#anyway i really like this one hope u do too

[nereidprinc3ss]

belladonna

in which you have to get your tetanus shot, and spencer is there to hold your hand. and… tease you. just a little bit. (bandages universe)

fluff warnings/tags: needles/r has needle phobia, flirty!reader, idiots in love, teasing, not established relationship yet, anxiety, Spencer makes a joke abt his addiction, did I mention IDIOTS IN LOVE a/n: works as a standalone, as do all the bandages fics I believe. anyway hope u like! <3

“Spencer, I don’t think I can do this.”

He sets down his shoddy hospital coffee and grabs your knee to stop your leg from its rapid bouncing, exerting a gentle pressure when you don’t immediately comply.

“Yes, you can. Just breathe, okay? Try to relax. It’s much harder for your brain to remain in fight-or-flight if your body is relaxed.”

“No, it’s—I feel like I can’t breathe right now,” you say, chest constricted in a vice of panic. “I think my heart is beating too fast, I—”

Footsteps approach from the hallway and your head snaps up, cold dread filling every vein in your body—but they continue past your door.

“Oh my god, I’m losing it. I’m going to die here,” you rave, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. The gauze wrapped around your hand presses against your brow and beneath it a cut throbs dully—a cruel reminder of what it is that you’re doing here in the first place.

Spencer gives up on trying to make you stop bouncing your leg, and instead the hand travels to your jaw to find your pulse. His fingers feel cool against your warmed skin, accentuating the constant thrum of your heart. You watch his face anxiously as fifteen seconds go by. 

“Your pulse is pretty high,” he admits gravely, returning his hands to his pockets. Your brow knits at his sudden solemnity as you look up at him. “I’m not a medical doctor, but… we might have to take you to the hospital.”

Any trace of worry withers from your face. “Truly hilarious.”

The corner of his mouth turns up a little.

“See? You’re calm enough to make a sarcastic joke at my expense. If you were actually going to die I doubt you would be able to do that.”

“Wanna make a bet?” you snap.

“Definitely not,” he smiles, warm eyes alight and not at all fazed by your attitude. “You’re the last person I’d bet against.”

“Ha,” you say bitterly, eyes darting to the door again. “In that case I might just take my chances with tetanus.”

“I just watched you slice your hand open on a rusty fence, take down a man twice your size, and get ten stitches without flinching. Needles should be afraid of you.”

At least now your face is warming from the compliment and not the anxiety. 

“It’s... different. Like, stitches and shots. Shots really fucking freak me out. I don’t know if you could tell. I’m sure I seem really chill about it.”

He nods sagely. “Trypanophobia. It’s among the most common phobias in the world, next to Arachniphobia, Ophidiophobia, Acrophobia, Aerophobia. You have Astraphobia, too, don’t you? Fear of storms?”

“Spencer.”

“I also used to struggle with needles, actually.”

You look back at him, suddenly curious.

“Used to?”

“Yeah, but I pretty much got over it when I got all the vaccines for my clearance at the Academy. Becoming addicted to intravenous drugs helped, too, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” he muses, examining the art on the wall behind you and taking a sip of his coffee.

At that exact moment, the door opens and a very professional, very exhausted-looking nurse hurries in. You hardly even register her because you’re staring at Spencer, trying to figure out if you just heard him right. He’s looking right back at you over the rim of his cup, eyes dancing with what looks like suppressed mirth.

The nurse says something, and you bless her with an ‘uh-huh’, unable to take your eyes off of Spencer.

“I must be hallucinating,” you say.

“What? You’re the only one allowed to make off-color jokes at inappropriate times?”

“I didn’t even know you could make a regular joke, honestly.”

“You ready, dear?” says the nurse, swabbing your upper arm with an alcohol wipe.

“Ah! Spencer!” You yelp, thrusting out your hand for him to take. He quickly sets the cup  back down on the window sill and takes your outstretched hand, stepping closer.

“Relax,” he laughs upon seeing how your shoulders have risen to meet your ears. “Don’t look over there. Look at me.” Gently he brushes a loose strand of your hair behind your shoulder, redirecting your focus toward him. At this point you’ve gone catatonic anyway, so you don’t resist, although it doesn’t seem to matter much because you’re basically blacking out. “Literally relax your arm. I'm serious. It will hurt less.”

“Small pinch, darlin’,” the nurse says, and you clench your jaw so hard you’re afraid you might break a tooth, and maybe some tetanus-induced lockjaw wouldn’t actually be so bad, and she’s touching your arm now, and who made that extremely undignified squeaking noise, and— “And you’re done.”

You frown.

“I’m done?”

“You’re done,” the nurse repeats. Logically she has no reason to lie to you about this, but you look over to check anyway because there’s simply no way you’re done just like that. Sure enough, she’s smoothing a band-aid over your shoulder and pulling your sleeve back into place.

You look back at Spencer as if searching for a second opinion, utterly baffled. He carefully frees his poor hand of your bone crushing grip and grabs your discarded FBI jacket from the chair, handing it to you.

“That’s it?” you say, taking the jacket and absent-mindedly folding it on your lap.

“That’s it. You did it.”

“Really? That’s all? I feel like it can’t be that easy. I don’t even think I felt anything,” you ramble, rolling your shoulder around, and finding just a bit of soreness.

“You were so brave,” he nods, stepping closer to wipe something warm and wet away from under your eyes. “Americans can rest easy knowing they’ve got someone like you in the FBI.”

“Shut up. Am I crying?”

He laughs, and the twinkly sound fills you with even more joy than normal. Everything seems a little brighter, a little warmer—probably another adrenaline rush or a result of your brain releasing a trace amount of opioids in response to the pain.

“Just a little bit.”

“You two are FBI?” The nurse says, like she can’t quite believe it.

Before you can tell her that you don’t very much like her tone, Spencer nods.

“Behavioral analysis unit.”

“Oh! You guys catch all those serial killers?”

He nods politely, giving her a flat smile. “That’s the goal, yes.”

“Wow. There’s a meet-cute to tell your children.”

You snort and immediately clap your good hand to your mouth, looking up at Spencer to see how he’ll react. Of course he’s already red and stammering.

“Oh, no—I—maybe I misled you, we’re not, uh… we’re not together. Not like that. We are partners in the, in the sense of our job, not—we’re not romantically involved. Just—co-workers. Friends. We’re, I’d say we’re good friends. I mean, she’s great. She’s very nice, and, well—maybe nice isn’t exactly the right word, but she’s, you know—”

“Spencer,” you interrupt.

“You ready to go?” he says immediately, looking very grateful that someone finally cut him off. Works like a charm, every time. 

You stand, and to your surprise, wobble a bit on your feet. Spencer steadies you with a hand to your waist. “Woah,” you mutter, trying not to look too disoriented.

“You need to eat,” he says. “With how anxious you’ve been you probably completely burned through whatever calories were in your system. It’s a parasympathetic nervous system response to adrenaline.”

“I know what it is.” You grab his hand and turn to the nurse, who is looking at the two of you with a bemused, slightly clinical interest. “Um... thanks? Right?”

“Okay,” Spencer says. “We’re leaving now. Come on. Go.”

As he’s herding you out the door, you keep trying to look at him over your shoulder. “Is it weird that I kind of liked it? Does that, like… point to something?”

“Never repeat that,” Spencer says, shaking his head, but you can hear the strain of a hidden smile in his voice. 

You smile up at him as the two of you walk down the empty hallway, swinging his hand in yours.

“She thought we were together,” you say, and it’s almost a gloat, though Spencer can’t quite wrap his mind around what that might mean. Instead, he relishes the weight of your hand in his. He doesn’t exactly remember when that became commonplace, but he never takes it for granted. He can’t help the smirk across his face which always lets you know he’s going to say something snarky. 

“She just doesn’t understand that you need constant attention or you’ll die.”

Luckily, you’re used to each other. Quips are just one prevalent dialect in your vast love language. 

“Yup. I’m a delicate, rare flower.”

Spencer scoffs lightly.

“Yeah. Like deadly nightshade. Or water hemlock.”

“Those ones are pretty, right?”

He squeezes your hand. Imagines telling you that he’s in love with you and has been for a very long time. 

Instead, he thinks about dinner. 

“Gorgeous. Where do you want to eat, Belladonna?”

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: Finally chapter 17 (the second half of chapter 16 that made it too bloody long)! I know you're all going to enjoy this one because you're all filthy little hobbits. Jokes, I love u all for all the support and love you keep leaving me. I love engagement with my work and it really helps with motivation, as I'm sure any writer would tell you. Anyways, as always, I hope you all enjoy this one ;)

CW/TW: S m u t central, pure filth, some angst

Tags: @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup @trentybenty @pittieprincess22

@electronicwitchsandwich @thefairywithboots

(If you want to be tagged in any future Roman fics, just let me know!)

It took a little under an hour for Nate’s phone to buzz with the incoming text from Roman telling her he had arrived. In that time, she’d moved upstairs to grab a jacket, not entirely comfortable leaving the house at midnight in the December weather of New York. 

She stood from her spot on the edge of her bed, smoothing out the tight fabric of her dress before stumbling ever-so-slightly in her heels. It would have been a smart move to just… change shoes, but she didn’t even think of that. All she could think about was… Roman.

Okay, okay, just walk normal, she reminded herself, steadying her steps as she quietly made her way downstairs, turning away from the direction in which Dimitri had his associates gathered. She almost couldn’t believe she’d managed to slip out the back door of the house without making a sound loud enough to alert someone. 

The further away she got from the house, the more surreal the situation felt. She was sneaking out of her own home, half-drunk, to meet Roman Reigns—Roman Reigns, of all people. You’d think the shock of being somewhat civil with her family’s number one enemy would have dulled out by now, but nope. That shit was rampant when she let herself think too much about it. She couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh to herself.

The alcohol had fully caught up with her now, making everything around her slightly fuzzy, but not enough to forget what was going on. She followed the narrow path down from the estate, through the hedges and along the private road. Her phone buzzed again, another text from Roman.

Parked down the street. Just past the bend.

Nate squinted down the dark road. Of course, he wouldn’t park right in front of the house. He wasn’t stupid. Roman knew better than to make himself too obvious, especially in her family’s territory. A mafia boss meeting with the daughter of another mafia boss wasn’t exactly a low-stakes situation.

After a couple of minutes of walking—well, more like ungraceful, slightly wobbly striding—Nate finally spotted that familiar black sedan parked a little further down the road, barely visible under the faint glow of a street lamp. She could see the faint outline of him sitting in the driver’s seat, his headlights off but the dim interior lights on, just enough to catch sight of him.

Roman had a presence even when doing nothing. Broad shoulders, thick arms resting casually on the wheel. Profile perfectly illuminated in the saturated light. Damn. It didn’t matter how drunk Nate was, he always managed to look like he belonged directly in the centre of attention.

She approached the passenger side, swayling a little more than she would’ve liked, and when Roman saw her, his neutral expression shifted slightly. Narrowing his eyes the same way he did every time he focused in on something.

He gave her a once-over, his gaze travelling from her legs, up the tight-fitting dress that wrapped around every line and bend of her body, and lingering on the exposed skin where her dress dipped low in the front. His observation was slow, deliberate, and left no room for misunderstanding. Appreciation in his dark eyes.

With a grin through the window, she knocked lightly on the glass. He gave her a half-smirk as he leaned over and unlocked the door for her. Nate pulled it open, sliding into the passenger seat with as much grace as she could muster, which, given her current state, wasn’t much.

“You’re late,” she teased, turning to him with a playful pout.

Roman raised an eyebrow at her, clearly amused. “Takes time to sneak into enemy territory,” he said.

She sighed dramatically, leaning her head back against the seat. “You’re lucky I didn’t pass out waiting for you.”

Shifting the car into gear, Roman shook his head and huffed. “You’re buzzed as hell, huh?”

Nate lifted her head to look at him, her smile widening. “Maybe just a little. Or a lot. But hey, you’re here, so I must be doing something right.”

He gave her a sideways glance, his lips twitching up in that way that always made her stomach flip. “Didn’t think you’d be callin’ me up for a rescue mission. What happened to that tough act?”

She waved her hand dismissively, as if to brush off the idea that she needed rescuing. “I don’t need rescuing. I just… didn’t wanna be there anymore. Family’s being weird.”

“Weird how?”

Nate rested her hands in her lap, playing with the ring on her left hand that she despised wearing, but no more than she despised the fact she forgot to take it off after her perfect wife attempt tonight. She looked over at Roman, taking in the sight of his profile: strong. Beard creating the perfect frame around his chin. Hesitating, she wondered how much she should share. Then again, the alcohol had loosened her tongue enough tonight.

“Ugh, you wouldn’t believe it,” she groaned, throwing her hands up. “My dad dropped the bomb that Katya’s getting married to Alexei.”

“Who the fuck is Alexei?”

“A right knobhead,” Nate snorted, disregarding the need to control her less-than-subtle accent and strong British dialect. “It’s like… if you took Boris, made him even worse, and added a few inches in height. And reallyyyy bad teeth.”

“Damn,” Roman hummed. “Sounds like a piece of work.”

“You have no idea. Katya’s gonna lose her mind. Or worse, she’ll just… disappear inside herself. She’s not strong like that.” Nate leaned her head against the window, sighing heavily. “It’s all just so… so fucked.”

There was a period of silence, the car humming softly beneath them as Roman drove down the quieter streets. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself sink into the comfort of the seat. Her mind was still going a hundred miles a second, but being with Roman, here, away from the mess of her family, felt strangely… safe.

“Hey.”

She blinked her eyes open and peered over at Roman, who was staring straight ahead at the road in front of him.

“You ain’t your family,” he said quietly. “You know that, right?”

Nate swallowed, his simple statement settling over her like a blanket. She didn’t answer him right away, just nodded slightly, even though she barely believed that. When she was younger, there was nothing more she wanted than to follow in the footsteps of Dimitri Volkov. To be just like him. Have the kind of unmatched power that he had. 

But now, at 27, she wanted to be… anything else.

Before she could dwell on it too much, Roman’s voice broke through her thoughts again.

“You wanna talk about somethin’ else?” he asked. “Or we just gon’ sit here all night with you bein’ all depressed and shit?”

She managed a laugh, her mood lifting a little at his jesting tone. “Fine… What do you wanna talk about, oh wise one?”

“Ain’t much of a talker, Princess, you know that.”

“Yeah, well, you’re talking to me now, aren’t you?”

He gave her a look, one that said she was pushing it, but the corners of his mouth tugged up in that signature smirk of his. “You got a smart mouth for someone who needed my help.”

Nate leaned back in her seat. “Oh, you love it.”

Roman’s stifled chuckle was low, rumbling through the car as they turned down another street. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, but after a few minutes, Nate found herself watching Roman out of the corner of her eye. 

“You have a really nice nose,” she blurted out without thinking.

Roman’s head jerked slightly as he shot her a look. “What?”

“Your nose,” she repeated, gesturing vaguely in his direction before leaning closer, squinting at him. “It’s like… shapely. Strong. A good nose.”

“You’re drunk, Nate.”

“I’m not that drunk,” she protested, sitting back up, though she didn’t seem entirely convinced herself. “I’m just observant. Your nose is nice.”

Roman smirked. “It’s crooked.”

Nate gasped, her eyes widening in dramatic disbelief. “No, it’s not! It’s—” She reached out, her fingers hovering just inches from his face like she was considering touching his nose but stopped herself. “It’s perfect, Roman. Whoever told you it’s crooked is an idiot.”

“Well, I didn’t say anyone told me. I know it’s crooked. Had to have it fixed a couple times from being broken.”

She just shook her head vigorously, her wavy hair bouncing with the motion. “Nope. It’s perfect. Just like the rest of you.”

She wasn’t being subtle at all tonight. The vodka had completely eroded whatever filter she normally had, and it was obvious she was laying it on thick. He could feel the heat from her stare, and the way her gaze lingered on him was making his blood run a little hotter.

“You flirtin’, Volkov?” he asked somewhat playfully, yet seriously like he wasn’t opposed to the idea.

“Depends,” Nate grinned, biting her bottom lip. “You like it?”

Deepening his amused smile, he gave her a quick glance. “You know I don’t mind attention… But I don’t think your ass is in any shape to be making moves right now.”

“I am not that drunk,” she reiterated, leaning closer again. This time, her arm brushed his as she shifted, and he tensed slightly, more aware of her proximity than he cared to admit. “I’m just… I don’t know,” she sighed, lowering her head to look down at the centre console. “You’re easy to talk to.”

Roman’s eyebrows scrunched together, not sure if she meant that or if it was just the alcohol talking. Either way, it took him by surprise. Nate wasn’t the type to get emotional with other people, and Roman wasn’t even sure they were close enough to be letting her guard down like that.

“You sure that ain’t the drink talkin’?” he asked.

“Maybe. But I don’t think it matters at this point,” Nate snorted, leaning back and closing her eyes as she rested her head back on the seat. Roman glanced over at her, once again taking in the sight of such a beautiful woman in his car. 

Oh, the amount of times he would have had her laid out and begging for more if she wasn’t a Volkov. That time in the safehouse was one too many, but he needed more. There was still so much in his warped fantasies that he’d not yet made a reality. In every which way he could have her, he wanted it. He wanted to bury his face between those plush thighs of hers, savour every bit of her as she writhed and whimpered for him. Wanted to leave his mark on her, let Boris know that she didn’t need him to make her fall apart completely. 

“Nah,” Nate cackled, opening her eyes. “You’d know if I was flirting.”

“Pretty sure this is flirting.”

“I’m just telling the truth!” she insisted, her voice rising in pitch and volume. “You’re all, like, perfect or whatever. All this,” she motioned to him with both hands now. “You’ve got that whole… big, brooding, alpha-male thing going on, and don’t even get me started on those fucking eyes.”

“My eyes?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” she nodded enthusiastically, leaning in as if she was imparting some great secret. “Your eyes are, like… intense. In a good way. But they’re also… kinda warm, you know? Like, you’ve got that look where you can either kill a guy or make someone feel all safe. Dual-purpose eyes.”

Roman blinked, obviously amused by her rambling, but there was something more there too. Though he didn’t say anything, the little smile on his face said enough.

“I’m serious, though,” she mumbled. “You’re… different from what I thought you’d be.”

“Different how?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged, lazily tracing random shapes on the ceiling above her as she slouched in the seat. “I guess I thought you’d be more of an arsehole. Like my dad made you out to me. All tough, don’t-give-a-shit-about-anybody kind of deal.”

Snorting, he squeezed onto the steering wheel. “Yeah? That what you think of me, huh?”

“I did,” she clarified. “But you’re not. Not entirely. You… I don’t know. You’re nicer than you let on.”

His jaw worked as he considered her analysis; she didn’t notice the shift in his demeanour, too caught up in her own world to realise how close her words hit to home. But he sighed gently, speaking a little quieter.

“Yeah, well… I guess not everybody gets to see that side of me.”

Nate turned her head toward him, blinking slowly as her tipsy brain processed his words. Her voice softened as she tilted her head. “But I do?”

What was it about late nights that got them both so… vulnerable? You’d never see them this calm with one another in broad daylight, where they could each see every change and glimmer of expression. It was… safer to do it where neither one could read the other’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Roman muttered. “You do.”

For a majority of the drive, the teasing resumed. Nate couldn’t stop herself from flirting with him, throwing out random compliments that had Roman laughing and subconsciously storing in his memory bank for times in which he needed a pick-me-up. But every time she said something he particularly liked, he’d respond with that same smirk, the same heated look that told her he was enjoying this just as much as she was.

Yet, it seemed like the more they drove around, seemingly with no destination in mind—the more her mind sobered up—the more she wanted to keep going. Keep poking the bear, as they say. She wanted him to snap.

She needed the night she got at the safehouse, and then some.

Nate had never been one to shy away from risk, but the idea that sprung to mind was something entirely different. Sitting next to Roman, she felt the tension between them building, thickening the air inside the confines of the car like a heavy fog. Tonight was already weird enough, so why not push it a little further?

She unbuckled her seatbelt and shifted in the passenger seat, carefully getting on her knees. The car was still moving. The low growl of the engine hummed beneath her as she moved to hover over Roman, her hand bracing on the console between them. It was dangerous, and she knew it. But the thrill of it—the fact that they could crash if either of them lost focus—only made her want it more.

Her lips brushed his ear when she leaned in close, warm breath teasing him. “Do you trust me?” she whispered delicately in that sultry accent, thick with desire as her body pressed against the side of his arm as he drove.

Trust. A subject that had risen multiple times during their time working together, all of which ended in some kind of argument. So when Roman shot her a glance and let out a smug laugh, followed by a very adamant “Not at all, Princess,” it didn’t surprise her. In fact, it just encouraged her more. 

Encouraged her to prove to him that he could, in fact, trust her.

Sliding even closer, her hand came up to steady herself on the headrest behind him. With an excited smirk, she whispered to him.

“Ya pochti kazhduyu noch’ dumal o tvoyem vkuse vo rtu.”

His reaction was immediate. Eyes darkened, lips curved wickedly, the heat rolling off in waves. He didn’t stop her, didn’t tell her to sit back down. Instead, his free hand—large, powerful, commanding—slipped casually around her waist, the move so natural it sent a pang of arousal straight between her legs. His fingers dipped lower, sliding over the curve of her backside, and then beneath her dress, his touch rough and unapologetic against her skin.

“You gotta stop with these games, Nate,” he chimed with little to no genuineness behind his words. It seemed like he was about to say something else, but Nate had shut him up pretty quickly by returning the favour, allowing her hand to explore the hard expanse of his wide chest and further down to his abdomen. 

Her breath caught in her throat as Roman’s hand explored further, squeezing, teasing, igniting her skin with every movement. Her body instinctively pressed closer to him, her knees digging into the seat, knowing full well that they were one sharp turn away from disaster. But right now, she couldn’t care less.

Especially not when his legs shifted apart, making plenty of room for her hand to settle on growing bulge under his black sweatpants.

His hand shot back up to her waist, holding onto her tightly as she began to slowly, methodically massage him. Her breasts pushed against his arm as her lips brushed the side of his strong neck. “I think…” she whispered against his heated skin, “That you love it when I get in your head.”

Roman turned just slightly, lips ghosting over her jaw, dangerously close to her mouth. “What’d you say back there? In that pretty little language of yours?”

She gave him an abrupt squeeze, causing him to jolt a little in his seat. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she enjoyed every second of it.

The words were a challenge, a dare. And Nate was more than willing to play along. She dragged her lips back up to his ear, so close that she could feel his pulse quicken under her touch.

“I said… I’ve been thinking about how you’d taste in my mouth almost every night.”

She rested the side of her head on his shoulder, peering down at where her hand had worked him over his sweats to the point of no return. His powerful frame remained tense and full in the driver’s seat, muscles taut under the dark, fitted t-shirt that clung to his body. His tattoos peeked out from beneath his sleeve, the tribal ink crawling up his thick arm, accentuating every ounce of his dominance, his control over everything in his world.

“How am I supposed to keep driving with you touchin’ me like that, huh? After tellin’ me somethin’ like that?”

A giggle left her mouth, followed by an amused hum as she tilted her head back to look up at his face. “Then I suggest finding somewhere to pull over so I can get that cock in my mouth…”

That was it. He snapped. His nose twitched, a grunt leaving his lips as he practically slammed his foot down on the gas, eagerly thinking of all the places he knew they could park up at. If she wanted to play this, then he’d happily go along with it.

She smirked to herself, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was reckless. It was dangerous. But that was exactly what made it so intoxicating.

Shifting a little to the side, Nate braced one hand on the console as she slipped the other beneath his waistband, her fingers grazing over the solid length hiding beneath his sweats, swollen and aching against the fabric. Roman swallowed thickly, releasing a shaky breath.

“Wha–”

“Shh,” she gently hushed him, dragging her lips along his beard. “Just keep driving, moy vozhd’ plemeni…”

A low groan rumbled deep in his chest as she freed him from the confines of his pants, her delicate fingers wrapping around the thick base. Back at the safehouse, she didn’t get a chance to actually look at him. She sure felt him—the sheer stinging sensation as he sank deep inside of her—but now she was seeing, witnessing his size… God, it was intimidating. Even in the limited light in the car. 

“Fucking hell, Reigns, how do you cope with this in your pants all day?” she asked with an air of exasperation, as though she had already gone three rounds with him. He didn’t answer, just let out a breathy laugh, trying earnestly to focus on the road. 

Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Nate shuffled back a little so she could lean over his lap, collecting enough saliva in her mouth to let it fall right onto the bulbous tip of his cock. He hissed under his breath, hips jolting at the sensation.

“You’re gonna make me crash this damn car,” he muttered through gritted teeth. But he didn’t stop her. If anything, he shifted in his seat, giving her more room to work, his body leaning into her touch as if he couldn’t help himself.

“Then maybe you should pull over…” she teased, licking her lips before she reached up to press a small but heated kiss against the inked skin of his bicep. 

But Roman was stubborn. He wasn’t going to pull over. Not yet.

“You think I’m gon’ make it that easy for you, Princess?” His voice was thickly laced with arousal and growing primal urge. “Nah… you want that shit so bad, you’ll have to work for it.”

Challenge accepted.

“Da,” she purred up at him, smiling innocently at his warning glare for once again speaking Russian when he couldn’t completely devour her whole. But she wasted no time, lowering her mouth over his tip, allowing her tongue to swirl in slow, strategic circles around the hot, salty skin. As soon as she closed her lips around him, his body jerked, hips lifting slightly off the seat as he let out another sharp hiss.

“Fuck…” His hand shot to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as she began her descent, taking in his length as much as she could. Inch by inch. The slow bobbing of her head, the pressure along the underside of his cock from her tongue, tasting him with a hunger that could only be matched by his own, had him breathing raggedly.

The car even swerved slightly, and for a moment, she thought he might actually lose control. But Roman was nothing if not determined—he managed to keep the car steady, though his breathing had become uneven, every exhale shaky and strained as she pulled back and lewdly spit on his tip.

“Goddamn it,” he grunted, unable to stop his hips from careening upwards, causing his cock to slide even further into her mouth, her throat tightening around him at the intrusion. “Shit, that mouth ain’t so bad anymore, baby girl…” 

Nate hummed around him, feeling the wetness grow between her legs at his praise. The vibrations pulled another ragged moan from his lips as she continued to enjoy the taste of him. His body was coiling, tension building in every muscle, every fibre of his being as he fought to maintain control. His fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her, encouraging her to take him deeper, faster, until the car was filled with nothing but the explicit sound of her mouth sloppily working him over and his laboured gasps.

“Damn, why ain’t I used your mouth before?” he rasped. “Gon’ make me cum before we even get there.”

His praises only spurred her on. Hollowing her cheeks, she took him as deep as she could, throat convulsing as she gagged, choked. Her hand joined the effort, making up for the expanse she couldn’t fit into her mouth. Roman’s free hand slammed against the steering wheel, knuckles white as he tried desperately to stay focused, to keep from veering off the road entirely. 

“You better cut that out unless you want me to nut all on that pretty face,” he growled, glancing down at the sight of her head nestled just under the steering wheel, her knees still planted on the leather of the passenger’s seat. Body curved and arched over the centre console. He could only imagine how soaked she was right now.

With a wicked glint in her eye, she hummed again and slowly pulled her head back up, releasing him with a pop. She watched as her own hand steadily gave him a few more pumps, admiring the glistening in the dim light, the spit and translucent pearls that had gathered on her hand and along his skin. 

Licking her lips, she propped herself up on both hands, stretching out her back in the process and looking up at the Samoan god in front of her. She couldn’t quite place the emotion on his face. She didn’t know if he was angry at her for blowing him whilst driving. But his next words told her that wasn’t the case.

“You… are fuckin’ insane,” he muttered hoarsley. “You just wait til I find somewhere to pull over…”

Nate smirked, chuckling almost smugly as she pulled back enough to look at the road ahead of them. They’d ventured out into a more secluded part of the city, where buildings were few and far in between. And finally, with the mounting tension simmering around and between them, he slowed the car, pulling off onto a secluded dirt road.

It seemed like it was instantly after turning off the engine that he rapidly unbuckled his seatbelt, turned to face her and reached for the back of her neck to smash their lips together in a clumsy, needy kiss.

She was barely prepared for it, the lack of breath saved up heightening her senses as he rolled his tongue into her mouth, bit at her lips like he did the last time. It was like he was trying to crawl inside her via her mouth, large and strong hand pulling her forcefully against him as he grunted into her mouth. And when he finally broke the kiss, yanking at her bottom lip in the process, his eyes darkened fully. His fist tightened around the hair at the back of her neck.

“Get the fuck in the back so I can eat that pussy, Princess.”

Her heart rate raced as Roman growled out the command, his words dipping with a hunger that matched the fire burning low in her belly. The rough pull of her hair, the deep, guttural tone in his voice—it was everything she wanted and more. Her mouth was still wet, lips swollen from working his cock, her body vibrating with foretaste.

She shuffled back, fumbling with the door handle as Roman watched her, his eyes locked onto her with a heated, possessive glare. The moment she managed to climb out, he followed swiftly, already yanking at his sweats to pull them up just enough to walk as he stalked around the car. Nate scrambled into the backseat, practically hearing her own pulse as she leaned back against the seat, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

Roman was there within seconds, slamming the door behind him, the car shaking under his weight. A predatory gaze as he crawled into the space between her legs, guiding her back without much warning. His large frame took up the entire backseat, and he resorted to resting a knee on the floor of the car just to accommodate himself. She felt so small and vulnerable under his shadow, and yet a thrill coursed through her veins akin to the type that shocked her at Bunny’s compound.

One hand slid down to her bare leg, lifting it up so he could feel the smooth skin of her thigh, closer to the only thing in the way of his magical fingers.

“Take ‘em off,” he uttered, staring down at her with hooded eyes and an unmistakable nod to her panties with a sharp, delicate flick of his chin. 

Normally, the speed in which she obliged to his command would embarrass her—disappoint her. But it didn’t. She didn’t even hesitate, fingers quickly finding the flimsy material under her dress, shimmying them down as far as they could go in the position they were in, before he finished the task, tossing them into the front seat.

All the commotion had already caused her dress to ride up, allowing for her glistening core to be ogled at from the man above her. Especially as he placed his hands on the backs of her thighs, pushing them apart to expose her even more. He didn’t even need to look for very long to see just how wet she was.

“Fuck, baby… all this for me?” he exhaled, his voice chillingly soft as his fingers dug into the plushness of her thighs. “This soaked for a man you hate so much, huh?”

Oh, but I don’t hate you, Roman…

Nate couldn’t say anything. Just shift her hips, grinding against thin air. He leaned down, bringing her legs with him so she had to deal with the little friction from his sweatpants.

“Needy ‘lil princess,” he hummed, glancing down at her lips. He’d be stupid to deny it; her beauty, that is. All dressed up for the night, her makeup a little worn by now, but still present nonetheless. And he had to admit it to himself, regardless of it being internal…

Nate Volkov was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on. And he’d laid eyes—and other things—on a lot of women in his time.

“You gon’ be a good girl and let Daddy do what he needs to do?”

Fuck…

He could have sworn he heard her whimper. He fucking knew it… he knew she’d responded to the pet name last time. Let’s see how far I can push this…

“C’mon, speak to me, Princess…” he whispered, his lips barely touching just below her lips. “You bein’ here, you already disobeyed one daddy, hm?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, unsure what he was getting at exactly through the potent arousal that continued to form between her legs. She was literally throbbing, clenching—she needed it so fucking bad…

His head dipped lower, edging his nose down her chest and down to the space just above the neckline of her dress. “Don’t disobey this one, baby girl. You want Daddy to eat this pussy real good, you’re gonna have to be good.” He lifted his head, looking straight at her. “You gonna be good?”

Nate let out a shaky breath, hand gripping onto the fabric of his shirt as she nodded earnestly. “Y-yes…”

He smirked, giving her legs another squeeze. “Ain’t the answer I’m lookin’ for, Princess.”

The thing was: she knew exactly what he wanted her to say, what he wanted her to call him. But her own stubborn streak, her own unwillingness to obey at the drop of a hat, despite the reward for complying, being a potentially mind-blowing orgasm, was too dominant.

That didn’t mean she didn’t want to, though. God only knew how she’d searched for years for something to fulfil the gaping hole made from a lack of… well, any kind of nurturing. And Roman had been good to her, really… Right?

Working with him, being around him and his family—the enemy—was, ironically, the only time she felt anything close to… acceptance.

And even if it would come to her own demise, even if there was a sliver of a chance that her next words would come and bite her in the ass… She. Didn’t. Care. She needed this.

“I’ll be good,” she managed to say, still grabbing onto his bicep even though he had already made a slow descent down her body, both knees on the floor now. “...Daddy.”

Her breath hitched at the tail end of the sordid word as Roman’s lips met the inside of her thigh, kissing, licking, biting his way toward her pussy with an agonisingly slow pace. “That’s right,” he mumbled. Nate’s back arched off the seat, her hips bucking slightly, silently begging for him to stop teasing her. But Roman was in control now, and he wasn’t about to let her rush him.

“Perestan’ menya draznit’... ty nuzhen etoy kiske, detka…” she whimpered as he blew little puffs of hot air right against her dripping folds, teasing her to the max. 

Roman grinned, his lips brushing against her, barely pressing down on her throbbing clit. “I don’t give a damn what you’re saying in that Russian, baby,” he muttered as he kissed over her heat. “But I know you beggin’ for me.”

Her body jerked at the contact, and he saw her hand fly up to cover her mouth, trying to suppress the needy sounds bubbling up in the throat. But Roman wasn’t having it. “Don’t you fuckin’ hide those sounds from me,” he ordered, followed by a sharp nip to her thigh with his teeth. 

Nate’s teeth clamped down on her lower lip, her breaths coming out in shallow pants. “Please,” she whispered, hating how broken and desperate she sounded. “Roman, please.”

“Please, what—”

“Please, Daddy!” she huffed, still with an air of defiance, but peered down at him with a softer expression. “I need you.”

Without another word, he finally dipped his head, his thick tongue slipping out to drag a slow, deliberate line up her slit. Nate’s entire body jumped at the contact, her hand shooting down to grip his hair, pulling at it despite its place in a bun. A moan tore from her throat, no longer able to contain it.

His tongue worked like a seasoned veteran, tasting her, teasing her, fingers digging deeper into her thighs to keep her from wriggling around too much. He wanted to take his time, to savour the way her body reacted to him, but the little sounds she made, the breathless moans and whimpers, were making it harder to keep his control.

“Fuck,” he grunted between licks, his voice vibrating against her swollen bud. “Pussy tastes so good… so fuckin’ sweet.” He wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking the hot flesh into his mouth to drag sloppy circles around it. Nate gasped, a choked groan leaving her throat as her back arched once again.

Roman didn’t stop. His tongue flicked over her sensitive pearl, focusing the tip of his tongue on the part of her that made her writhe and pant the most. He wrapped his thick arms around her legs, hands coming round her hips to spread her open even more for him. His body moved closer to her, practically pulling her lower half off the seat entirely as he divulged.

Nate barely registered just how painfully she folded in half by the sheer force of Roman’s form. She just revelled in the overwhelming sensation of his mouth slobbering all over her cunt, bringing her to unreal levels of ecstasy in the process. But it was the much-missed sensation of two of his fingers pushing their way inside her, broadly curling just deep enough to find that spot, that had her crying out even louder.

“There it is,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, as he felt her walls fluttering around his fingers. “Wanna make sure this pussy cums nice n’ hard for me, Princess. Right on my fuckin’ tongue.”

His mumbles were fuel to the fire. Mind spinning, torn between the intoxicating sensations bestowed upon her by this Samoan god, and the mess tangled within her brain. Thinking about how badly Boris Sokolov had wanted to be in this position for years, but here she was… doing that exact thing… with Roman Reigns. The enemy, the man she had known for barely three months—and how he had utterly consumed her every thought, every inch of her body.

Her head fell back against the seat, Roman’s fingers fucking her slowly, purposefully, in tandem with the sinful rhythm of his tongue. Her thighs quivered under his grip, his broad shoulders keeping her splayed open, making sure she had nowhere to go.

“You ever let him get this close, principessa?” he rumbled against her. “You ever let him taste this sweet ass pussy?” 

Nate shuddered. The sheer taboo of it made her brain short-circuit. The fact he seemed to have known what she was thinking… It was control, dominance, a pure primal claim. She couldn’t hold back the moans, whole body vibrating as he dragged his fingers in and out of her.

“Answer me.” His command was sharp, fingers curling into her spot harder.

“N-no…” she choked out. “He’s never had me—oh, fuck, right there,” she cut herself out with a strained groan, her fingers tightening on his hair, inevitably pulling out strands from the bun. 

Roman chuckled darkly, the vibration of his laugh pressing into her clit as he sucked hard on the sensitive pearl. “Good,” he muttered, pulling his mouth off her just long enough to smirk up at her, eyes gleaming with sheer satisfaction. “This pussy still mine.”

“Shit…” she whined as he resumed his work, salivating and slobbering all over her pussy, the sound of it lewd but a contributor to the orgasm welling up inside her. Throbbing against his tongue. Juices continuing to flow, making a mess of his perfectly groomed beard, and whatever else had the misfortune of being within immediate range. She could even see the movement on his cheeks as he ate her out like a starved animal.

Digging her high heel into the centre of his back, he careened forward ever so slightly, growling against her. The action was entirely unintentional, but the payoff was divine. She couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t hold on for much longer.

“Prodolzhay, ya konchu, chert voz’mi, Roman…” she panted, clenching her fist into his hair as she started to buck her hips up against him. 

“God, you sound so fuckin’ good like that,” he breathed out, before pulling his head back, removing his fingers only to have them come up to rub erratically at her clit. He peered up at her, smirking at her dazed state, how she whimpered a little at the lost contact. “You gonna cum for me, Princess?”

“Fuck! Yes,” she answered through a strained whine. 

Roman didn’t answer, just shot back down to finish what he started. And before she could blink, her orgasm hit her with violent force, a broken moan of pure ecstacy exorcised from her chest—thighs attempting to clamp down around his head, but firmly kept apart by this man’s ridiculously strong hands. Her whole body seized, her hips jerking off the seat as he growled low in his chest, continuing to lap at her relentlessly. Prolonging every shudder that wracked through her.

When she finally collapsed back against the leather seat, panting and gasping for air, Roman didn’t let up, moving to shift over her, lowering his face just inches from hers as he leaned into her. She could taste herself on his lips when he kissed her roughly, one hand grabbing the back of her neck while the other fumbled with the hair tie that did little for the mess she’d made. He yanked it out, snapping it around his wrist. 

Nate kept up with him, her hands feeling around his waist, tucking her fingers under his shirt to feel the hard, defined muscle of his back, his abs, anything she could get her hands on. She could feel the outline of his hard cock firmly pushing up against her, and the thought of him inside her again made her throb with desire.

She’d even forgotten, in the midst of her erotic haze, that they were in a car that provided limited space to move around. The fumbling of his sweatpants, and his attempt of positioning himself became too frustrating, and eventually, he adjusted his position, pulling her with him as he settled behind the driver’s seat. Fingers, digging into her skin, he held onto her waist possessively as he locked eyes with her. “Turn around, Princess,” he rasped.

Nate blinked up at him. “What?”

“You heard me,” Roman growled, giving her backside a firm tap. “Turn the fuck around. I want you to ride me… But I wanna watch that ass of yours while you do.”

Her heart stumbled in her chest. The raw yearning in his voice made her pussy convulse and shudder along with her whole body. Swallowing hard, she shifted on the seat, her legs shaky as she turned to press her knees into the leather seat, facing away from him. Her hands braced herself on the headrest in front of her. 

Roman leaned back, sliding down into the seat as far as he could go, his thick thighs spreading wide to accommodate her. Large hands gripped at her hips tightly, thumbs digging into the fleshy curves and pulling her closer to him as his mouth hovered hear her ear, his breath hot and heavy against her skin. Almost as hot and heavy as the tip of his cock gliding across her slick folds.

“You feelin’ this, baby girl?” he whispered. “Feel how fuckin’ hard you make me? How bad I need to be in you every fuckin’ time I see you?”

Nate’s head fell back slightly, a soft moan falling from her parted lips as she reached down, guiding the thick head of his cock to her slick entrance. He had to have been the biggest she’d ever had… And even though she’d had him before, it was insignificant in preparing her for another ride—so to speak.

Roman groaned low in his chest as she lined him up, holding onto her tightly. “That’s it,” he muttered. “Nice n’ slow, baby. Take me all the way in.”

Biting down on her lip, she lowered herself onto him, her body stretching around his girth inch by inch. The pressure, the fullness, it was all so overwhelming, and she couldn’t stop the breathy whine from leaving her mouth as she sank down onto him completely.

“O bozhe…” she gasped, gripping the back of the driver’s seat for support. “Roman…”

“Fuck,” Roman grunted, his hands roaming from her waist to her backside, squeezing the soft flesh as he helped guide her movements. “That’s right… every fuckin’ inch.”

Nate’s response was a choked moan as she tried to lift herself up, but Roman’s hands were still on her hips, pushing her down again, forcing her to take all of him. The angle was intense, his cock hitting deep inside her with every slight movement. Her breath came out in ragged gasps, her body trembling as she began to ride him, the tight space making it harder to control her movements, but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, it fuelled his need.

“Fuck, yes…” he hissed, his head falling back against the seat, eyes rolling shut as her tight core enveloped him. “Goddamn… Fuckin’ perfect body…”

She could barely breathe. The sensation of him filling her completely made her dizzy. “Oh god, Roman—fuck,” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut; this position definitely made his size all the more intense to take. Impossibly thick. Stretched to the limit. “Feels so fucking good…”

Hands back on her ass, he rocked her gently, urging her to pick up the pace of her movements. “Yeah? You like how that feels, Princess?” His voice was low, strained. “Like the way I fill up this pussy, huh?”

“Yes,” she breathed out with an earnest nod, rolling her hips over his, feeling every inch of him drag against her sensitive walls. It was too much, and yet somehow not enough.

Once she had settled into a rhythm, one that had her enveloping him completely, hitting her spot each time he sank back inside, Roman couldn’t help himself. She just looked so good like this, and her ass… Fuck, she was so fucking hot.

“Look at you, baby girl,” he grunted behind her. “Ridin’ me like that… like you fuckin’ own me.” His hands guided her, pushing her up and down on his cock. “You been wantin’ this again, huh? Been thinkin’ ‘bout me since the safehouse?”

All she could do was nod, unable to speak as she rode him quicker, greedily taking him at her leisure. 

Big mistake.

Without another word, Roman’s hand came up to the back of her head, twisting his fist into her hair to yank her backwards until her back made contact with his body. Forced to let go of the driver’s seat headrest, she was lost as to what to do with her hands; she grabbed at anything, the uselessly small ledge on the window, the seat they were on. But she eventually found his hand, the one that wasn’t painfully grasping at her hair, and held onto that instead. 

“I asked you a question,” he hissed into the skin of her neck as he inhaled her scent. “You been wantin’ this dick again, ain’t you, baby girl? Wanted me to pound this tight lil’ pussy…” The more he spoke, the more he took control of their speed, starting to throw his hips up from beneath, fucking her silly. “Say it, Nate.”

Her pants got quicker, and the pitch of her moans heightened. She could feel tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Yes!” she choked out, eyes rolling to the back of her head as the tip of his dick hit a particularly sensitive spot deep inside her soul. “Holy shit… Roman—right there, right there…shit, fuck!” she groaned, lifting her hand to grab onto his shoulder behind her. It was awkward, trying to hold onto him how she wanted. 

“Mmm,” Roman rumbled, letting go of her hair and bringing both his hands around to the front of her, trailing them up until he reached her breasts. He disregarded the value of the dress she wore and practically ripped the fabric down so the warm skin made contact with the rough palms of his hands, exposing her. “Fuckin’ perfect,” he moaned, his lips hovering over her shoulder. “This pussy was made for me…”

The car creaked beneath them as her ass bounced on his lap, as their skin collided, obscene sounds coming from her pussy taking him over and over.

“Turn around, Princess,” he rasped, giving her chest a final squeeze. “Lemme see you.”

With a whimper, she weakly slid off of him, his dick sliding out of her and leaving her empty for only a moment before he pulled her back on top of him, this time facing each other so they could see the absolute state they put the other in.

“Keep ridin’ me, baby, fuck yourself on this dick,” he encouraged, wrapping his muscular arms around her body, assisting her in her movements. He met her downward grinds with a sharp upward thrust, taking a moment to appreciate the body of this woman. He needily captured one of her stiff nipples into his mouth, holding her against him as he proceeded to swirl his tongue around the erect nub, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin. He swore he felt her pussy jolt at the action.

“God,” Nate gasped, her breath hitching as his dick slammed into her repeatedly. “So fucking good.”

“Yeah?” he chuckled darkly, peering up at her. “That feel good?”

“Yeah…” Her hands moved from his shoulders up to his hair, pushing it completely from his face so she could feast her eyes on his intimidating features, the arch in his brows as he leered up at her like she was the most despicable human he’d ever seen. Yet, all the while, he’s balls deep in her, fucking her from underneath like he’d never get to have sex ever again. 

“Mne nravitsya chuvstvovat’, budto ty razryvayesh’ menya popolam… moy vozd’ pelemeni,” she purred down at him, purposefully tightening herself around him as she did.

“You keep talkin’ to me like that, I’m gon’ nut in this pretty pussy,” he growled at her, lowering his hands to grab onto her ass, spreading her out and picking up the pace with his own hips. She cried out, clenching her fists into his hair. “That what you want, Princess? You want Daddy to nut all in that pussy? Get her nice and full for Boris stupid ass, huh?”

Now, that shouldn’t have brought her closer to the edge. But, God, did it…

“Yes, Daddy,” she panted, “Please… Please, please… Please, moy vozhd’ plemeni…”

Considering that Roman practically had his brain inside her, it was quite the impressive feat that he picked up on one of her Russian phrases. A phrase she had used three times tonight…

“What’s that mean?” he asked her, starting to pant himself.

“What?”

“That… what you just said.”

Nate smirked a little, humming as she laughed breathily. “Moy vozhd’ plemeni?”

“Shit… yeah, that…”

“It mea—oh, fuck, fuck…” she gasped, her entire body twitching and tensing up as her orgasm hit her so suddenly, so intensely that she had to push her forehead up against his in a feeble attempt to steady herself. “I’m cumming, fuck, I’m cumming…”

“Damn, baby, no warnin’ or nothin’?” he leaned his head back, lids hooded as he watched her writhe on top of him, feeling her pussy throb and convulse around him, soaking him in her sweet release. God, he wanted to taste her again already… “So fuckin’ pretty cummin’ on this dick. Ride it out, Princess…”

She really did. She rode it out, using every ridge and curve of his cock to draw the final drops of her climax from within. But now… all she wanted to do was make this gorgeous creation beneath her come undone and fill her up. 

“Hmm…” she hummed, ignoring the sensitivity as she continued to roll her hips. “Your turn now, Daddy…”

Roman groaned, practically turning inside out as he heard that name on the tip of her precious tongue, in that precious accent. That reminds him…

“Tell me,” he breathed.

“Tell you what?” She dug her nails into his shoulders, tilting her head to the side.

“Tell me what it means.”

“Moy vozhd’ plemeni?” 

“Fuck, yeah, tell me, Nate…” 

With a sneaky little smile, she lowered her face down to his, bringing a hand up to place it on the side of his face, locking her eyes with his. “It means…” She glanced down at his lips, barely brushing hers against them, just before whispering very gently:

“My Tribal Chief.”

Her words hit him like a bolt of lightning. Roman groaned, his grip on her bruising as his thrusts became dangerously erratic. “Fuck,” he snarled. “You gon’ make me cum, baby girl… You ready for it?”

“Yes,” Nate whimpered, feeling him pulsing inside her. “Cum inside me, Daddy. Fill me up… please.”

He let out a guttural moan as he came hard, trembling as he emptied himself. Nate’s breath hitched as she felt the hot rush of his release, helping him ride it out whilst she rode out the tail end of her own, nails digging into his skin. Breath a mixture of gasps and moans.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, her forehead resting against his, both of them panting, chests heaving, trying to catch their breaths. The air in the car was thick, the windows fogged from their insatiability. Neither of them spoke, too consumed by the moment to ruin it with words.

But the silence didn’t last long.

Nate’s phone, tossed somewhere in the front seat, began to ring obnoxiously, breaking the bubble they had created. She groaned, reluctantly sliding off Roman’s lap, her body immediately feeling the loss of him. She pulled her dress back into place, wincing at the soreness between her legs, before crawling over the centre console to reach for her phone.

Roman’s hand came down hard on her ass, a loud smack echoing in the enclosed space. “You really gonna just leave Daddy like that, huh?” he teased, his voice deep and satisfied.

She smirked, but didn’t respond. She grabbed her phone, pulling it up to see who was calling—and then her heart stopped.

Ten missed calls. All from Becky Lynch.

Her blood ran cold. Her earlier calm, her sense of control—all of it vanished. “Fuck,” she muttered under hear breath.

Roman leaned back, watching her with a smug grin until he saw her expression shift. “What’s wrong?” he asked, still lazy with post-orgasmic bliss.

Nate whipped her head around, glaring at him. “Why didn’t you tell me my phone was ringing, you twat?”

He raised an eyebrow, completely unphased by her sudden shift in mood. “Didn’t hear it. You were a little busy ridin’ my dick, remember?”

“Are you fucking serious? It’s Becky!” she snapped, panic rising in her chest. “I’ve been waiting for this phone call for a fucking week, Roman, she’s the only one who can help us right now! Chert voz’mi…”

Nate muttered a few more curses under her breath, finally finding her panties tangled up on the edge of the driver's seat in her comedown back to reality. She brushed past Roman as she crawled over into the front passenger seat, not even bothering to get out and walk round; it felt like the whole world knew she’d fucked up. Even something as minor as missing calls. It didn’t matter how small or meaningless something seemed—if Nate felt like she’d fucked up… then, by God, she fucked up.

Roman gave her a raised eyebrow, as though he wanted to say something, but she shot him a look that made it perfectly clear she was all business now.

“I’m calling her back,” she said firmly, pressing Becky’s number. Roman seemed like he was about to protest, but her warning glare, and his own common sense in knowing this really was important, kept it at bay. She hit the speakerphone button, ignoring his expectant look as the line rang.

All the while, Roman took the mature approach by leaving the car to walk around to the front seat. She caught a glimpse of him adjusting himself as he did, through the thin fog that settled over the driver’s window, before he smoothly slid back in. He proceeded to push his hair back up and tie it in a lazy little bun that still allowed half of his hair to hang down in what can only be described as a mini ponytail.

“Nate!”

The Irish twang caught Nate’s attention, and she swiftly turned her head away from Roman and back to her phone.

“Finally, ye answer. Thought I was wastin’ my time here, callin’ nonstop.”

“Sorry, I was….” she croaked, taking a moment to clear her throat. “I was with someone helping me on this.” She darted a quick glance at Roman, who watched her with mild amusement. Smug prat.

“Right…” Becky said with a note of curiosity. “Listen. I talked to my contact. He’s willing to share what he has. Says he’s got some files, things he’s kept to himself for almost a decade now.”

Nate felt a flicker of hope, despite the awkward start. “And… you believe this person to be reliable, yeah?”

“He might have the information you need,” the redhead replied somewhat hesitantly. “He just… doesn’t want anyone to know it’s come from him. So… for now, ye not going to find out who this person is, ‘kay?”

She furrowed her brow, once again glancing at Roman, who shared her perplexion. “I’m supposed to trust this guy, but I can’t know who he is? Is this a joke, Rebecca?” She could almost feel the cringe from the other end of the line at the use of Becky’s full name. 

“I’m sayin’ ye can trust him, so ye can trust him, Natalka,” Becky bit back. “I know for a fact he has things nobody else does, and it sounds like ye need serious help.”

Huffing and sitting back, Nate thought for a moment, running her tongue over her teeth. She wasn’t even sure why she was so concerned about the identity of this contact. She already snuck out of her own home to meet Roman Reigns, and then proceed to fuck him a second time after she specifically promised herself she wouldn’t do that, so why the fuck should she care about where information comes from anymore? 

Well, the answer is simple. Becky Lynch. The Irish. Even though she wasn’t even connected to her family’s dealings anymore, information Nate had only just learned a week prior, it was still a sore subject. Too many betrayals. Too many friends lost. Too many… too much… death.

“Becky,” Nate sighed, “Please just tell me who the guy is, I don’t know what you think I’m gonna do with his name.”

A pause lingered on the line, along with some rustling, before she heard a long exhale from Becky. “My husband. It’s my husband, Nate.”

“And his name would be….?” Nate trailed off.

“Seth. Seth Rollins.”

The name meant absolutely nothing to Nate, but she noticed Roman’s reaction out of the corner of her eye—like he’d just seen a fucking ghost outside the car.

She tried to focus on Becky’s reassurances that it would be fine, even as the energy in the car shifted dramatically. Roman’s expression had darkened into something bordering on feral, his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles twitched in time with the pulse beating in his temple. His hands rested on the wheel, but his gaze was distant, staring ahead like he was seeing far beyond the windshield. His eyes were sharp, glacial, the look of a man consumed by something deeper and more dangerous than mere anger—a buried intensity that might shatter given the slightest push.

“So,” Becky’s voice crackled through the speaker, “if I told you who I’ve got over here, I think it’s only fair you tell me who’s on your side.”

Glancing at Roman, Nate knew shit could go south fast if she said the wrong thing. But he was somewhere else entirely, locked in a place she couldn’t reach or… predict. With her only option being to think on her feet, Nate cleared her throat, injecting a hint of authority into her voice. “Becks, I can promise you this person’s very resourceful. He’s already done enough for me to know he’s being honest,” she took a quick look down at her leg, right at the area on her thigh that now bore a scar from a bullet and had once been tended to by the man in question. “No reason to worry.”

Becky paused, then pressed, only slightly more serious. “Nate… do you trust this person?”

Nate looked at Roman again, lingering this time. The question felt a little heavier than she wanted it to, but she had no choice but to answer honestly. Why wouldn’t she?

“I think I do.”

For a beat, the answer suspended in the space between them. It came out a lot softer than usual, almost vulnerable—a state she rarely allowed herself to fully fall into, not even when by herself. Certainly never around Roman. Good job he was still in his own world, distantly staring daggers into nothing ahead of him, but she did feel the shift in atmosphere. The way it seemed to… bend around the truth she had just spoken.

Just like that, Nate’s usual edge returned as she added dryly, “Besides… he doesn’t have much of a choice. He’ll go along with things whether he likes it or not.”

“Fine,” Becky replied, satisfied for the moment. “Then we’ll meet—all four of us, some place quiet. Can’t be havin’ too many eyes on us.”

“Trust me, I’m more than happy with that,” Nate laughed ruefully, once again reminded of the repercussions of being caught mingling with The Bloodline.

“Good. Seth will run through what he thinks is important, it might be relevant, it might not, but it sounds like it’s worth a shot… So, I’ll set it up, yeah?”

“Yeah, we’ll be there,” Nate nodded, and with a quick goodbye, she ended the call, her attention snapping back to Roman. His silence now seemed like an echo.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Alright, what the fuck’s wrong with you now?”

He didn’t answer. His jaw clenched tighter, and he gave her a sharp side glance, before starting the engine. “You wanna go back to that mansion of yours, or you wantin’ me to take you to Tribeca?”

Nate crossed her arms with a shrug. “Just take me home. Can’t be gone lo—”

“Wasn’t askin’ for your life story,” he cut her off.

She glared at him, unimpressed. “Right, didn’t expect you to care to listen to me anyway. Chertov pridurok…”

As they drove, her eyes tracked the streets and landmarks, noting that he wasn’t heading toward the usual route back to her home. The building started blurring into unfamiliar territory.

“Uh, are you lost, or just getting creative?” she muttered, half-joking, half-over this night.

“We’re takin’ the long way,” he curtly responded without paying her the respect of a glance.

She rolled her eyes, but her curiosity got the best of her. Before she could ask why, Roman’s voice came, low and gravelly, cutting through the silence like a knife, just as harshly as it did through the scowl on his face.

“Think it’s time I tell you a lil' somethin’ ‘bout Seth fuckin’ Rollins.”

[aarontveit]

i need direction to perfection

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[valgeristik]

twilight princess + skyward sword stuff ive been drawing the past few days for practice and for fun <3 (you can take TP link's mustache out of my cold, dead hands)

Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser List

E-sims donation

[fedoraspooky]

I haven’t been here long. What irritating changes have been made?

Credit where it's due, some changes have been good, like polls and stuff! But the big recent changes thus far that I would classify as irritating are:

- The UI change. This one may be less irritating for newcomers because it's basically the same layout as twitter and instagram, but for a lot of folks who've been here a long time, it feels cramped and like a loss of identity for the site. For many, the appeal of tumblr is that it ISN'T an algorithm hell like twitter or insta. Also, there's the annoyance of having to relearn where everything is, because it all got moved around.

- The users being lab rats for various tests the devs wanna pull out of nowhere without consenting to beta testing new site features- like the one that took away user icons on the dash for like half the site. They finally put them back after getting enough feedback that said NO, but users were so used to their feedback being disregarded that they were half expecting the change to be pushed through anyway.

- The Netflix tie-in advertising being pushed even to people who had PAID tumblr for a no-ads experience. Complete with them somehow thinking it would be a good idea to put an unescapable-by-scrolling spooky clown on peoples' dashboards that u had to use ublock to get rid of. While I'm not scared of clowns and often find them quite charming, it sucks that staff didn't take coulrophobia being a common fear into account.

- A wave of fully sfw trans posts being wrongfully marked Mature and staff doing little to nothing about it. Not sure if this is still ongoing, but it destroyed a lot of trust and good will. (LGBT+ users have been having to fight a constant war against censorship ever since the adult content ban on tumblr, so yeah... Nevar 4get the list of banned search words that would bring back no results, like 'girl')

- The site gradually moving away from customization. Tumblr is a BLOGGING site. But it seems to have lost sight of that fact, because most new users don't even know you can fully customize your blogs with css and stuff (an option that is now off by default for new accounts!), because of the in-dash viewer giving you only how blogs look on mobile, which is a lot more uniform. There, it's more like every other site- you get a banner and icon. Oh, but you can change colors and fonts from a drop-down list too, that's cool I guess. Though they recently took away custom color schemes on Message windows, just another little bit of personalization taken away.

- TUMBLR. LIVE. Basically tumblr teamed up with a skeevy dating app partner to allow for livestreams- but not the cool kinda livestreams like on twitch where you can draw or play games, no- to a site full of people who value anonymity, they decided to push phone cam only livestreams. Not only that but by agreeing to the terms, you're giving out tons of personal data including your location to said skeevy dating app partner and all of THEIR third-party ad partners. Needless to say, most people didn't wanna use it, so instead of users it's flooded by p*rn bots (which is ANOTHER issue we've been dealing with for a long time and have been getting an even bigger influx of FROM tumblr live) and scammers. And thus, since tumblr likes to put a carousel of current streams on people's dashes, you often get softcore p*rn thumbnails from the bot streams with no way to avoid it except for toggling off tumblr live entirely.

- Oh wait. That's right. You CAN'T toggle it off. Because you can only snooze it for a while until BAM, you're jumpscared by a carousel of ladies licking your screen again! But hey, at least they made the snooze 30 days instead of the 7 it used to be, right? Yeah, except for the fact that you can't get rid of the tumblr live button itself on the app anymore, and now it's front and center with a NEW notification tag on it, overlapping your dash and cramming useful stuff like the search button out of the way.

NOW- A lot of this stuff CAN be at least mostly fixed on desktop by installing ublock and xkit and tampermonkey + dashboard unfucker... But that's a lot of stuff just to make the site usable, you know?

[bunnihearted]

i cant fully control my emotions during a breakdown and then i come out of it and im like oh fuck........ ._.

[silusvesuius]

g*lmar rly has to be the best skajrim character on the real like even if you don't like him he just is . literally The best one i think......... on dat note i also imagine that he and ulfr*c despite being fairydust BFFs for lyfe genuinely have the worst communication skills ever seen

[boxwinebaddie]

UNCLE NINA WRITES WEIRD JK STAN LETTERS!

hello benevolent angel people!

( because you're wonderful but bc you're doing gods work by supporting my dead fanfic from hell. c:’ )

so this is a lil...experimental? but bc i've been dabbling on that one ask large lore ask that set before kyle knows raven of crimson dawn is his stan, i've gotten very attached to writing the silly jersey letters to dead stan in his journal again. ( again, nina lore is that it's what a friend had me do when my first cat passed away.

i still write to her. <3 )

but this is just something i wrote to get back into the habit of writing again. i put it on docs and i used a font which...okay? tbh, i think looks exactly like i want jk's handwriting to look. like its very swirly, he is my calligraphy king. i didn't proof it bc i just wrote...all of it tonight like a weird crazy person.

also i realize jk sounds...a lot like me

— but he Is me, tbh?

like in some facets i did give him lil pieces of myself so he could grow into an uber tall thicc as hell academic hot jersey talk shit get hit boy.

( i also do think he's a lot goofier with stan in his little letters esp since he doesn't think that anyone is going to read them they are just his lil vent space. let it out king! )

as for the timeline...i think it's pre!rm bonus content? like i dropped a little context about stuff that happened before the fic, but i think it's probably written anywhere in the last 1-2 years of rm before kyle went to that crimson dawn concert. i'm not sure what compelled me to write it i just...really like vulnerable jersey just being a jersey dirtbag but like kneeling by the stan shrine and asking for light.

speaking of...as far as triggers go. mostly the spelling is just bad, help, but jersey does talk a lot about stan dying and is very...distressed about it. he's also...really depressed and is not at the moment coping super well, but is reaching out for help. <3 always reach out for help when you need it. i didn't mention anything specific, but he does just mention thinking he's not a good person, feeling ugly, unworthy, lost, etc...TW FOR HIM BEING SO VULNERABLE AND CUTE ALSO.

he is...my secret loverboy prince.

he is my lo-...

my L-

anyways...ROLL CLIP!

[bmpmp3]

and theres also the scrolling format manhwa i so desperately want physically. they did it with raeliana PLEASE do it with a wicked tale of cinderellas stepmom PLEASE please

[isa-ah]

okay i wont be able to test the pattern or create any kind of walkthru until the end of the month when my fabric gets here, but heres the prototype plushie pattern that you can load into this website to look at the seams, names, recolor, print out etc if you want to play with it in the meantime =') ignore the piece count. ignore that. its not important. i like shapes

[emathevampire]

A Reconsecration in Blood and Twilight

Happy Pride to everyone, but especially to my beloved prince in horns Askalaphos and his blackguard, Solar, an NPC from our Ravenloft campaign.

Once a devout paladin of the Morning Lord, then of Mother Night after his death, corrupt rebirth, and subsequent fall from grace as he pursued power no matter the cost in the pursuit of vengeance against Strahd... the aasimar blackguard Solar now learns what it is to be true to his own heart as the newest disciple of Askalaphos, a fallen demigod son of Ares and former slave to the Abyss slowly regaining his own spark of divinity and sense of purpose as he seeks an escape from the mists of Ravenloft. None of this would have been possible, however, had their mutual annoyance friend Rixa not been dead-set on saving the both of them from themselves, despite their belief that this was a hopeless cause... or if they had not joined forces to save her in return when she was captured by her nemesis. A long and dangerous road still lies between them and victory over Strahd, the Dark Powers, and the corruption that stains their very souls, but walk it they shall... after all, nothing worth fighting for is ever easy.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING

[toytulini]

god I know this is like The Wrong Stance on AI. I know its not about whether the art is Real and Human or If It Has A Soul and how a lot of the arguments against it are the same bullshit arguments people made against digital art like I Know. I Knowwww. but god, I'm really sorry, not to post like one of those annoying poetry bloggers I cant stand (yall are valid, live your truth, theres nothing wrong with what you post I'm just a petty bitch who hates poetry. unless I dont hate it.)

But theres just something about the way AI art will almost certainly never be able to mimic the exact way my pencil leaves an indentation in the paper, the way some of the lines I can never fully erase cause I pressed too hard, theyll have to at least train them to draw with a physical pencil first, and sure, they could train it to draw with a pencil and even erase the exact same piece I drew, line for line, on a piece of paper with a robot arm powered by AI, but they can't replicate. idk. the lineage of lefty bitches in my family, and the way I grew up going through school with my entire left arm silver with graphite, from doodling on my schoolwork. not yet anyway. but I guess I do live for the day we make the ai sentient enough that we can traumatize it by giving it homework after kneecapping its executive functions so it copes by drawing a big tiddy lobster monster. sure

[deus-ex-mona]

winter 2k24, huh~~~~~~ _(:3 」∠)_

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i keep writing the same fics over n over again atp i’m just trying to see how many times i can get away w it until someone points it out …… :’3