#and even now the closest one is like half an hour away and i almost never go to that city

[kerosene-saint]

man I need to go to daiso again and see if they have any cheap hand fans i think people keep stealing mine :/

[gremlingottoosilly]

Imagine another soldiers GF is visiting him and Konig sees her and is like "My GF now" what is he gonna do? Challenge the 7 ft. Tall killing machine?

Visiting Paul wasn't the sanest thing you did - and not the proudest of your moments, too. Your relationships started to crack a while ago, not helped by the rumors his squad buddies are spreading whenever you're in the earshot or Facetiming him. You just wanted to give him a visit, maybe woo him over with some homemade goods, and maybe be a normal boyfriend and girlfriend again. Maybe. You didn't expect his colonel to give you such a scolding. "You know that poisoning the troops is a war crime, ja?" You're terrified. His colonel is fucking huge, has a creepy name - seriously, what did he do to be named King instead of Potato or a Shrimp - and has that weird boyishly rough voice that lools you into the sense of security, only for it to be broken the second he laughs, tearing into the dumb box filled with dumb cookies you made for Paul and some of his squadmates. You had friends at his station, you thought you could just get in without the bureaucracy bullshit - only closest family members are allowed here, and you are quite certain that your boyfriend won't wife you up anytime soon. "It's not poison, s...sir" "I look like a sir to you, Maus? Call me colonel" You want to answer that he looks like a fucking nightmare crawling out of your bad dreams, but you bite your tongue. Don't even resist as Konig gets his huge gloved hands into the box, slowly taking one of the cookies. You whimper as he snaps the thing in half - hours of hard work, you can already see them being trashed away all because Paul didn't respond to your calls and didn't pick them up immediately and because he didn't mention his colonel is going to be on the base and- Konig gets one of your cookies under his hood, the sounds of munching like music to your ears - an angel's horn, maybe, the ones that play during the apocalypse. You wait patiently to be prosecuted for your crimes - the ones you aren't quite sure you even committed, to be honest. "You'll do. Horangi will show you to my quarters." You think you're hearing things. Maybe, you somehow managed to hit your head on the way to the colonel's office, and now you're hallucinating the entire encounter? The colonel stands up - he is huge, god, too fucking tall to even be alive, you think - and drops a heavy hand on your shoulder, patting you almost awkwardly. You hate the way he looks at you right now - almost soft, almost gentle, his hand squeezes your skin in a way that is way more loving than your boyfriend ever did before, and you feel pathetic for leaning into the touch, if only for a second. You didn't know that Konig got his eye on you even before you went to the base. He knows a lot about his soldiers, and your sorry fuck of a boyfriend clearly didn't deserve a sweet little thing like you - for fucks's sake, you literally just brought homemade cookies to the military base; how much more of an angel you can be. He also knew that you're not quite satisfied with the relationships if he can judge by how much bitching Paul is letting out during his free time. Konig also knows that if he gets you to marry him as soon as possible, sooner he could put you in his house and make you bake him cookies every day of his retirement - that doesn't seem like such a bad opportunity now, not if he would have a pretty housewife attached to his hip. And if you don't really want to be with him, well... Nothing that a few weeks of extensive home training couldn't fix.

[mingtinys]

" i already have the world "

pairing : jeon wonwoo x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : none

word count : 0.5 k

a/n : unsure if i'm happy with this , but the writers block was BAD and so i ended up falling victim to the gamer!wonwoo trope

You truly wonder how Wonwoo still finds it in himself to wake up as early as he does to make his various schedules. Especially when it's already two in the morning yet he's still locked in on his computer screen, furiously clicking away. Meanwhile, you're walking a very thin line of consciousness.

If it weren't for the giant glowing monitor and the voices shouting through Wonwoo's headset, you probably would've lost your battle against sleep by now. And judging from the increasingly irritated shouts of Seungcheol and Jihoon for Mingyu to "go left," it sounds like Wonwoo's team is losing theirs.

"Your other left, idiot," You just barely make out Jihoon's exhausted words. "Wonwoo, please help him, you're closest."

"Yeah, I'm already on it. Someone cover me–" There's a pause, then a sad tune plays and you force your eyelids back open just wide enough to catch the giant "LOSE" written across the display. "Never mind, good game."

"It was most definitely not," Seungcheol complains.

"One more round?" Mingyu asks, even though this is their fifth "one more round."

"Yeah, just give me a minute and we can start," Wonwoo says before promptly muting his mic. He nudges you with his shoulder, earning a very unamused groan back in response.

"You can go to bed if you want," he chuckles.

"Alone?" You whine, which only makes him laugh more.

"You're right, what a ridiculous idea," he teases. "This is the last one for real this time, promise."

You're head falls to Wonwoo's shoulder with a sigh. He readjusts, allowing you to rest more comfortably. With your newfound pillow, sleep easily consumes you.

Your breathing slows down to a steady pace almost instantly and Wonwoo glances down with a soft chuckle. "I'm sorry I kept you up," he whispers, placing a feathery kiss on the top of your head.

He unmutes his mic. "Hey, sorry guys, I'm gonna log off for the night."

"What? Dude, we're just about to start. Please don't leave me with Seungcheol and Jihoon!" Mingyu urges. Wonwoo contemplates it, a match would only be around twenty minutes. But one more look at your sleeping form and that thought is gone as soon as it comes.

"Sorry, it's late, good luck though."

"Wait!" Mingyu tries again. "What if I buy you lunch tomorrow?"

"Goodnight, Mingyu."

"A coffee? Your favorite pastry from that bakery half an hour away? The world? What's it gonna take?"

"Mingyu, stop being dramatic and let the man go to bed." Seungcheol chastises.

Wonwoo secures his arm around your waist and pulls you against him when he notices your head slipping from his shoulder. An action that makes you snuggle further into his side in your unconscious state. Perhaps his heart has gone a little soft, but no offer could possibly amount to the moments like these he gets to spend with you.

So while lunch and a coffee is a tempting offer, it simply doesn't compare. "Besides," he says in a last goodbye into the mic. "I already have the world."

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey author! how do you think the batboys would act if they had a best friends to lovers kinda of thing going on? like reader is their bro, their other half and then out of nowhere the batboys are like omg i love my best friend <3

Dick often made jokes in the past that it was only time before you two become the plot of a really bad romcom, two friends who pretty much did everything together, it was almost as if fate itself was trying to tell you something. A cliche friends to lovers trope just waiting to happen.

Now he couldn’t help but recognise the irony now as he holds his head in his hands, curse him and his loud fucking mouth for it always found its way to bite him in the ass sooner or later.

Dick didn’t mind falling in love, but to fall in love with your best friend after teasing about it happening for such a long time felt like karma for his teasing behaviour. He’s stuck trying to think of anything that didn’t remind him of you but unfortunately for Dick everything reminded him of you no matter where he looked, even his apartment was covered in things that you’ve left behind with no intention of taking back.

This has proven to be the perfect example of how much you’ve been overtaking his mind, slowly but surely before becoming all he could think of in his waking hours and his sleeping hours. It was driving him mad with how obvious his feelings must’ve been to the people closest to him.

You were all he knew in these moments and he was forced to be remained of his ever growing emotions with how he always seemed to be touching you in any capacity he could, his arm was often thrown over your shoulders in public or he’s holding you from behind as you stayed over at his place. He thrived off of your warmth and presence that it made going home to his place even more dull without you by his side to parent Hayley together, you’d make a great dog parent for all he was aware.

The signs were there and Dick was made to realise that he was the one who had fallen first out of the two of you, even though he wished it was you, and now all he could think was how he’d much rather have you live with him since you loved to leave your stuff at his place for convenience when you did spend the night. Hell you even cuddled together like a couple with you burying your head under his chin while he caged you against his chest with his arms as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Dick knew he’d have to make a move sooner or later before someone else swoops you up right in front of him.

Damian was having his own integral crisis once he realised that he wasn’t in fact ill and was infect feeling romantic feelings towards you.

He’s against it and heavily so that he would find himself putting distance between the two of you because of it as it wasn’t something he was ready to face.

It’s very much an ‘oh shit, oh god why?!’ Type of reaction and suddenly his walls are back up. Damian knows how dangerous it would be if you were either him, as if being friends with him already didn’t put a target on your back. Not only that but he was secretly scared of what these emotions could spell out for his future.

Would he be distracted in patrols and missions to come because his mind was fixated on you and your wellbeing?

Would he become sloppy in his fighting or would he become even more ruthless at the idea of something terrible happening to you under his watch?

Damian didn’t know and he wasn’t one to ask for help either so he would often retreat to his room and put his head in his hands and sigh. Emotions were more trouble than what they were worth and it often caused him frequent headaches in the process. Damian didn’t know what to do and so he could only hope that if he spend less time with you then the feelings would go away.

However owever this plan ultimately backfires on him as he finds himself missing your presence more then he’d ever admit at gunpoint, he’d even find himself drawing you how he saw you and he’s back to holding his head in his hands and groaning at how much of a bother these emotions were going to be.

He loves you but wasn’t willing to risk your safety by taking your friendship to the next level, but even if he ever did he’ll most likely have to teach you basic hand to hand combat to satiate his concern while he’s away from you. But until then he’d rather let the emotions die in his chest, no matter how much they burn him from the inside for he’s dealt with worse.

Jason would come to this realisation that he was in love with you when he found himself becoming more protective over you than normal. And I mean more than normal.

He’d be on patrol and the first person he looks out for is you, especially if your on an late shift at work, as he doesn’t trust Gotham in the slightest at night for that was when the city was at its upmost worst. He’s watching over you like a guardian angel, a rather violent guardian angel but only towards those who deserve such lethal and or permanent punishment from his gun.

He wants you to be safe on your journey home that sometimes after beating up some goons, he’s walking you home as red hood for extra protection before bidding you a goodnight. He doesn’t care how often he has to do it because he’ll gladly walk you home no matter what, your safety was Jason’s top priority and he knew he’d hate himself more then he already did should anything happen to you when he wasn’t nearby.

He knew he had fallen for you when he became softer and more affectionate towards you, whether that be holding you by the waist as he moved to grab a cup in the morning, kissing your temple as good morning greeting, holding your hand when he feels the need to distract himself by fiddling and intertwining your fingers together.

He even remember falling more for you when you reciprocated the touches with some of your own that lead to him falling into your arms, finding his much needed solace there as he realises just how much he wanted this to be a reality you both share together, a reality where you’d lie in bed tougher and wake the other up with kisses and sweet whispers of love and adoration you had for one another.

His apartment that felt cold and dead was more alight and filled with life when you came in through the door, decorating it with trinkets and other gifts that you bestowed upon him, but what made his apparent more alive and warm to Jason and that was you with your presence and Jason didn’t know how he’d manage to live his entire life without you being his rock and his reason for everything.

So needless to say that Jason felt as though that if he’d loose you he would be a man without a cause, a man without an anchor who could aways bring him back form the brink, he knew damn well that how he treated himself now would be nothing in comparison to how he would treat himself if you left his life.

Jason needed you like he needed air to breathe, how he was going to confess he wasn’t certain but he had a thing or two in mind.

[solxamber]

Knights and Oaths - Leona Kingscholar x reader

You come from a long line of knights that have served the rulers of the Savannah. But sometimes traditions are meant to change and the second prince is looking like someone worth changing them for.

The sun hangs low in the sky, painting the Savannah in golden hues as you approach the ceremonial grounds. It’s been years leading up to this moment—years of training, discipline, and growing up side by side with royalty. Your mother serves Falena’s wife, and your father serves the king himself. By all accounts, it’s expected that you’ll follow suit and dedicate your knightly oath to Cheka, the five-year-old prince. That’s just how it’s always been—loyalty passed down through the generations, swearing fealty to the rightful heirs of the Sunset Savannah.

But you’ve never been one for following expectations.

Not when you’ve spent your childhood in the shadow of two princes, one of them your closest companion and sometimes, greatest annoyance. Leona Kingscholar—second prince of the Sunset Savannah, the man who always seemed just a step away from what he could have been. Too lazy to reach it. Too proud to admit it.

When you were kids, Leona’s idea of "training" usually involved you chasing him around, trying to get him to spar when he’d much rather nap beneath the acacia trees. "What’s the point?" he’d grumble, arms folded behind his head, the sun casting dappled shadows across his face. "No matter how hard I try, Falena's the one everyone cares about."

Yet somehow, despite his best efforts to seem indifferent, you always found yourself drawn into his orbit. There was something about Leona that you couldn’t ignore—a pull, a desire to prove himself despite his constant veneer of nonchalance. You saw him in a way others didn’t. And maybe, somewhere along the way, he saw you too.

That’s why today feels different. Your whole life, everyone assumed your path was already written. You’d swear your oath to Cheka, Falena’s son, just as your parents had sworn theirs to Falena and his wife. It was expected, anticipated. But they didn’t know the whole story. They didn’t know about you and Leona, the time spent laughing, bickering, and—more often than not—arguing over ridiculous things like who could run faster or who could climb the tallest tree.

Now here you are, stepping into the hunting grounds, your sword at your side, ready to make your choice.

The hunt is a time-honored tradition. Whoever brings back the most impressive game gets to make their dedication. You can almost hear the whispers as you prepare—"Cheka’s knight," they call you. It’s been assumed for years. But they don’t know what’s coming.

The ceremony itself is simple enough. Each knight pledges their loyalty by dedicating their game to the person they swear to serve. It’s a public declaration of fealty, one made before the entire royal court. But there’s more at stake than just loyalty. The knight who brings back the most impressive game is awarded a golden rose—a symbol of something far deeper than duty.

Love.

Hours later, when you emerge from the hunt with the largest bear the kingdom has seen in years, all eyes are on you. The whispers grow louder, anticipation thick in the air. Everyone knows you’ve won the rose, and with it, the right to swear your loyalty. They’re expecting you to kneel before Cheka, the adorable five-year-old prince bouncing with excitement. Even Leona’s lounging nearby, watching the whole affair with that bored, half-lidded gaze of his, looking as if he might fall asleep at any moment.

But you? You have different plans.

With the golden rose in hand and your bear presented, you walk right past Cheka—past the gasps of the court, the murmurs of confusion, the stunned faces of your parents. And you kneel before Leona.

Leona’s eyes snap open, and for the first time in ages, he looks genuinely surprised. His eyebrows raise, just the barest fraction. "What are you doing?" he asks, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You grin, because of course he’s trying to play it off like this doesn’t matter. "Swearing my fealty, obviously," you say, loud enough for the court to hear. "I dedicate this hunt and the rose to Prince Leona Kingscholar."

The silence that follows is deafening. You can practically feel the jaws dropping across the Savannah. Even little Cheka’s mouth forms a perfect little "o" of shock.

For the first time all day, Leona stirs, the mask of indifference slipping just enough for you to catch the flicker of something beneath it—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. His eyes meet yours, sharper and more intense than ever, and for a moment, the world falls away.

Leona’s eyes narrow, a mixture of suspicion and amusement flickering across his face. "I thought you’d be on your knees for someone else," he drawls, his lips quirking up at the corners.

You shrug. "Everyone else may have decided my fate, but I make my own choices."

“For you, Leona,” you repeat, your voice steady and loud despite the pounding in your chest. “I dedicate my loyalty to you, and this rose... to the one who has always held my heart.”

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you, his expression unreadable. It’s Leona, after all. He doesn’t do grand gestures, never needed to. But you notice the way his fingers twitch, like he’s resisting the urge to reach out and take the rose immediately. When he finally speaks again, his voice is low, a bit rough around the edges, but there’s an unmistakable thread of satisfaction laced through it.

“You really know how to cause a scene, huh?”

There’s a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, and his gaze flicks down to the rose in your hand before meeting your eyes again. “A bear and a rose... For me?”

The teasing tone doesn’t hide the way his chest seems to expand just a little bit, like someone had finally acknowledged him for the first time in years. He reaches out and takes the rose from your hand, his fingers brushing yours in the briefest of touches. It feels electric, like every unspoken word between you is packed into that fleeting moment.

He twirls the rose once between his fingers, his smirk growing. “Guess I should thank you,” he says casually, though there’s a weight to his words, something you’ve rarely heard from him—appreciation. Real and tangible.

Leona stands up slowly, stretching as though this whole event is just another inconvenience, though the pride in his stance is unmistakable. He knows exactly what this means, both for you and for him. No one can dismiss him as just the second prince anymore, not after this. Not when someone like you, bound by honor and tradition, chose him. Over everyone else. Over Cheka. Over the kingdom’s expectations

He leans down, close enough that his breath is warm against your ear as he speaks softly, for you alone to hear. “I never thought you’d choose me. But I can’t say I’m not... pleased.”

Your heart does a strange, fluttering thing in your chest at his words, and you dare to meet his gaze, only to find a look there that you’ve never seen before. Something softer. Something real.

Before you can react, he tugs you in close, his arm settling around your waist in a way that feels both possessive and protective. The world narrows to just the two of you, the warmth of his body radiating through your armor. The smug grin he wears is softened by something deeper in his eyes���something that makes your heart skip a beat.

His hand lingers at your side, thumb brushing lightly against your hip, like he's claiming you just as much as you're dedicating yourself to him.

Before you can respond, he turns, still holding you close, and faces the crowd. The murmurs have turned to outright whispers of shock and disbelief, but Leona seems entirely unbothered by the spectacle you've made. In fact, he revels in it.

“This knight is mine,” he declares, his voice steady, ringing with finality. There’s no hesitation, no doubt—just that lazy confidence and a quiet triumph that says he’s more than pleased with your choice.

And in that moment, you know that, despite everything—his pride, his laziness, his gruff exterior—Leona Kingscholar is proud of you. Proud that you chose him, that you saw him, really saw him, when so many others didn’t. And as his arm tightens around you just a little, you can feel it too: the quiet, unspoken promise of what comes next.

A lifetime bound to the second prince—exactly the way you both want it.

Masterlist

he's so special to me :(((

[little-diable]

Wild creations - Tyler Owens (smut)

I just love pairings like these. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tyler is the best friend of reader’s brother. When he comes visit their vacation home, it’s time for them to finally give in to the feelings both had tried to swallow ever since they had been teenagers.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, idiots in love, brother’s best friend setting, some slight angst

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3.2k words)

“I’m not giving up my room, Jake.” Her voice dripped with annoyance and anger, hands pressed to her sides as she stared her bother down. It had only been a handful of hours since her return to their family’s vacation home, set on enjoying a week off with just her closest family around. Plans that were now slipping through her fingers like warm sand.

“Oh, come on, Tyler hasn’t been sleeping on a comfortable bed for weeks, you’ve slept in the guest bedroom before.” Jake leaned against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his chest while studying (y/n) with an almost bored expression.

“And why is that any of my problem? He’s your friend, you can sleep in the other room then. Now fuck off.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have come visit the same time as her brother, the one person she loved more than any words could describe, the one person she could also strangle with her bare hands more often than she’d like to admit.

“My mattress is shit and you know it. Please, (y/n), it’s only for three nights.” The deep sigh leaving her drew a bright smirk onto Jake’s lips. He pushed himself away from the door frame to step closer, to press a kiss to her forehead and to mumble a soft “Thank you”.

She watched her brother leave with tired eyes, wondering how she’d make it through this week. (Y/n) was no stranger to being around Tyler, one of Jake’s closest friends since their early high school days, but ever since she’s kept her distance. Tyler was handsome, smart, wickedly funny, a dangerous mixture she couldn’t get involved with - especially not since he was one of Jake’s friends.

……

“So how many tornadoes has it been so far? Quite the active season, right?” (Y/n) tried to keep her focus on her food as her parents kept chatting with Tyler, who had arrived a while ago. Even though she had tried to avoid him for as long as possible, she hadn’t managed to stay away for long, pulled into a tight hug that had lasted a handful of seconds too long. A hug that had made her heart skip a beat. A hug that had left her feeling light headed and dizzy.

“Too many to count, but it has been more active than expected, that's for certain.” Tyler’s smile showed off his pearly white teeth, eyes wandering around the table to focus on (y/n). She tried to ignore his gaze on her, not daring to give in that easily, but as his knee bumped hers, her eyes automatically snapped up to meet his piercingly bright ones. “How’ve you been, (y/n)? Jake told me about your new position.”

An almost half hearted, rushed reply left her, rambling away about her new position while heat crawled up her neck. Tyler’s grin was unwavering, glued to his lips, a grin that made her hands ball into fists as the realisation swapped over her that he knew exactly what he was doing to her. The others didn’t seem to catch on, lost in their own conversation about whatever Jake was telling their parents.

“Thank you for letting me sleep in your room, darlin’. I know how much you love that space.” His hand rested on her thigh for a moment while he reached for one of the food stacked plates, he squeezed her warm skin before letting go again - a touch that felt as if he had poured boiling water over her skin, forced to accept that Tyler was peeling away the layers of restraint one by one.

“Well, I didn’t really have a choice, thanks to your best friend.” A loud laugh left Tyler as he shook his head at her. For a few more seconds, he looked down at her, studying the woman he had always found himself fascinated by.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind sharing the bed with you, and I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time.” Now she really needed to look away, staring down at her food with her jaw muscles clenched. She had tried to forget about that night for years, how she had shared a bed with him drunk off her face, pressed to his side with his arms tightly wrapped around her frame. She didn’t remember much of that night, and perhaps it was for the better that way, yet the way she had felt overly protected and comfortable in his arms was forever etched into her memory.

“Jake would kill you.” The words rolled off her tongue a tad bit too loud, catching her brother’s attention who now looked at the two from his seat. Though while (y/n) kept her gaze locked onto her brother’s features, Tyler’s hand found its way back to her knee, comfortably resting there. She struggled to focus on anything but his closeness, the warm touch of his slightly calloused fingertips.

“Why would I kill him?” Panic flushed through (y/n), she cleared her throat before trying to scramble something random together.

“(Y/n) knows that you’re a sore loser, and I’m all for kicking your ass in another game tonight.”

……

She was deep in thought, staring at her reflection in the mirror while brushing her teeth. (Y/n) pondered over her choices, wondering if she should leave earlier to escape Tyler’s closeness. Being around him had always been hard, but today something seemed to have shifted. It appeared as if he was set on teasing her, on touching her at any given chance to make her body buzz in excitement.

“Can I come in?” Her eyes snapped towards his bright ones, staring at him in the mirror. Tyler didn’t wait for her reply, he stepped into the bathroom before closing the door behind himself.

Wordlessly, he came to rest next to her, keeping his eyes on the mirror with a bright smile tugging on his lips. She watched him squeeze some toothpaste onto his toothbrush before he mimicked her movements. His sweats hung dangerously low on his hips, telling her that he’d only need to stretch his arms to show off the muscular stomach she had seen too many times to count, forced to endure being around him whenever hot summer days were upon them.

(Y/n) had to avert her eyes, trying to speed up her movements to flee from this very room as soon as possible. She tried to be as graceful as possible with spitting out and rinsing her mouth before drying her face, but the second she tried to turn from Tyler, his hand snapped out to find her wrist. It only took him a handful of moments to get rid of his toothbrush and to lean back against the sink while pulling her against him.

Almost automatically her hands found his chest, pressed against his muscular body to stop herself from tumbling into him. Wide eyes stared up at him, getting lost in the rich colour reminding her of a summer morning, filled with excitement about what the new day would bring, and yet there was a depth to the colour she could barely pinpoint, something dark almost.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Tyler’s hands rested on her waist, leaving (y/n) to curse herself for only wearing an oversized sleep shirt and a pair of panties he could easily get a glimpse of. Her mouth was dry, throat closing up as she rang for words to protest, to speak lies neither of them would believe.

“It’s late, Tyler, let me get some sleep in, please.” She mumbled the words, eyes no longer focused on his but rather on his neck. His eyes burned holes into her skin with their intense gaze, a burning fire she couldn’t escape from.

“Not before you tell me what I did wrong.” Tyler’s words managed to gain her attention, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He hadn’t done anything wrong - besides the teasing that had grown more prominent than ever before. He wasn’t the one to blame for her distance, god, she doubted there was anything Tyler could do wrong when it came to her. Oblivious as one could be, that was all he was.

“Nothing, Tyler. There’s nothing going on, I’m just tired.” Slowly, his hand began to move. His fingers grasped her chin, forcing (y/n) to look up at him while he silently studied her for a few seconds. He shook his head at her, as if she could read his thoughts and knew exactly what was going through his mind. Nothing but questions neither had an answer to.

“Talk to me, please. It’s just me, darlin’. I don’t like that weird tension between us.” Her eyes fluttered close for a second, followed by a deep, almost angry breath leaving her. With her heart in her throat, she pushed herself away from him, forcing his hands to let go of her waist at the unexpected need for distance.

“But that’s the problem, Tyler! It’s you, and it always has been. And I don’t know how much longer I can endure that.” Her glassy eyes were focused on the floor as she turned her back to him. He was too slow to catch up with her, still focused on the unexpected words that had surprised them both. All Tyler could do was watch her leave, blending in with the darkness lingering in the hallway - a darkness perfectly hiding the tears that began to roll down her cheeks as if a cloud of rain was following her around.

…..

“Tyler?” Her voice dripped with sleep, eyes focused on the dark frame stepping into the guest bedroom. (Y/n) could instantly tell that it was him, moving closer towards the bed with the mattress that gave in the second his knee met the soft fabric. He laid down next to her, pulling (y/n) against his chest with a sigh. It had been a few hours since their run-in and her accidental confession, words both hadn’t been able to forget ever since.

“I’m used to chasing tornadoes, to speed after those powerful, wild creations that can destroy everything and everybody who stands in their way. I’m good with asking myself questions we currently have no answers to, because nature will always be quicker and smarter than us. But I am a fool when it comes to you, and I’ve always been. I accepted that I’ll never get the answers I’d like to hear, well, all until tonight at least.” She turned in his grasp, needing to look at his features the lingering darkness hid almost completely. Wordlessly, (y/n) waited for him to keep on speaking, to give room to the pain dripping from his words.

“I fell in love with you as a teenager, I tried to stop myself, knowing that you’re my best friend’s sister. It’s wrong and probably fucked up of me, but I can’t get rid of these feelings for you. I tried, really did, you met my ex-girlfriends, and I guess it wasn’t fair on them. They were a distraction, a nice way to pass some time while my feelings for you kept growing stronger. You’ve always been there for me, always been by my side. I don’t want to fight that when there’s a small chance of you also feeling what I feel.” Her body forced her to shuffle around, to move closer and to press a soft kiss to his lips. Both their breaths hitched in their chests at the electricity buzzing through their bodies.

Tyler chased her lips, needing to deepen the kiss while realising that this was her way of giving in, of telling him that she had been plagued by the same feelings he hadn’t been able to shake. Without letting go of her, Tyler rolled (y/n) onto her back, allowing him to rest between her thighs as her legs found their way around his waist.

It felt like a dream, almost. Something both had imagined and dreamt of for years, all while accepting that it would always stay like that, a figment of their imagination, something that lived and breathed with the changing seasons. Their tongues met, slow at first, testing out the newfound territory before giving in to the pull that threatened to drown them.

“I’m so in love with you, and I’m so scared of it.” (Y/n) confessed against his lips, words that made him groan while kissing his way down her neck. Tyler instantly found the spot that made her arch her back off the mattress, pressing her chest against his in search of more, of something else he’d be willing to give to her.

“I love you too, darlin’, fuck.” Her shirt was pulled from her frame, exposing her naked chest to his glistening eyes before his followed moments later. (Y/n)’s trembling fingers explored his abs, his strong muscles that tensed beneath her touch. Tyler allowed her to have this moment, to grow comfortable with this new sensation - all while he tried his hardest to slow down, to appreciate every passing second.

“We don’t have to do anything, I don’t want to rush you.” Tyler’s whispers left (y/n) smiling, unable to bite down the heat that found its way straight to her aching core.

“We’ve wasted a lot of time, I don’t want to miss another chance.” It was all he needed to hear before kissing her again. With his weight shifted onto his knees, he let his fingers pull on her panties, pushing them aside to explore her warm folds. Her bundle of nerves was pulsing in need, desperate to feel his calloused fingertips on her burning up body.

She got lost in the kiss, hands finding their way to his hair to pull on his roots while pressing her hips further against his touch. He mumbled something about her impatience, words she spared no attention to as he pushed two fingers into her tightness. A moan left her, a sound that was muffled by the hand she pressed against her mouth, scared to wake those who slept only a few rooms down from this one.

“Gotta be quiet, darlin’, don’t need your brother to kill me tonight.” Her soft chuckles turned into another moan as he sped up his movements. Tyler was teasing her, preparing her for his twitching cock and the way he’d fuck her to make a silent promise to them both, this was something that would last, something both had fought hard for.

(Y/n) struggled to keep breathing, pulled away from reality by his touch, the way he fucked her with his big fingers while rubbing against her bundle. Tyler parted from her to spit down onto her cunt, mixing his saliva with her arousal in an almost possessive matter that made her moan once again.

He could tell that she was already close by the way her walls fluttered around his digits, begging him for more he wouldn’t give her - at least not before burying his cock inside of her. Seconds before her high could drown her, he let go, pulling his fingers away to bring them up to her mouth. Wordlessly, she parted her lips, sucking his skin clean to taste herself on her tongue, a foreign sensation she couldn’t help but enjoy. Perhaps she found enjoyment in the way he looked at her. Perhaps she found enjoyment in the pride and love swimming in his darkening pupils. Whatever it was, it left her feeling eager for more.

“I don’t have a condom on me.” His words were panted, torn between too many sensations as her hands pushed his boxers down his hips.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean.” Tyler nodded at her words, telling her that he had been tested only a few days ago. She knew that she could trust him, that he’d never willingly hurt her, something she had never felt before - a newfound trust that left her nodding her head, telling him that she wanted this as much as he did.

“Look at me, darlin’.” Her eyes flickered back up to meet his, keeping her gaze on him while he aligned himself with her entrance, slowly pushing into her. For a moment, nothing could be heard, nothing but stressed pants and a silent whimper. Sounds that were tried to be muffled by a teeth-clashing kiss guiding both.

He moved carefully, pulling out and pushing in again to let her adjust to his size, trying to hold himself back from moving too roughly. Only as he felt (y/n)’s fingernails scratching at his skin did he allow himself to add more pace. Their bodies met over and over again, high on the feeling of his cock perfectly stretching her, nudging against her swollen spot with every thrust.

This moment was a consonance, a perfect blend of emotions and sounds sealing a deal their hearts had already signed. This was something for the long run, something both would pour love and effort into while trying to adjust to the newfound love and trust they’d need to share with others soon. But tonight was all about them, about the way their bodies fit together perfectly, how they seemed to belong together with their hearts beating in sync and their accelerating pants matching up.

“You’re so perfect, fuck, you were made for me.” (Y/n) could only moan in agreement, head tossed back, neck bared to his wandering lips. She moved a hand between their bodies, rubbing her pulsing bundle to give her the push she could already taste on the back of her tongue. Her free hand pulled him down, fingers dug into his neck to hold him close for another kiss drowning out the sounds of her intense orgasm.

Tyler kept snapping his hips, burying himself inside of her over and over again as her orgasm washed through her. She was trembling, begging for him to give in and feel the same intensity she had been a foreigner to until this very night. Just the sight of (y/n), buried beneath him with a love-drunken expression tugging on her features was enough to set him free. Tyler followed her down the edge with a groan, face nuzzled in the crook of her neck to deeply inhale her scent.

“I don’t think sex has ever felt that way before.” Her mumbled confession made him grin with pride simmering inside of him. Tyler lifted his head, he pressed another kiss to her slightly swollen lips before cupping her cheek with his big hand.

“I’ll gladly fuck you like that every single night for the rest of our lives, given your brother won’t kill me tomorrow morning.”

[cosycafune]

LEMME BREED YOU, PRINCESS!

0.6k words. your boyfriend is a shit one, but that really doesn’t matter when you’re bouncing on Toji’s cock — ruining your sanity. sure, sneaking around is risky, but toji’s divine cock is enough for you to almost ruin your future.

acts: unprotected sex, creampies, infidelity, degradation, doubt, breeding kink, size difference, slight age gap and slight sadistic tendencies.

SEATED, guilt and enthralment adorn you. Nothing prepared you for this sacred moment, tinted with the art of intimacy, infidelity and lust. Tendrils of confusion smother you, but you can’t bring yourself to release Toji right now. 

Grinding against an older Toji, you momentarily forget about your shortcomings – shedding every thought of your estranged boyfriend.

Unrestrained, you continue to rut your hips against Toji’s erection – stomaching the closest feeling to love you’ve ever carried. Liberation almost tints you, but it’s tainted, distorted – settling you in a morally grey area.

Naturally, you felt like you had to succumb to your boyfriend’s shortcomings – enduring the colourful, negative emotions he painted on you. Engaging with Toji, taking every inch of his cock, being talked through it, coddled and eerily cared for, rewired you. Leaving, you know you should do that, but your boyfriend suffocated you – strangling you with his status and power imbalance.

Yet, Toji carries status, emotional stability, money and a huge dick. A huge dick you could never resist, sneaking away to meet with him – coming back home with hickeys, bite marks and symbols of satisfaction. To you, it was thrilling – a diligent way of getting back at your cheating boyfriend. Everything within you wanted to leave him, but he would suppress you – mentioning his cherishable reputation with your family.

All you wanted was for Toji to mould into your charming prince, sculpting an atmosphere that would permanently provide peace. However, you’re pitifully bound here – stealing away pleasurable moments that pale in the long run. Even as you grind against his cock, nude, filled with Toji’s cum, you can’t help but ask for more. As a princess, is this truly what your life has come to? Sleeping with your father’s favourite millionaire?

“You’re thinking, darlin’,” Breaking your internal silence, Toji gruffly speaks – relishing your soppy, cum-filled folds kissing his cock head.

“I mean, we only have half an hour,” Chuckling, you respond to Toji – frantically kissing his lips. Looking down at him, you smoothly deflect – unbounded. 

“Stop deflecting,” Lightening up, Toji murmurs through his grunt –  harshly sinking you onto his cock.

“It’s… just, why won’t you beat him up or do some dramatic gesture to convince my family?” Avoiding Toji’s intimidating gaze, you speak, “You know that he… treats me like shit.” Blabbering, you look away — only for Toji to grip your chin.

“Because it’s not him that has your pretty self sinking his cock,” Grinning, Toji breathily grunts — captured by your warm cunt squeezing him.

“Hmm, don’t tell your boyfriend,” Taunting you, Toji frantically bucks his hips into you — pushing you into moaning extremely loudly.

“Shit! I won’t! Ahh!” Pounded into, revoking your willpower to think, you shakily grip onto Toji — bellowing.

“He’s never fucked you this good, has he?” Observing you, Toji gently moans — his question almost hazy.

“Ngh! Never!” Barely clutching onto your self-esteem, you prettily feed into Toji’s inquiries — demolishing his fat, enormous cock.

“Shit! If I…put a baby in you, he’ll leave,” Threatening your future, Toji thrusts deeper within you — grinning at you cock-stricken.

“Hmm! Baby!” Mewling, you tremble vigorously — practically agreeing for Toji to expand you with as many babies he wants.

“A pretty… princess like you, pregnant?” Enthralled, Toji snaps his toned hips harder — barely able to voice his thoughts through pleasure.

“I’d do…anything for you to be swollen with my baby,” So close to cumming, Toji hums with satisfaction — burying himself so, so deeply within you.

“T-Toji,” Moaning his name, you accidentally cum before him — embarrassed at how quickly he could dismantle you.

“I’ll fill you up and give you a baby,” Determined to impregnate you, Toji snaps his hips intensely — his pulsating cock finally twitching before filling a foolish you up.

“Mhmm, I’ll have… your baby,” Whining, you desperately proclaim — almost collapsing as Toji kisses your lips.

“Hmm, but don’t tell your boyfriend,” Teasing you, Toji gifts you a gentle kiss — before smacking your ass.

Don’t tell your boyfriend.

--

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. small banners credit: cafekitsune <3

[alchemistc]

"Any plans for your days off, Buck?"

Buck knows his grin is a little feral, but he's kind of hoping that'll throw them off the trail. It's barely been a year, and in that time they've had three natural disasters, one copter crash, a boss intent on making Buck's life a living hell, and two almost break-ups.

It's too soon, to know for sure, except Athena and Bobby had known, and Hen and Karen had known even if they were too scared to admit it at first, and Chim and Maddie may have taken a little longer to get there but they'd known.

And Buck knows. He knows he's never felt like this about anyone before. Knows no one has ever had the ability to infuriate him and calm his fears quite like Tommy Kinard can. Knows they could have done this like they joked about six months ago and they wouldn't have regretted it.

Hen is making a face like she's trying to decide if she wants to know whatever head-tilt-cheek-bite sexual innuendo Buck's got in the barrel, because she only appreciates that about half of the time and Buck's praying she decides on no because he's a terrible fucking liar and he doesn't like keeping things from people. But it's sort of a secret, for the next 48 hours, and Buck also wants to bask in it, wants to enjoy keeping it to himself for just a little while.

"Our Buckaroo is all grown up and refusing to over share about his sex life, praise be," Chim chips in, and Buck tucks his chin to his chest and hopes his pink cheeks read as embarrassed.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and around him lockers slam and voices drift over him. He's only got eyes for the text that just came through.

Bird's ready, suits are pressed, room is paid up. You wanna go to Adele, after? I think I know one of her people.

You know everyone, stop bragging, I'm already impressed

I'm always gonna try to impress you. You still at the station?

Yeah but not for long. I'll see you in like forty

"--right Buck?"

Buck blinks, hums, stares across at Chim.

"Please tell me you're not sexting at work right now."

"Technically, we are off the clock."

"I'll remind Clipboard Buck of that next time he shows up."

He's zipping up his bag when his phone buzzes again.

See you soon, baby.

He's pretty sure he's gonna get away with it - Hen and Chim are arguing about some reality show as they all trudge toward the open bay doors, and though he can hear their voices further back, Eddie and Bobby still seem to be deep in conversation.

Ravi comes out of left field, because of course he does, just finished inventory still clutched in his hand as he rounds the engine closest to Buck. "Hey, Buck, you and Tommy wanna catch that movie tomorrow night? I picked up a shift but I've got like twelve off in between."

Buck winces. Damn, so close. "Sorry, bud, we actually won't be in town."

Which he's realizing now is pretty uncharacteristic of the both of them, and Hen and Chim have clocked it, so he's gonna have to make a run for it, but he catches sight of raised brows and questioning expressions and he can't give them nothing.

"Tommy's taking me to Vegas, we might see Adele, okay bye!"

They absolutely let him make a break for it, let him scramble into the Jeep, let him send them all a quick wave before he peels out of his parking spot, and Buck spends the drive to Harbor viscously ignoring the steady buzzing from his phone.

---

Tommy snags the backpack from his shoulder before he's fully out the door, and tugs a belt loop to pull him close. Buck is pretty sure he'll never get over how much he likes being manhandled, just a bit.

"You wanna tell me why Chim and Hen both wished us a good flight?"

"Ravi ambushed me on my way out the door. Technically, they don't know anything about anything, except maybe Adele."

Tommy's fond smile makes Buck feel all warm and tingly inside, and he basks in the glow as Tommy nudges a knee between the open bow of Buck's legs.

Tommy's expression morphs, a bit, lips dropping as he tilts his head. "You having second thoughts? We don't have to-."

"No. No second thoughts."

"Evan, I know how close you are to your family. If you want to wait, make this something you can share with them, we can hold off."

He's so goddamn charmed by this man - by how he cares, by how well he knows Buck, by a million and one tiny things that Buck gleefully hoards his knowledge of like a dragon over his caverns of treasure.

"I kinda don't want to share you, for this." It's the first time since Tommy's brought it back up that Buck's been able to express exactly why the prospect makes him so giddy, but there it is. Possessive jealous Buck rears his ugly head again, only Tommy has always been a little charmed by that. At least when Buck expressed it in a healthy way.

"The moment they know, it's gonna be a spectacle," Tommy agrees, fingers curling over Buck's side.

"Exactly. So. Take me to Vegas and wife me up before one of them shows up trying to tag along."

He expects the dramatic eye roll, and Tommy's fingers digging into his sides. He doesn't expect the ear-ringing whistle echoing through the bay door to their left, or the smirk on Lucy Donato's face when she lets her looped thumb and pointer finger drop from her lips.

"We should definitely go before any of them remembers to hit her up for more details."

"Why would she -."

"Yeah she caught a look at the manifest and snooped until she found the rings."

"So you're actually worse at keeping a secret than I am."

"They're all gonna know before we land back home."

"Hen's gonna break like thirty bylaws trying to decorate a county owned chopper."

"Evan, seriously, we can still -."

Buck only knows one sure-fire way of stopping Tommy from spiraling too much - he uses the little bit of leverage he has plastered to the open door of his Jeep to catch Tommy's lips, and the resulting pleased hum shivers down his spine. Evan takes a moment to be pleased that Tommy hadn't shaved this morning like he'd threatened, and then he's tilting his head for a better angle and losing himself in it long enough that a few more wolf-whistles make their way across the tarmac -- Wendell and York, most likely, but when Buck finally breaks the kiss to dart a look over Tommy's shoulder, everyone has made themselves scarce.

"You gonna marry me or not, Kinard?"

It's a rare thing, but sometimes, when Buck makes him a little extra wild, Tommy does this growling thing that Buck always feels down to his toes. Tommy kisses him breathless again when Buck responds to this growl with a satisfied smirk.

---

"How much you wanna bet Hen convinces you to do a vow renewal within six months."

Buck's busy nipping at a spot of flesh just above Tommy's transverse abdominis, so it takes a second for his brain to catch up with the words.

"It's gonna be Maddie, and she's gonna rope you into it before you realize what's happening."

Tommy hums, pleased, not denying it, and runs a hand through Buck's hair, palm curling over his crown. It takes Buck a moment to figure out why it doesn't feel quite as familiar as it always does, and then he's reaching for it with a hand of his own, the tips of two fingers sliding along the smooth metal surface of Tommy's ring.

The smile he shoots up from the general area of Tommy's groin is all puppy-dog grin, and he basks in the soft, warm grin Tommy sends back. Buck tracks the crinkle of Tommy's eyes like a lifeline.

"I'm gonna lord it over everyone's head that we didn't get married because of, during, or after a health scare or a natural disaster."

"You asked me two days after we made up because of a flash flood we both thought we were gonna lose each other to, but okay."

Tommy's smile is soft. The fingers that slide around his scalp to brush reverently over his birthmark are even softer. "That time doesn't count, because we didn't follow through. You thought I was joking."

He had, honestly, at first, because they'd technically still been broken up at the time and the adrenaline and the terror at nearly losing one another had still been close. It'd taken him three days and Tommy angrily re-ringing his house key back onto Buck's keychain to realize Tommy maybe hadn't actually been joking about hopping in the chopper the next time they both had 24 off.

He's glad they'd taken the extra time, though. Glad they'd had time to drive halfway across the state in search of a ring shop they could be sure they wouldn't run into anyone at, glad they'd had the time to get new suits tailored, glad he'd had time to fuss over vows he'd still cried about while he was saying them, glad they'd done it without an Elvis impersonator standing just off to the side.

"You're stuck with me now," Buck tells him, and Buck knows Tommy's delighted bark of laughter will keep him warm for years.

[glamourscat]

MAKE ME LOSE MY MIND | FEM! SHIDOU RYUSEI X READER

Ryu is reckless, explosive and utterly bored until you two paired up during second selection. Now, during the neo egoist league she is torn between hiding or facing her feelings | PT2

Bored. Bored. Bored.

This whole place was full of spineless, predictable losers. The match between Paris X Gen and Bastard München ended 4-5. Despite all the plans, all the rotations, all the hours of training poured into this stupid game they lost.

For once, she expected something fun. Something explosive. Some poor bastard on the other team that could actually keep up with her. But instead, she got the same old shit. A bunch of wannabes running around like headless chickens, too afraid to break the rules, too afraid to really play. None of them were even worth remembering.

Except you. Perhaps the closest she’d gotten to an explosion. 

Shidou turned her face just a tad, casting a glance at her side towards you, her pink eyes narrowing. Unlike the others, you never looked at her like she was a bomb waiting to go off. Sure, the two of you had your moments, screaming matches, heated arguments, shoving each other around when things got too intense. But it never went further than that. No matter how much she nagged, no matter how many times she tried to see if she could make you snap, you always held your ground.

And maybe that’s why she kept coming back.

Or maybe she just liked the way you looked when you were flustered.

She smirked at the thought, shifting closer. Close enough that your shoulders nearly touched.

“Tch. What a waste. No one could keep up with me. Booooring,” she scoffed, tilting her head toward you again. “But you—” words getting lost in a moment of silence.

Her pink eyes flickered with something unreadable before her grin widened. “You didn’t bore me.”

A slow stretch, arms lifting above her head, toned abs peeking out from under her jersey. A calculated movement. A test. You never flinched.

She leaned in, voice dropping just enough to make it impossible to ignore. “So what now? You gonna keep sittin’ there like some lil’ saint or you gonna give me a reason not to lose my damn mind in this prison?”

You turned to her, gaze half-amused, half-tired.

“What? Since when am I your babysitter?”

She clicked her tongue, smirk stretching wider, all sharp edges and amusement. She doesn’t reply but she moves closer, too close. Her breath fanned against your cheek, the space between you charged with something unspoken, something thick and restless. You just looked at her. Calm. Steady. Like she was just another storm you could weather.

God, it pissed her off. She didn’t know what she wanted from you. A reaction? A fight? A reason to cross some invisible line?

It's like that very first time when she saw you during the second selection. Paired up as a last resort, she did not know what to expect. The moment when she saw your expression, cold, unreadable almost as if you were a statue, she knew right away that she wouldn’t like you.

Too quiet. Too composed. Too… serious.

She had smirked, tossing her bag onto one of the beds without a care. “Guess we’re stuck together, huh? Try not to cry yourself to sleep, princess.”

You didn’t even blink. “I’m not the one who looks like they got kicked out of a biker gang.”

Oh, that pissed her off.

The first night, you argued over the smallest things. Shidou was loud, messy, constantly rolling around in her futon, ending up kicking each other by accident, hypothetically. 

Then, the second night, she almost threw hands with you.

She had been fresh out of the shower, towel tight around her toned tanned body, when she caught you standing by her side of the room, touching her things.

“The hell are you doin’?”

“You left your phone on my bed.” You didn’t even look up, setting it down like it was nothing.

But something about the way you said it. so calm, so unbothered. lit a fire under her skin.

Before she could stop herself, she was crowding you against the wall, pink eyes blazing. “Got a problem with me, sweetheart?”

Your eyes met hers. Unmoving. “No. You’re the one with a problem, aren’t you shithead?”

That was the moment she realized that maybe, you might actually be fun.

As she comes back to the present, Shidou’s smirk softened, just a bit.

“Y’know, you should really do something about that deadpan stare.” Her voice dripped with teasing, maybe a subtle dramatic flare. “I’m startin’ to think you don’t care about me at all.”

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head. “You’re trying to start a fight.”

She tilted her head, pink eyes gleaming. “Is it working?”

“No.” But there was something there. Something almost like a smile at the corner of your lips.

The words hung between you, thick with something neither of you wanted to name.

A pause.

A breath too long.

And then—

“C’mon,” she drawled, stretching her arms lazily before standing. “Let’s go shower. Maybe we can make out while we’re at it.”

A wicked grin, hair slipping free from her ponytail as she grabbed your wrist, tugging you to your feet before you could protest. 

You let her pull you along, shaking your head. “You’re a nuisance.”

She laughed, sharp and wild. “And you love it.”

And maybe, just maybe, you did. But she doesn’t have to know that. Not yet at least. 

(To be continued?)

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

a/n: there’s a lack of fem!shidou on here, I had to fix that 😎 art credits to bunnyluvr on tiktok

[eringobragh420]

♣️ Pairing — CM Punk ♥︎ f!Reader (no use of y/n) ♣️ Summary — Punk and Paul Heyman’s daughter have a special relationship. 1 | 2 ♣️ Word Count — 4.1k 🛑 Warnings — NSFW. Age gap (she is twenty-something, he’s forty-something), Daddy kink, dirty talk, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected p in v, toxic-ISH relationship, cum 18+ ♣️ Taglist — In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here!  ♣️ MASTERLIST

Punk feigned interest in whatever the hell Heyman was going on about, striding next to the older man across the tarmac, bound for Paul’s private jet. He was far more concerned with any other passengers who might be accompanying them to the next city, specifically Paul’s twenty-something-year-old daughter. Punk could almost feel her soft, supple, pliable body under his coarse, tattooed hands, could almost smell her sweet, hardly ridden (compared to him, and most of the women he’d slept with) pussy, almost taste that honeyed flavor on the tip of his tongue. Licking his lips, unconsciously searching for that flavor, he glanced at Paul and nodded, despite still having no idea what the man was talking about. Paul, the kind, thoughtful father had no idea the filthy things Punk had done to his only daughter and the even dirtier things he still planned on doing.

Punk allowed Paul to climb the stairs into the jet first so he could adjust the growing lump in his thin, black joggers, which would be rather noticeable very soon if he didn’t do something about it now. After modifying the position of his hardening cock, he placed his duffel bag in front of his hips just in case, and boarded the plane. He smelled her signature perfume immediately, sucking it through his nose, the sexy scent going straight to his dick, causing a twitch, and a slight shiver throughout his spine. He’d suspected she’d be here, given her tendency to travel everywhere with her father, but actually laying eyes on her still promoted a thrill surging in his veins. Especially with close proximity to the young woman’s father, who also happened to be one of his closest confidants. 

Fighting a smirk, Punk plopped into one of about half a dozen empty seats, sighing, combing his fingers through his longish hair. He glanced sideways at the heir to the Heyman empire, gaze landing on her Nike sneakers, climbing to her toned legs and spandex shorts, bare stomach, sports bra that matched the shorts, and a large button-up, long sleeve shirt covering her arms. Punk really didn’t understand the fashion choices of the current times, but he owed the person who invented leggings and their matching shorts and bras a sincere thank you. Her legs were bent, calves to her thighs, shoes on the seat, and she held her phone between her legs and her breasts, thumbs tapping away as she texted. She felt his gaze on her, however, and she turned to look at him, rolling her eyes after catching him staring, sinking further down in her seat. Punk chuckled, shaking his head, and as his eyes passed over Paul, who glanced at the girl before sitting in a chair that faced the opposite direction of Punk’s, Paul whispered an apology for his bratty daughter. Punk’s nostrils flared as he battled a full blown grin, swatting his hand一no big deal, sir. I promise I’ll teach her some manners.

The jet took off without a hitch, and the three of them settled into their typical plane activities, which mostly consisted of scrolling on their phones or, in Paul’s case, going through physical paperwork concerning this contract or that, this client or that. It didn’t matter what he was reading, just that he was. Heyman was famous for napping following the completion of one or two pages, and with the addition of the blandness of a nearly two hour flight? It was only a matter of time before Paul was snoring away.

Punk could be a patient man, but when his eyes flickered up from his phone to check on Paul’s status, finding him still awake, though his eyes were definitely becoming heavier, he switched his gaze to the girl seated in the back of the jet. Her feet were on the floor now, one shining leg crossed over the other, and Punk watched as she sat up, removing the button-up shirt. Her manicured nails crept along her full, gravity-defying breasts, slipping under the elastic band of the sports bra, and she smirked, winking, just before lifting the garment. Punk placed an elbow on the armrest, hand covering his smirking mouth, but if anyone who knew him looked closely enough, they’d realize his eyes were no longer an approachable green but a murky, predatory grey. Her tits were perfect, Punk had never seen a more picturesque set, and he was back to having to adjust himself, this time simply pulling the bottom of the hoodie he wore over his burgeoning bulge. She replaced the bra, giggling softly, tip of her finger between her teeth, and Punk’s chest ached. 

He’d never expected to feel anything more for her than a need to fuck her in every position possible, but he’d be damned if he didn’t miss the girl when she wasn’t around. That snicker, when she really got going, was akin to a symphony, while her sultry voice ripped a moan from him every time she whispered words he thought she shouldn’t know directly into his ear before nibbling on the lobe and licking the shell. She fit flawlessly under his arm on the off-chance they spent their time cuddling instead of fucking, because somehow, this girl had him wanting to snuggle. And when he inevitably woke up alone in the morning, he swapped his pillow for the one she’d been using一that goddamn scent of hers smoothly lulling him back to sleep before he had a chance to wallow in self pity or wonder if she was headed to some other man’s house after she left him and whether or not he wanted to strangle that man with his bare hands.

Paul was finally asleep, laid back in his seat, headphones on at this point. Punk stood, headed toward the back of the jet as if bound for the bathroom. He made a beeline for the pretty young thing who’d just flashed him, standing tall behind her seat while his unrefined hands slid across her shoulders. He leaned forward, his nose following the aroma of her familiar shampoo, hands gliding further south until he was clutching her breasts. Just like her body fit into his side like a universe-made puzzle piece, her tits did the same in his hands as if they, too, had been made for each other, and as he squeezed and groped, lifted and bounced, he pressed a stubbled kiss to her forehead when she leaned back to gaze adoringly up at him. Her teeth clamped on her soft bottom lip, and he grinned when her back arched off the seat. He didn’t ever remember experiencing a woman so damn responsive to him一the patience he had now had been a learned process一her hands gentle but insistent on his as he continued entertaining himself with her breasts. 

His hand slid out from under hers, scraping across a firm nipple, fingers trailing up the side of her throat until his thumb brushed her lips. Her tongue slithered along the digit, a barely audible mewl escaping her parted lips, but he sought something different. He watched her bright, glittering eyes open as he applied pressure on her bottom row of teeth, reveling in the incredible amount of trust she had in him, and she allowed him to lower her jaw. He nodded, and he had no idea how or when they’d achieved the same level of depravity, but she needed no further instruction or encouragement to stick her pretty pink tongue out, those sparkling eyes round and clearly feigning innocence. Punk leaned closer, one hand on her cheek, the other still on her breast, and he glanced up to be sure Paul hadn’t moved, finding him in the exact same position. Returning his attention to Paul’s daughter, he spit onto her awaiting tongue, watching as it slid down the already slick muscle toward her esophagus. 

“Swallow,” he whispered, thin lips grazing her forehead once more. Hand clutching his wrist, the other still atop his on her breast, she closed her mouth and obeyed, Punk gliding his hand down the side of her throat so his fingers could feel her actually swallowing what he’d given her. “I missed you,” he murmured, kissing her nose, and he tried to ignore the swelling in his chest, instead focusing his attention on the straining in his joggers, as she grinned, tight body writhing under the weight of his praise and attention. 

“I missed you, Daddy,” she faintly replied.

Punk took a deep breath through his nose, cocking his head disapprovingly. “You’re gonna call me that when he’s一” His hips ground against the back of the seat, seeking any and all friction. He hadn’t planned on doing anything during the flight … 

“Mhmmm,” she purred, nodding, and Punk would be goddamned if he didn’t absolutely fucking adore her honesty and raw enthusiasm and the fact that, not only did she not worry about any punishment he might bestow upon her, sometimes she begged for it.

“That’s not what good girls do,” Punk intimately informed her. She shook her head this time, eyes utterly wicked and inviting and so fucking stunning, never afraid to maintain eye contact for long periods of time. And if there was one thing Punk loved, it was eye contact一there he could see her obedience, and her want, and the mischief, and even the naivety of a young woman who had yet to really be exposed to the harsh realities of the world. Which was difficult when you were a millionaire and had absolutely no reason to entrench yourself in the atrocities of the real world. If anything, Punk wanted to keep her sheltered, maintain her innocence, as it were. Let him be the most nefarious thing she ever came in contact with. “But you don’t wanna be a good girl,” he went on. 

Another shake of her head. His lips drifted to hers, barely brushing them, and his eyes fluttered as her hand snaked to the back of his head, carding her fingers through his hair along the way. And son of a bitch did she fucking own him when she did that一her nails scraping along his scalp, gently tugging at his hair一and he would make sure she never, ever discovered the power she held over him in that respect. She tilted her chin, raising herself up in her chair, but Punk eluded the kiss she so desperately sought. 

“You wanna be Daddy’s bad girl tonight, don’t you?” Punk breathed. Her nod this time was frantic. “Take your shorts off. Because if you’re Daddy’s bad girl, then you shouldn’t be wearing any panties, right?”

She lifted her hips, nimbly removing her shorts, slipping them past her sneakers without one snag, and she spread her thighs as far as she was able. Punk peeked over her shoulder, sighing, finding no panties, just smooth lips, which also easily separated, and he could then see her little clit poking out, begging to be licked. He suddenly felt his age, his heart pounding at an almost painful rate, but he quickly recovered, taking a deep breath and strolling around the seat. Paul hadn’t moved, and Punk descended to his knees in front of the wiseman’s daughter. Her grin was contagious as Punk gripped her hips and yanked them closer to the edge of the seat so he could then spread her legs to his heart’s desire, which usually meant as far as she could physically handle. The saccharine scent of her pussy slapped him in the face, and his hand shot down to clutch his cock一he hadn’t prematurely cum since high school and he wasn’t about to go back down that road. She was wet一from the fondling? From the spit? From calling him Daddy?一perfect一because every fucking thing about her was perfect一cunt simply weeping, and he glanced up, finding her pupils blown, jaw dropped, and her own hands were now cupping her breasts. 

“Aww, is this all for Daddy, princess?” Punk whispered, hand abandoning a leg so he could slip the tip of his index finger down her already spread folds, sliding along her swollen clit.

She nodded, sneakers in the air—Punk had a vision of Paul turning around, able to see only the Nikes above all the other seats, and it shouldn’t have made him squeeze his dick harder, but fuck all if it didn’t. “My wet pussy is always for Daddy,” she purred softly.

Punk shook his head. “Slut,” he hissed, diving face first into the cunt he literally dreamed about, even while lying next to her following a hard fucking.

She gasped, Punk’s eyes and brows rising instantly as he prepared to reprimand her for being too loud, but her hand slapped over her mouth, quickly followed by her other hand when Punk flattened his tongue and licked from her tight hole to the top of her clit. He battled with the volume of the groan which bubbled unknowingly from his chest because somehow this pussy tasted better every single time he put his mouth on it—more luscious, wetter, that much more addictive. Sucking on the soft nub, he scraped his teeth along the bundle of nerves, and her lithe body twisted not unlike a pretzel, sneaker sole landing hard against the wall beside the oval window. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Punk declared, and as he pulled away from her flooded pussy, a thin, clear string of her essence bridged the gap between his salt-and-pepper beard and her rosey clit. This had to be heaven, he thought, passing his finger through the middle of the bridge, gathering the string, before sucking the digit into his mouth. She whined, manicured nails sliding down her belly, bound for the apex of her thighs, and Punk snatched her wrist before she arrived at her destination. “You gotta be quiet, princess,” he reminded her, hardly audible, as he gradually came to his feet, positioning her hands on the backs of her knees. He glanced over his shoulder, at the same time pulling his straining cock out of his briefs and pants. Paul hadn’t moved, and maybe Punk even heard him snoring. Turning his attention back to Paul’s precious little star shine, his knees were pressed against the edge of her seat, her legs still spread indecently, which she couldn’t close now if she wanted to due to his proximity and sheer size compared to her, and her big, beautiful eyes were laser focused on his leaking cock that was mere inches from her face.

“Please, Daddy?” she whispered, licking her lips eagerly. 

“Listen,” Punk said, finger lifting her chin until her eyes reluctantly left his dick to give her attention to his mouth. “You have to be quiet. No choking, no gagging …” She pouted, the girl fucking pouted, and Punk smirked, shaking his head. Lord have mercy on his soul, but she had him finished. “Just lick it—” He pressed the wet head of his cock to her lips, and her tongue promptly slinked out of her scorching mouth, lapping up the precum from her skin and his. Punk let out a breath, one hand clamped on the seat, the other finding its way to the side of her face, thumb on her forehead, her tongue exploring as far along his cock as she was able. “—and suck it real fucking quiet, you hear me?”

She nodded, opening her lips around the head, and Punk pressed forward, somehow forbidding himself from shoving his dick directly into her throat. Her cheeks sunk as she applied just the softest pressure, crystal eyes locked on Punk’s face, because as much as she loved him in her mouth, she loved watching his reaction, and that did something to him all on its own. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” Punk sighed, surprised at the restraint in his own voice. Her tongue undulated against his cock, still gently sucking, and he started to pump. Only an inch or two, not enough to kiss the back of her throat no matter how much he wanted to. He smelled her sugary pussy on the air, and made a note in the back of his mind to try and find something to mask it after he was finished with Miss Heyman. “Daddy’s sweet girl.” She smiled around him, sucking just a little harder, though staying perfectly silent, hands still holding her legs open. He’d have to remember this position as one to use when he didn’t want her touching herself. “You wanna be bad, but you can’t help being Daddy’s good girl, can you?” Her eyes fluttered, and he felt a warm rush of air from her nose over his wet cock, and he then stole his dick from her mouth with a pop, and as much as he wanted to blame her for the lewd music, he hadn’t warned her he’d be pulling out while she was in the process of sucking. 

“Daddy,” she whined, pushing out her bottom lip, and Punk nearly fell to his knees so he could worship at the altar of her. 

“Spoiled little slut,” Punk said, backing up. She closed her legs and sat up in the chair, glaring at him because of the pet name, but also awaiting further direction. He nodded toward  a small couch on the other side of the cabin, and she understood almost immediately, standing, naked from the waist down, save for curiously sexy sneakers and the sports bra. She was also aware of their position, that there were three people in the cabin of this jet, so she laid across the couch on her back, head facing the front seats. Someone needed to keep an eye on Paul, and she certainly wanted nothing to do with this task. Punk, on the other hand, didn’t mind at all, and maybe it turned him on a little, and, as Paul’s daughter watched him, body squirming as she waited impatiently for him, wicked smirk on her lips, maybe it wasn’t such a secret. 

“Daddy, please,” she breathed, lifting the sports bra to entice him to hurry the fuck up, and Punk dropped his head back, laughing silently. Yep, she was gonna be the death of him. And he was old, so he probably wasn’t long for this world. 

“What?” Punk teased, glancing at Paul as he stroked his cock, which was now coated in his precum and her spit. He looked back at the desperate girl writhing about on the couch, his eyes darkening as he closed the space between them. 

“I need you inside me,” she murmured. “It’s been so long.”

Three days. It had been three days since he’d had her on her hands and knees on his bed, hands leaving bruises on her hips that he could easily see now, buried balls deep in the tightest pussy he’d ever had the pleasure of fucking.

He climbed onto the couch on his knees, between her open thighs, and he unzipped his hoodie, dropping it on the floor beside them. She mouthed fuck as he revealed one of his merch shirts, sleeves cut out, leaving holes big enough to show about half of his tattooed chest. She slipped her fingers inside those holes, fisting the shirt, and she yanked him down to her. Punk chuckled, she smiled as she bit her lip, but they were both short-lived when Punk’s cock slipped along her slick folds, and they both shared a gasp. 

“God, this fucking pussy,” Punk gushed into her ear, fondling a breast, and she turned her head to allow him better access. He sucked at her collar bone, biting down like a feral dog, and her hips lifted, bringing the head of his cock that much closer to her pulsing hole. “And you smell so goddamn good,” he continued, not even realizing he was speaking anymore, still rutting against her. “Christ, it has been too long.”

She giggled, a whimsical melody not unlike wind chimes, and she cupped his face, urging him to look at her. Then she did it—first she sifted one hand through one side of his hair, then the other, pure eyes locked on his sinful ones as she wrapped a leg around his waist. Punk was now under her spell. “You’re so obsessed with me, you dirty old man,” she muttered against his lips.

And the spell was broken.

Punk sat up, tilting his head, eyes slits, nostrils flared. Without warning, his hand shot up to clutch her throat, applying enough pressure to let her know he wasn’t fucking around, if the wild eyes and snarl weren’t enough. “I didn’t hear you,” he growled. “Must be my old man ears. What did you say?” She gripped his wrist with both hands. 

“I said—” she forced out, still swiveling her hips into his, her pussy desperately seeking his cock. She met his eyes defiantly. “—you’re so obsessed with me, you dirty … old … man …” He was offended by the old man, though she spoke only the truth. 

“I don’t know where this attitude is coming from, but you better fucking squash it and apologize … now,” Punk rasped. 

“Or what?” the girl challenged. 

“Or I’ll take you into the bathroom right fucking now and wash your pretty mouth out with soap,” Punk promised. “And you definitely won’t be getting this old man cock.” She wasn’t as frightened by the prospect of soap in her mouth as she was the possibility of not getting fucked, and there couldn’t possibly be two people better suited for each other than CM Punk and Paul Heyman’s daughter, he thought. “So which is it?” he pushed. “The soap and no dick? Or—” 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she breathed. “I just like that you’re obsessed with me …” 

“And the old man?” Punk seethed.

She shrugged, still gripping his forearm as he still clutched her throat. “I like that, too,” she admitted.

Punk searched her face for a moment before crushing his lips to hers, hands grabbing at her legs, shoving them apart, Nikes flopping around, and then he rubbed the fleshy head of his cock along her clit before plunging inside her. He was able to get a hand over her mouth just as she was about to cry out. Her eyes squeezed shut, Punk pummeling her pussy, and she tried to push him away with hands on his belly as he rammed her cervix at the same time as her legs pulled him impossibly closer and somehow deeper. 

“I am obsessed with you,” Punk rumbled into her ear, using his hand over her mouth to shove her face to the side. The air was so thick it was difficult to breathe, dripping with the aroma of their intimate union. “I watch you when you don’t even know I’m there …” Her legs tightened around him, the hands on his belly now fisted in his shirt, also tugging him closer. “You like that?” he asked. She nodded, rolling her hips into his, meeting each of his slow thrusts. “You like that I have pictures on my phone of you that you don’t even know about?” She moaned into his hand, her hands releasing his shirt so she could clutch his shoulders. “And I jerk off to them every single fucking day we’re not together?”

She came apart then, entire body shuddering, cunt clamping around his cock, milking it like it always did. He pounded faster into her, harder, one hand remaining over her mouth while the other groped a breast. 

“Fuck, you dirty slut,” Punk panted. “I’m gonna cum inside this pussy.” Her back bowed, her nod frantic. “Daddy knows that’s what you want, isn’t it?” Another desperate, silent affirmation. 

A few more pumps into her and a glance in Paul’s direction to find he’d changed positions, but was still asleep, and he exploded within her, lips pulling back from his teeth as his hips stuttered. He looked down at where their bodies were joined together, his cock covered in her cum, glistening in the harsh overhead lights, and he thought, no, this was heaven. Pulling out, he couldn’t help but finger her clit poking out between her spread folds, and she jumped, squeaking. When he was sure his legs could handle it, he stood and grabbed her shorts, helping her to move them past her shoes as she languidly pulled them on. 

“These are gonna be a mess in a few minutes,” Punk warned, “but I want my cum as close to your pussy as possible for as long as possible.”

She breathed an exhausted laugh, pulling her bra down over her breasts. “That’s exactly what I wanted,” she replied. “It’s also why I brought the big shirt.” Punk tucked himself away and sat on the couch, her sneakers in his lap. “So … when can we talk about how you’re basically stalking me?” she grinned.

[mistymisfit]

How they met

summary: When Poison Ivy takes Gotham's central park hostage reader gets stuck with Red Hood and accidentally saves him.

warnings: mentions of reader being shorter than Jason, reader uses glasses, mentions of reader wearing a skirt, smoking, and this.

wc: 3,8k

It was just a matter of time of living in Gotham until you got stuck on a situation like this. You have to have the worst luck in the city because, on the day you finally give in and agree to dog-sit for a friend, Poison Ivy decides to show up when you take her on a walk. Of course, the dog was no idiot and ran away a while ago at the first sight of danger, so now you were stuck here in Gotham's central park. You have to admit you're not as scared as you should be, however you were getting mildly annoyed at hanging upside down with a vine holding you by your ankles. At least you could be glad it wasn't the joker.

It was a common topic of conversations late at night with your friends when you seem to run out of things to discuss, debating which Gotham rouge attack you could survive as a hostage. This topic was only second to "Which vigilante would you rather have to save you?", that one allowed for more rambling over who you thought was hottest. Still, no pointless drunk debate could prepare you for when it actually happened.

"Hey, excuse me, miss" You said when you watched her walk past and she stopped almost amused that you'd dare to speak to her "I understand that you're part plant, right?"

"That'd be correct" She paid close attention to you, she was intrigued by the fact that the effects of her "sleeping pollen" worn off fast unlike the other hostages next to you. You were supposed to be passed out for around 5 hours more, after all her pheromones never failed.

"Yeah, so, the rest of us are human" You tried to be as polite as you could so she wouldn't crush you to death "So could you please put us down, I'm getting a headache from having my head upside down"

She didn't say anything but agreed, the vines gently leaving you and the others on the grass before quickly wrapping you again. As you felt less and less dizzy, you could pay more attention to your surroundings. The concrete trail was shattered, plants breaking it from growing over it, the closest bench was split in half, and a water fountain was removed from the ground, water leaking from where it used to be. Though your vision is blurry since you lost your glasses from hanging upside down, you can still tell that next to you were the mother and daughter you saw seconds before it all went down. The mother chased after her daughter, demanding her to not go that far away from her. Then your friend's dog, the king Charles spaniel you only agreed to take care of because she was cute, ran away and you went after her. Next thing you know, a vine wraps around you and you're hanging from your ankles, no dog in sight. When did all of this happen? And how in broad daylight?

You heard a cracking noise and thought, "oh, no, were those my glasses?". Your head turned to see ruthless vigilante Red Hood picking up your glasses from the floor, or at least you think that is what he's picking up. It sounded much like broken glass. He could tell by the disappointment on your face that they were yours, so he quickly moved in silence getting closer to you.

"Sorry" He whispered, cleaning them up a little bit with against his red vest. He gently put them back on your face, and you nearly blushed at his hands brushing against your face.

"It's okay," You lied. You couldn't be mad at him for it, but you could dwell on how expensive it would be to fix them.

"I'll get you out of here." He promised, his voice was still low, not knowing if she was close enough to hear him. He started cutting through the vines to set you free.

"Sure" If you could've shrugged, you would have.

"Sure?" He repeated, offended. He wasn't expecting you to be overcome by joy by seeing him there, he's realistic, but you could show more gratitude. Even if he crushed your glasses.

"Or you could leave me here to die," You deadpanned, you must've been in this city for too long if this wasn't fazing you "so I don't have to turn in that essay on Monday"

"I won't," He quips back, finally breaking through and helping you throw the plants from you.

"Well, at least you're not a cop"

"Good to know I'm a step above them" He was beginning to wonder when was the last time he met a hostage so talkative as he worked cutting the vines that held the little girl captive. She lumped forward, still unconscious as you caught her, holding her until he could free her mom.

"Several steps, really" You corrected "You won't remember them, but you rescued my neighbors' daughter after she went missing for four months"

"Who? Zoey?" You were both surprised, you over the fact that he could recall her name, and him that you knew that. Those kinds of stories never made the news, or if they did, they never mentioned him if it was going to paint him in a good light. "How's she doing?"

"Yeah, she's better now"

Once he managed to cut through the last vine, he picked her up like it was nothing. You looked away trying to push down how attractive you found that. He guided you, signaling to stay quiet on what you hoped would be a way out of the dome she had created. And just when you thought you're out of trouble, a plant wrapped once more around your leg, dragging you and Red Hood back in. As twigs and being dragged through the floor scratched your arms and your face, you couldn't help but think, Why me? and that at least in that rough motion you dropped the girl, and the paramedics running your way would take her and the other woman.

This time, she was not as merciful, a thicker and stronger vine entrapped you both together with your back pressed against his chest. He tried putting his arms in front of you to stop the vine from getting tighter around you, but you're quicker than him in realizing what could happen.

"Stop, stop," you swatted his forearm lightly to get his attention; "it'll break your arms"

You were surprised to see him listen, and he put his arms back to his sides. You could tell he was trying to be as respectful as he could in this situation, trying to avoid touching you even if your butt was pressed impossibly close to him.

"Hood?" You asked nervously, feeling something pressed against you. "That is a gun, right?"

"I'm flattered, sweetheart." He chuckled, "It's a 9 millimeter, but don't worry safety's on"

"Uh-huh" You acknowledged his response, more worried about not panicking at the thought of being squeezed to death. It didn't occur to you earlier that you might die today. Well, it did, you just didn't have to accept it until then. In your desperation you tried wriggling your arms out, at least to get some room to breathe. The binding plant was right above your waist, constricting your lungs.

"Stop squirming like that."

"Sorry, I-"You gasped, on the verge of tears "god, what if I die? My friends won't have anything to say at my funeral"

"Hey, take a deep breath." You felt his hands on your hips, his thumb gently tracing circles on your back as the rest of his hand kept you in place, grounding you. It was comforting; he was trying to make you feel better, and you appreciated the thought. He leaned down his head until his forehead rested on top of your head "You are not dying, okay?"

"Okay," you repeated, your voice weak but less panicked.

"Besides, if we're having a bad funeral competition, I'd beat you for sure" He joked, trying to distract you "What were you doing here?"

"I uhm, I was walking my friend's dog, she's out of town for her sister's wedding"

"What's it called?"

"Anne Boneyn" Your response was met with a full belly laugh from him, it's almost contagious as you had to push your lips together and hold back a smile to avoid joining him.

"I'm sorry, whose idea was it?"

"Mine," you blushed, "only because she named my cat Joan D'cat"

He laughed again, and if you weren't scared for your life, you wouldn't have known how to feel about him so close to you.

"Wait until you hear about my other friend's turtle, Mary Shelley" You added inciting his laugh once more. It was a bit of a contradiction to see a man you know for a fact has killed many people before laughing this much over bad puns, but you felt flustered and a little proud that you were able to do that.

"I'll tell you something; when we get out of this, I'll help you find Anne, hopefully with her head still attached," He offered.

"Hey" You laughed "that's not helping "

As your laughs died down and you were reminded of his hands still on you, you started to wonder if Red Hood was single, you'd kill him if he was your boyfriend and found out he had a moment like this with another girl. You have to stop yourself from getting even more delusional, this was probably a random Thursday for him, and you had no reason to feel bad or even jealous of an hypothetical girlfriend. You brushed off how he made you feel, attributing it to either the adrenaline of the moment or the fact that he's quite attractive and you haven't had any contact with a guy in a while. You really couldn't help but grow a little crush on him when he's so reassuring, telling you that you'll be okay

Then you hear steps, both of you suddenly going quiet. You could see some plants moving, but not her or any other vigilante, though the latter would surprise you more since you heard Red Hood usually works on his own, and you've seen a few news articles of him and Batman beating the shit out of each other.

"We're far from Crime Alley, Red Hood" You could finally make out where she was through a cracked lens, was she always that green? or was her skin changing?

"I just happened to be in the neighborhood" He replied before whispering:"Try to distract her"

She made a face of what you could only describe as disdain, and she was about to leave when he nudged you to get her attention. If you could turn back, you would've shoot him an exasperated "what the fuck do you want me to do?" look. You grunted from the vine getting tighter and decided to do as he said.

"Can I ask you something?" You rolled your eyes at what you said, anyone with a quick wit would've told you that you already had. "Why the whole display of power in the middle of the city?"

"Why?"

"Yeah, don't get me wrong, I agree with the whole men are killing the planet thing" You took a deep breath and she noticed, loosening a bit the vines so you could talk "But why the park? It's the only place people in this city get to see some green... besides the botanical gardens, but we are right next to them."

"Are you saying I'm wrong?"

"No I-uhm, I'm just saying you got the target wrong" You quickly added before you made it worse "You know it's not the average person that's killing nature?"

"It's men's greed that is killing the planet"

"Still, in a shorter run, you'll get better results if you aim higher," You reasoned "You should go after the factory outside the city that's been polluting the water, or the biggest oil company you can find, or-"

"Hm," You were both surprised to see her actually think about it "I suppose I could try"

What? You were just rambling, trying to buy time for whatever plan Red Hood's got. You were not expecting her to take your suggestions seriously, and neither was him when he whispered a "what the fuck?" under his breath. Once she starts walking away and turns your back to you two you quickly move your head, shooting him a look that asks the very same question he had.

"And don't even try following me," she warned, you knew that was for the vigilante behind you. You were not going anywhere that isn't your own bedroom after this "my plants will let you go in half an hour"

You were at a loss for what to do for all that time stuck there, hopefully you could free yourselves faster. Though you wouldn't mind spending the time with him. You mentally scolded yourself for thinking like that, you needed to stop being so delusional. Lucky for you, he did have a plan, so as soon as the grip lessened up, he was able to get his arms out and cut off the vines.

"Are you going after her?"

"Nah, sounds more like the bat's problem to me" He shrugged, " 'sides I promised to help you find Anne"

He kept up that promise, he helped you call out and look for your friend's dog until you found her—alive and with her head still on her neck. You figured it took you around the same time you would've been trapped had he not cut you off earlier. Saying goodbye to him was surprisingly awkward, as if he didn't want to leave either. At least until he noticed a few police officers, then he really made a run for it, but not without waving as he left.

He nagged himself for that, letting his guard down that fast when a pretty girl was nice to him. Then reprimanded himself even more when the urge to find you got too intense and ended up investigating you. And felt equal parts, bad for watching you and relieved to find out you didn't have a boyfriend. Told himself it was for your safety when he made sure you got home safe late at night, and convinced himself he was doing you a favor when he fed your cat on the balcony when you were out or sleeping.

"Fuck," Is all that left your lips when he fell on the floor. Where did he even come from? You were looking at the city lights, distracted, when you heard someone stumbling and grunting.

When you turned to see the very same vigilante who you met a few weeks ago, saying you were shocked fell short. It's rare that you ran into him once, but twice? That's got to be luck-- or its opposite. His muzzle was shattered, God knows where the rest of the pieces fell, he was also covered in blood and holding his side as he tried to sit up. You managed to move amidst the initial surprise, and leave your cigarette on the ashtray to help him up.

"Hey, are you okay?" You asked, guiding his back to rest against the wall.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine," He repeated, as if he was not only trying to convince you but also himself, "It isn't my blood"

"You sure?" The way your hands lingered on his form did not go unnoticed, not that he minded at all.

"I'm just bruised," He explained before looking up. Of course, he'd end up at your building, and just by chance, you happened to hang out on your rooftop. "It's you again"

"Yeah, It's me" You held back a smile, he remembers you? You'd thought by now your face would've phased out of his memories, mixed along with the other people he must have helped.

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here-"You rolled your eyes, avoiding the real reason to be at a rooftop at 4 am. You could tell his eyes lingered on yours even under the mask before he looked up and saw the ashtray on the ledge. With renewed energy he got up, still using the wall to help himself. "Wait!"

He raised an eyebrow, and before he could make any witty comment, you beat him to it.

"I only do it when I'm stressed, okay? Not that I owe you any explanation"

"I get it," He sighed, reaching out for the pack and getting one out of the little box "You mind?"

You shook your head no, handing him your lighter. You watched him drop the broken muzzle and take the first drag with so much attention you had to tell yourself to stop being so awkward. You flicked the ashes off your own before your eyes went back to him. Jesus, what a fucking jawline, and now you couldn't stop looking at his lips. He was going to think you were weird if he caught you staring like this, or at least you thought that. Not that you would know he had been looking out for you since you met. From a distance, of course.

"I didn't get your name last time" He knew your name, you knew a guy with his resources probably already knew the answer. But you indulged him, saying your name out loud for him, "that's pretty"

"Thanks"

"So what's got you stressed out enough to be smoking this late," He said your name. You liked the way it sounds coming from his voice; he liked the way it rolls off his tongue so easily.

"Had the worst night out, ever" Now it was your turn to sigh, leaning in to rest your arms on the ledge. He was eyeing your outfit now, an oversized hoodie clearly thrown over a going out outfit, black tights and heavy boots visible under it. And if you leaned forward just a little bit, he could see a bit of the miniskirt your hoodie was hiding. "You?"

"I've had worse, had better" He shrugged, intentionally giving you a vague answer. He wasn't going to tell you about his activities, no normal person wants to hear about that much violence.

"Really?" You raised an eyebrow, your tone was playful, and he knew you were about to tease him "You seem pretty fucked to me, or should I have seen the other guy?"

"Hey, I've got no open wounds tonight" He smirked and you wanted to scream, why was that so fucking attractive? "I'm counting that as a win"

You let out a chuckle, and you just missed the way his lips curved up in a smile when you left the cigarette butt on the tray. His eyes followed your movement, looking at the lipstick-stained cigarette for a few seconds before returning his focus to you.

"Were you born here?" He asked

"Nope, I moved a couple of years ago for college"

"How's that going?"

"I'm getting my masters now" You shook your head, looking up at him before continuing "What about you? Are you a full fledged Gothamite?"

"Loud and proud" He joked, getting you to laugh loudly.

"Of course you are, I can't imagine getting a costume and going out to fight criminals every night" You teased.

"Hey!" He tried to sound offended at your remark, but he couldn't hide the smile he was fighting against, so he opted for changing the subject "I'm sorry, what did you say you were studying?"

With that, he got you to tell him about your masters, how you got into that field, and what you liked the most.  You also got him to talk a bit about himself, even if he was not willing to give you that much information. Both to protect his identity and not to scare off the first girl he's had a crush on in a while. You both steered closer and closer to the other as you talked, close enough you could smell the intoxicating mix of gunpowder, sweat, and whatever cologne he used.

"Can I be nosy for a second?" You bit your lip at the risky question you were about to ask. He just nodded, his hands itching to touch you again, to wrap around your hips like they did last time he saw you. "What's the deal with you and Batman?"

"What deal? There's no deal" He brushed it off, he was about to take a step back when you stopped him. Pulling him in by grabbing his clothes, an eyebrow raised and a "do you think I'm stupid?" expression. "We don't get along, 's all"

"Really?" You knew you were pushing your luck.

"He hates me, I hate him" He explained, hoping to put your growing curiosity to rest.

"In my opinion," Your voice was soothing, and so was your hand on his chest. He didn't know how long it had been since he was touched like that; "hate like that can only be born out of someone you loved"

"He thinks I'm bad, they all do" You noticed how weak and sad his tone turned.

"I don't think you're bad, if it's worth anything"

He moved one hand up to cup your cheek, and he stared at you tenderly for a moment. It happened fast, his lips crashed onto yours in a second. You hummed, tasting the left over taste of the smoke, stood on your tip toes, hands fisting at his clothes to maintain some balance as he leans down too. His other hand rested on your back, but not too low trying not to push his luck with you.  And he kissed you like he had something to prove, whether it was to you or himself you were not so sure of. What you were sure of was how warm he felt, your body pushed up against his in the cold, windy night. It felt like a consolation prize after such a terrible night.

And he wanted to tell you that he wished he was a normal person, that he had a normal life, and he could date you without it meaning a death sentence to you. But all it comes out is; "I wish I never met you"

"Excuse me?" You gasped, pushing him off "What a weird fucking thing to say after kissing someone"

"No—I mean" He sighed, hands cupping your face once again. You just couldn't resist that. "You're pretty, and funny, you should be kissing someone normal"

"I think I can make that decision for myself"

"I should go" He let go of you, and you grew colder by the second, already missing him before he left.

"Wait," You tugged on the hood hanging on his back. He turned back to see you, anything to make the moment last more. "I usually come up here on Fridays, in case you need to talk to someone"

He just gave you a court nod before jumping off, and you could only stand there and think about what just happened. Despite his better reasoning, he found himself swinging by your rooftop that Friday, and the one after, and all the next ones for the foreseeable future.

a/n: I mentioned in my birthday drabble that poison ivy called reader "her favorite hostage" and this is why, so technically part of the birthday-verse?

[hitlikehammers]

(not your average) seven minutes ⏰ ♥️

or: what if Steve had been ‘playfully’ locked into a room by his drunken not-friends at that infamous Halloween party in 1984, for 💕Seven Minutes in Heaven💞!

…and no one realized Eddie Munson was already hiding inside 🫥

Steve just wants to get the fuck out of this place, this party, this fucking…bullshit life he’s found himself in. He’s not at his best, under-fucking-standadably, so when the drunk-ass Halloween masses push and shove and giggle as they lock him in an upstairs bedroom for—oh god, Seven Minutes In Heaven, what are they, goddamn twelve—he’s going to fucking scream, he— “Not quite what you were expecting behind Door Number One?” Steve spins, a little jump in it when he looks for the source of the voice which sounds familiar and then also, not, because Steve thinks he should know a voice like that, because it’s a good voice, a really good voice, it’s not too deep but it’s smooth and it’s— It’s a good voice, basically. And when he finds its owner, shadowed by the curtains in the corner, well. The leather jacket would’ve given him away if the mess of frizzy curls weren’t kind of an automatic tell: Eddie the Freak. Half-hidden as he flips a clear antique of a lighter too fucking close to the gauzy drapes and it…it does something. To Steve. It does something to Steve.

rating: t ♥️ tags: s2 era, alternate meeting, that ONE HALLOWEEN PARTY (you know which one), steve meets eddie immediately after nancy does her drunken bullshit thing, seven minutes in heaven meets truth or dare, (weirdly more effective than you’d think), first kiss(es), fluff, humor, boys being boys, climbing out of windows (like a ninja🥷), getting together (?) ♥️

again: originally a fill from @eddiemunsonbingo forever ago, and I’m only bringing it over here NOW because it’s going to have a sequel show up soon for @steddielovemonth—which I thank profusely for giving me the kick in the ass required to revisit and actually try to finish this series!

“Oh my fucking god.”

Steve honestly doesn’t know if he’s going to start crying or throwing up quicker, like which one’s closest to the surface; keeping his balance as the shock, the jagged parts that draw blood when your heart gets crushed to shards leaving him susceptible—pathetic, fucking pathetic— to the pushing and pulling and grabbing of the throngs of trashed partygoers shoving him away from the front door, pushing harder every time he tripped up the stairs, laughing and yelling and chanting and fuck, fuck he doesn’t need this, he doesn’t want this, and he doesn’t even know what the fuck it is, just that it’s not his car, and then his house, and then his bed where he can…let it all come crashing down and not have a fucking audience, just: goddamn.

As soon as a door’s thrown open and she’s shoved to stumble hard, catch his nails to bending, bleeding against the light switch as the lock clicks behind him—well fuck.

He gets it now.

Fuck.

“Not what you were expecting behind Door Number One?”

Steve spins, a little jump in it when he looks for the source of the voice which is familiar and then, not, because Steve thinks he should know a voice like that, because it’s a good voice, a really good voice, it’s not too deep but it’s smooth and it’s—

It’s a good voice, basically.

And when he finds its owner, shadowed by the curtains in the corner, well. The leather jacket would’ve given him away if the mess of frizzy curls weren’t kind of an automatic tell: Eddie the Freak, half-hidden as he flips a clear antique of a lighter too fucking close to the gauzy drapes but…it does something.

It does something Steve doesn’t want to dwell on, the kind of thing he’s kinda been working really hard and doing pretty fucking well and not dwelling on but then…maybe like, any other night, any other hour of any other night? Steve maybe would have turned, and at least tried to force the door open; maybe he’d have pushed it down like he’s been getting real good at, almost to the point where he doesn’t even have to think about it, the thing itself or the pushing it down: in fact he’s absolutely sure he’d have done just that. Any other night. After any other fucking night.

But it’s all bullshit anyway, so like, why even bother, what does any of it even matter, Barb’s dead, blood’s on his hands apparently for a pool he doesn’t even fucking pay for, his love’s fucking nothing and the voice from the corner, hell, even the jawline the flame’s casting sharp every other second, every flip open then stealing away with every flip closed: that’s something and so, like.

Any other night. It’d be different.

But it’s this night.

“I wasn’t expecting any door except the one on the front driver’s side of my goddamn car, man,” Steve sighs and throws his weight against a dresser—plain. Really plain—kid’s room. Not too young. Boy’s room. Little brother of…fuck, Steve can’t even remember whose house they’re in.

“I can see where this would definitely count as,” Munson’s tongue runs almost contemplatively over his lips as he tips his head; “a deviation from the plan.”

Steve snorts; he means it to sound amused, because he is that. Honestly he is.

But it sounds like it get halfway there, before it nosedives a little into a half-stifled sob.

Goddamnit.

“You okay, Harrington?”

Oh. So not only is he recognizable, he’s also recognizably not fucking okay.

That’s just great.

“My girlfriend says I’m bullshit,” Steve has no fucking idea what makes him just say it, to basically a stranger at that, and fuck, no, not a stranger: this stranger, who Steve knows enough of but who Steve’s pretty sure knows too many things about him for comfort, just—he doesn’t know what makes him say it. “That loving her is bullshit.”

Actually: probably that’s it. Bullshit, versus something. Munson’s eyes stay fixed on him the whole time, even as he keeps flicking the lighter.

“Does,” Munson starts, and in his good-voice, he sounds almost, like, hesitant. Which isn’t a way Steve really associates with the guy, if he associates anything with him at all but apparently yeah, he does, because he’s absolutely certain this shit’s out of the norm: “like, not to be a dick, seriously,” yeah, yeah: this is like a gentle voice. Careful. Care…caring?

And, like…why?

“But does that mean she’s still your girlfriend?”

Oh. Pity might be why. That’s fun.

“Shit,” Steve rubs his hands over his face, fucks his hair up even more than it’s been which is possibly not even possible. “Probably not.”

Munson lets out a breath that’s almost a whistle, and looks genuinely regretful—again, why, most of the people he hangs out with would probably celebrate Steve’s suffering, so like, what the fuck—

“That sucks man,” Munson says, honest, like, really honest as he para down his…surprisingly tight jeans until he extracts a pre-roll from the front picked and holds it out in offering: “on the house.”

Steve needs that shit bad enough for it to be maybe the only thing he doesn’t question in all of this.

“Thanks,” he says as Munson holds out a light and Steve leans in; the guy smells of party sweat and too many bodies, of Kate autumn air and cheap cologne. He smells…

It’s a good smell. It matches his good voice.

“You wanna?” Steve offers on impulse after he takes a lungful and maybe a little more, maybe a little too much—greedy, needy, bullshit—and holds it back to Eddie as he breathes out slow, tries to keep it all in as long as he can but not…not in a pushing-it-down kind of way. More a making-the-most kind of way.

“Do you wanna?” Munson asks, eyes so wide, like a baby animal or something. Like a cartoon character. Steve just keeps holding the joint out to him, close enough that his lips will touch Steve’s fingers if he wants them to, and in Steve’s head he feels like he’ll call him Eddie, in his head, if his mouth brushes his skin.

It does.

Eddie it is, then.

And Steve’s real good at shoving down things like the way his heart skips and fucking jumps, runs a little—he’s good at it.

But not tonight.

“They always double the time, ‘specially when they think they’re being funny,” Steve licks his fingers where Eddie’s mouth had touched because why the fuck not, and he slides down the simple preteen dresser and leans back on the palms of his hands as he sighs out the words and the remaining smoke in his lungs, but let’s go of none of the taste he’d lapped off the skin around his knuckles. Not that. “Probably longer than that if they’re as drunk as they looked.”

“Ah,” Eddie kinda, almost, hums through the purse of his lips before he offers the smoke back Steve’s way, and if Steve makes sure his lips drag over Eddie’s fingers, what fucking of it. It does make the space between his inhale and Eddie’s willingness to say any more words out loud a long quiet pause where Steve’s pulse runs high between his collarbones but it’s…it’s not bad. And Steve kinda wants to keep that in his back pocket, for later: the thing he’s gotten so good and pushing down might not feel so goddamn bad, up near the surface where it’s still able to breathe.

Huh.

“So you’re up here on a mission,” Eddie finally says, a little choked but not like you choke on a weird drag, y’know? Different choking. Steve feels the urge to smirk and while he doesn’t give into it?

It’s definitely there.

“As far as they’re concerned,” Steve says with…Steve doesn’t know what he says it with. How he says it. How he means it.

“You don’t look drunk,” Eddie saves him from dwelling on that particular unknown, lets him course correct with a little scoff.

It also distracts him from how Eddie sits next to him. Not too close, but still pretty fucking close.

“I know my limits.” Which is why he takes back the joint without a single thought and does the maybe-too-much thing, because it feels good, and lets himself look for the taste of Eddie on the paper: salt and a tang of something and then sweetness, like fucking candy.

It’s a good taste.

“I’m probably a little drunk,” Eddie declares without sounding it at all, and taking to the eeed again without a secondly hesitation; “more like tipsy, really, if that, but still, totally not my style,” he frowns, like it really isn’t, like he’s disappointed in himself. It’s kinda…cute.

Fuck.

“I don’t touch shit at these parties but I was thirsty as fuck,” Eddie gestures with his free hand, and it’s the first time Steve’s notices how his run at glint: good hands; “haven’t eaten all day and thought I’d beat the punch spiking.”

“Aww, man,” Steve moans on Eddie’s behalf, sympathetic; “the punch is always pre-spiked.”

“Duly noted,” Eddie nods, holding the joint to Steve’s lips straight on this time, and Steve thinks nothing of breathing in without touching it himself, letting Eddie decide when to pull it back. “Point being, on an empty stomach, even one such as myself,” Eddie gestures broadly at his person with the nearly-spent smoke: “is not immune.”

Steve huffs a little laugh; he kinda wants it to be bigger but he’s feeling…soft. Nice.

Good.

“So we’ve got somewhere between seven and…” Eddie glances at his wrist as if he’s expecting a watch there; Steve wants to know if he forgot one he normally wears or if it’s all for show: “thirty minutes, by your estimation?”

“Thereabouts,” Steve shrugs. You can never really know for sure.

“You umm,” Eddie ventures after a few seconds; “you want to talk about, umm,” and he trails off, but the implication is clear.

“Not,” Steve’s saying before really thinking;“not really.” It’s actually kind of weird how much he means it, too. “I was trying to get home.”

“Drown your sorrows?” Eddie surmises, but Steve shakes his head.

“Wasn’t even gonna bother,” and his asshole father’s got the good shit, too; Steve probably could have managed a decent bit of wallowing with minimal hangover. “Just wanted to get out, clear my,” he clears his throat, though he’s not sure why, doesn’t really thing he needs it: “head.”

Then Steve turns to look at Eddie only to find Eddie already looking straight at him.

That’s…that’s something.

“Then they shoved me in here because they’re all fucking assholes,” Steve chuckles a little, does his damn best to make it clear he’s only calling the dickheads downstairs assholes; not…not Eddie.

Like it was an asshole move to shove him in here but, not because of Eddie.

Like, at all.

“And drunk off their asses,” Eddie grins, a very good grin, and Steve matches it as best he’s able because it means his comments landed okay, the right way; “swear I didn’t sell anything hard enough to be the culprit.” Steve snorts, and Eddie matches that and all the matching feels…it feels.

“It’s funny though,” Eddie comments, a little idly once the laughter’s echoed out. Steve tilts his head, all question.

“No one knew I was in here,” Eddie gestures to the whole of the not-very-big room. “It’d be one thing to prank you and shove you in here with me, ha ha,” he tosses his head back and forth and sticks out his tongue like Steve knows he’s done on the tables in the cafeteria more than once but it’s softer, here, it’s almost warm or playful and maybe a little self…deprecating? Steve thinks that’s the word but whatever the word is, Steve doesn’t love that it’s there alongside everything else.

“I mean, insulting as shit to you, so they probably wouldn’t have done that to you,” and Steve frowns because yeah, these parts are thinks he loves at all; “you’re still royalty,” and Eddie pops on an accent and bows his head and it’s not mocking like it would be in school, but.

Steve doesn’t fucking love that either.

“Fuck that,” Steve’s quick to kind of…bite out. Like, hard. “And hell, if I am fucking royalty,” he air-quotes the word because fuck it, fuck it all; “it’s not for much longer.”

Eddie settles, and watches Steve almost…careful. Like maybe he’s looking for something. Or else, he’s taking the time to really get something from whatever he does see.

It’s weird. Steve doesn’t know what to do with being looked at to be seen.

“Think I’ll be glad to be rid of it, to be honest,” Steve says, picks at the beds of his nails a little, something he’s learned from all the girls he’s dated for a few days here and there—distraction.

But he means it, he realizes that for absolute certain as soon as he says it.

“Huh,” Eddie finally says, and it’s said…like it means something.

Something maybe…good. Or like it could be. Can be.

Huh.

“Anyway, they would have thought the room was empty,” Eddie picks back up, stretches a little and oh. Oh wow, he’s got a long neck when it’s all stretched out. It’s…it looks good.

Then Eddie cuts his gaze sly toward Steve and smirks: “Who were you supposed to fucking have your seven heavenly minutes with?”

Steve rolls his eyes and smirks lazily back in Eddie’s direction.

“My hand?”

Eddie’s eyes widen a little, and they’re…they’re really close, like, either Steve didn’t notice before or they’ve gotten closer.

Eddie’s lips are…really close.

“Oh, well,” those close lips are saying, but that good voice is kinda too-soft for the tease: “don’t let me interrupt.”

Steve blinks a couple times, to make sure he heard right.

“Sorry, that was—“ Eddie starts to walk it back but once Steve’s done with his blinking?

He fucking busts out laughing. Like…the embarrassing, snorting, pitchy kind of laughter.

“Funny,” he gasps a little, waving Eddie’s concern away because it was, it was: “That was funny, man.”

Maybe Steve thinks it’s too funny. But once Eddie shifts from shocked to something more like pleasantly surprised?

It feels like it was the perfect level of funny.

“Okay,” Eddie says as his grin grows but gets ducked into his chin, as his hand fumbles for a stand of his hair like he can hide behind it, which is silly, and weird.

And…endearing. Steve wants to see what that strand of hair feels like.

Also weird. Maybe silly. Maybe too much, maybe bullshit—

“Hey,” Eddie’s leaning toward him, and if Steve thought they were close before, that was a fucking lie in comparison because holy fucking wow, is Eddie close. He’s got freckles on his nose. Steve never would have guessed. “Want me to be funny some more?” He asks, a little loud, a little too bout any and bouncy and…like he means it, like he wants to be this thing but not so much for himself, or else not just for himself, but for Steve.

No one does shit like that for Steve.

“Your eyes are too pretty to be sad.”

Steve’s eyes aren’t too fucking pretty to nearly pop out their goddamn sockets when those words register in his ears, in his brain, make his chest tight in a kinda fucking terrifying way but such a good way and Eddie looks so scared, and Eddie’s eyes are too pretty to be scared and, oh shit.

“Truth or dare?”

The question kinda just pops out, which is…not ideal but better than his eyes doing that, so: win. And Eddie’s eyes shift from scared to stunned, confused—both better options. Double win.

“What?”

Steve clears his throat this time because you genuinely fucking needs it. “Gotta do something to pass however many minutes they leave us here, don’t we?”

Because it was definitely a seven-minutes-in-heaven set up. And Steve doesn’t know how long they’ve passed so far but he wants it to be a while longer that they’ve got left and distractions, distractions to keep from dwelling—

“Truth.”

Oh. Alright.

“Just my eyes?”

That, Steve clocks right after saying it, is the exact opposite of not fucking dwelling. He feels a little sick.

But his heart’s leaping like it’s never been free of a fucking cage until this moment, so it’s confusing.

Eddie looks confused too, so on top of it: Steve’s not even alone. In being confused.

And Steve’s alone so much. This is…kinda nice.

Kinda good.

“Is it just my eyes that are too pretty?” Steve says, for clarity. And Eddie swallows so hard Steve can hear it; fuck, he swallows hard enough it has to hurt.

“No,” Eddie says, tiny and faint before he straights his spine and looks Steve straight on: intentional.

Bracing for impact.

“Truth or dare.”

Steve’s kinda tired of being daring on principle. Generally. He’s terrified of the truth but…shit.

“Truth.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?” Eddie doesn’t say it mean. But he does say it in a way Steve couldn’t have lied to him about if he wanted to even try.

He doesn’t though. Want to try.

“Literally or, like, figuratively?”

The implications of that answer hit a little belatedly and Steve feels his cheeks go read as Eddie’s breath punches straight out of his lungs:

“Jesus H. Christ—“

“No, to both,” Steve answers quick before he loses his nerve, because maybe the truth was as daring, more daring even, than anything else. “Not even a little bit. For either.”

Eddie’s throat works around words he doesn’t say for a long stretch of seconds. Steve’s heart’s in his throat so, he thinks he kinda gets the feeling.

“Truth or Dare,” he forces out. Because it’s his turn.

“Dare,” Eddie barely breathes. Steve wasn’t expecting that, but the ready response makes it clear that deep down, he was hoping.

“Give me my seven minutes.”

Eddie freezes. Coughs. Pales a little before he stumbles over words less like he’s avoiding anything and more like he’s really that unbalanced. Shocked out of sync.

“With your hand?” he asks, a little squeak in the pitch of his voice. “Like, turns my back, cover my ears?”

Steve huffs a nervous little laugh. Nervous but…undeniably fond.

“No, dipshit.” The implication is…pretty fucking clear.

“You’re heartbroken,” Eddie points out.

“Maybe less that I thought I’d be,” Steve answers honestly, surprises himself; and maybe that’s for a damn good reason, too. “You’re ‘tipsy’.”

“Increasingly less so by the goddamn second,” Eddie confesses, his eyes fixed to Steve’s lips before flickering back up, so so wide:

“Harrington,” he whispers, sounding kinda lost; “I don’t—“

“It’s fine, if you,” Steve’s quick to regroup, even though his pulse is trying to choke him—stupid, needy, idiot, too much, greedy, dumbass, fucking bullshit; “you can forget it.”

Steve would like to forget it, kinda immediately; letting himself want. Letting himself try.

“I don’t,” Eddie starts again, but Steve can’t stand it, can’t beat it: that good good voice trying to make this anything but a goddamn catastrophe.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t like, mean to,” and fuck, Steve’s not only clearly suggested some very dangerous things about himself he’s only starting to even be willing to think about coming to grips with but what about what he’s assumed, implied about Eddie, guys don’t take lightly to that shit, oh fucking hell; “I don’t, you know, like, do this,” he tries to salvage, and even he knows it’s a pathetic attempt; “like this—“

“I don’t fuck around with straight boys as a rule, see,” Eddie blurts out in a rush, color high on his cheeks; “keeps my poor squishy gay heart from bruising.”

And Eddie; oh, oh—

Those eyes are too damn pretty to look so scared.

And maybe it’s less about truth being safer than a dare, maybe both are a risk in their own way and maybe…maybe both just require that you’re brave.

Steve can try to be brave, maybe. Just this once. This one night that’s different, where he’s not pushing it all down.

“If I told you,” he says slowly, so slowly because it’s hard to fight what he knows so we’ll; “if I said I didn’t know, yet, how much of a bend there might be in my kind of…straight?” Steve frowns, brow furrowed; that came out so goddamn weird, but he makes himself look at Eddie when he asks:

“Would that change anything?”

Eddie gapes at him, a little like a fish, and Steve goes back to the beginning: he’s equally likely to start sobbing as he is likely to throw the fuck up—but Eddie blinks, and his head tilts and he reaches slow, tentative, like he doesn’t know if he’s really allowed but also like he wants to make sure Steve can cut and run before his hand meets Steve’s cheek.

He is allowed, though. He’s…Steve is pretty sure he’s fucking welcome.

“Would,” Eddie murmurs incredulously, thumbing Steve’s lower lip before he does the slow thing, leaning while leaving an out but Steve doesn’t want a goddamn out.

He moves forward in a blink and kisses Eddie with all the skill and know-how he’s woven together into making the people he kisses feel good, and he puts his whole self in, all the concentration and focus and investment he’s got to make it…great, if he can.

But then something kind of wild happens.

Because it kinda feels like Eddie is…doing the same thing. Like Eddie wants Steve to feel all those things just as big and sure.

Steve doesn’t…Steve’s never been kissed like this. Like that. Like his half of the deal isn’t just a given.

Eddie’s tongue in his mouth, though: Steve has to run on pure instinct; his partner never does that shit first.

It’s fucking amazing. And given the moans he gets, the wet sucking sounds and the panting before they reconnect again, then again: Steve’s willing to bet his instincts are pretty solid.

They finally break for more than a second and Eddie’s hands come to Steve’s chest for balance as he gasps, as his hair falls in a curtain between them and Steve’s barely got the breath in him to speak yet when he covers one of Eddie’s hands with his own and half-whispers.

“Come on,” and he’s tugging Eddie to standing, both of them a little wobbly on their feet for a second or two before Eddie stills.

“We’re locked in,” he seems to remember in real time, like the whole kissing thing—not quite seven minutes; maybe more than seven minutes; not e-fucking-nough either way—knocked reasonable thought out of him for a second, there.

“The window,” Steve’s prepared for it, leads him over with their hands still kinda just covering each other, kinda holding one another, kinda a lot of things. “I’ve been here before, we can get out,” because yeah, he knows the house even if he still doesn’t remember who it belongs to; “and you haven’t eaten,” Steve remembers that clear as day, frowning at Eddie, almost scolding him.

Eddie lights up, though. Like maybe there are things no one’s really ever thought of for Eddie, too. Like, maybe Steve wasn’t the only one finding out someone could…pay attention.

Like he was worth paying attention to.

And like…Eddie? Steve doesn’t know exactly what to do with all the things that are tied up in everything he pushes down, where they’re bubbling up and seeping from his pore or some shit, but what he does know, without a doubt?

Eddie Munson is very much worth paying attention to.

“What the hell’s even open,” Eddie says, and Steve takes a second to add it up—food, he needs food—and he grins, and like…he kinda can’t help it? He definitely doesn’t think about it before he kisses Eddie, hard and quick and more smile in it than…he kinda remembers having, or giving, like…

More than he remembers. At all.

Huh.

“Benny’s if we’re quick,” Steve breaks off and pushes the window open; “otherwise the kitchen at Casa Harrington makes a hell of a TV dinner this time of night,” he tosses a grin Eddie’s way that’s nothing like he uses on the girls, he can tell, can feel it: it’s goofy and sincere and…yeah. “Probably got like a Salisbury steak one.”

It’s Eddie who leans, quicker and more like he’s stealing it, like he’s sneaking it and jumping back quick just in case he gets caught and it’s in doing that exactly that Steve has the incredibly clear sense, amidst all the unclear shit in his chest and his brain and his everything, that he…wants to catch Eddie.

“Fancy,” Eddie grins, and oh fuck.

Oh fuck, those dimples.

“Only the best for my honored guests,” Steve pokes one of those heavenly fucking dimples and oh.

Oh.

Steve’s making sure the window won’t fall on them as them climb down when Eddie leans close, looks down, and talks really close to Steve’s ear:

“They’re a reason we didn’t bail from the get-go?”

Steve wouldn’t hide the way he shivers if he tried.

“Honestly?” Steve chuckles, light with it, maybe…and he’s not sure okay, he could be making shit up and talking out his ass but, like, maybe he’s…

Free with it. Free with it?

He looks at Eddie who’s still grinning, dimples and all.

Free’s close enough.

“I don’t know, wasn’t really thinking,” Steve admits, and then tries the brave thing one more time: “truth or dare?”

Eddie’s answer is immediate, leaned close again against Steve’s shoulder, close at his ear:

“Truth.”

“Will you be angry if I said I wasn’t mad,” Steve turns, and their lips are so close: “that I didn’t think of leaving from the start?”

“Oddly enough?” Eddie grins so near that just the motion brushes their mouths. “Not even a little bit.” Then Eddie leans closer, means to, and doesn’t run like he’s stealing anything this time when he kisses Steve like he means it.

Then he’s speaking straight against Steve’s lips: “Truth or dare?”

And fuck it; everything’s been mixed up, shattered, rebuilt, turned inside out tonight. So far it’s turning out way better than Steve could have guessed. Definitely so much better than it started.

Might as well keep running with it.

“Dare.”

Eddie grins but there’s a heat to it, but then alongside, there’s something…mischievous. And then Eddie’s bumping his head into Steve’s and murmuring close:

“You climb down first and catch my ass when I inevitably fall halfway,” he issues his challenger; “I’m uncoordinated as shit.”

And Steve was wrong before.

The kiss he gives Eddie has more smile in it than he’s ever had, or shown, or shared before; not once in his whole goddamn life.

He could get used to it.

🧡

also on ao3

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divider credit here and here

[trippinsorrows]

in your hands + two

authors note: well, friends. we've done it again. this is going to be a short series. if you're unaware, it's yet another au based off "looking through your eyes."

need to catch up? read part one HERE.

warnings: fluff, angst and smut

words: 8k (don't ask)

“Remind me again what you know about this guy?”

It’s a valid question. One Solana has no answer to despite the understanding of and behind it.

She shakes her head, once again throwing aside another failed option for a dress, earning another look of disagreement from her best friend and older sister, Yolanda. 

Six years apart, while they weren’t the closest when they were younger, with Solana now being a mother and no longer just an aunt to her niece and nephew, she's found herself growing closer to her older sister.

Something about motherhood being a thing for both of them creating a bond. 

Not to mention, while they haven’t always seen eye to eye on things, in her hardest moments, Solana has been able to lean on her big sister. Hence why she’s packed up her daughter and a couple of different options for her date tonight with Roman and ventured over to her sister’s place.

It would have probably been easier for her to just invite Yolanda over to her apartment, but given that Trick, Solana’s brother-in-law, offered to swing by her place and pick her, along with Soraya staying with them for the evening, it just worked out better that way.

Plus, Yolanda has always been much better with makeup, fashion and things of the sort.

“His name is Roman, and he’s nice.”

Yolanda rolls her eyes. “Yeah, because that’s so much.”

“He’s older.”

Yolanda’s gaze becomes a bit more suspicious. “How old?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. 30s.” The gray in Roman’s beard would indicate he may even be in his forties, but looks wise, he just doesn’t appear that old. He must work a stressful job. Has to be given how wealthy he appears. Rich people seem to always be stressed about one thing or another. Even if it’s a trivial matter that’s very much first world problems. 

Yolanda nods, clearly pleased by the answer, finding the age gap agreeable. “And how did you meet him?”

Solana shrugs. “I told you. At work.”

“At that uppity ass restaurant?”

Solana rolls her eyes, grabbing another dress off the bed. “The one that helps me pay my bills.” Barely. “Yes.”

Yolanda is dedicated to staying on this topic. “So, he just walked up to you and asked you on a date while you had Raya on your hip?”

Solana fiddles with the dress in her hand. “Not exactly…..”

She had to be pacing across her room for a good half hour, cell phone in one hand, folded piece of paper in the other. The little piece of paper that she found wrapped up with the stack of money given to her by Roman exactly three days prior.

A piece of paper with a seven digit number written on it. Dashes and all. A phone number.

His phone number.

She’s thought about it on and off for the past three days, too. Considered throwing it away, considered calling it, texting it even. So many options, and none seemed like the right one.

Why would a man like him give someone like her his number? While on a date, nonetheless? Granted, given from what she saw of their interactions on said date, Solana wouldn’t be surprised if it was the first and last.

And it’s not like there was a wedding ring on either of their fingers. 

So……

It’s why she acts based on that fleeting moment of courage, deciding to bite the bullet and dial the number while Raya sleeps peacefully in her crib. 

It takes another five minutes between the time she dials the number and when she hits send. Her heart is practically beating out of her chest at each daunting ringing on the other end. 

“Hello.” And right away, Solana is regretting her decision. He sounds irritated. 

“Hi.” She clears her throat. “Umm, I—”

“Solana?” And just like that, his tone has shifted into something entirely different. Kinder, almost.

“Yeah, ummm, is this a bad time?”

A deep chuckle on the other end of the phone. “No. Not at all.” It certainly doesn’t sound that way, but she’s not about to call him out on the incongruence. “I was wondering when you’d call.”

“Not if?”

“I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?”

She swallows. He’s so confident. “I—I just didn’t—I wasn’t sure if it was—it was an accident.” And as soon as it comes out, she’s slapping her face as she continues to wear a hole into the floor. What a stupid thing to say. 

Another deep chuckle. His voice is so damn sexy. “You think I accidentally gave you my number?”

“I just…..” A glance at the photo on her nightstand, one of the first photos taken of her and Soraya when she was born, triggers the elephant in the room. “I have a baby.”

“I’m aware.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it?” He doesn’t give her time to answer. “Look, I’m not a phone person. I prefer to discuss things face to face.” Solana’s stomach twists.“What are you doing Friday night?”

And the twisting intensifies, because there’s no way he’s asking her out?

He can’t be…..right?

She clears her throat, offering an answer that’s not entirely true but not entirely false either. “I—I have to work.” She technically hasn’t picked up the shift yet, but it’s bound to happen. Among other things. Catch up on schoolwork. Be a mom. Stress over bills. Nightly scheduled mental breakdown. The usual. 

“Not anymore,” he says it so easily, like it’s a simple thing that shouldn’t even need to be discussed. “I’ll give you whatever you make in a night.”

Solana laughs, waiting for him to also join in. He doesn't. “Shit, are you—are you serious?”

“Send me your address. I’ll have a car come pick you up.”

And that was all she wrote, hence how Solana ended up in the position she’s in now, readying for her date with a Mr. Roman Reigns.

A knock on the door interrupts her, Heaven, Solana's ten year-old niece walking in, her eyes lighting up when she sees the dress. "It's so pretty!"

Solana smiles, "thank you, baby."

Heaven's eyes crinkle with a sense of playful mischief as she walks over by her mom, sitting on her lap and asks, "are you going on a date?"

Solana and Yolanda share a laugh, the elder sister answering, "she sure is, Heav."

Solana readies to ask her niece a question when Heaven beats her to it. "Is he gonna be Raya's new dad?"

It's unexpected, as are a lot of questions for kids. But, it's still something that gives her pause, makes Solana sad for a second. Cruz doesn't need to be anyone's father. Raya isn't missing out on anything with him, but the innocent question does stir up some deeply rooted fears.

If Raya will suffer from growing up without a father at all?

Granted, it's hard for Solana to justify the alternative. Her father was in her life, and look how that turned out.

Yolanda is wise and helpful, redirecting her daughter, "baby, did you need something??"

Heaven is young enough to not see the innocent subterfuge, instead asking her initial question. “What time is grandpa coming over?”

Solana’s head snaps up as she looks at her sister through the mirror. Yolanda’s pretty face is painted in guilt as she clears her throat, quietly asking Heaven to complete some made up task, resulting in them being alone.

“Sola…..”

“Is he coming over tonight?”

“Sola—”

“Answer the question, Yolanda.”

Yolanda swallows, defeat overcoming her. “Yes.”

Solana scoffs, partially in disbelief, mostly pissed the fuck off. Shaking her head, she throws the dress down on the bed and grabs her bag, angrily stuffing them in said bag. “Forget it. I’ll see if Kayden can keep Raya.”

Yolanda’s shoulder drops as she shakes her head. “Solana, you’re being ridiculous. He’s our da—”

“Do not call him that,” Solana snaps. “He’s your dad. He’s nothing to me.” She continues to pack away the clothes, the sting of betrayal fueling her actions. “I can’t believe you would try this shit. You know I don’t want him meeting Soraya.”

She sighs, trying to explain herself. “I wouldn’t have let him—”

“Bullshit,” Solana cuts her off, swinging the bag over her shoulder. “When are you going to learn to respect my wishes? I don’t want anything to do with him! The same way he didn’t want anything to do with me!”

“You’re so dramatic. Acting like he was never there.”

“And you’re acting like he was father of the freaking year,” Solana snaps before scoffing bitterly. “Oh wait, he was. For you. It was just when I rolled around he decided he was done with fatherhood.”

Yolanda’s pretty eyes flash with a slice of guilt, but not enough to cause her to confess her wrongdoing. “Solana, he wants to make things right with yo—”

“Well, that’s too bad, because I don’t want anything to do with him,” Solana vows, gathering her bag of clothing that holds her wallet, her phone stuffed in the back pocket of her jeans as she walks out of the room, down the hall, and in TJ’s bedroom where the crib is.

“Hi, baby…..” Solana apologizes as she lifts a sleeping Soraya out of the crib, grateful when her sweet daughter remains asleep. Solana kisses the side of her head and bypasses her sister who stands in the hall, following her out and into the living room. 

Solana finds her brother-in-law sitting on the sofa, watching ESPN. 

“Trick, can you drop me off at Kayden’s place?”

Yolanda is behind her, frustration in her voice. “Solana, you’re being childish.”

Solana ignores her, focusing on her request. “Please?”

She sees the way Trick’s confused expression lifts from her to behind her, Yolanda most likely nodding to give him the sign off. Awkwardly clearing his throat, he shuts off the television and stands up. “Of course, sis.”

Solana mumbles a thank you and ops to stand outside and wait on the porch. She’s too livid with Yolanda to be around her right now. 

She just hopes and prays that this isn’t a bad sign for the evening to come.

—-------

Le Bernardin

A fancy, rich, upscale restaurant. The type where people pay thousands of dollars just for a reservation. Solana had actually applied for a job there, overhearing the pay was a fraction above minimum wage. Only for them to take one look at her and send her on her merry way, less than ten minutes into the interview.

So, it’s a bit of a full circle moment when the SUV pulls up in front of said restaurant, and she realizes the same place that turned her away as a waitress is exactly where she’ll be dining this evening. 

God really does have a sense of humor.

Solana is taken back yet again as she is escorted into the restaurant only to see it completely vacant. There’s a couple of workers, and….and him. 

Roman Reigns.

Somehow, someway, he looks different. Better than before. Bigger. If that’s even possible. 

The closer she gets to him, the more she takes in his appearance. Dress pants, nice shoes, short sleeved, dark blue shirt that hugs his bulging muscles. That beautiful hair pulled back into a bun. Expensive watch on his wrist. And eyes glued directly onto her.

Solana suddenly feels severely underdressed, regretting letting Kayden talk her into wearing the short orange dress and gold heels she eventually settled on after a good half an hour of going back and forth on options.

But, it’s when she’s directly in front of him, his lips curling into a smug smile that the second guessing wanes ever so slightly.

He looks far from disinterested. 

“You look even more beautiful when you’re all done up.” 

It’s hard not to smile at such a compliment coming from such a man.

“Thank you…..” She looks around, nervously gripping her clutch. “Are we the only—”

“I rented it out for us for the night.” Her eyes widening make him chuckle as he moves to pull out her chair for her. “You could say I’m a bit of a private person.”

Solana swallows, still confused but moving to sit down. “How…..how did you?”

“Money talks,” is his simple answer as he sits across from her, motioning for the men who escorted her in the restaurant to leave. “I’m glad you came.”

In a weird sort of way, she is too. Even if she’s not entirely sure why. “I—I wasn’t sure at first.” 

He looks curious. “Why?”

Shrugging, she pushes a string of hair that’s escaped her updo behind her ear. “That woman you were with…..”

Roman rolls his eyes. “She’s irrelevant.”

“Not irrelevant enough for you to not take on a date.” It comes out before she even realizes it. Solana slaps her hand over her face. “I’m so sor—”

“I’ve known her since I was a teenager. We…..mess around from time to time.”

Solana grows quiet. She gets it. He’s handsome. That woman was stunning. It makes sense that attractive people like to fuck other attractive people.

“But, she’s not….she’s not your girlfriend?” Because as handsome and nice as Roman seems, that’s one thing she could never do or get behind. Being the other woman.

“Not at all.” His answer is a lot more relieving than she’d like to admit. “So, can I ask about your daughter’s father?” He skips to the real question. “He still in the picture?”

Solana shakes her head, waiting for the waiter who just walked up to finish pouring the champagne before she answers. “No.” Solana takes a sip, eyes closing, missing the relief that flashes in his eyes. “He—he abandoned her and me.” 

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t necessarily sound it, but regardless, it doesn’t make a difference.

“I’m not,” she shrugs, being more honest than what’s characteristic for her. “He’s a piece of shit who left me when he found out I was pregnant, showed back up a month after she was born because he assumed I put her up for adoption and left again when he realized I was keeping her.” Solana ends on the bitter but honest note. “I’m glad he’s not in her life. He’d only end up hurting her.”

Flashbacks of her own daddy issues flood in, forcing her to confront the fact that she’s probably just overshared. A lot. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“You’re not wrong. Kids need stability.” He says it so easily, Solana wondering if there’s a story there. “How old is she?”

The question brings the smile back to her face. “11 months. She’ll be a year next month.” Solana can’t believe how time has gone by. It feels like only yesterday she was welcoming her sweet daughter into the world, and now she’s about to be one. Time truly does fly. “I’m sorry, I keep talking.”

“I think I could listen to you talk all night and never get tired.” Their eyes lock, Solana shifts in her seat. His gaze is intense and burning and has her cheeks reddening. “Tell me more.”

“About?”

“Anything.”

She looks away, briefly distracted, wondering just how much the chandelier above their table costs. Probably more than she’s even made in her working life. “I—I don’t know what to say. I’m—I’m 26. I—I have a child. An older sister. She’s married with two kids. I—I’m really close with my mom and my sister…..usually.” She chuckles, adding, “I work two jobs, and I go to school full time.”

He seems intrigued by that last part. “What are you studying?”

“I’m getting my masters in nursing, specifically for FNP. I wanna be a family nurse practitioner.”

“Will be,” he corrects, complementing, “that’s impressive.”

“Maybe.” If only she felt as sure as he sounds. Still, she's appreciative of the kind words and says as much. “Thank you. My—my mom is a nurse. My sister is an RN. Mami wanted to be an NP, but she got pregnant with me right when she started grad school and just couldn’t handle both, so she dropped out.” Solana swallows. “I want to do it for her. For me, too, of course. But her and Raya.” His slight confusion makes her smile as she clarifies, “Soraya’s nickname is Raya.”

Roman makes a sound, acknowledging, “your face lights up when you talk about her.”

The smile is unavoidable. “She’s my heart.” Emotion builds up as she finds herself sharing, “I had just moved back here from Cali when I found out I was pregnant with her, and it….it’s weird, but I—I needed her at that time. I needed her to help me heal.” Solana finds herself subconsciously rubbing at the horizontal scar on the palm of her right hand.

A battle scar.

Most of what she's shared with this man would probably rank pretty high up there on anyone’s list of shit not to say on a first date, probably cementing this being a one and done thing. And, it’s not intentional. At all. She just finds herself opening up to Roman in a way she hasn’t opened up to any man.

Ever.

And, it confuses the mess out of her.

If he's curious about the unspoken story, he doesn’t express as such, just offers her a path to deflection. “Well, I’m sure you have questions for me.”

She does. “What do you do?”

He smiles at her, and she feels her insides melting away. He’s such a beautiful man. “Business exec. I do buyout leveraging. I won’t bore you with the details. I’m also into real estate.” 

She nods, assessing the still vacant room, like she’s just waiting for other guests to arrive, even though he’s made it clear that won’t be happening. “I guess…..I guess you do well for yourself.”

He makes a face. “You could say that.” 

She’s most definitely saying that. 

“What about your family? Do you have any kids?”

“No kids. I have a twin sister. Parents are still alive, but that’s…..complicated.” 

Solana picks up on the almost tension that rises in him at the ending part, the way his eyes briefly dart away.

“I get that…..” Because she does. Oh, she does. “Are you close with your sister?”

Solana is relieved to see that pearly white smile return. “Depends on the day.”

She giggles. “I agree. My sister is my best friend, but she’s also a thorn in my side sometimes.”

“Is that who’s watching your daughter?”

“She was supposed to,” Solana chuckles, elbows on the table. “But, it ended up being a thorn day, so she’s with her godmother.”

He nods, asking, “what time do you need to be back?”

Solana starts to answer while pulling out her phone, “I put her down for bed a little early, so…..” Glancing at the time on the phone, seeing that it’s quarter to 7pm, she shrugs and shares, “I just need to be home by midnight.”

He makes a sound. “That’s a decent amount of time.”

Curious, she finds herself asking, “For what?”

“Whatever you want.” And it’s the way he’s looking at her, how his eyes briefly drop to her chest, the small smirk on his face that there’s definitely something he wants, too. “Or whoever.”

—-----

Straddling Roman Reign’s lap in the back of the SUV that’s currently driving them to his penthouse isn’t exactly how Solana pictured this evening playing out. Even if it was predicted by her annoyingly accurate best friend.

“Ten bucks says you get fucked tonight.”

It was laughable at the time. Solana has never been one to sleep around. Cruz was her first everything. First kiss. First boyfriend. First time. Hell, the father of her first child. She’s never been with another man except for him, never really saw it for or in her to try out different men.

It’s why Roman currently sucking on her neck as his big hand palms her ass through her dress has her thrown for a loop. This isn’t her. At all. And yet, there’s not a single part of her that wants to stop, wants to push him away, to tell him no.

She just finds herself smashing her lips back onto his, the two continuing to tongue each other down until they reach their destination.

His hand closed around her, Solana is trying to gather herself as he leads them into the building to the private elevator. The distraction of his lips on her pulling her from taking in the fact that this man seems to be surrounded by security. Men guarding the SUV as they walked in the building. Men in the lobby of said penthouse. Men in the restauraunt.

Just guards everyone.

Solana chalks it up to a rich people thing. 

Especially when she steps foot into his penthouse.

“Holy shit…..” The interior is dark and sleek. Some shades of red and blue strewn about. It all feels so expensive. “I can’t believe this is where you liv—”

“I’m not gon’ lie, I’m not listening to a damn thing you’re saying right now.” It’s a combination of brutal honesty and a strain of frustration, Solana turning around to see he’s inching towards her. “All I can think about is getting you naked and face down, ass up on my bed.”

She closes her eyes the minute he’s right before her, swinging his arm around her waist, yanking her to him. Solana has to crane her head up to look at him. He’s so damn tall.

The hungry look in his eyes is no doubt too different from the exact way she’s looking at him. He may want her, but she definitely wants him. 

Even if she doesn’t understand it. 

Even if a part of her feels slightly guilty for what’s about to commence. 

Still, it doesn’t negate the fact that she wants this. 

It’s what has her licking her lips and saying so calmly. “So what are you waiting for?”

His smile is wicked, and she only has seconds to think about what she just welcomed into her. Figuratively and literally before he smashes his lips onto her.

Solana has only been kissed by a few men in her life, the majority of them coming from her daughter’s father. And it’s always been…..okay. Decent. Nice, even.

Kissing Roman, however, is none of those things. That hunger in his eyes is matched only by the passion in the way he kisses her, the way his full, pink lips move against hers, his tongue entering her mouth, toying around with her own.

It’s all so powerful and ravenous, and she finds her hands locking behind his neck at the same moment he hikes her up on his waist.

A gasp leaves her mouth, forcing her to break said kiss as he walks her to the back of his place, toward his bedroom.

“How…..” Never a small woman by any stretch of the imagination, especially since having Soraya, it’s a complete surprise the way he lifts and holds her like she weighs no more than a gallon of milk. 

Roman, however, is clearly still not interested in talking, because the moment they arrive in his bedroom, he has her up against the back of his door. His mouth is back on her with those hungry kisses that has her nails raking up the back of his neck, her thighs tightening around his waist. 

His breathing is uneven, his voice strained, and that hardening pressing in between her legs tells her just how badly he wants this too. 

“If you want to stop, you need to say something now.”

It’s the do or die moment. The epic moment of meeting at the crossroads. A part of her is screaming at her to get the hell out of this man’s place and back home where she belongs. With Soraya. Her daughter. Being the best mother that she can be.

But, another part of her, a stronger part of her, wants this, wants him. Because she always does the right thing. Or, tried to, at least. She’s certainly never allowed herself to indulge like this, so where’s the harm?

It’s like Kayden said.

Even woman should have at least one one night stand story. And who better to do it with than the man before her?

Solana’s answer is to press a teasing kiss against the base of his neck. “I’m not saying anything.....”

It feels like she’s barely able to get the words out when he’s carrying her over to the bed, sitting down with her still on top of him. He pulls back and motions for her to climb off. Standing in front of him, Solana watches how his gaze travels over her body before he demands, “take your clothes off. Slowly.”

It’s a strange, almost unfamiliar thing how easy it is for her to follow his instruction without a second thought. One minute her fingers are hooking on the thin straps of her dress, the next she’s squeezing herself out of it, all the while of his eyes never once leaving her.

Heavy breast freed, the only piece of clothing remaining on her is the soaked, black, lacy thong that keeps her cunt covered. 

Roman licks his lips and beckons her over, Solana wordlessly stepping close enough for him to tug her to him, his face buried in her chest. Her head falls back at the same time her mouth drops open as he starts a dangerous combination of kneading one breast while tonguing the other.

“Oh, fuck…..” Her hand is once again on the back of his head. “Roman…..”

“You better get used to saying my name.” He hikes her back on his waist only to flip them, so she’s laid back on the bed with his big, strong body covering her. “Cause it’s the only thing I want to hear for the next few hours.”

Her eyes widen at that, the word escaping her, “hours?”

Roman smiles, and it’s the best and worst thing in the world. So much mischief hidden behind those pearly whites. Carnal, salacious plans. “I like to fuck.” His gaze drops down in between her legs. “And eat.”

There’s a bit of anxiety that spurs the minute he starts dragging those luscious lips from her breast down her chest, his teeth pressing against her skin when he bites down on the band of her underwear. Solana’s hands grasp at the sheets as he uses his mouth to rid her of her final piece of clothing. 

Eyes darting open, she nearly loses it seeing him bring her panties to his face, his own eyes shutting as he deeply inhales and smirks. “I’m keeping these.”

She doesn’t have time to process how he tosses them to the side redirecting his focus to the dripping mess that is her cunt.

He makes a sound, going to pull his shirt over his head, moving to his knees at the edge of the bed. “Look at this pretty ass pussy. Already nice and wet for me.” His words do something to lessen her anxiety but not as much as she’d like. Getting head has always been a mid experience for her. Cruz was…..okay, nothing to be overjoyed about, and he always acted like it was an inconvenience whenever she asked him to return the favor. Not to mention the fact that he rarely, if ever, made her come from it.

Penetration was also hit or miss.

So, her expectations are pretty low up until that first lick of Roman’s thick tongue that has her nearly jumping off the bed. 

“Shit!” Her reaction is a bit embarrassing, most likely more than what’s necessary, but if he’s annoyed by it, he does a damn good job hiding it. 

He looks more turned on than anything. Roman’s long, thick fingers are suddenly playing with the mess she’s certain has already dripped on the soft sheets of his bed. “Lay back, and keep these legs open for me. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

More embarrassment with how quickly and fervently she nods her head, again falling back onto his big bed. Solana moans quietly when she feels his face completely submerged in her drenched cunt. 

“Roman…..”

He makes a sound followed by his fingers spreading her folds, revealing her swollen clit to him. “Sweet ass pusssy….” 

Solana hasn’t the slightest clue how she’s supposed to last these hours he’s referred to at least twice now based upon the fact that his mouth alone has her about to climax and tap out. It’s so unfamiliar and borderline inhuman how he works his tongue on and against her, exploring, licking and sucking every part of her that Cruz has somehow seemed to neglect her. 

She has her hand on the back of his head, fisting and undoing his bun, curls cascading around her fist as she presses his face deeper into her. 

It’s when he lifts his head, however, beard, chin and mouth soaked with her essence that she truly has to hold it together. “I changed my mind. I want you to watch me.” She’s not sure how and if she can do anything but, Roman’s dark eyes dropping back to her vagina. “Want you to see how good I eat this pussy…..” 

Good isn’t the word for it, because the methodical way he alternates between flicking, swirling, sucking, all the while playing with her, one finger, two fingers, moving in and out of her, needs to be studied by all men.

This is how you make a woman come, and she does. All over his face. Solana practically convulses as he laps up every bit of her essence, not once letting up, even as her orgasm rips through her. He’s still sucking on her clit, forcing her to push him away due to the overwhelming sensation of it all.

She’s partially discombobulated as his mouth finds her, letting her sample the remnants of her cum mixed in with their saliva as he taunts, “see how good you taste?” Solana is incapable of answering, among many other things. “Gonna eat you out all fucking night…..”

It’s a promise that has her clit throbbing. 

Not as much as it does watching Roman stand up at the edge of the bed and start to undo his pants. She’s unable to look away as he also rids himself of the remaining articles of clothing, her eyes basking in every rippling band of muscle that seems to make up his entire body. 

This man is beautiful and strong and ungodly perfect. It feels too good to be true.

But, it’s when he slides his boxers down, his member springing out with hunger and need that her eyes nearly bulge out of her head. 

“Oh….”

To be fair, Solana has only had sex with one man, so comparing dicks is a hard thing for her.

No pun intended.

It’s a hard thing, because it’s quite unfair and borderline cruel to even have Roman and Cruz in the same category.

Cruz barely scratches 5’7. 

Roman is well over 6ft tall.

Cruz is lean and lithe with some muscle and fat that he’s acquired over the years.

Roman’s muscles have muscles. 

Cruz dick is….average, probably a little under average.

Roman’s dick is massive.

The mushroom tip alone, pre-cum oozing through the slit, is enough to have her rethinking this whole thing. She’s not sure even that can get in.

“I don’t…..” And Solana is suddenly forced to endure the most awkward conversation of her life. “How is it supposed to fit?”

A probably silly question if not for the fact she’s genuinely concerned for the state of her vagina right now.

“It’ll fit.” Roman, however, seems unbothered, stroking himself for a minute before he instructs her. “Get on your hands and knees. Hold onto the headboard if you want.” Despite her newfound anxiety, she follows suit, Solana moaning as he glides his tip along her slippery folds. It’s baffling to her how wet she’s been and stayed for him, even with him already making her come once. This man’s presence alone is orgasm inducing. “You just gotta let me stretch this little cunt for you.”

Stretching is one thing. Ripping is an entirely different thing.

“Trust me.” He seems so sure of himself, and she’s not sure why she seems so sure of him too, nodding as she goes back to focusing on holding onto the headboard. A much needed source of support, clearly. 

Eyes closed, she hears the ripping of the condom package. Can imagine him sliding that thing over the massive, heated, turgid muscle weighing in his big hand.

She feels one hand gently gliding down her back, settling on her ass cheek where he gives her a little slap. “Just try to relax.”

Much easier said than done.

Still, she says nothing, eyes closing and head nodding. 

Now or never.

But, the minute his thick dickhead intrudes her tight opening, they’re both moaning in synchronization. It’s a burning, tight sensation on her part, maybe his as well, but there’s also something pleasurable about it? Something satisfying about the way he carefully works inch by inch of his girthy member inside of her, all the while praising her, goading her, talking her through.

“That’s it. Take this dick like the good girl you are.”

“Come on, baby. Open up for me.”

“Look at how this pussy yielding for me.”

It’s still a tight ass fit, and Solana is partially nervous about what the aftermath will look and feel like. Ice packs, crutches, and Tylenol seem to be in her near future. But, none of that matters once he’s fully seated in her, Solana trying to get used to the feel. So full and filing. 

That time of adjustment seems short lived, almost non-existent, because Solana’s body seems to have a mind of its own when she starts moving her ass back on him, prompting him to grab her hips as he starts to thrust into her.

“Shit, girl, knew this pussy would feel amazing, but I didn’t know it would feel this damn good.” His words are accurate and relatable, the discomfort gradually easing into something of pleasure. “Look how good you taking this dick.”

Eyes shut, Solana rocks her big ass back against him, whimpering when he brings hand down and slaps it. “Roman…..”

“That’s right. My name. It’s the only thing I wanna hear leave that pretty mouth of yours.” He intensifies the force of his thrusts, clearly encouraged by how she eagerly throws her ass back on his big dick. 

“Fuck, it’s so big…..” The biggest she’s ever had. The best she’s ever had. “But, it feels so good….”

“You like that shit, don’t you, baby?” He’s such a tease, taunting her, throwing in her face how good he’s beating her shit up. Solana hasn’t had sex in almost two years, not since before she found out she was pregnant, and this being her return to such a, now, wonderful thing is one hell of an experience. “Like how I’m stretching this pussy?"

“Fuck, I love it.” Because she does. Her knuckles are practically white from how hard she’s gripping the headboard, because it’s the only thing keeping her from screaming to the heavens. This man is a demond. “So good….”

Roman continues to fuck her from behind, backshots at different angles. Her head forced into the pillow. Hands on the headboard. Hands held behind her back. And each time causes her to reach a new level of heaven. 

But, it’s when Roman switches gears, repositioning them so she’s on top, Solana feels emboldened. Being on top with Cruz was always an uncomfortable thing, mostly because he would make comments about her being “too heavy” to ride him.

With Roman, all the man he is, it’s not a concern in the slightest. 

She bounces on top of his god-tier dick without a fucking care in the world. 

And he seems to feel the same. 

“That’s it……” She can feel his eyes burning into her as she rocks down on him, her big breast bouncing back and forth. “Ride my dick just like that, baby. Take what you need.”

And taking is exactly what she’s doing, because if this is a once in a lifetime chance to be fucked, thoroughly fucked by a man like Roman Reigns, she’s going to ride it until the wheels fall off. 

Some pun intended.

Roman growls, big hands pressing into her meaty hips. “He can’t never fuck you like this, fill you up like I can.” His lips are hot and pressured against the neck. “He can’t do shit for you that I can.”

She knows exactly who he’s referring to, and not a single lie is being told. “Little ass pussy squeezing the hell out of my big dick.” She moans, pulling his hair as he sucks on her tits, stopping only to again tease her, “you like that shit don’t you?”

She doesn’t stop, just professes all of the wonderful things he and his equally wonderful member are doing for her. “I love it. Fuck, I love it.”

“That’s all you needed. Someone to fuck you nice and right.” Again, it seems this man is incapable of lying, Solana hissing as he squeezes her ass cheeks while his tongue plays with her areola. “Take that stress all out on me, baby. Let me relax you.”

There’s something inherently stressful and relaxing with the way she can’t seem to find the space between reality and fantasy, with how he’s giving her a form of escape she never thought possible. Guiding and talking her to that beautiful point of release. A place she’s never been able to reach before.

Not like this. 

Never like this.

And Roman is perceptive, he can see it. Big hands moving up her back, holding her against him, guiding her on top of him. “Come for me, baby.” It’s less a command and more a plea, his voice almost desperate. “Wanna feel you come undone all over me.”

“Mio Dios!”

Solana is squeezing him, her nails pressing into his skin, her head in the crook of his neck as she comes, hard, heavy, overwhelmingly beautiful and chaotic. And his release comes shortly after, Solana enjoying the sensation of his strong, hulking body against hers, the way his face shifts into something so sensual and perfect as he jerks up into her, emptying into the condom.

She’s not sure how long they stay like that, just long enough for her to start feeling him go soft inside her. That’s when he eventually and carefully lifts her off and lays her down on the mattress, Solana panting and staring at the ceiling. She feels the dip in the bed as he gets up, obviously to dispose of the condom.

It’s only then she realizes that the absence of him inside of her is….noticeable.

A tiny bit of her eager to have it again. To have just one more taste of that deliciousness. 

Even if she probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow. 

Or ever.

Roman returns to the room, completely unbothered by his nakedness. She readies for him to climb back in the bed with her, maybe even ask her to leave. 

But, he doesn’t. 

No, he instead moves back to his previous spot at the edge of the bed. Grabbing her by her calves, he starts sliding her down. 

“I told you.” Her pussy flutters as he spreads her thighs, face to face with her swollen, puffy pussy. “I’m gonna make the most of the time we have.” And Solana is already moaning, already anticipating another round of insurmountable pleasure. “Starting with you coming in my mouth at least three more times…..”

—-------

It’s a strange, unexpected experience for a lot of different reasons. One, Roman has never really been one to let women ‘stay’ the night. He gets his nut, she gets her, and he sends her on her merry way.

And while Solana isn’t staying the night, she remains in his bed. And not just for sex. He gets her to come again in his mouth twice more before she pushes him away, citing that she needs a break. 

He gives her that, but what happens next is….unexpected, to say the least. 

Pillow talk. 

It’s fucking pillow talk that’s started by her simply running her fingers along his tattoos, asking what they mean and represent. That’s followed up with him asking her about her tattoos, which leads into literally hours of them just laying in bed….talking.

No sex. 

Just…..conversation, and normally, Roman would shy away from such a thing like the plague. It’s just never been his thing. 

But…..with her…..it’s different.

He enjoys hearing her talk, the things she shares with him, the way her nose crinkles when she laughs, how her eyes light up when she discusses her daughter with so much adoration and love. He enjoys her presence, the fact that she treats him like…..like he’s normal.

Like he’s not who he actually is, a large part of that being because she doesn’t know who he is, and that probably needs to change. Will change. Just not right now.

He just wants to enjoy having someone to talk to, and it’s easy with Solana. He doesn’t have to second guess motives or intentions or wonder about what kind of hint she’ll drop about wanting something materialistically from him like Sam.

It’s just easy.

So much so that he ends up having a bit of a hard time with letting her out of bed as 11:20pm rolls around, with her once again reminding him that she needs to be home by midnight. He understands it though, respects her dedication to putting her daughter first.

It’s still a bit of a drag for him, a sense of almost disappointment that she can’t spend the night.

Again, wholly out of his norm. 

When they pull up in front of the apartment complex, he finds himself asking, “this is your friend’s place, right?”

The driver has just opened the door for her, but she looks back over her shoulder before climbing out. “Yes, why?”

Roman waits until they’re both standing outside, as he pulls her close to him, enjoying the sight of her wearing his jacket around her body. “Do you need me to take ya’ll home?”

With a soft smile that has him thinking once again about how soft her lips feel pressed against his, she answers, “no, we’ll just stay the night here. It’s late. I don’t want to disturb Raya.”

It’s also way too late for her to be on the road, let alone on public transportation with a baby, hence why he offered.

Pleased with at least that, Roman shares without much thought, “I want to see you again.” And again. And again. And again. Her presence is…..calming in a way he’s not used to.

But, he could certainly get used to. 

Mischief sparkles in her pretty eyes. “See me again or see me again?”

“Both.” It’s an honest answer, and Solana knows that. Can see that while he probably desires her sexually as much as she does him, it’s also something different. Something deeper.

It has to be for her to lay in bed with him for hours just talking.

But, she also knows something else, something that she can’t and won’t negate. “Roman, I—I have a child. I can’t—I can’t just sleep around with you like that. I can’t do friends with benefits.”

“I’m not asking you to.” And the honesty continues as he pushes back some of her hair. “I’m just asking you to give this a chance.”

The word this has her stomach tightening as well as the way he’s looking at her. With such authenticity. The same way she’s probably looking at him.

Solana’s volume dips as she shares with just as much honesty. “Soraya is my number one priority.”

He nods. “I respect that.” 

“She comes first.”

“She should.”

Solana grows quiet. It’s hard to find a reason to disagree with someone who’s being so amenable, and really, what would be her basis for disagreeing? She’s grown. He’s grown. He’s acknowledging that he recognizes her daughter will always come first. What more does she really need?

What reason does she have to not give this a chance?

“If we do this….” She takes a deep breath, fingers grasping at the soft material of his shirt. “You can’t be with anyone else. You can’t be sleeping with random woman while you’re fucking me.”

Because she went through that once. Ignored the signs because she wanted to be happy.

Never again.

Especially not when it comes to her health. 

There’s a bit of hesitation on Roman’s end that she partially understands. She highly doubts this was his first one night stand. “That’s fair,” he finally agrees.

Solana can’t hide her surprise at him not throwing the same stipulation back at her. “You don’t want me agreeing to the same thing?”

Roman chuckles and pulls her into him,“ nobody else could fuck you like I can. You know where it’s at. This the only dick you're gonna ever want now.”

Her cheeks are flushed. “You’re arrogant.” 

But not wrong.

And he voices as such. “It’s not arrogance if I can back it up.” She can’t find it in her to disagree or to call him out, because again, there is no disagreement. “I wanna see you this Friday.”

She can’t deny the small spark of excitement at his offer before the weight of reality sets back in. “I was gonna pick up a shift, Roman…..”

He shakes his head, offering, “I’ll give you whatever you’d make on average.” Solana’s eyes widen a bit. It’s one thing that he already snuck a stack of money in her purse when she was redressing to leave. It’s another for him to continue to offer to financially supplement what she would miss out on by being with him.

“Roman, you can’t…..” That’s trailed off by another realization, even if there is still a small smile on her pretty face. “I don’t think I can get a sitter again.”

Another shrug as he says so plainly. “Bring her.” The horrified expression on her face makes him chuckle as he explains, “we won’t fuck. We can go out to eat again and then back to my place. Now, if she happens to fall asleep and we have some time…..”

Solana’s smile remains as he drops his hand to her ass, palming it, reminding her that this man really did keep her underwear. “You’d be okay with that?”

He explains so calmly. “You have a daughter. I’m not going to pretend she doesn’t exist. If we’re going to see where this goes, she has to be included, too.”

It takes her by surprise. The way he’s so easily going along with this. For some reason, Solana always imagined re-entering the dating world would be stressful given her dedication to always putting her child first. Most men these days don’t get that or aren't trying to “deal” with that. And then there’s Roman.

So…..easy.

It’s nice. Very nice. 

“How about this?” She moves her hands up his chest, feeling how he tugs her even closer. “We can go grocery shopping, and I’ll cook dinner for us.”

Roman smirks, looking down at her. “I got you cooking for me already?”

She giggles, reminding him. “I like to cook. It has nothing to do with me wanting to do anything for you.”

“Hmm. That’s fine. There’s a lot of different things I wouldn’t mind doing for you.” She sighs against him as he squeezes her ass again. “Especially to you.”

Solana can’t say she would be opposed to that.

Either of them.

Finally breaking away, she acknowledges, “I need to get inside.”

“Mmmm.”

Her smile is stapled at this point. “Goodnight, Roman.”

His eyes flicker with something. "Goodnight, Solana." She's walking up the steps when she remembers his jacket. Shuffling back over, she attempts to take it off, only for him to reach out and stop her. "Keep it. It's yours." Finger to her chin, Roman rubs his thumb along her still swollen bottom lip. "Just like you're mine now....."

[pearlydays]

Just a little something I wrote up instead of doing my final paper. Hope you enjoy <3

——————

A groan rips through the air as Satoru finally stops his merciless thrusts. Your legs shake from exhaustion as air fills your lungs. He collapses onto you, eliciting a groan and half-hearted objections. You trail your hand up his spine before moving them to his hair.

“You are a menace.” You say once you’ve finally caught your breath. A grin paints Satoru’s face, and he nips at the skin closest to his mouth.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

You roll your eyes at his blatant lie, “You say as if you hadn’t edged me for two hours.”

“But you’re so hot when you’re all frustrated. You start begging, ‘Please, please, ‘Toru. I need to cu-“ You begin to push his body from on top of yours.

“Nooo, I’m sorry.” He giggles.

You roll your eyes once more, with him, there’s a possibility they can get stuck like that. “Whatever, I’m sure you’d do the same thing if you were in my position.”

Satoru moves to get comfortable lying on your chest. “I doubt you can edge me.”

___

Satoru knows he has a big ass mouth. He’s gotten himself in more than enough trouble because of it. And now? He hates his big ass mouth.

“What’s with the pout, baby? I thought you could take it?” The sultry grin that painted your face was almost enough to make Satoru cum. That is until you took your hand away. His unusually high-pitched whine sliced through the air as his cock twitched, begging to release the load that had been building up since you first started. That was two hours ago.

“N-no! Please just- Fuck! Just put y-your hand back! I-I-“ Satoru squirmed under you, hands balling into fists where they were tied up. He knows he can easily get out of the bindings, but he promised to let you have fun. Even if it was borderline torture.

The sound of you kissing your teeth made his cock jump. You lightly dragged your nails up and down his thighs, getting closer to where he needed you most, only to take them away. You were enjoying this way too much. It’s not every day you can torture your boyfriend like this. As soon as he gave you an inch, you took a mile.

“I don’t know ’Toru, I think you have one more hour in you.” You take your index finger and drag it along that prominent vein you love to the tip of his cock. Once there, you begin swirling your finger, encouraging the pleads and moans that leave his mouth.

Satoru rapidly shakes his head, “I-I-“

���I-I-” You mock, “Can’t even form a sentence, huh? Not a single thought in that pretty little head of yours.” You pout down at Satoru as you wrap your hand around his weeping cock.

“I c-can’t do a-another, baby.” He pouts.

Your eyes glimmer with something that makes an embarrassing amount of pre-cum leak from his cock. You drag your hand down to the base of his length and tighten your fist.

“But you’re so hot when you’re all frustrated.” Parroting his words back at him, you resume your up-and-down ministrations. Satoru screws his eyes shut, fighting the urge to buck into your hand.

“Wanna cum for me?”

You’re met with an enthusiastic nod and a slurred string of ‘yes, yes, yes’. Looking down, you move your free hand to join, moving in an opposite rotation. You can feel his cock twitch in your hand, signaling his impending release. Feeling merciful, you speed up your movements, tightening around his head.

“Then cum.”

All of the air left Satoru’s body as he came. His eyes were shut so tight that he began to see stars. He can’t recall a moment where he has ever cum that much. You coax him through his orgasm, not letting up on your actions, “Poor baby, looks like someone was backed up.”

When the wave of his orgasm seemed to pass, you let him go, eyeing the cum on your hands. Satoru wearily opens his eyes, looking at the aftermath, then at you. He can see the wheels turning in your head.

Holding his gaze, you bring your hands to your mouth and clean the seed that covers them. A groan escapes Satoru as his cock jumps at the sight.

“And you say I’m a menace.”

————

I hope you guys enjoyed this little piece. This is my first time writing anything nsfw, so let me know if you like it or if you want more!

[botchedsundoll]

I love ur hc sm!! Can I request hc for Chris and/or Leon settling down with a family? They deserve a happy ending after so much fighting 🥹

L. KENNEDY, C. REDFIELD, C. OLIVEIRA X READER (SEPARATE)

ೃ⁀➷ sypnosis; family/ kid hc’s

ೃ⁀➷ warnings; none!

ೃ⁀➷ author’s note; needed to add a little something for carlos bc i love him, half of this is mostly what theyd b like having kids LOL, no proofread im lazy ahahhahaah

C. OLIVEIRA

he’s a very domestic man at heart so had absolutely no problem with settling down with you after all the rc bs. was rather extremely willing to do so, actually

you want to get married? sure! you want a big wedding with friends and family? no problem! small wedding with only those closest to you? of course! you don’t want to get married? absolutely anything for you.

said this before and i’ll say it again, absolute girl dad.

to him, there’s genuinely nothing better than coming home to his girls - getting greeted by little arms wrapping around his legs the moment he steps through the door

attends every single parent event without fail - if he’s not working, of course… might call in sick to not let his little one down

sits down and does homework with them, yet he ends up confused aswell and the hw does not end up being done, unless you intervene

you know the ‘bad cop and good cop’ dynamic? he’s definitely the good cop - constantly letting the kid(s) off with pretty much anything and everything, claiming they’re too little to understand

as a result, he’s definitely the favourite

L. KENNEDY

almost always thought of the white picket fence life - a dog, pretty wife, two kids and maybe a dog. yet always shoved that into the back of his mind and ignored it completely

but now that he’s met you he lets himself dream a little, until those dreams become a reality

if you two have kids then at the start, he’ll be weary as fuck. constantly doubting himself, not knowing if he’ll even know what the hell to do once said kid is in the world

but he’s a complete natural! to the point it pisses you off. the moment the kids handed to their dad, all the tears suddenly stop and they’re all happy again - as if you haven’t been trying to get them to stop crying for the past hour

and he doesn’t even acknowledge it.

his kids are definitely pub (bar) kids. the two of you sat in a booth with friends having a drink and talking or whatever, and there’s just little toddlers running around - coming back to the table every once in a while for some apple juice or whatnot

sits there and watches cartoons with the kid(s), started off as a one off and now he genuinely can’t stop - when cartoon network starts playing the old cartoons later at night? you best believe he’s sat there watching them - screw bedtime. dexter’s laboratory is on

he’d be rather iffy about a big wedding. but if it’s what you want you best believe he’ll do it for you

C. REDFIELD

definitely that dad that falls asleep with the kids on the couch whilst watching a match of something on the tv

goes to the parent teacher meetings and genuinely does not give a fuck. has the most DEADPAN look on his face ever, went once and never again

like i said before, definitely bring his ‘military like’ bsaa training home but makes it something fun, something the kids aren’t afraid of at all

imagine bath time - chris shouting vigorous orders at them and the kid(s) just shouting back at him in response

‘DO NOT OPEN YOUR EYES OR IT WILL STING, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

“OK!”

he’s away from home quite a bit but whenever he comes home and the lights are off, he always tucks their sleeping form in before tucking you in yourself, planting a small kiss on your forehead, what a sweetheart

marriage is a bit of a… weary concept for him. he wants to and loves you a lot, don’t get me wrong. but what if someone finds out about you and takes advantage of that?

in the end, he manages to push those thoughts away and happily marries you

definitely gets the kid(s) into extracurricular sports/ activities and you best believe he’s at every match or training

usually rather soft and understanding with the kid(s), yet knows when to be firm and set his foot down - the perfect balance

[hauntedwitch04]

I hate you Black

Regulus Black x reader

Words: about 4.1k words

Warnings: some angst, sexy Reggie and some funny times

Author’s note: Hi everybody! It's so good being back, I missed writing and this is the first one-shot I write in a lot of time, so I'm really grateful for every tiny bit of love you gave me. This is my first time writing for the kinktober, hope you enjoy my writing.

P.s. i don't really now how much is hate fuck this fic, but here we are.

Requests are open I Ask

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KINKTOBER -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 1: Hate fucking

To say that Regulus and I do not get along is an understatement.

We have been part of the same group of friends, namely the Marauders, for years now, since both my brother, James, and his brother, Sirius, are best friends, in fact they often consider each other almost brothers, on the contrary however the two of us have not been able to find common ground and usually always end up insulting each other and playing stupid jokes to irritate the other person.

Since our first year at Hogwarts, we have clashed because of our pride and desire to prove ourselves better than the other, and this challenge has continued outside of school, in everyday life.

This party is no different.

Sirius and Remus wanted to inaugurate the new apartment they decided to get, to live together, after being together for almost a year already, and so they threw a party with all their closest friends, including me and the younger Black.

I don't quite remember how I ended up straddling him with my hands around his neck, but I do remember the reason for that choice. Between his various jokes and yet another spilled glass on my favorite shirt because of his "carelessness," although we all know that if anyone is graceful it is him, the moment he mentioned what is now my ex-boyfriend. Just before coming to the party, in fact, that asshole decided to break up with me, telling me that he never actually felt anything really important for me, and that I was merely a fling that lasted too long and that now he actually already has another girlfriend and I was just in the way. A year and a half. We stayed together a year and a half, and he had to say that and turn away without looking back, or without a bit of shame or guilt, he didn't even apologize to me for shamelessly cheating on me. Part of me didn't even want to come to the party, but I love Siri and Remmy too much to let them down, so I took heart and convinced myself that I would have a good time, but at Regulus' words, "Where's your boyfriend? Is he tired of you too?", I saw no more. Smoke began to come out of my ears, my vision turned black, and inside I felt only a single emotion.

I realize what I was doing only after James detaches me from Regulus, while Sirius grabs his brother, and pulls him away from me.

"Are you totally crazy? You could have killed me!" Says Regulus shocked as he holds a hand to his throat, still struggling to breathe.

"Too bad, it will be for next time then." I answer coldly, to go toward the hall to get my coat, while I quickly apologize to the hosts and say I have to go home, because I don't feel too well. Both James and Sirius, Remus and Lily try to stop me, thinking it's because of guilt, but I really don't want them to see me crying and having to explain later that my ex-boyfriend cheated on me and left me, and now I just feel like a pathetic little girl who can't be loved.

I hurry out of the house and immediately get hit by the cold autumn wind, which envelops me like a hug and shakes my hair, making it go over my face, thus tickling my nose. I smile and start walking toward my house, although it is quite far away, in fact I had come with my brother. I try to contain my emotions, but the tranquility and peace of the city at this hour give me enough security to let my tears flow freely down my cheeks. There is not a living soul to judge me, or so I thought.

I hear footsteps approaching behind me, someone is running toward me, so I turn around and see a breathless Regulus Black standing still, leaning on his knees and signaling to me to wait a second.

I try to wipe away my tears so that he can see that I was crying, but it is too late now, because his expression immediately changes and he seems confused by what he is seeing.

"I don't need your stupid excuses, go back to the others and tell them the bitch is not ready to be insulted by you again." I say trying to distract him as I turn and start walking faster, but a hand grabs my shoulder and makes me turn around.

"Are you crying?" Regulus asks, under his breath, as if even he does not believe the scene before him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are as sharp as Sherlock Holmes." I say trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he brings his second hand to my face, and wipes away a couple of tears that had reached my chin.

"If it's something I said, I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't want to come and apologize, they forced me, however, I never wanted to make you cry, I was just playing with you." He continues, not caring what I had said. He looks me straight in the eye and I see his sincerity, and I don't know why I start to cry more. He looks at me unsure of what to do, before hugging me. As we are squeezed in that hug I tell him the real reason I was crying and apologize to him for what I had done earlier at the party. As I finish my story, he pulls away from that hold and looks into my eyes again.

"Hey, he's the asshole, not you. And he's also stupid if he didn't see the magnificent person he had beside him." He tells me firmly and sweetly at the same time.

"Says the boy who has been insulting me since we were eleven years old." I reply sarcastically as I stare into his eyes, and I can't lie to myself. I've always thought Regulus is a handsome boy, but damn, right now he looks like a deity come down to earth to teach us what beauty is.

"Hey I may be an asshole, maybe even a little stupid, but it's not like I'm blind." He continues, smiling at me as he looks at my lips. "You know I think I found a more appropriate way to apologize." He whispers as he moves even closer to my lips.

My brain cannot process the moment, everything seems fuzzy. Its scent, fresh mint, coffee and cigarettes, intoxicates me like a drug, and I can't do anything but screw it up to do what my instinct tells me to do.

"Know that it will not be easy to make it up to you for everything you have done to me. You were very, very mean to me." I whisper before kissing him, tired of that game.

I feel like giving my first kiss for the second time. Our lips chase each other, eating each other, needing each other. I feel my hands run through his hair, while his rests on my hips and draws me to him in a death grip.

We continue kissing, and time seems to stop, even the dry leaves seem to stand still in the air, waiting for our future to be drawn, anxious to see our next move.

Eventually we part, to catch our breath, and a faint laugh escapes from my lips.

"Know that I hate you anyway." I tell him and he can't help but chuckle, before taking on a serious look.

"Would you like to come to my house. You know I'd like to apologize for good, and show you that you've had really bad taste in men so far." He says seductively in my ear.

"You have to be careful what you say Black, because it could backfire on you with this sentence." I reply, trying to hide the emotions it is stirring in me.

"No baby, I'm going to show you how a real man should treat you, and not the idiot you used to date." He continues, whispering on my lips, before leaving a light kiss, as light as a butterfly resting gracefully on a flower.

"Know that this does not take away from the fact that I hate you." I reply, still partly in trance after that kiss.

"This just means that I will have to work harder at apologizing." Regulus replies, before stepping back a little, and removing the scarf around his neck, to give it to me. I didn't even notice that I'm shaking, too engrossed in this moment.

"Come on, let's go to my place, it's not too far." Says the boy, putting an arm on my shoulder, thus blocking any possibility of my thinking with his intoxicating scent for the second time this evening. After a few minutes of walking we arrive in front of a dark door, for which young Black quickly pulls out the key to open it.

Once inside the house, I am amazed at how the entire apartment is furnished. Dark furniture stands out against the green and white walls. Soft lights illuminate the rooms, giving it a cozy atmosphere. Every item is meticulously placed in a studied spot, everything is perfect, every note played with the right pitch to create a wonderful harmony.

I am lost in looking around the room when I feel a pair of hands drawing me toward them.

One hand gently removes my scarf, while another turns me around. In Regulus' eyes I see pure pleasure, and this only creates an unpleasant wet feeling in my panties.... We look at each other for a second before pouncing on each other like hungry prey, moving slowly down the stairs and into the bedroom. He pulls me back until I touch the bed with my knees, then drops me down, pulling away from the kiss. I look at him and see his lips red and swollen as he struggles to catch his breath. His hair is messy from my fingers, yet he has never looked more beautiful to me than in this moment. I watch him slowly approach the button of my jeans like a fierce lion studying its prey, and then with a precise and quick gesture, unbutton my pants. In the blink of an eye these lie on the floor, tossed from some indefinite part of the room. The only thing now separating him from his goal is my underwear, but before he can take the next step, I gently place a foot on his chest and look seductively at him.

"Hold your horses Black, if you want to play with me you have to do it right. One garment each at a time, I lost my pants, now you have to take something off." I say looking at him carefully, and he chuckles at my words.

"You can be really obnoxious Potter, you know that?" He asks wryly as he removes his sweatshirt, revealing his bare chest, since he has no shirt underneath. For a moment I am breathless at that ethereal sight. Her white skin glows in the moonlight entering the room. His physique is muscular but not overly so, I can tell he works out a lot and holds himself, but it's also not excessive. I get flashbacks of seeing him practicing Quidditch at Hogwarts shirtless with sweaty hair in the wind, and immediately I find myself having to make the physical effort to not cum in that same instant.

"I try my best." I respond seductively as I watch him lower himself, going on his knees, getting to be at the same level as my pussy.

"Now if you don't mind, I have a promise to keep: to prove that your asshole ex is nothing compared to me." He says before pouncing on me as if I were a feast. I don't have time to respond because he immediately starts kissing my inner thigh, both from the right and the left until he reaches his booty. Slowly, with his teeth, he grabs my panties, leaving a few wet kisses on my skin and making me shiver, and slowly he slides them all the way down my legs.

It is the most terrible, nerve-wracking, and sexy torture I have ever had to endure.

"I thought you were supposed to make it up to me Black, not make me madder." I say in a voice little louder than a sigh as I feel his hot breath on the center of my pleasure.

"Oh baby, I still have to start apologizing, and get ready because I want to do it right." He says, as he caresses the most intimate part of me with his lips. A second later, pure pleasure invades my every sense as he begins to kiss the lips of my pussy. I feel his tongue caressing me, as my hands wriggle in his hair, drawing him ever closer to the center of my pleasure, and with my eyes around his name like a song, between moans and expletives. I hear him smile at my reaction, and just as I was about to respond rudely to him, he increases my torture by adding a finger, taking it in and out of my opening. A few minutes thus pass, me hovering on the edge of pleasure, just as he looks up and shifts slightly. His mouth is completely wet from my pleasure, while I curse for the missed orgasm.

"You'd better finish what you started Black, because I swear that on the contrary you can distantly forget any chance of me being more generous to you." I say, trying to catch my breath.

"I was just catching my breath for the grand finale." He replies with a small smile, seeing my desperation.

"Go fuck yourself."

"I think that's what we're doing baby. What, I'm too good and you're not used to feeling so much pleasure?" He says smiling again as again, he turns me around kissing my entire thigh.

"By Merlin, how I hate you Black." I gasp, between groans.

"Try to convince yourself of this all you want honey, but we both know that right now your orgasms depend on me." And with that he begins his feast again, with more eagerness, and again, in a few minutes I am again on the brink of absolute pleasure, but this time I manage to go further, and for a moment I feel like I can touch the sky with my finger. I feel the blankets tighten between my fingers as I moan his name, almost screaming it, as if I want the world to know who was responsible for so much pleasure.

A few seconds pass, as I try to regain possession of my body and mind, before he speaks again.

"Fuck, that was the sexiest thing I've ever seen." He says giggling, before starting to kiss my body again, slowly, savoring every inch. He pulls off my shirt, as I now recovered from all that unexpected pleasure, taking off my bra. I see him staring at my breasts, before teasing my nipples, one with his tongue and one with his fingers. He bites, sucking my breasts, leaving signs of his passage as I try not to lose myself again in that spiral of pleasure.

"Damn, you don't know how long I've wanted to touch them, taste them, mark them as my own." He says in a gasp, before switching nipples and moving on to the other. Meanwhile then I try to distract him by opening his pants, but as soon as I try to touch his dick, he stops and moves my hand away, looking me straight in the eye.

"Tonight is just for you, not for me, now let me continue and make you feel like the goddess you are." At her words I can't help but hold back a sigh of pleasure.

"Now I understand why everyone was falling at your feet in school, you really have a gift for talking to girls." I say, as I feel his lips go up my neck, leaving me biting and hickeys as he passes.

"Too bad the one girl I really wanted did nothing but blow me off and tell me she hated me." She tells me, before kissing me passionately. Somehow I can still taste myself on his lips, or rather in his mouth, as we explore every nook and cranny of it with our tongues.

"Maybe he was telling you that he hated you, because all he could do was wish to fuck you in the broom closet." I answer between kisses as I hear him take off his underpants and pull down his underwear.

For the first time I realize perhaps truly the situation I am in. Our naked bodies, rubbing against each other, dancing a love dance of their own, as we struggle against each other to win.

He chuckles at my words as he moves to kiss me along my arm, while using his hand to reach over to the nightstand to grab a condom and put it on as he counters.

"And I would rather tell you that I hated you than confess that every night I dreamed of fucking you against a wall." He pauses for a moment, and smiles at me before continuing, with that obnoxious grin of his. "Although I would have said you were more of a quickie in the bathroom type."

"It happened only once, and with a Ravenclaw prick who had already done half my year, while I was half-drunk at a party, after watching you stick your tongue half a foot down the throat of a Hufflepuff slut." I confess by looking into his eyes, and I notice that amidst the pleasure now also shines a spark of astonishment. "Now get a move on, though, Black, for now you're all talk and no action." I continue, with an amused little smile.

"Merlin, if you say one more word, I swear I'll plug your mouth with your panties." He says, taking his dick in his hand, aligning it with my entrance.

"Oh you just have to try, assh- Oh my god!" I try to respond, but he blocks me by entering me overbearingly, immediately I feel my body almost leave the earthly world for pleasure. His dick is bigger than I would have expected, and certainly bigger than my ex's. Immediately he seems to touch all the places that give me the most pleasure, and my mind cannot process a concrete thought.

"I hate you Black." This is the only thing I can say as he is still still inside me, making me get used to his size. "I don't think I can do without your dick from now on, and this is all your fault." I continue as he tries to move slowly, in and out of me, as he murmurs a few dirty words under his breath.

"Oh you are adorable baby." He says before kissing my neck again as he increases the force and speed of his thrusts. "But if you really think I would let you go after this time you are crazy. I hate you too you know, I hate the fact that I am now addicted to this tight, hot, wet pussy of yours. Fuck I think I've found heaven." He gasps near my ear. We continue this dance like this, until a few minutes later, we are almost at the height of pleasure.

"Please Reg, don't stop. I'm cumming:" I plead with him, before stifling my continued moans of pleasure, leaving kisses, bites and hickeys on his neck as my hands scratch his muscular back. I feel him stiffen at my touch.

"Me too baby." He gasps, then increases the speed. A few thrusts, and we both reach orgasm.

We remain still for a moment, enjoying that feeling of pleasure and the warmth of the closeness of our bodies. We don't say a word, let silence fill the space between us, before we kiss again.

This time the kiss is different, not passionate and oozing sex like the others, it is more gentle and sweet, as if through that contact we want to express all those repressed feelings kept inside us all these years and that we cannot describe in words.

He moves from on top of me and lies on his side, while still keeping his arms around my waist. I slowly feel fatigue take possession of me as he gets out of bed to head for the bathroom and get a towel with which my private parts, now too sensitive, in fact a shiver runs down my spine and he seeing it apologizes to me.

When he is finished he lies down again beside me and hugs me, making me feel warm and safe. Just before I fall asleep I look into his eyes and manage to say something.

"You're on the right path to forgiveness, but maybe you need to try a little harder." And he can't help but laugh at those words. "I don't hate you that much anyway, I guess." I continue, as I snuggle against his chest.

"Fortunately." He replies. "Because I don't hate you at all, maybe just the opposite I dare say. "

The next morning I wake up after him. Regulus is already out of bed. He is wearing a pair of sweatpants, and he is shirtless. I can tell right away that he has just gotten out of the shower because I can see his wet hair, however, I can hear him talking to someone on the phone. Feeling my eyes on him he turns and sees that I am awake, and he smiles at me.

"Yes Sirius, I promise I didn't say anything stupid." He says with a bored look on his face as he watches me sit up in bed, my hair still tousled from sleep.

"I apologized, very deeply last night, but I may have to do it one more time to make sure you understand what I meant." She continues to talk to her brother as she gives me a wink and immediately I feel my cheeks go hot from what she said.

"Yes, yes. I love you too. Bye Siri, see you later." He greets his brother as he turns around and then sets the phone down on one of the pieces of furniture next to him, and there I realize all the marks I left on him last night. In the night we then woke up and made love a couple more times. Just thinking about it I feel my pussy getting all wet, even just remembering all that happened.

"I was going to make you breakfast before you woke up but since you are already awake I would suggest you take a shower while I make you breakfast. Is that okay with you?" He asks me, and I can't find my voice to answer him, so I smile and nod. He smiles back, leaving me a kiss on my forehead and then goes downstairs to cook.

I stay in bed for a second and letting out a sigh I realize perhaps for the first time that I hated Regulus Black so much, that I ended up falling in love with him, since the line is so thin that for a long time you can think you are hovering between the two, and only when you land do you realize that you slipped into one of the two worlds long before.

BONUS

Remus watches Sirius talk to his brother on the phone as he asks him if he finally apologized to little Potter. Once the call is over Sirius puts the phone down and looks at his boyfriend.

"They fucked." Remus says, before sipping coffee from his favorite mug.

"They got laid." Sirius confirms, laughing, while Lily, who had stayed over with her boyfriend James, sighs with relief.

"Finally, the situation was becoming unbearable. By now all you could do every time was expect them to jump at each other's throats with a knife or fuck in the guest bathroom." Lily says as she looks at James, who has a horrified look on his face.

"Hey, we're still talking about my little sister!" He says, looking at his friends and his girlfriend.

"Look at it this way, at least now we're really brothers." Try proposing Sirius.

"And probably uncles, too." Remus and Lily say in unison.

No one can hold back a laugh seeing James' horrified face.

TAGLIST (Kinktober special)

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