something she finds herself fully immersed in, so much so that she misses it when Roman rejoins her until she jumps a bit, pulling out one of her airpods. “Hey. I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

He doesn’t say anything, just sits down on the sofa next to her, arm moving around her. Naturally, she moves into his side. “Are you umm—okay?” Thinking about her outfit, she offers, "I can change."

He chuckles. “I’m not a teenage boy, Solana. Seeing you is not going to make me hard.” He dances his fingers across her upper arm as he explains, “it’s just touching you like that….it’s hard to control myself.”

She swallows. His words don’t unnerve her, just make her realize yet again just how attracted he is to her. Still a bit of a hard pill to swallow given that she’s never seen a man as beautiful as Roman. And yet he wants her. It still blows her mind. “Can I—can I do something to help?”

His eyes take in her body. “Not a damn thing.” She smiles as he then focuses on the book on her lap. “Did you do that?”

She looks down, realizing just how far she got in her drawing. A lot farther than she realized, that’s for sure. She looks up, nodding. “Fuck, you’re good.”

It seems like Roman is full of compliments when it comes to her, and it feels good. The more they come, the more she’s starting to believe it. Believe that she’s beautiful and talented and the exact opposite of everything her father and brother ever tried to make her believe about herself.

“Thank you,” she then goes on to explain. “I—I haven’t done it in years, but—but I used to love it.”

He nods as well, facial expression indicating he’s storing this information for later use. “Do you do any other kind of artwork?”

She has to think about it for a second. “I used to paint too. My….mother taught me.” The ending portion quiet, her pencil dragging along the eyes of the unidentified woman.

Roman notices though, asking, “is that her?”

With one glance, without even needing to think about it, she answers, “yes.”

Her mom.

“You know the part I hate the most?” Her voice is still quiet, low and weighed with emotion. “I can’t—I can’t remember what her speaking voice sounded like. I’ve tried—tried to remember, but I can’t.” Her tone shifts to something else, something more of a bitter and remorseful nature. “But I still remember the sound of her screams every time he beat her.” Solana remembers more than that, feels more than that. But revisiting those painful memories to that extent is something she doesn’t feel mentally equipped for. “I used to be so scared. Praying because…because I thought he was gonna kill her.” Had she been looking at Roman, she’d have seen the flash of guilt in his eyes at her soft admission. “And sometimes I wanted him to, so at least she didn’t have to suffer anymore.”

Wetness pooling in her eyes alerts her to pending tears. She sniffles, quickly wiping away any sign of the impact of revisiting those dark days. “I’m—I’m sorry. I don’t—I don’t know why I said that.”

“Because it’s the truth. Because it’s how you feel.” Roman’s voice is soothing, soft, a stark contrast to everything anyone else has ever seen with him. It’s a different, almost caring side. And it’s everything she needs at this moment to feel safe.

She nods, struggling to keep the tears at bay. It’s a failed mission at this point. “I just—I miss her. So much.”

Roman tugs her closer to him, as she angles her body toward him, crying silently into his chest unintentionally creating yet another layer of complexity for the man struggling already as to whether or not the information he’s sitting on could help her finally close a chapter of suffering with the finality of truth.

Or bring her right back to the apex of trauma and suffering.

________

Solana shoots awake with a violent gasp and heavy panting. Immediately, she looks to her side, hoping to see Roman only to find an empty space and ruffled sheets.

Sniffling, she wipes at the tears and tries to regulate herself. Memories are one thing, but the memories that haunt her when sleep should overcome her have always been the hardest. They weigh heavier, leaving behind an emotional stain that’s hard to scrub out.

She wipes away the slight sheen of sweat on her forehead and kicks the blankets off her body. One glance at the ground, and she sees Dulce sleeping peacefully in her bed.

Solana hugs herself, ready to find Roman. For what reason, she’s not sure. It’s not like he can do anything to take the remnants of the nightmare away. She just knows that she wants to be around him.

A swish of a cool breeze brings her attention to the ajar double doors that lead to the balcony attached to his room.

She dabs at her eyes, doing her best to hide the tears before walking out to find him. Solana doesn’t necessarily want him to know the specifics, just needs to be near him.

He’s sitting back against the chair, eyes on the full moon and stars that blanket the night sky. But his gaze quickly shifts to her the second he’s alerted of her presence. He frowns almost. “Shit, did I wake you?”

She shakes her head, doing her best to muster up a smile that doesn’t give away the truth. “No. I just….can’t sleep.”

But, she should know better than that. Better than to think that this man can’t see through any lie thrown at him.

He motions her over. “Come here.”

She makes her way to him, unsurprised as he pulls her onto his lap, keeping her face forward so she can recline back against his strong chest. Solana’s hands rest on his forearms that are almost protectively around her.

Her eyes shut briefly when he brings his lips to her temple, asking, “what’s wrong?”

“Bad dream” she murmurs only to feel a sense of regret at her answer. He’s also obviously up in the middle of the night for a reason too. It’s not just about her.

But in a surprising flip of the roles, Solana feels Roman almost tense underneath her at her answer. “Solana, if us trying is triggering you—“

Her eyes widen almost as she works to assure him. “No. No. It’s not—not that. I haven’t—I haven’t had one of those in a while.” It’s been at least a few months since she’s had a nightmare about that. A far cry from when she would have them at least a few times a week. “It was about my mom.”

He seems to settle a bit, asking, “do you wanna talk about it?”

The answer is easy but also gently supplied. “Not really.” She then angles her head to look at him, asking almost cautiously. “Do you wanna talk about what’s bothering you?”

He chuckles, fingers tapping against the side of her stomach. She tries to focus on his words and not the action, knowing she’ll get too into her head. Her stomach has always been one of her biggest sources of insecurity. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

The rejection, albeit cloaked in vagueness, is a good distraction. She gives him a small smile. “Doesn’t mean I can’t try.” For all that Roman’s been for her in the past few months, she would feel remiss if she didn’t at least attempt to be a safe space for him.

It’s the least she can do.

He looks at her, and she can tell he’s trying to navigate his words. “Solana, I’m not—I’m not used to talking about my problems. I keep that shit to myself, and I figure it out.”

She doesn’t deny that one bit, knows that he’s a man who carries the weight of the world but makes it seem like a tennis ball. “I get that.” She doesn’t want to push him. Again, it's more to make him aware that should he ever want to, she’s here. “I just…..I know how lonely it can be not having anyone to talk to.” There’s a hesitation but eventual follow through as she offers quietly, “I don’t think I said it at the time, because everything happened so quickly, but I'm so sorry about your mom.”

He’s tense under her, replying almost stoically. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she points out gently. “You—you never get over that kind of loss. Not—not really.”

She would know.

He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, and for a second, she berates herself. Chides herself for being too pushy, for bringing up memories that must be painful. Just because she’s venturing down trauma lane, doesn’t mean she has to drag him with her.

Solana swallows. “I’m so—”

“I have to go out of town tomorrow.”

It’s deflection but almost maybe a genuine notice that’s much shorter than she likes. Regardless, her head snaps in his direction, big eyes on him with a mixture of confusion and shock. “What?”

“I have….I have something I need to handle for work.” That feels like an oversimplification, and she has no doubt it is. Knows that there’s so much about his work and what he does that there’s not enough time and space in the world for him to catch her up on. Not that she would even want to know the full truth, to be honest.

Some things are better left unknown.

“How—how long will you be gone?”

Solana hates the way her mood has just taken yet another turn in a downward direction. She doesn’t know why it saddens her to know that he’s leaving, to have this sense of anxiety growing in the pit of her stomach at the knowledge that he’s leaving.

He answers it so calmly, so easily. Like it’s the most simplest thing. “A couple days. No more than a week.”

A week.

The anxiety is slowly trickling into something deeper and heavier. It shows in her face and body language.

Roman notices this and asks, “what is it?”

She feels silly even saying it, but there’s also a small desire to just be honest with him. To not hide anything. Even if she does feel a bit embarrassed saying so. “It’s just…I haven’t been away from you since the wedding.”

Solana hates that she’s making this moment about her, that she’s redirecting attention onto herself, but at the same time, she can’t ignore her anxiety at just the thought of Roman being gone. Roman is her protector. The one who has made it so nothing bad has happened to her since they exchanged vows. Even with the Theory and Waller situation. That only happened because she hadn’t made him aware. There’s no doubt in her mind now that had she told him from the beginning, he would have nipped it in the bud.

But for the first time in months, she has to think about something unfamiliar. She has to think about being without his protection.

Her right hand moves to her pajama shorts, pulling at the cotton. Roman sees this telling action and brings his hand under her chin, lifting and making her look at him. “Talk to me.”

It’s suddenly a difficult thing, because she’s not sure she knows how to describe it exactly. So she just asks him instead, voice small, “will Solo still be here?”

And it’s in how he looks at her, how something flashes in his eyes that she knows he knows. “You’re scared.” It’s more of an assessment than anything, and she can’t deny it, no matter how badly she wants to.

Because no matter how far she’s come, the steps and strides that she’s made, there’s still this deep down fear.

Fear of her dad and brother.

Fear of their anger and punishment for how she’s been made completely out of reach and contact with them.

Fear of their threat from what feels like so long ago.

“Either you kill Reigns, or we kill you.”

And suddenly the fear shifts from what they could do to her and entirely to what they could do to the man before her who suddenly looks like he’s engaging in his own internal dialogue.

“I figured you would be.” She’s listening, but she’s also worrying, mind starting to race with thoughts about Roman and his safety. “Yes, Solo will still be here. And I asked Bayley to stay at the house with you till I get back.”

“Are the twins going with you?”

He looks taken back by her question, and her stomach drops when he shakes his head. “No. I….I need to handle this on my own.”

Her stomach is a resting stop for daggers. Sharp and swift slices of pain circulating. Solana sits up, angling herself so she can see him better. “You’re gonna be alone?” The scenarios could be in the millions now, her chest starting to tighten, matching the knotting in her belly. “But—but what if something happens? Who’s gonna look out for you—”

“Hey.” And he’s sitting up, one hand on her face, the other on her waist. “Solana, where is this coming from?” That only makes her anxiety spike, her eyes watering at horrible, dark thoughts that involve her losing the first person since her mom who’s ever made her feel wanted. “I’ll be fine. I won’t be alone. But even if I was, I’ve been looking out for myself for a long time. It’s nothing new.”

But that looking out for himself probably almost always involved a sense of knowing what to look out for. He can’t look out for her dad and brother if he has no idea they even have their grisly sights set on him. He doesn't know because she still hasn’t told him. Hasn’t been woman enough to be honest with this man when his literal life is at stake.

It turns her stomach for an entirely different reason. Her sudden sense of self hatred.

Her internal strife must show as he gently moves his thumb across her cheek. “You worry that much about me?” It’s another statement, borderline realization, and he’s not looking for an answer.

She does. She really, truly does. Solana admits with all the emotion and vulnerability, both from his leaving and the inner turmoil at sitting on such a secret, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

And yet, she can’t bring herself to mouth those words, all of the various, horrible ways he could respond rushing to the forefront of her mind. He’ll be angry. Angry at her. He could….he could lose his temper.

He could lose it on her.

And she couldn’t even blame him, couldn't be upset at him because she would deserve it.

She’d deserve whatever punishment he saw fit.

“It won’t,” he says, tone promising and convincing. It briefly brings her back to the main conversation at hand vs the debate going on in her head. “I been doing this a long time, Solana. I know how to keep myself safe.”

She believes it. Knows he’s capable of unspeakable acts in the name of protection and execution. Still, it does little to abate her nerves.

She whispers, “Roman…my father…” She feels physically sick, the weight of it all making it difficult for her to properly express herself, explain to him the real reason behind her concern. “He….he’s dangerous.”

Roman’s expression is unreadable, but she can’t tell if that’s because she’s so in her head or he’s put back on that mask that the rest of the world sees. That obscured countenance that’s no doubt deeply aided in all of his success. “Solana, I told you before, I’m not a good man. I’ve hurt more, killed more, tortured more people than you can ever imagine.” He’s not trying to scare her. She knows this. Just trying to remind her of who the fuck he really is. “That son of a bitch has no idea what dangerous is.”

“I just—” She’s able to simplify it all to one basic word that carries so much more than what he probably realizes. “I’m scared.”

Roman sighs, disposition softening a bit. “I figured you would be…” He matches her gaze, almost needing her to look at him directly as he speaks without an ounce of indecision. “Solana, I would never leave you if I thought danger was present. Nothing’s going to happen to me or you.” He brings his mouth to her shoulder, pressing a kiss. “Solo will guard you, and I asked Bayley to come stay here at the house with you until I get back.”

The last part is what gives her the most pause and a small slice of comfort. “R–really?”

He nods. “I’d have asked Naomi too, but that means Jimmy be over here, and the last time his ass was here while I was gone, I had to redo the whole damn fireplace.”

She smiles and laughs a little, a much needed respite from all of her big emotions. There’s a story there. She’d love to know, but timing is everything. Maybe another day.

His lips linger on her temple, vowing, “everything’s gonna be fine.”

Interestingly enough, even in all of the confidence of his delivery, Roman is secretly wondering the same thing as Solana.

Will it?

________

The house feels strange without Roman.

Yes, he’s typically gone the majority of the days and makes it back late in the evening, but there’s still his presence at some point or another.

The past few days, however, have not provided that.

And while Solana is deeply grateful for Bayley’s presence, it’s still not the same.

It’s not Roman.

She sits across Bayley and Naomi in the living room, Dulce snuggled up next to her as the three women chit chat about any and everything. Solana does her best to be as deeply immersed as possible. It keeps her from checking her phone to see if Roman has replied to her text.

In the time he’s been gone, their communication has been sparse. He always replies, eventually, but she’s noticed that she’s the one who’s initiated most of it. It makes her feel like a bit of a nuisance, like she’s bothering him.

But, it’s the only thing that keeps her anxiety grounded. To be able to maintain contact with him. To know he’s okay.

Naomi notices this, sees the way she keeps glancing at her phone as if that’ll make it light up with a certain five letter name. “Don’t take it personal, girl. Roman does this every so often.”

At that, her attention fully switches from the phone to Naomi’s statement. “What do you mean?”

“He disappears for a few days. No more than a week. Goes completely off the grid. No contact with anyone. Not even Paul. Does it every couple months, sometimes more frequently.” She says it like it’s normal, like it should make sense. “He’s done it for years.”

“Despite the Bloodline being pretty family oriented, he can be a bit of a loner.” Bayley chimes, throwing some popcorn in her mouth.

Solana frowns, confused and slightly troubled by this information. “Where—where does he go?”

Naomi shrugs. “I don't know. Only the twins do, but they’ve never said shit and never will. They all might annoy each other on a daily basis, but the loyalty among the three of them is unmatched.”

Solana’s mind is racing. She can see someone like her husband wanting and maybe even needing time to be by himself. But the fact that it’s a regular thing, not to mention such a secret thing, has her mind racing and wondering just where does he go? What does he do while he’s gone?

Something Naomi said makes Solana clarify. “We’ve been texting since he left. Not…not as much as we usually do when he’s here, but he’s communicated with me.”

Naomi’s eyes widen. “Seriously?” Solana nods, almost unsure. “Damn. That’s a first then. He never talks to anyone when he leaves like that.”

Solana is quiet. Unsure of what to make of that either. Confused as to why Roman would break ‘tradition’ for her. And then she’s embarrassed, frustrated with herself for not being respectful of him and his time.

He doesn’t have all the time in the world to deal with her and her neediness.

Grabbing her phone, she sends out two texts and puts it face down, determine to not check again until later in the evening.

Solana: I’m sorry I’ve been bothering you while you’re trying to work.

Solana: I’ll leave you alone. Just please be careful.

Bayley is looking over in Solana’s direction when her eyes land on something. “Holy shit, is that what I think it is?” Solana frowns, confused as Bayley’s mouth slips into a shit eating grin. “It is. Damn, how did I not notice that before?”

And before Solana can ask, Bayley hits Naomi on her arm, pointing to Solana’s neck. “They must be having a good ass time over here.”

That’s when Solana realizes what she’s referring to. Her cheeks start to burn a bit as she places her hand over the courtesy of a certain husband of hers hickey.

Naomi is also smiling cheekily. “A very good time.”

But, it’s this conversation that paves the way for something else. That reminds Solana that these two ladies are her friends, her confidants, and also a lot more experienced in a certain area where she most definitely is not.

“Can I ask you guys something?” Naomi and Bayley both turn to Solana at the same time with Bayley being the first to speak.

“Come on, Solana. You already know you can ask us anything.”

“Yeah. That shouldn’t even be a question.”

That was the easy part, the harder part comes with unveiling the nature of her request. “It’s umm—it’s about sex.”

While she initially expects some type of discomfort, she only receives an increased level of intrigue.

“You can most definitely ask then.” Bayley quips, pulling her legs up under her on the sofa. “What’s going on?”

Solana starts to ask them to keep it between the group, but it feels redundant. She’s learned to trust that their conversations remain private and confidential. “Roman and I—umm—” Yup. this is definitely the hard part. “I asked him if we could….if we could work up to eventually, umm, having….you know.”

Naomi makes an ‘o’ with her mouth and then nods, almost reassuringly. “Okay.” She seems to be thinking on how she wants to ask, “are you—would it be your first time?”

Solana shakes her head, gaze dropping to her lap. “No. I—umm—” She presses her lips together and briefly closes her eyes, sharing in a quiet tone, “I was raped when I was younger.”

There’s such a mixed, jumbled bag of emotions at saying it aloud. At acknowledging her trauma without allowing that fact to overwhelm her. It’s only the second time she’s said it to anyone other than herself, but there’s also this space that feels a sense of relief at not having to hold it all in anymore.

That part of it….it’s liberating.

Naomi, however, looks distraught. “Oh my god, Solana, I’m so sorry. I didn't know—”

“No, no, it’s okay. How could you have known?” Solana knows they mean no harm, that Naomi was asking out of genuine interest vs trying to get her to divulge her trauma. She also appreciates how neither woman looks at her with an overwhelming sense of sympathy. Like they feel bad for her. Solana doesn’t want that anymore.

Doesn’t want to be seen as a victim anymore.

She takes a deep breath. “That’s why touch is hard for me, but I’ve been—I’ve been using this workbook for people who were assaulted, and it’s—it’s been helping a lot.” That feels like putting it lightly. Solana has felt life changing differences from working through that book. “But now, I—I want to try to have…that with him, but I don’t—there’s a lot I don’t know about….about pleasing a man.”

Bayley again exchanges looks with Naomi before taking over the conversation. “Does….does Roman know about—”

“He does.” She nods, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “He….he was the first person I told.”

And she doesn’t regret it. Maybe regrets that she doesn’t recall how exactly it came out, but she’s happy he was the one to be there with her in that moment of release.

“Okay.” Bayley seems relieved at this knowledge. So does Naomi. “And I don’t mean to make you feel like you need to tell him. That’s your truth. You tell or don’t tell anyone you want, but I do think him knowing could help him be….I don’t know, patient?”

Solana nods, explaining with all the truth and sincerity, “he’s been really great with that.”

Because he has. Roman has met her every step of the way of this journey, ready and willing to give her whatever she needs.

“Good.” Naomi also appears genuinely reassured by this piece of information. “But also, Solana, it shouldn’t be about you pleasing him. It should be about him pleasing you.”

Solana shifts in her seat, shrugging slightly as she admits, “I don’t—I don’t even know if it could be…could be pleasing for me.”

That’s the part she struggles with. Tries not to think too much about it for fear of it hindering her progress. If the trauma of what she endured permanently ruined that for her.

Naomi, however, is quick with the rebuttal. She shakes her head. “Trust me. With the right partner who knows what he’s doing, it can definitely be pleasing.”

“I guess that’s what worries me too. He’s….he’s so experienced, and I’m—I’m not.” She frowns, sharing and unveiling a layer of vulnerability. “I don’t want it to be…..to be bad for him.” Solana has heard and learned enough by now to know that her husband is a person who likes sex, who’s tumbled in the sheets with more women than she’d probably care to know. And that part doesn’t bother her as much as the comparisons component does. It’s hard not to think about how he’s well versed and probably has high expectations that she’s almost certain she could never exceed, let alone meet.

It’s a bit discouraging, to say the least.

“Fuck him,” Bayley suddenly exclaims and then clarifies. “Not literally, but like, girl, this really is about you. This is….this has to be a big thing for you, and the fact that you’re even willing to try it makes me think Roman must be doing something to make you feel comfortable enough to try it with him.”

That’s an understatement. A small smile falls on her face, just thinking about the measures he’s taken to ensure her comfortability. “He is….he’s really good to me.”

Naomi jumps in. “And that just blows my mind because he’s never been with any woman the way he is with you. He’s never given a damn about them, but he clearly cares about you. And that also makes me think he’ll also be all about making you feel good versus you getting him off.”

That gives Solana a slice of comfort. The fact that he seems to be going against his preferred sexual nature to meet her exactly where she is. He hasn’t given off any indication this is something that bothers or frustrates him. At least none that she’s seen yet.

Bayley suddenly shifts gears a bit, seeming a bit awkward as she struggles to get out her sentence. “I will say though, there are….rumors that….well—” She turns to Noami, advising. “Might want to cover your eyes.”

She instead rolls her eyes. “Girl, he’s family by marriage. Not blood. I’m listening.”

Bayley laughs as Solana continues to look on a bit confused. “There are a lot of rumors that Roman is….well, he’s big all over. Like….everywhere.” She gestures to her crotch area. “You get my drift?”

And though her cheeks are painted red to match the heat inside at this conversation, Solana nods. “We….we were kissing the other day. Well, maybe more making out, and he….well, he became…..he got hard, and it was….noticeable.”

Solana feels a bit mortified at sharing such intimate details of her interaction with Roman, but Bayley and Naomi seem almost vindicated. “Oh my god, so they are true. I knew it.”

Naomi is fanning herself as she points out. “also, sis, if he’s getting hard just from kissing you, then he’s definitely gonna be all about you when you guys finally go there. His attraction to you is insane.”

Solana can’t find it in her to deny that.

Because her attraction to him is just as intense, if not more.

Bayley practically squeals but clears her throat, switching back to a more serious tone. “But back to the initial topic, because he’s well endowed, it may hurt a bit at first. It’s a matter of learning your partner, and your partner learning you. Communication is also key. If something isn’t right or doesn’t feel good, let him know.” Solana internally winces at the comment about it hurting. That’s a part that makes her nervous, that pain bringing on flashbacks of her assault. But, that’s also when she knows she has to remind herself that this isn’t that. That Roman isn’t them.

He’s not trying to hurt her.

Naomi gives her gentle shove. “But, once you get past that pain, it really can be a wonderful thing.”

It makes Solana smile a bit. That’s what she’s hoping for.

“Especially with Roman, cause I mean this with all the respect in the world, Solana, but that man is fine as hell.” Bayley lifts her hands in a surrender motion. “Don’t worry, I don’t want him like that, but I’m not blind either.”

“It wouldn’t make a difference even if you did, cause baby, he is all about Solana.”

Solana’s blushing is on level 10 as she looks down, shrugging with one shoulder, “he’s….he’s really great. I—I’ve never had a man be so nice to me before.”

Naomi shakes her head. “That’s because you’ve never dated a real man before. Hell, you’ve never been around real men until now. Because real men don’t do what your shithole ass brother and father did to you. And probably your ex’s too. Cause I feel like you mentioned an ex.”

Solana nods, gently disclosing some details of her last relationship. “He used to…he used to talk about my weight.” One of many things, but that seemed to be his favorite talking point. “I think I tried to make it work because…well, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because he never tried to make me do anything with him. He…he used to say that I—that I was too fat for him to want to fuck me.”

Four months ago, talking about this would maybe have Solana in tears. But now, it just somewhat upsets her that someone could be so cruel, that she ever believed that. That she ever believed she was so unappealing that no man would want to be with her in that way.

Meanwhile, Naomi looks like she’s contemplating murder. “Girl, please give Roman that man’s name so he can fuck his bitch ass up.”

“Fuck that. I’ll fuck him up myself because what in the actual hell?” Bayley seems legitimately pissed off too. “Like bro, if your dick is small, just say that.”

“Solana, on a scale of 1 to 10, how attractive was your ex?”

She has to think about Naomi’s question. At the time, the score might have been higher, but now, it’s much lower due to well learned common sense. “Maybe a 4.”

“And on a scale of 1 to 10, how attractive would you rate Roman?”

That’s probably the easiest thing she’s been asked all day. “A 10.”

“Exactly, so if a fine ass man like Roman sees how equally fine you are, you do realize your ex was just an insecure prick, right?”

That’s also a surprisingly easy answer. Solana shakes her head. “I do now.” He was never good enough for her, and she never deserved to be spoken to so cruelly. These are facts she cannot and will not dispute.

“Good.” Naomi sighs with relief, leaning back into the sofa. “God, I hate the male species sometimes.” She takes a sip of her wine and is back on track, “but anyway, back to you and Roman, just make sure you stretch real good.”

“Oh my god, Naomi.”

“What? We can’t have her out here not prepared.” She defends and advises, “If you’re on top, and I don’t know, that may be better for you so you feel more in control, moving your hips as if you’re spelling your name will make any man come in under a minute. Guaranteed.”

Bayley adds on, “yeah, but you also gotta have strong legs if you’re riding. I be getting cramps and shit.”

Solana is trying to sit on this information, a strange yet pleasant feeling pooling in the small of her stomach at some of the things being said as well as a brief glimpse of those things coming to fruition.

She shifts in her seat.

Naomi then unintentionally provides a nice detour of the conversation. “But wait, I have to ask just how well did your date go with Roman because ya’ll seem to have jumped hurdles in such a short time?”

Just thinking about their surprise date has her smiling all over again. “The date was really nice, but—but you guys didn’t have to go through all that.”

Bayley chuckles. “Not according to Jimmy.”

“Jimmy?” Her frown is back. “What are you talking about?”

Naomi is the one to answer, explaining, “he said when we went to see Roman the other day at his office, ya’ll were arguing. It’s why he rushed to have us set up that dinner. Said it was a bad fight.”

“Arguing?” Solana shakes her head. “No. No. We—we were kissing when he walked in.” And the blush is back again at the memory of his soft lips on hers for the first time. A first she’s certain she’ll never forget. “Roman was irritated because we were interrupted. Not…not at me.”

“Lord Jesus, I swear my husband is lucky he’s fine because the way this boy really had us all thinking ya’ll were about to get divorced or something.” Naomi is rubbing her temples. “So, you’re both good?”

Solana nods. She’s not sure she’s ever been more happy in her life than she has been the past couple weeks.

Not since her mom was alive.

The women continue to chat it up, switching gears and topics when Jimmy and Jey arrive, both heading straight for the fridge to grab the containers of food she had ready and waiting for them.

It’s when the group is trying to settle on a movie or something to watch when Solana finally checks her phone to see her lock screen littered with notifications.

All from Roman.

She immediately unlocks it, reading over the messages.

Roman: Solana, you never bother me.

Roman: Where is this coming from?

Roman: Answer the phone.

It’s only then she sees she has a missed FaceTime call from him as well.

Solana untangles her legs and gets up from the sofa, laying Dulce in her bed so she doesn't try to jump off the sofa.

She attempts to let the group know of her brief absence. “I’ll be right back. Roman called me.”

Bayley sort of nods in acknowledgement, but the other three seem stuck on trying to pick between a comedy and a thriller.

Solana taps at her phone and hits the call button as she moves through the kitchen to go out the backdoor.

Roman answers almost immediately.

She slides the door shut behind her, opening up with a textbook apology. “I’m sorry, I was talking to Bayley and Naomi, so I wasn’t checking my phone.”

He doesn’t waste a second in jumping right to the point. “Why do you think you’ve been bothering me?”

Solana takes a minute to get situated on the sun chaise, setting up the phone so it’s propped against the back of the chaise while enjoying the excuse to not have to give him an immediate answer.

“I don’t know.” She finally answers, gaze on her crossed legs instead of him, an intentional deflection. “I was looking over our texts, and I didn’t realize just how much I’ve been texting you.”

“Solana…”

“I just didn’t mean to be messaging you so much when you’re trying to work.”

“Solana, you should know me by now to know I don’t do anything I don’t want to fucking do. If I didn't want to respond to you, I wouldn’t have.” He says it so confidently that she almost doesn’t feel like she has the right to not believe him. “I would have left you on delivered just like everybody else. But you’re not everybody else, so I responded.”

Solana looks up, noticing that he’s sitting outside as well, on a patio of some sort. Same as her.

“I know something else triggered that for you, and I’m gonna find out what it is, but I’ll let it go for now.” She’s thankful for that too. This doesn’t seem like a FaceTime type of conversation anyway. “How you feeling?”

“Good.” It’s an accurate answer. Him being home would make things even better. “Having Bayley here has helped a ton. Thank you again for asking her to stay with me.” According to Bayley, it was less him asking and more of him telling, but Bay stressed that she was more than okay with it, hence Solana not feeling like she was inconveniencing anyone.

“I knew you wouldn’t want to be alone.” And she’s appreciative of that. That he’s seemed to learn her well enough to know that even with Dulce, it would be an uncomfortable thing for her. “You said Naomi’s there?” She nods. “Fuck, Solana tell me you didn’t.”

And it’s interesting to her how she already knows where this is going. A small smile growing on her face. “They’re your cousins.”

He ignores that, straight up asking. “Did you let them back in the house?”

Feeling a bit emboldened, she throws it back at him, asking. “Did you ban them from the house?”

Solana was wondering why the twins hadn’t been over since Roman was away, only for Naomi to inform her that they’d been getting denied entrance at the gate to Roman’s property.

A directive from Roman himself prior to him leaving.

And he doesn't even try to deny it. “I sure fucking did.”

Solana shakes her head, but she can’t help the smile on her face. His relationship with his cousins is so comical to her. “Roman, that’s mean.”

“Solana, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not a nice person.” She starts to push back on that, push back on his belief that he’s somehow not a good person when he’s one of the best people she’s ever met. “I like you, tolerate them, and hate everyone else. Matter of fact, they asses are about to be grouped into the hate category too.”

“They’re not that—” And before she can finish her line of defense, a loud sound, a shattering of sorts cuts through that attempt. She frowns and turns toward the house.

“Man, what the hell did you do!”

“Aye, it ain’t my fault! I told you the shit couldn’t hold your weight!”

“See, now ya’ll breaking shit in Big Dog house! This why he don’t be wanting ya’ll over here!” Jimmy’s voice becomes louder and clearer followed by the sliding door opening and Dulce running out, jumping at the chaise for Solana to pick her up.

She does as such, noticing that Dulce is shaking, most likely in fear. “Jimmy, what—”

“What the fuck did ya’ll break now?”

Roman’s voice catches everyone off guard, even Dulce whose ears perk up and tail starts to wag as she sees him on the phone screen.

Jimmy looks a shade of anxious asking in a harsh whispered voice. “Damn, SoSo, why you ain’t tell me ya’ll was still on?”

“Fuck! I stepped on glass!”

“I told your dumbass to put shoes on!”

“Ayo, Bay, watch ya’ fucking mouth, alright?”

Jimmy chuckles almost nervously, moving near Solana to be in frame of the camera. “Whasup, cuz. Nothing. We just, uh, was watching a movie.”

Roman looks even more irritated at the obvious lie. “Ya’ll got ten minutes to get the fuck out of my house—”

“Damn, Uce, I hear Naomi calling me. I’ll see you when you get back!” And Jimmy doesn’t even wait for Roman to reply, no doubt the continuation and issuance of a threat anyway.

But it’s as he runs back into the house, bickering continuing between him and Jey that Solana rethinks her initial stance. “Maybe….maybe you have a point.”

“Do you see what I’m saying?” Roman looks at Dulce who continues to look at him through the screen, barking occasionally. She’s so excited to see him. “Look, even the damn dog don’t like em’. Ain’t that supposed to be man’s best friend or something?”

Roman’s irritation is felt through the screen, but it doesn’t scare her, doesn’t bother her. Her smile grows again as she asks, “are—are you still coming back Sunday?”

His answer comes on the end of a long sigh, his anger naturally melting away. “yes.”

An instant wave of relief washes over as she asks a follow up question. “So you got everything figured out?”

He hesitates, looking at her for a bit before answering. “For now.”

Solana wants to ask more, because she knows there’s more. He’s saying just enough to answer her questions, and while she normally would leave that alone, there’s a part of her that worries. Something was clearly bothering him before he left, and he suddenly feels or at least seems better. She can’t help but wonder what was bothering him, what helped him to feel better.

Or who.

Because she can’t stop thinking about the information she received from Naomi. It’s not uncommon for Roman to disappear every couple months, sometimes more frequently, okay. But just where does he go and why is it some big secret?

“You’re overthinking something.” Even however many miles away he is, Roman is still exceptionally adept at reading her. “What is it?”

Lying to him isn’t an option, but the full truth isn’t either. “Just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m good, Solana. I promise.”

She wants to believe him, but it’s hard. She just does her best to not feed too much of the anxiety.

Studying his face, she has to force herself to get past his attractiveness to recognize the dark circles under his eyes. “You’re probably tired.” Not to mention, she feels bad for pulling him away from whatever he was doing. “I should go help them clean up.”

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of talking to you.” Her stomach flutters with all the butterflies only he can seem to give her. “And no, they broke the shit. Let them clean it up.” He easily adds on, “besides, I need to run some things by you.”

This gives her pause, as she stammers a bit. “O–okay.”

“One. I need to know what you want and want to do for your birthday. Two, there’s a Gala next week I have to attend, and I want you to come with me.”

Two major things, the first of which she didn’t realize was coming, the second she doesn’t even know how to think about.

And maybe it’s less she didn’t know her birthday was coming and more it’s been so long since she’s acknowledged her birthday. Since anyone around her acknowledged her birthday. It feels almost foreign just the idea of doing anything.

Finally, she answers more of his first question than the first. “Nothing. I don’t—I’m not big on birthdays.”

She hasn’t been since her mother’s murder.

That was the last year anyone ever told her happy birthday.

Roman, however, doesn’t seem to find this as an acceptable answer. “No, your pussy father and brother probably barely acknowledged your birthday, but I’m not them. We’re doing something. Preferably something out of town, because if my fucking cousins interfere in any way, I’m killing them.”

Her smile returns, soft and slightly amused. “Roman, you don’t have to. I just—just come back home, and I’ll be fine.”

And it’s the truth. Just him being back will be more than enough.

Again though, enough for her, but clearly not him. “I’ll handle it then.”

She shakes her head. “Ro—”

“What about the gala?”

Something tells her his mind is made, and when that happens, there is no room for negotiation. So she redirects her focus on the next topic. A gala sounds fancy, uppity almost. It doesn’t seem like his setting, but something also tells her it’s more an appearance he has to attend as leader of the Bloodline vs a preferred outing.

But, there’s only one main question at the front of her mind. “Will you be with me the whole night?”

“Of course.”

There’s an instant wave of relief as she agrees. “I’ll go.” As long as he’s with her, she’s okay. And if he has to be there, she’d like to at least support him in any way she can.

“Good.” He seems pleased by this, adding on coyly. “Selfishly, I just want to see your fine ass all dressed up.”

Solana giggles as Dulce barks. A comfortable silence settles over them as something flutters in her chest, a warm, almost fuzzy type of feeling.

Happy.

She feels happy.

But….but something else. Something both warm and cool, different but familiar, pleasing but scary. A perfect yet imperfect balance of feelings.

Lips parting, she tries her best to ignore the thumping feeling in her chest. “Roman, I–”

“Ayo, Soso, ya’ll got a fire extinguisher?”

________

“Still nothing?”

It’s the first thing Xavier asks as soon as his son steps foot in his hospital room. It was only a few days prior that Wes was released, finally cleared and recovered enough from his injuries sustained from the Bloodline.

Xavier, however, has not been as lucky. Age and a body already riddled with health issues has prolonged his stay. However, this has only given him time to think, time to plan, time to really evaluate the actions that got him here.

His son answers with a cold, "no."

But while Xavier has schemed, Wes, however, has only stewed. Sat and become overcome with feelings of rage. All directed to one person.

Solana

Just thinking of her makes him snap as he punches his still healing fist into the closest wall. “That little bitch betrayed us!”

Xavier is used to his son’s violent outbursts, so he has no reaction other than a knowing smirk. “Maybe not.”

Wes looks at his dad, wondering if he’s so high on morphine that he has no idea what he’s saying. “Have you spoken to her? Cause I sure fucking haven’t. She was supposed to keep in contact!”

“She was supposed to earn Reigns trust.” Xavier corrects calmly. “And it seems she has.”

Wes calms down a bit, interested in where his father is going. “What are you talking about?”

“Think about it.” Xavier thinks highly of his son, recognizes his potential for greatness. But there’s still some room for growth. Wes can often be blinded by his own hubris. “That level of rage Reigns had….that wasn’t his usual. It was personal.”

Wes is still stumped, not following fully. “What do you mean? That smug bastard is always like that.”

“No. He came after us specifically for her. Because he was upset about whatever she’s told him we’ve done.” Xavier doesn’t waste the opportunity to bestow a lesson upon his son. He asks, challenging his critical thinking skills, “why do you think that is?”

Wes is quiet, thinking carefully on not only what occurred but what can be inferred between the lines of what occurred. And as realization sets in, so does his vile grin “He cares about her.”

Xavier smiles wickedly. “Exactly.” He rests against the pillow behind his back, ignoring the pain that just that slight movement causes to shoot through his still healing body. Damn morphine must be wearing off. “It seems our little beauty has enchanted the beast.”

Wes nods but then points out. “But how can we be sure? It could very well just be him being possessive. Feeling disrespected only because he sees her as an extension. What we see as personal could just be pride.”

Another smile befalls Xavier’s still bruised, cut up face. “You’re learning.” He nods, grabbing his phone. “That’s exactly correct. We must know for certain before making any moves.” He flips his phone showing the exclusive invite to William Regal's annual gala. “But, I know exactly how we’re going to find out.”

#roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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bluecollarmcandtf · 9 months ago

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Cash Slave, reporting in...

Good morning, master. State Trooper Hernandez reporting!

I hope you're doing well since the last time we saw each other. Again, I can't apologize enough for pulling you over on the highway. I had no idea you were such an amazing hypnotist. Thank you again for letting me get off easy and only making me taze myself twice! I was paralyzed in that muddy ditch for awhile, but you could've given me a helluva worse punishment!

Your instructions aren't negotiable, so I made sure to snap a photo before I started my shift today. As you suggested, I've been eating a box of donuts every morning, and I've packed on a hefty 30 lbs since I've started. My wife has complained, but I know you want me to look more like a cliche of law enforcement!

I'll stop by your house to drop off my paycheck tonight after work. I won't forget to pick up some pizza for you and your friends on the way: extra sausage, just like you said!

See you tonight, master!

Hello sir.

It's been a week since you came into my shop, and I've followed everything you said. I didn't agree with it at first, but you convinced me with that little pendant.

You were right! I really am beneath powerful men like you. Filthy blue-collar workers aren't worthy to lick the dirt off your shoes. You were right to point that out, and you were right to tell me to embrace it. When the world looks at me, they shouldn't see a man. They should see a grease monkey at the bottom of society.

That's why I haven't showered or changed in seven days. My BO is uncomfortable to work in, but I know it's just a reminder of what I am. I used to be proud of my job. Ha! I used to look down on suits like you, but I'm nothing in comparison; just a tool at your disposal.

Anyways, I cleaned and waxed your old car as fast as I could. I know I lent you my convertible, but you're welcome to keep it. I put a lot of sweat and blood in fixing her up, but like you said, fancy cars are meant for you to drive and me to maintain.

Stop back in my garage anytime. White-collar men like you get free service here! It's not the place of any lowly laborer to get in the way of what you want.

Thank you again, sir.

Hello boss.

Just started another long day of window washing! It's another hot one, but I'll keep my head down and sweat through it like usual.

I've gotta say, it's days like this that make me miss the comforts of my old corporate desk job. I'd kill for some AC right now, but I remember how much you made me realize I hated that career. Like you said, I'm much better suited to a life of mindless cleaning.

It turns out you're the real one with a knack for business strategy because all of your advice has been genius! The income is dependent on the hours I put in, and since I'm working for half the price of all competitors, I've gotten a monopoly on the market! I've fully booked all seven days for the next five or so weeks, so I'll be washing windows non-stop!

The business is already booming! I've been billing customers to your bank account, so you should already see all the profit in there!

Later today, I'll make a note of the minimum I need to replenish the cleaning supplies I'm running through. I'd also be grateful if you loaned me a bit for personal use, but it's understandable if you can't spare any! We agreed that I wasn't working for a salary, and I'm fine with that! I've been sleeping in the company van the last few weeks and it's more than good enough for me!

Don't worry, boss. I'll get back to work!

Tell my wife hello for me, master!

Working on a rig has been isolating. The job is brutal, the days are long, and every night I head back to our bunks covered in oil. I thought I'd at least get to bond with the other guys, but most of us are too tired to do anything but eat and sleep after our shift.

The only thing that's getting me through it is thinking about you. I know I also have a girl at home, but you were the one that gave my life purpose. I was never going to make money as an actor, and you helped me see that! You were the one that convinced me to go for this ridiculous job in the middle of the ocean, and now I'm making a ton of money!

You deserve it all.

I wouldn't have seen any of this cash if I hadn't stuck around after your stage hypnosis show. I still remember the wild look in your eyes when you came up with this idea for me. I also remember that hungry look you had when you saw my wife. It was impossible to say no.

Oh, and thanks for keeping my wife company while I'm gone. A man like you deserves her attention more than I do. Like you said, I doubt I was pleasing her to begin with. The only thing I'm good for is earning money, and I hope you're enjoying it because it sure isn't easy to earn!

I gotta get back, but I wanted to let you know that I signed up for another six months like you suggested. It's lonely, but I'm happy to do it, master!

Son, or should I still call you 'sir'?

I'm not sure if I your new title applies through text as well? Being your dad and your servant can be a bit confusing, but I don't mean disrespect you! Just let me know.

My workout is done and I'm headed back to your house. I signed the deed over to you this morning, so you officially own it now! Like usual, I'll clean the place from top to bottom. I've got all the mops and cleaning supplies in my van and ready to go. Since it's Friday, I'll start on the weekly yard work; mowing, weeding, etc... I don't want to bore you with the details, but it'll take the majority of the day to keep your place in tip top shape!

As I understand it, you are having friends over tonight, so I'll prepare a three course meal for eight. I ironed my apron this morning so I should look like a more presentable waiter than last night when I served your food!

As always, please let me know if there's any other way I can be of service today or tonight.

I'll be awaiting your return, sir.

Hey little bro,

I just finished my workout at the gym with dad. We're both hitting PRs and we're really starting to see some results! Still can't believe you hypnotized his dumb ass to think he's your butler! That man looks so stupid changing from gym clothes into a bowtie and gloves. He's constantly calling you 'sir' too, even when you're not around.

He's such an idiot.

Anyways, I'm all dressed and ready for my new job. You were totally right. I'm going to be so much happier as a clown instead of a wrestler. I'm about to head out to my first gig; a ten year old's birthday party. I think he's the kid of someone I used to compete with. It might be a little awkward, but it won't affect my routine. I've got an afternoon of pies in the face and self-deprecating humor ahead of me.

I made sure to tell the guy who hired me that I'm willing to stay after and clean up. Kids make a huge mess after all. I just hope he won't be too weird about me being a clown at his son's party. We may have been rivals in the past, but that was back when I wrestled. Now I'm just a joke for hire. He's technically my boss for the day, so I'll have to get used to taking orders from him.

Wish me luck, bro. I'll give you the money after the dad dismisses me. Let's hope I make a good clown!

#mind control #gay hypnosis #hypno story #gay ai art #hypnotized #servant

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lipglossanon · 2 years ago

Text

Stay Right Through

☆───── ⋆⋅🐾⋅⋆ ─────☆

Dogman!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (one shot)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, hybrid au, dogman Leon, master/pet dynamics, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), mounting, breeding, knotting, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread 👌

Title from Wandering by Good Charlotte 💜

Part 2: I Only Touched Her Hips But She Saw It

☆───── ⋆⋅🐾⋅⋆ ─────☆

Excitement makes your leg bounce as you wait for the lady to come back from setting up.

You did get to the hybrid adoption center a little early, but you’re just really happy to be here!

Hybrids were all the craze ages ago, but since the newness has died off (aka puppy syndrome has waned) there were more and more of these places opening up. Your parents never saw the point in getting a hybrid for the family, very old fashioned not to mention pretty anti pet in general.

So now, you have your own place and a steady job that isn’t eating up all your time anymore making it the perfect time to get a feel for what kind of hybrid you want. You’re definitely open to any of them, but it seems like the dog hybrids have a higher turnover rate which is why you’re at this specific adoption center.

The lady finally comes around to the front desk and smiles at you.

“Sorry for the wait, now how may I help you?”

You glance at her name tag, “Hi Patricia, and I’m looking into adopting. I was hoping to kinda get the ball rolling today.”

She laughs, “Not a problem. If you could fill out this form, I can put this in the system while you take a look around and see if there’s anyone you like.”

“Thank you,” you smile, taking the forms and returning to your seat.

It takes a lot longer than anticipated, but soon enough you have all your i’s dotted and t’s crossed. Turning in the clipboard, Patricia stands up and leads you over to a locked door. She runs her card across the electronic sensor and opens it for you.

She gives you a little nudge inside, “There are caretakers throughout if you have questions or concerns. Cameras are all over the facility but you look like a nice enough person so I’m sure we won’t have any issues.”

She laughs a little and waves as she closes the door behind her, leaving you to sort of walk around and look.

The place is a lot different than the mental picture you had; it’s set up like an open floor plan, but with individual mini rooms separated by cubicle partitions. It seems like in the center is just a large lounge type area with couches and an entertainment center. Past all of that you can make out granite counters suggesting a kitchen.

With that, you can see all kinds of hybrids hanging around in the living area or just milling about talking with one another.

“Hi! Need help?”

You look over at the perky blonde woman with the name tag Sherry.

“Uh kinda, I just don’t want to step on any toes, y’know?” you smile feeling a little shy.

“Not a problem,” she laughs, gesturing for you to walk with her, “I’ll just give you a quick tour and let you meet some of the pups.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I was really hoping to look at older—“

“Oh gosh, that’s great,” she gushes, “sorry to cut you off, but we have more than we like to see with older dog men.”

“Oh,” you laugh at her bubbly attitude, “well that’s great,” you wince, “not that it’s great.”

She pats your arm in solidarity, “I totally understand. But I’ll take you right over to where they like to hangout. They tend to stay away from the center of the lounge, too many yapping pups.”

Her voice must mimic one of the older hybrids with that last comment and you laugh along with her.

She guides you closer to the kitchen area but off to the side that sort of resembles a ‘man cave’ for lack of a better term. It’s more dimly lit with similar lounge furnishings.

“Hi everyone!” Sherry lights up the space with her presence, some of the hybrids calling back to her as you two walk closer.

“We have a new prospective friend here,” she introduces you to a trio of dog men standing up from the couch.

“Nice to meet you all!” you wave, excitement probably making you smile like a maniac but you’re just so happy to finally have this chance.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Chris,” a tall, dark haired dogman nods, his Rottweiler ears flopping a little as he tilts his head to look over at the other two.

“H-hi, I’m Ethan,” the mild mannered blonde rubs the back of his neck nervously, his twitching ears reminding you of a Chow Chow making you smile wider.

“Leon,” the last dogman gives you a lazy two finger salute, sandy blonde hair nearly hiding his soft Labrador ears.

“Would you like to hang out here while I run off to grab some pamphlets?” Sherry asks you with a twinkle in her eye, giving you an option to hang out with these three alone.

“Sure,” you nod, watching as she spins on her heel and walks in the direction of the office.

You turn back to the three dog men who quickly invite you to sit and hang out. Chris is quick to talk, adept at conversation making you laugh at some anecdote or other. Ethan’s a little more subdued, reminding you of yourself, chiming in every now and then. He seems to help reign Chris in when he gets a little too enthusiastic.

Leon, although he talks less than Chris, constantly draws your attention. You don’t know if it’s cheesy puns or his overly cynical jabs (which Chris takes offense to and then Ethan’s breaking up their growling and snapping), but you have a good feeling about him. So by the time Sherry makes her way back with some actually helpful pamphlets, your mind is all made up.

“It was so nice meeting you all,” you wave cheerfully, following Sherry back to the front.

“Well, any lucky candidates?” Sherry asks with poorly hidden enthusiasm.

“Yep,” you smile at her, happy with your choice, “I’d love to take in Leon, if he’s fine with it of course.”

“I’m sure he will be!” she enthuses, clapping her hands, “he’s been here the longest so I’m so happy to see someone finally pick him!”

“Really?” you look back through the door right before it shuts, “I’m surprised.”

“Eh,” she waves you off, leading you over to a different section, “he’s just grumpy,” she pauses and looks around before whispering, “people come in, pick him out, then being him back after the trial week. Always the same, he’s too sarcastic, too grumpy, they just want a younger dog.”

Your heart cracks after hearing that, determination blazing through the sadness, “Well that’s not happening this time.”

Sherry looks at you, eyes contemplative before grinning, “I think you two will be a good fit!”

She has you hang out in her office as she prints some documents to put in a Manila folder for you to take home.

“You’re all set,” she leads you out the back to the parking lot, “your background check should clear in about three days and we’ll call to set up a time to have Leon do a trial stay at your place.”

You hesitate but push through to ask, “Is it okay if I come by tomorrow? I’d like to make sure Leon is fine with it, too.”

Sherry looks a little teary eyed as she quickly nods, “Of course, please do. I think he’s gonna be perfectly happy with ya though.”

You bid your goodbyes and you get in your car to head home. It’s not that far of a drive, luckily, and since it’s on the other part of town there’s no crazy traffic. You’re home lounging on the couch in no time, texting your friend Heather all the details. Once you send her the link to Leon’s profile, she does not shut up about him.

Rolling your eyes, you close your phone and start reading through the folder. It’s all pretty basic info on how to care for a hybrid; they’re pretty much like a person, just a little less adept at some things. They can hold a job if they wish but more seem to choose the pet lifestyle.

Gazing down at Leon’s profile photo, you just really wanna take care of him. Show him that not all owners are complete douchebags.

The next day passes quickly and by the time works over, you’re tired but buzzing—excited to get to the adoption place and meet up with Leon again.

Sherry greets you again, just as enthusiastic as before. She leads you over to one of the cubicle partitioned rooms and raps her knuckles on the side.

“Leon, she’s here,” her voice sing songs.

“Have fun,” she pats your arm and turns back the way you both came.

Leon’s nice enough to you, but you can tell he’s acting very closed off—keeping all of the conversation pretty baseline and shallow. No matter how grumpy and gruff he’s acting, you’re literally showering him with enthusiasm. You show him pictures of your house (including the room that’s all his, if he wants it or you can work something else out).

You ask him tons of questions, but he only answers a few. A few times you say something that makes him smother a smile or a laugh making your heart flutter in your chest. Right before it’s time to go, you’re shifting on your feet at the opening of his room.

“I know I’ve asked a million times, but are you good with living with me? I promise I really won’t push it if not,” you smile shyly, “I’d be super bummed though.”

His blue eyes watch you, unreadable for a moment before he smirks, “Hey beats being here,” he raises his voice a little, “plus I won’t have to deal with deadbeat rotties.”

The partition wall next to you rattles and you see Chris looming over it to glare at Leon.

“I’ll be glad to see you go, tomorrow can’t get here soon enough.”

“Tomorrow?” you ask quizzically.

Leon looks a little sheepish but shrugs easily, “Pretty sure they pushed it through this afternoon.”

“Oh,” you beam, feeling giddy all over, “that’s great! I’ll be here as soon as works over! Oh! And then we have the whole weekend to get you settled in, this is going to be so much fun!”

Chris and Leon both look amused as you finish rambling, now feeling bashful for coming on too strong.

You fidget before clearing your throat, “C-can I pet your ears?”

Chris’ eyebrows raise and he grins at Leon, “Can’t believe you, Kennedy; she hasn’t got to pet you yet?” he tilts his head toward you, while looking at Leon, “you can pet me, ma’am.”

Leon steps between you two and snarls at him making Chris laugh and drop back down behind his wall. He walks closer to you, lowering his head due to his height.

You smile sweetly making him blush as you softly run your hands through his hair before coming up to rub his soft sandy colored ears. He shivers and headbuts your shoulder, silently asking for more. Stifling the giggle that wants to escape, you use both hands to pet and rub his soft ears.

“You’re such a good boy,” you murmur not really thinking.

He whines a little and nuzzles into your neck making the giggle you were suppressing come bubbling out. He noses against your skin, huffing warm breaths as you continue to pet him.

“You’re so sweet, Leon, I’m happy you’re coming home with me,” you keep your voice low and soothing.

He only chuffs against your neck, rough tongue coming out to lap at your skin before he’s pulling away. You smile at him as Sherry turns the corner.

“Sorry to cut this short, but we’re closing soon. Good news is you and Leon leave out from here together tomorrow,” she hands you yet another folder filled with information.

You take the folder and wave to Leon who moved back over to his bed, “See you tomorrow, Leon.”

He just gives you a little wave as Sherry leads you back to the front. She sees you out the door with a smile and a promise to be the one to help you out.

Once you get home, you pace your living room. You feel like you have so much to do but don’t know where to start. Texting Heather, she tells you to chill out and actually sit down. Laughing to yourself about how well she knows you, you collapse onto your couch just realizing how tired you actually feel.

Your phone dings with a new text from Heather. Honestly, ever since you told her your idea, she’s been sending you cute puppy videos. They’ve been full of all types of pets getting along with their owners doing silly things together. It honestly helped you cement your plan on picking an older dogman since you rarely saw any in those videos.

This text, however, was sent with the cryptic ‘to fill in those lonely hours 😜’ and knowing her sense of humor you’re kinda worried about the link.

Knick Knack Paddywhack sounds kinda cheesy but you definitely didn’t expect porn to be on the other side of that link.

At first you don’t even realize that’s what it is; it starts off pretty tame in general and before you know it this female owner is being mandhandled face down onto the couch as this huge, buff mandog is mounting her from behind.

“Yeah you’ve been fucking gagging for this doggy’s dick huh?”

You really should exit from the video but some dark horny part of your brain is too entranced by what’s happening to even move. Distantly, you notice that his dick looks exactly like a human male’s just with the addition of a knot at the base. He fucks her roughly, stretching her out and forcing his cock deep in her wet pussy.

The dirty talk is really what’s making you go a little cross eyed with arousal.

“Oh fuck yeah, knot me, breed my little pussy.”

“You want that? Wanna be my pretty bitch always on her hands and knees?”

“Unh unh yeah, make me your bitch. Wanna have your pups.”

You watch in mounting curiosity and arousal and shame as the camera shows her cunt take his entire knot, sealing them together as he ruts through her climax.

Quickly exiting before the video can go further, you drop your head in your hands. Your panties are soaked, making your thighs feel tacky. In a daze, you move off the couch and head into the bathroom to take a shower. Your thoughts are a whirlwind.

You’ve honestly never given it any thought about inter species relationships; you’ve heard about them sure, but only in passing and never any details. Now, you literally can’t stop thinking about that mandog dominating his ‘owner’ and knotting her. Shivering, your nipples pebble under the warm water.

Leon’s gruff voice and handsome face swim into your thoughts making your clit pulse with your heartbeat. Would he—

You shake your head vigorously. Nope, not going there. You’re gonna shower and then go to bed, maybe watch a cartoon or something to keep your thoughts G rated.

All of that’s easier said than done, but you somehow manage and before you know it you’re waking up the next morning, excited to go pick up Leon and bring him home.

It’s pretty anticlimactic once you leave work and pick Leon up; Sherry had everything at the front ready to go with Leon just standing next to her. She leads him out to the car with you carrying the essentials, stowing them in the trunk while she unclips his collar and leash.

“Please keep us updated,” she ruffles Leon’s hair making him bat her hands away with an eye roll, “we love seeing our pups flourish.”

“Not a pup,” he grouses, climbing into the backseat and shutting the door.

Sherry laughs, “I’ll miss him but I’m more happy he’s leaving.”

“Thank you so much for everything,” you shake her hand, “and I promise to stop by every now and again with updates.”

She walks back inside as you climb into your car. Looking at Leon in the rear view mirror as he stares out the window moodily, you crank the car and slowly leave the lot.

“Do you need anything before we get home?” you ask, breaking the quiet.

He shakes his head no making his ears flop. You hide your smile and turn your attention back to the road. Once home, Leon settles in seamlessly; he takes the bedroom you offer but after the second night has made a little bed for himself in your room, tucked into the corner. When you asked, concerned he wasn’t happy with his room, he just gave you the short reply of needing to make sure you’re safe.

You didn’t push it but let him know he’s more than welcome to tell you if he’s unhappy with anything.

Days passed into weeks which quickly became months. Leon made himself right at home and now you really couldn’t picture your life without the dogman. It was nice coming home after a long day and be greeted with someone so happy to see you. Although Leon is still pretty stunted with showing affection, you usually can convince him to snuggle you on the couch and let you pet him til his tail wags.

He’s really particular about having his tail touched so you don’t pry or push, more than happy to just pet his head and ears.

Today when you get home for work and enter the house, Leon’s beelining straight for you, burying his face in your neck.

“TGIF huh,” you laugh, petting his ears making him whine.

“Missed you so much,” he breaths in your smell, tongue lapping up your neck to your jaw, stubble tickling your skin.

He licks across your mouth once making you jerk back but he quickly follows, raspy tongue licking over your lips and chin.

“Leon—“

You try to tell him to stop as you push at his shoulders but that just gives him the leverage to lick into your mouth. You keep pushing at him while you take a step back to make him stop, but your legs get tangled and you both fall back on the entryway carpet.

Leon still hasn’t let up, and since you were more worried about making sure neither of you hurt yourselves when tripping, he’s drooling and licking into your mouth making you whine and push harder at his shoulders.

He shifts until he’s between your legs and rocks down against the apex of your thighs. Grunting, he shoves your skirt up and tears your panties in half. One of his broad hands, grabs your flailing arms by the wrists and pins them to your chest.

Finally he pulls away from your swollen mouth, licking his way down to your neck again.

“Leon, stop being such a bad boy,” you gasp out, “what’s gotten into you?”

“Heat,” he sniffs against your neck before lightly licking the skin again, “need you so bad.”

You’re in a daze as you feel his bulge grinding against your bare pussy, slick starting to slowly drip out of your hole. As much as you protest, you’re really getting off on this, on Leon losing control and wanting to fuck you.

“T-there are heat toys the center gave me,” you try to cut this off before you both go too far, “you can use those.”

He growls and nips your neck making you whimper.

“Don’t wanna knotting toy,” his growling is getting deeper as he grinds against you harder, “only wanna knot my pretty owner.”

“Oh fuck,” you moan as he rubs against your clit just right.

Your mind flashes back to that video you saw months ago, hips bucking up into Leon imagining him mounting you in the same way.

“Leon, s’bad, we shouldn’t—ngh, fuck!”

He pulls completely away from you and buries his nose in your pussy, raspy tongue eagerly licking up the slick dripping out of you.

He growls and looks up at you as he mouths across your swollen clit, letting his rough tongue lap at the bundle of nerves til you’re keening and spreading your legs for him.

He smirks, “That’s a good little owner, let me taste your sweet little pussy. Fuck, been smelling you for ages and now I can finally eat you out as much as I want.”

“Leon, you’re being such a bad boy right now,” you hiccup a whine, thighs straining to stay open.

“Nah,” he kisses hour clit and softy licks it over and over and over, “you’re just being a bad girl, need me to put you in your place.”

You whine as he goes back to tongue fucking into your fluttering walls. Reaching down, you softly grasp his hair and rock against his mouth. He grunts and somehow shoves his face even more into your soaked cunt, greedily lapping at you with his rough tongue.

The arguments you should make die on your tongue as Leon uses his to make you shiver and shake, goosebumps trailing along your body. With a low keening moan, you relax against him, letting him use that rough tongue to lick your cunt until you’re bucking up into his mouth.

He keeps you there, pinned to the entryway carpet as he eats you out for hours, never letting you cum once. By the time your bleary eyes take in the street lamps through your window, Leon’s pulling away from your slick pussy making you whine.

“Leon, we shouldn’t,” your pussy throbs, entire body strung tight from your denied orgasms.

“Have to,” his eyes are so dilated they look black, “don’t you wanna help me? Just need it one time.”

He looms over you, forearms caging in your head, his jaw and mouth covered in wetness as he grinds his dick against your mound. Glancing down you take in just how big Leon is; he’s so hard the head is peaking through his foreskin, dripping precum all over your thighs. Then, right at his base, you can see the beginnings of a knot forming which makes your pussy ache with want.

You’re nodding up at him, belatedly answering his question, “Yeah, I wanna help you,” your hands come up to pet his hair, “wanna help my good boy.”

He yanks your blouse off, seams popping and tearing until it’s in shreds around you then snaps your bra off and tosses it away. His mouth eagerly licks and nips at your pebbled nipples making you gasp.

“Gonna make you feel so good, breed this hot pussy.”

With a growl, Leon flips you over onto your stomach, hands going to your hips to raise your ass up. You try to push up onto your arms, but his broad palm pushes on the middle of your back shoving your upper body down.

You rock your hips back although there’s not much room from how he’s laying on top of you, back pinned to his broad hairy chest as his cock rubs against your drippy cunt.

“You wanna breed me?” you tease making him growl and snap at the nape of your neck, “wanna knot my pussy?”

He buries the first few inches of his cock in your pussy making you squeal and arch away. His hands move to keep your hips still as pulls out to thrust back in, sinking his cock all the way inside of you making you squirm in place with a cry.

“Think it’s funny?” his tone sounds mean as he ruts his fat cock deeper into your pussy making you wince and try to move away again.

He clucks his tongue and tightly squeezes your hips, “No little owner, you wanted it and you’re gonna get it. Show you how I breed bitches that need a knot.”

“Oh god,” you whine as he bullies his cock even further into your cunt, “Leon s’too much, you won’t fit, I wasn’t made to—“

“This pussy was made for cock,” he scoffs down at you making your body hot all over from his words, “just gotta break you in first; I’ll have you begging for me to knot you.”

His mocking is only making you wetter, pussy walls clenching and pulsing around his cock.

“S’too much,” you finally gasp out, not stopping yourself from rocking back against his slow thrusts, “shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Yeah?” he snorts, “think it’s dirty? Think it’s wrong to want me to fuck you? I bet this entire time you’ve been thinking, Oh please Leon need your big doggy dick to stuff my needy little pussy.”

You moan loudly at his crude words as he laughs.

“Like I thought. You like it you dirty little slut. Like my thick doggy cock filling you up?”

“Leon no,” you whimper, eyes rolling back as he grinds against that spongy spot in your cunt that has you moaning nonstop, “s’dirty ‘n you don’t even have a dog di—“

“Shut up,” his canines nip at your skin making you keen, “gotta teach this little pussy who’s the real master here.”

You gasp and keen as Leon stretches your pussy out on his large cock, bottoming out constantly making your cunt clamp down on him from the pain of his tip knocking against your cervix.

Like earlier, he keeps you pinned to the carpet and slowly fucks your pussy for what feels like hours all while talking filth to you.

“Mmm knew your pussy would be so good, been humping my fist waiting for my heat so I can fill you up.”

“My sexy fucking owner, letting me knot her pussy, breed her full of my pups.”

“I know, I’m so big for this tiny little pussy but doesn’t it feel so good? So nice and stretched out?”

“Leon,” you keen hands scrabbling at the floor, mouth drooling everywhere, “my knees hurt.”

He pauses and gently eases himself out of your cunt. Not giving you time to breathe, he already has you hoisted over his shoulder and carries you into your room. Tossing you onto the bed, he’s back on top of you in a flash burying his dick inside your sopping wet pussy.

You look down and whine to see the belly bulge his fat cock makes inside your body.

“Nice and snug,” Leon licks your cheek, “gonna be so tight on my knot.”

“It’s not gonna fit,” you whine up at him, nails digging into to his forearms so hard they’re bleeding.

You’re already so full, pussy feeling like it’s stretched to the limit, but his knot is pressing against your soaked hole making you rock down into it.

“Sure it will, little owner,” he laughs, voice gravelly and deep making you shudder and relax around his dick, hole giving just a little around his knot, “that’s why I licked you open so good earlier.”

You moan as he licks across your cheek, “Tongued you deep until you were practically squirting in my mouth.”

“Leon, oh fuck,” you hiccup a moan, tears slipping down your face.

“So good for me, prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen and it’s all mine,” he grunts, grinding against your fluttering pussy walls as his drippy tip knocks against your cervix, “my owner and her fat pussy are all mine.”

“Leon,” you gasp, “you can’t say that.”

“Sure I can,” he huffs warm air against your neck, his canine teeth nipping at your skin, “I’m gonna knot your tiny pussy and breed you. Give you my pups.”

“Nooo,” you whimper, pussy pulsing and clamping around his cock, knot continuing to press inside.

“Gonna mount my pretty owner like this every day,” he kisses your neck before licking his way back up to your mouth, “mount my little bitch and give her wet needy cunt my knot.”

“‘M not your bitch,” you finally gasp out around his tongue as he drools and licks into your mouth, “this can’t happen again, Leon.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, “gonna make me use that toy? That fake little plastic pussy? Y’gonna let me knot it in front of you, knowing what I feel like now? I don’t think so little owner.”

He pulls out and flips you over on your stomach, yanking your hips up so your ass is raised, head still down on the mattress.

“Should be able to fit it this way,” he slaps your ass and you whine, fingers twisting in the sheets.

His cock plunges back into your sopping wet cunt over and over; his knot teasing you on every thrust until he slowly grinds deep into your fluttering walls.

“I’m gonna put it in this time, knot you nice and deep,” he pants against your shoulder, mouth drooling all over your skin making you shiver, “gonna knock you up, breed you til it takes.”

You moan and press back against him, mind slow and hazy. He pulls back and then presses forward slowly but insistently and you wail as his knot breaches your clenching hole. His cock’s filling you up so much it feels like he’s in the bottom of your throat.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming,” you whimper, pussy gushing around his impossibly huge dick, walls milking his knot repeatedly as he just continues to grind into your cunt.

“Feels good,” he slurs, licking over your neck and shoulders, “pussy squeezing me so tight.”

You moan weakly, pussy pulsing around his dick as he continues to grind his hips into your ass.

“Gonna spill deep inside my pretty little owner and she just has to take it,” he chuffs against your neck, groaning as he humps deeper into your cunt.

His grunts taper off into low growls as he rocks harder against you.

“Gonna fuck my pups into you,” he’s snarling into your ear, saliva dripping down the shell onto your jaw making you mewl, “keep this pussy plugged up with my cum all the time—oh.”

He bites down on your shoulder, sharp teeth breaking your skin making you whine as your body burns with pleasure at the pain. You can fill as hot cum floods your pussy, Leon grunting as he keeps humping against your ass while his knot locks you two together.

His fingers slip from your hip over to your swollen clit and he roughly rubs against the sensitive bud until you’re crying and whining, pussy cumming around his cock again.

“There we go, such a good owner,” Leon chuckles in your ear, before dipping down to lick over the bite he left, “mmm milk me, want you so full it’s spilling out.”

⋆⋅🐾⋅⋆

You lay there underneath him, feeling exhausted but content. It’s been several hours at this point and you feel like you’re on another plane of existence. Leon has fucked you better than anyone before and you’re definitely addicted to his knot.

Reaching back, your hand finds his hair and pushing up higher you pet behind his soft fuzzy ears.

“S’good,” he mouths against your shoulder as he ruts inside your knot plugged pussy.

Shuddering as his fingers tease against your clit drawing another weak orgasm from your spent body, you whimper and press even closer to Leon.

“Gonna take such good care of you, little owner,” he kisses you shoulder, “by the time my heat’s over, you’re gonna be my needy little pup.”

Your pussy tightens around him at his words making him whine and nuzzle into your neck. As you lay together, you let your mind drift into a hazy fog. Once Leon’s able to, he gently pulls out of your sore cunt, cum oozing out of your hole.

His rough tongue licks across your cheek as he rolls you onto your back.

“So pretty,” he says to himself as he kisses and bites his way down to your chest.

He laps a path to the swell of your breasts and then softly suckles a hard nipple into his mouth. With a groan, he tugs the hard bud with his teeth before sucking harshly and releasing it with a pop. His mouth drifts over to repeat the same process to the other hard nipple, then moves back; repeatedly teasing your breasts until you’re squirming and whining, grabbing onto his hair to have something to hold onto.

He finally pulls away with a growl, eyes dark and heated as he noses at your breastbone, “Smell so good.”

He drags his mouth down your body, eagerly licking and biting at your skin until he finally reaches your puffy mound and clit.

“Taste good too,” his stubbled jaw tickles where he scrapes it against your thigh, “love licking your pussy all over.”

He follows his word by licking a broad stripe across your cum coated pussy, groaning as he brings his hands up to spread your cunt open. His rough tongue laps at your clit in quick little strokes before dipping into your creamy slicked hole. He laps and lathes his tongue all over your pussy, sucking at your clit before dragging his mouth over to your thighs.

“Gonna mark you up, little owner,” he chuffs against your skin, eyes staring up at you with his tail wagging excitedly behind him.

“Leon,” you whimper.

Your fingers twist in the sheets as you cry out. His teeth are buried in the meat of your inner thigh making your clit throb with need. He sucks harshly at the skin, digging in harder when your thigh trembles under his mouth.

With a grunt, he lets go but then sinks his teeth into your opposite thigh; this one closer to your pussy, making you buck up into his mouth with a gasp. He hums in satisfaction, lips and teeth working at your skin until it’s sore and bruised.

He pulls back with a grin, “You’re even more pretty now.”

“Feel pretty,” you murmur, eyes glassy with arousal.

He pants excitedly, hands grasping your thighs to hold you open as he licks and drools all over your pussy. You arch, his mouth making you rock up into the feeling as he noisily eats you out. Letting go of the sheets, your hands reach for his head and accidentally grab onto his ears. He snarls and fucks his raspy tongue up into your fluttering cunt, pressing you down even further so he can lick into you more.

He pulls himself away before you can cum making you whine.

“Please, Leon, ‘m so close, be a goody boy and make me cum,” you pout at him, tears pricking at your eyes.

He crawls up your body, pressing your hands down with his as he rubs his thick cock against your pussy. His head glides through your slick folds til he’s bumping against you clit making you spread your legs wide.

“You can cum on my knot,” he kisses you, all drool and spit, “wanna mount you again.”

You shudder underneath him and easily let him roll you over. Raising your ass up, you spread your thighs for better leverage.

“Like this?” you ask a little shy now.

“Perfect,” he groans, dragging his rough palms down your back to slap you ass, “my pretty owner and her pretty pussy ‘n it’s all mine.”

He sinks his cock into your willing cunt inch by inch, licking and biting at your nape as he rocks himself deeper into you.

“Gonna breed you so good,” he mutters into your skin, “pussy made for my fat cock, isn’t it? Made to take my knot.”

“Uh huh,” you slur, pussy pulsing and fluttering around his dick as he slowly thrusts into your spasming walls.

He chuffs and bites your neck a little harder as he snaps his hips hard against your ass. His hand moves from your back to your pussy, softly rubbing and teasing across your swollen clit.

“Sweet fucking pussy,” he snorts, nose burying itself in your hair, “squeezing me so tight, know it needs a knot.”

“Give it to me, Leon,” you moan loudly, “knot my pussy, please, want it so bad, feels so good.”

His teeth latch onto back of your neck and he pounds into your squelching cunt, knot catching on the rim of your pussy with every thrust.

“Knot me, Leon, knot me, please, need it,” you’re chanting under your breath , eyes fluttering as your orgasm is fast approaching.

He can’t say anything with his mouth biting into your neck, but his fingers circle your clit faster, pinching it just right between his fingers making you shake under him.

“Fuck, right there, please Leon, fuck me,” you rock back against him, wanting his knot to be inside your pussy already, “fuck me, give it to me, give me your knot. Wanna be your little bitch.”

He lets go of your neck with a low howl as he shoves his knot past your twitching hole and ruts hard in your cunt, fat tip grinding against your cervix so hard it’s going to bruise.

You squeal as he tweaks your clit making your pussy clamp down like a vice around his knot as you cum so hard you see fireworks. Your walls rhythmically milk his cock as he grinds and ruts into your hole.

“G’nna cum,” he whimpers, sounding drunk.

“Mmm,” you squirm against him, feeling as hot pulses of jizz fill your pussy.

He grunts as he spills deep inside you, spurt after spurt of sticky cum shooting out against your cervix as his knot keeps your cunt nice and full.

“Gonna give you my pups,” he licks at the bite wound on your neck and then the one he gave your shoulder when this all first started.

“Fuck,” you mewl, thighs tightening as his fingers go back to teasing and circling your clit.

“Cum for me, little owner,” he goads in your ear, “show me how much you want me to breed this needy pussy.. again and again. And again.”

His fingers circle your clit, the rough pads rubbing you just right making you climax around his cock for the second time that round. You shiver and moan as he keeps teasing your swollen bud.

“Good girl, so good,” he nips your ear, “my own little pet.”

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