#that beard looks good on chilly

[pernillecfcw]

It’s gameday tomorrow for the blues💙💙

[talaok]

Give up

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: Once again you've found an excuse to invite your neighbor over, except for once you might be able to make him look past your age difference and have a little fun.

Warnings: big ass unspecified age gap, Jackson!Joel is a softie and he's nervous and he's not so very sure about this bc of how old he is + he's out of practice. smut| oral (m and f receiving) and swallowing you know what. sub!Joel vibez all around

Pt. 2

This wasn't anything new.

The fact that he was coming over wasn't at all surprising to either of you.

You always found a way to be around him, and no matter how he ignored your every attempt at flirting- he never said no.

It had taken all of two minutes.

You'd knocked on his door, your best little skirt and tight little top on, and faked a pout as you told him:

"There's something wrong with the shower again Mr. Miller"

To his defense, Joel really tried not to stare at your ass as you walked right in front of him to guide him to your house, but that fucking skirt seemed more of a joke than anything.

You both knew there was nothing wrong with your shower, the switch that granted the hot water had just mysteriously turned itself off once again.

This had been going on for months now, since he first arrived in Jackson... since you knocked at his door that one chilly morning to introduce yourself to your new neighbor-

All it took was one look, and you were hooked.

He was gonna be yours.

"there- 's hot" he nodded, shutting the water off once he'd made sure it worked properly again, before drying his hands on his pants.

"thank you so much Joel" you smiled wider than necessary "What can I do to thank you?"

And no, you didn't even try to make your words not sound dirty, quite the opposite actually.

He cleared his throat, his eyes breaking from yours in a nervous shift.

You always did that- had this annoying effect on him.

"'s nothing darlin'" he shook his head, "didn't even take five minutes"

"Still- I feel like I owe you," you said, biting down a smirk

Shitshitshit

"How 'bout some cake?" you suggested just as he was about to have a stroke.

"sounds good"

__ __ __

"'s real good darlin'"

"thank you" you smiled happily, watching him clear his plate in under a minute

Yeah... you were a great baker, what can I say

"you want another slice?"

"You spoil me sugar," he laughed, patting his belly "I can't"

"alright" You couldn't help but softly laugh as you placed his plate in the sink.

You caught him looking away just as you turned around, which made you smile to yourself, a smile that only widened when you noticed the chocolate on the corner of his mouth.

"Oh Joel"

"Mh?"

You sat beside him at the table, your legs brushing against one another as you leaned closer.

"You've got something... right here"

You swiped the chocolate off with your pointer finger, making a show of popping it into your mouth to clean it.

His eyes remained transfixed on you as your tongue licked your digit clean until you were finally done with a loud pop.

"Jesus"

"What?" you smirked, knowing exactly what  "that gave you some ideas?"

"babygirl-" he stopped you immediately, shaking his head

"Oh c'mon Joel" you pouted, your hand going to rest on his forearm "What's a girl gotta do to get you to give up?"

He blinked, looking at you intently and nervously altogether.

"Why do ya even care about an old man like me sweetie?"

You couldn't help but laugh "Have you ever looked in a mirror, Joel?"

You swore you saw pink flood his cheeks- the man was blushing.

"Plus you're kind... and funny when you want to.... and you make me feel-" you bit your lip, trying to find the right word "safe... you make me feel safe"

He scratched his beard, but you couldn't help but notice he hadn't used the arm your hand was still on.

"'m sure there's boys here that are funnier and kinder and make you feel even safer babygirl" he spoke gently "Pretty sure most of them are prayin' you give 'em a chance actually"

You hummed, raising a brow

"but what if I don't want them?"

"You want an old man instead?" he huffed out a self-deprecating laugh.

You rolled your eyes "How old even are you?"

"old enough to be your father darlin'"

God, maybe there was something wrong with you, but those words only made your need for him burn harder.

"so?"

"so I ain't even supposed to look your way babygirl- it ain't right"

"But why?" you pouted "Shouldn't I get to have a say in what's right and wrong for me?"

He sighed, not really knowing what to answer to that.

"What if I don't care?" you spoke softly, your pointer finger on his chest, circling his pec "What if I like you, Joel? what if I wanted to show you just how much right now?"

"sweetheart" he started, shaking his head

"You'd stop me?"

And there it was, the pause... your way in.

"Joel?" you called for him, your voice sickly sweet "Would you?"

He couldn't do anything but tell the truth when you were looking at him like that.

"I don't think any man in his right mind could or would ever stop you darlin'"

Satisfaction took over your whole body.

"no?" you teased, grinning like a cat "Not even if he's old enough to be my father?"

He sighed, what looked like resignation in his eyes.

"I'm just a man sweetheart"

And that- that got him the biggest smirk ever known to man.

There was no sound, it was like the word got quiet as you stood up, placed your hands on his thighs, and slowly kneeled between his legs.

He didn't know what to do, he was genuinely frozen, torn between guilt and attraction, the need to let go, to finally do this- that his brain was short-circuiting.

You took advantage of his silence, making quick work of his zipper, and pulling down his boxers just enough to free his cock...

All your speculations got proven right there- he was huge.

"oh wow," you bit down a grin as you watched your fingers struggle to wrap around his whole base.

You gave him a tentative squeeze, and the strained groan rumbling from his chest was just about the hottest thing you'd ever heard.

"y-you- f-fuck"

You stopped him before he could start protesting, your tongue sliding slowly on his tip before leaving a little kiss right on top.

"You're so big" you hummed, your tongue licking him up from base to head, feeling every vein and twitch of his member.

He was looking down at you just as you looked at him, and he seemed... mesmerized, like he couldn't believe this was really happening, that this wasn't another one of the dreams he'd get about you at night, and that it was really your lips wrapping around him.

Goddamnit

You had barely a little more than his tip in your mouth and he was already gone- and I mean gone gone.

He couldn't even remember why he'd spent so long ignoring your not-so-subtle hints-

Just a minute ago he wanted to tell you that no, you don't gotta do that, and ask you sure about this? - But now... now all he could do was throw his head back as he realized that his lack of practice these past few years had really gotten to him, and that he already had to grab at the chair beneath him with all his strength as he tried not to come embarrassingly fast.

You hummed around his cock, and he couldn't stop his hips from thrusting upwards, a small choking sound fleeing your throat.

"goddamnit, 'm sorry baby-"

But the moment he looked down at you, he saw everything but anger... you seemed happy- you were begging him to do it again with your eyes.

But he couldn't, and part of you already knew that.

He shook his head slowly, still trying to think as straight as he could given the situation, but while he was busy with that... you settled for the next best thing... you forced his manhood down your throat all on your own.

The groan he let out was damn near feral.

You couldn't actually get all of it down there, it was the biggest dick you'd ever seen in your life after all, but you swore that with a little bit of practice (that he'd hopefully grant you), you'd get there.

Still, he didn't really seem bothered or in any way disappointed by your inability.

It was an indescribable feeling seeing this tough, rugged man shiver with pleasure before you, his eyes shut and knuckles white with the effort of gripping onto something.

"I- fuck"

He didn't even know what he wanted to say, he just... it felt so fucking good

Your head was back on bobbing up and down his length, and what used to be groans had turned to moans coming out of his mouth.

"Y-you've gotta-" he swallowed, his sentence interrupted by the feeling of your fingers playing with his balls.

"Y-you've got t-" to stop

But you were choking on his girth again

"I-'m gonna-" come

You watched him struggle with his words, his breathing, and his self-control with what would have been a huge smirk on your face if your mouth hadn't been so preoccupied.

You knew he was about to come already, it really wasn't hard to understand,

You also knew that if you stopped now there was a chance you'd get to do more later- but really, this was something too perfect to leave halfway done, and besides... you feared that if you went with your initial plan of straddling his lap and riding the man to heaven, you'd leave him traumatized.

So you didn't stop, you kept massaging his balls as you worked his dick in and out your mouth, ever so often forcing him as deep as you could and choking while drool and saliva dripped down your chin.

"J-Jesus, sweetheart- I-"

All his words came out in rugged breaths, barely coherent- his eyes were back on you, shadows of lust and need darkening his iris as his right hand went to your cheek, a gesture almost too sweet considering what you were doing.

"F-fuck"

And that was it.

He groaned so loud you probably could hear him from outside the house as he reached his climax, rope after rope of his come filling your mouth and throat.

Joel Miller had come in your mouth... and it couldn't have been any more perfect.

You didn't take your eyes off him for one second. You greedily swallowed all his spent as he breathed heavily, eyes still closed.

His dick was softening in your hand as you pulled his boxers back on top of it, a little wave of disappointment washing over your gut.

It's ok, I'll see it again soon

Just as you were plotting exactly how you were gonna get in his pants in the future, his voice startled you

"I-I don't know what to say"

A soft smile pulled at your lips

"You don't have to say anything" you reassured him as you sat back on your chair, your eyes inevitably falling back to where his boxers peeked from the unfasted fly.

"now- I won't keep you hostage any longer, 'm sure you have important stuff to do back at your house"

The frowns on his forehead deepened as his eyebrows came together in confusion.

"What?"

Now you were confused.

"I'm just saying- thank you for... this" You bit down a smile "You know how long I've been wanting it- and you can bet your ass we're doing it and more, again and again, and again" his eyes widened an almost imperceptible amount and you had to stifle a laugh "but... I'm letting you free for tonight"

He took his time to say something.

Silence wrapped around you for a good minute before he was able to mumble something.

"sweetheart-" he cleared his throat to try and clear his thoughts "I-I dunno how you're used to... bein' treated, but this ain't over"

A spark of excitement ignited in your belly

He couldn't mean...

"unless you want it to be, of course"

Oh my

"I definitely don't want it to be" you hastily spoke, almost breathless "but I would like to know what you... mean"

I mean, not to be prejudiced, but you very much doubted he could get it up again so quickly given his... well, age.

He cleared his throat again and you finally realized it was just a nervous tic and he didn't actually feel the need to.

"You should be on a bed" he avoided your question

You couldn't help but smile as you got up

"Such a gentleman"

"that's the last word that comes to mind right now" was all he grumbled

__ __ __

"sit"

that's all he said, and now there you were, sitting on your bed as he looked at you with a mix of lust and uncertainty.

Until he finally did it- he crouched between your legs.

He cleared his throat again, and you felt on the urge of cumbusting.

he was gonna eat you out

You'd only ever done this once, and even then you had to basically beg the guy, just for him to be god-awful at it.

Somehow you had a feeling Joel wasn't gonna be bad at all.

"You sure about this, yeah?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

He could probably ask you to put it up your ass and you'd say yes.

"Yes Joel, I'm 100% positive"

He gave you a little nod, and his hands- his big, strong hands- went to your thighs.

You watched him as if he'd disappear at any moment as he slowly- oh so very slowly- took your skirt off.

He swallowed tightly as his eyes fell on your clothed cunt.

If you didn't know any better you would have guessed he was holding his breath as he got rid of your panties.

"Jesus Christ"

I shouldn't be doing this- I really shouldn't be fucking doing this.

She's not even half my age- she's a kid for god's sake- I'm fucking disgustin-

Every single thought in his mind turned to dust the moment you spread your legs- the moment your wet, drenched, pussy came fully into view.

"Y-you-"

he didn't even remember what he wanted to say- and he didn't remember when his thumb had decided to find your folds, but it had.

He heard a whimper leave your mouth and he felt his cock twitch in his pants, hardening again.

It usually took him a whole fucking hour to get hard again

He looked up at you, and you looked hotter than ever before.

Your cheeks were flushed, your bottom lip was between your teeth, and you looked so... perfect.

"I haven't done this in a- while"

As he spoke those words he hoped you'd think he only meant this... as if you'd actually care about how he hadn't gotten laid in years.

"'s ok Joel" you nodded, smiling encouragingly.

He swallowed again, his gaze slowly lowering.

He couldn't believe you were this wet for him- a pretty thing like you.

His thumb moved, gently sliding up and up and up, until he found your clit, earning another little moan.

Fuck

He circled the little bud, and your cries got a little higher and he swore- he swore going to hell was worth it, worth this.

He had to taste you- fuck, he'd been dreaming about the taste of you since he first saw you- So with all the carefulness in the word, he bent down, his lips finding your soft thighs.

He could see your belly inflate and deflate with your exited breaths as he kissed his way closer and closer to your heat, until he was right there, and he couldn't help but leave a kiss on your mound, on the hair covering it so very nicely.

"Joel-" your voice was strangled "please"

If it had been twenty years ago he would have said something cocky like "'s ok baby, it's coming", his whole demeanor would have been very different too. He used to be in charge in the bedroom, always- he used to feel smug and sure of himself, but now... now he was old and out of practice, and he was... he was nervous.

But all it took was to look up at you, at those beautiful pleading eyes, to find the courage.

You wanted this. You wanted him.

And you tasted better than he could have ever fucking imagined.

A deep, feral groan rumbled in his chest as his tongue passed between your folds, as he gathered all your slickness on his taste buds, all that sweet sweet juice that felt like fucking heaven.

Yeah, now I remember why I used to love this so much

You were moaning like a desperate little thing above him, your thighs squeezing his face as your feet clung to his torso.

And he was gripping the outside of your legs, keeping you as close to him as humanly possible, his face as deep in your core as it would go.

His nose was rubbing against your clit in a way that made you see stars, and he was still lapping, not focusing on anywhere in particular, just aimlessly and desperately feeding off of you.

"Oh my god Joel-" you gasped as two of his fingers found their way inside of you.

His movements were slow, he didn't wanna hurt you, and he wanted to find what made you feel good, which is why he kept exploring until his digits curled up into that sweet cushy part of you, and he felt you squeeze him as you threw your head back.

"f-fuck!"

Your left hand had traveled to his locks, gripping them tightly as your hips frantically moved against his face to try and seek more.

His mouth was focusing only on your clit now, thoroughly sucking on it- and just when you thought this couldn't get any better, that this was the most pleasure you'd ever experienced and there was no way he would be able to top this- another one of his big, thick fingers pushed into you.

The cry you let out was something Joel would be thinking of until he was six feet under.

Three of his fingers were so much more than what you were used to.

"J-Joel" you whimpered actual tears staining your vision as you looked down at him "Oh my fucking g-god Joel"

Your gut had been right. He was really fucking good at this

He was watching you, studying every little face you made as the squelching of his fingers moving inside of you filled the room together with your moans.

"I-I'm coming"

You could barely finish the sentence that the world went bright, and the purest pleasure you'd ever felt erupted in your body with a million different blasts.

For a whole minute, you were in another universe- and Joel eagerly enjoyed the show, not stopping his movements for even a fraction of a second.

You feared the moment you opened your eyes you'd wake up in your bed after yet another dream about this man- and yet he was still here, looking up at you with only adoration in his eyes.

He couldn't help but steal another little kiss on your core before he leaned away.

"well... wow" you smiled like an idiot, your breathing still a little labored "You know what you're doing Mr. Miller"

He didn't say anything, but you saw pink flush his cheeks again as he let your legs go, robbing you of his touch.

You would have been disappointed if it wasn't for the fact he was very clearly having trouble not having his gaze fall down to your heat.

You smiled to yourself as you accepted the skirt he quietly handed you.

Seeing you standing before him with it on when he knew you were bare and wet underneath made Joel's brain freeze for a moment, but that was of course, until you stood on your tiptoes, and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"thank you for this Joel"

Your voice was so sweet it sounded angelic to his ears- but the sweetness was replaced by something very different very quickly.

As you stood back down to your normal height, your body, being flushed against Joel's, came in contact with something that very much piqued your interest.

he was hard- very fucking hard

"no babygirl"

he was already shaking his head, crushing all your dreams

"but-"

"I can't" his tone was firm, although you could still hear restraint behind his words, like it was costing him a lot to say no.

"It feels to me like you very much can" you rebutted, smirking softly.

"I- it ain't right"

Oh my god

It took a lot not to roll your eyes "I thought we were past that whole thing" you said, cocking an eyebrow "Do I need to remind you what you were doing just a minute ago?"

"that's different"

"How?"

"it just is"

"what if I beg you Joel?" you purred, your best doe eyes looking up at him "What if I told you about how much I'd like to feel your cock inside of me? How desperate I am for it, Joel- how much I need it"

He was gonna go home and punch himself in the face for what he was about to say.

But it was true, he couldn't. It wasn't right- he needed... to think about it at least

"darlin'" he spoke softly "I can't... not right now"

there it is

The smirk that pulled at your lips was the most mischievous thing in the world.

"right now" you repeated his words, biting your lip as you played with the hem of his flannel "I can live with that- but Joel...don't even think this is over"

[rqnarok]

LATCH | pervy!old man!logan x fem!reader

summary: you come up at logan at night and he finally gives in to his desires. 

content warnings/tags: smut, mdni! little to no plot. old man!logan. unspecified age gap. soft dom!logan. sub!reader. pervy!logan. pet names (kid, kiddo, little girl, princess, etc). logan calls himself ‘old man’. fingering (f receiving). innocence kink. not proofread. wc: 1,5k

Logan Howlett is not a good man. 

“I’m not a good man, sweets.”

He has not been a good man in years. 

Still, when he scoops your sobbing figure in his arms on that day at the X-Mansion, he feels like a good man. 

“C’mon. Let’s go, kid. I’ll take care of you.”

Ever since then, you look up to him as if he is some kind of savior. A hero. A good man. 

And he starts to believe that. 

At first, it started oh, very casual—innocently. By working himself to death for the sake of your comfort. Earning money so that he could see that smile on your pretty face when he gives you gifts: new dresses, books, food—anything you want, really. He’d give it to you.

You walk up to him one Friday, showing your brand new sundress that you bought using his money, “Logan! It fits me so well, don’t cha think?”

The sight of you twirling around and giggling in front of him is enough to be his bad-day-cure, “Spin one more time, princess. Don’t have my glasses on.” 

He lies. He just wants to catch a glimpse of your cottoned panties in the process. 

Logan perceives himself as a sick fuck when he starts seeing you in that way. But hey, he did say that he is not a good man, right?  

He tried to control it, he really tried. Composing himself and creating some moral values in his head in an attempt to be in charge of his corrupted desires. 

But Logan forgot one simple thing: he can control himself all he wants, but he could never control you. 

You may be content but you are far from stupid.

It takes you months to perfect this mastermind plan—or so you call it. This mischief came into you when you decided that you had enough of Logan and his games. You know he yearns for you and you feel the same way, too. 

He peeks over you so… hungrily and thinks you wouldn’t notice? 

When you confront him about it one morning, he nonchalantly brushes it off by letting out a dry chuckle and mutters something around, “What ya’ talking ‘bout, kiddo? Go ‘head finish your breakfast.”  

But you know! You always catch his yearning gazes and… hear him over the shower one time. Moaning and grunting your name when he thought you were out buying the weekly groceries. It upsets you that he does not give in. 

So then, you concluded that you will determine to bring his temptation up to the surface and break his poor self-control through this little contemplation of yours. 

It takes a while to gain your courage and when you finally creep up into Logan’s room, the clock on the wall ticks at half past two in the morning. 2:30 AM. 

Logan said he’d take care of you, right? Said he’d do anything for you, right? Well, you need him now, “Logan? Logan? It hurts.” You whisper into the chilly air as you shake him up from his deep slumber.

And y’know, he’s a tired old man—so it takes him a while to wake up. He grabs his glasses from the nightstand beside him and slides them right on. When Logan sees you standing sleepily before him in your nightie gown, Good Lord. 

“Hey, hey—what’s goin’ on, princess?” You’re all teared up and your lips are bitten red. You look heavenly in the shaft of moonlight that slips through the window and into Logan’s bedroom. 

Your actions speak for themselves as you make your way onto his lap and nuzzle into his greying beard. “Tell your old man what’s got you so upset. C’mon.” He wants to take a good look at your face but you are so latched to him—snuffling into his broad shoulder all gloomy and wretched. 

“Hurts so bad.” You repeat yourself as your arms make their way around his neck. “Hurts, Logan.” 

“Hm? What hurts?” 

Pure silence as your little fingers wrap around Logan’s wrist and place it on your knee. Then, you’re guiding him up up up and he knows where this is going but he could not stop it. 

Fuck. He curses himself. Should’a know you’d pull some shit like this.

Finally, you stop his large calloused hand on top of your pussy. It’s heating up. Logan can feel the warmth of your cunt through your thin white cotton panties—his middle finger twitches with the urge to palm you. But no. That’s not what a good man should do. He tries to remember all the moral values he has created in his head while he sighs deeply and closes his eyes. 

“Kiddo-”

“Want to cum, please, Logan.” You take his face in your hands in the way that you always do and his hand is still on top of your clothed mound. “Please…! You said you’d help me, take care of me. I’ll be good, promise. Please.” His eyes open and he looks at your big eyes then your lips then your eyes again. That’s when you know you had him. “Hurts.” 

With half-lidded eyes, you watch Logan lose his composure, “Yeah? You’d be good f’me?” His head goes forward as he pampers your face with gentle kisses and you gulp because you don’t know what to do now. 

“Why don’t you lay down and let me take a look?” 

His scent combination of beer, whiskey, and cigars lingers around you as you rest your aching body on his bed. Looking up at him all mesmerized and lust-filled. 

Logan tries to soften his features for you. He thinks the heave of your chest moving up and down, up and down is one of the most beautiful things he has ever seen. He said he’d take care of you and that’s all he’s doin’ now. Taking care of his pretty baby. 

“C’mon. Open up to your old man.” He says, patting the sides of your thighs to part. And you did what you’re told, revealing the wet spot of your panties, and Logan curses. Mutters something under his breath. 

“You’ve been touching yourself here, Little Missy? That’s what got you dripping?” You throw your head back and huff a breathy ‘ah’ at the feel of his big fingers rubbing circles along the slick. Logan wants you to sing for him, “Use your big girl words, c’mon.” 

“Y-yes! Been touching myself…” Your red cheeks heat up at your own answer, suddenly feel so little. Logan hums deeply at your reply, hooking his fingers at one side of your panties and pulling them aside. Oh, he can tell. “Mhm.”

You were in a moment of bliss until he stopped his movement and brought your panties back to its original place, “Show me.” 

“L-Logan…” you respond by shaking your head erratically. Nononono— this isn’t a part of your plan. This becomes humiliating. No way. 

“What d’ya mean no, princess?” Logan grins—he knows you’re playing something and he is not going to lose so easily. “You want me to take care of you, yeah? Gotta show your old man what you were doin’ so he knows what he can do.” 

Well, he is not wrong. You let a huff defeatedly and roll yourself onto your front, shoving one of Logan’s pillows between your plushy thighs. And Logan is bewitched and hypnotized and fuck, so hard. His cock sticks up in his boxers briefs it hurts. 

Through his lens, he attentively watches every move you make: how your nightie gown hikes up to your chest and reveals a glimpse of your breasts, how you roll your hips in circles, how you throw your head back up facing the ceiling. The noises you make—sounds he not-so-accidentally heard when he passes your room at night when he comes home from work. This is what you've been doing? 

“Aight’. I know the problem is, sweets.” You slow down your movements as you gaze at him all doe-eyed. He places his palm on your back to still you. Your head lulls back and forth as you wait for his guidance. 

“You need something inside. Have you had something inside, baby?” He turns you to him oh, so delicately as if you are something fragile. 

You shake your head slightly at his question, suddenly embarrassed. Logan is so hard at this. He can't hold back anymore. “I see. ‘S alright, little girl. Lean on top of me. I’ll show you how it’s done. Y’ just need to trust your old man, yeah?” 

And you do. You always do. You love him. 

He smiles down at you, showing the wrinkles and scars on his face. “I love ya’. Give me some sugar first. Let me kiss ya’.” 

The kiss is more than just a distraction. It’s a repetition of him saying I love ya’ through his actions. What comes next is new to you, his large fingers probing at your entrance as you hiss and whimper and sob. Logan eases you open while kissing your inner thighs, letting you feel his scruffy beard. Raining you with his sweet praises, “Oh, that’s a good girl, alright. My sweet girl.” 

Then it leads you to it. The main purpose of your plan here in the first place. 

The clothes you both had on are thrown all over the floor as he hovers above you, taking off his glasses—placing kisses everywhere he can reach. “Y’want it?” And the tip of his cock finally nudges between your folds in an aching stretch and you mewl.

“Your old man’s gonna take care of you.” 

He always does.

[eccentricallygothic]

| Older |

Pairing: Boyfriend's Dad!John Price | Son's Girlfriend!You.

Description: Guys your age just aren’t the same.

Warning(s): Infidelity, age gap, Cap being a badass, teasing, thumb sucking, stuffie riding, Daddy kink, Cap smokes, allusions to biting, little boob play, lowkey intimidation kink bc it's me, power imbalance-ish. MDNI. 

Note: I, infact, am not sorry. I guess the son and Reader are in college/uni? Ps, Barry Sloane is becoming an obsession. HELP!  

MASTERLIST

. . . 

It wasn't supposed to happen and you didn't mean for it to.

Not at first, anyways. 

But your boyfriend's good natured, authoritative, brave and yet mysterious dad was always so calm and cool and laid-back with a cigarette dangling between his lips and his thick maney arms and tattoos that often hid under his shirts. He always knew what to say and what to do. Nothing was a big deal to him and he always had your boyfriend's back in the most warm and wholesome way. He was a man who understood how to take care of things and he knew everything and you were convinced there was not a problem he didn't know his way around.

At first it was curious glances on your part, then it was friendly and innocent grazes on his. It moved onto lasting looks and then longing touches. The two of you never said a word, though. No. There was no address, no discussion. Just a chilly day when you had been a little cold and your boyfriend hadn't been home. 

Class had been a little too upsetting and your boyish partner had been too caught up in his own worries. You had been in need of comfort and some big love and John had been your knight in shining armor. He had come around looking for his son in that truck of his, sensed your distress, sat beside you and reassured you like no one had ever before. His gentle voice and careful caressing was something you'd never forget. However, your other memories of that day were foggy, you were not sure whether it was out of how small your mind had become or due to the burning guilt of what it had started. But one thing had led to another and one moment you were nuzzling into his warm arms, then your soft cheek was rubbing against his beard, next your noses were touching and then your lips were on each other’s, his mustache tickling your skin as he had went about exploring you with his scarred manly hands. So on and so forth, it hadn't stopped from that day on.

Time was against the two of you and every minute was valuable. 

But that didn't stop the Captain from being an absolute tease who often brought tears to your eyes. 

Like he was doing right now. 

“Daddy, please…” You whined as you rocked yourself harder on the soft toy, your baby blue dress bunching on your thighs that were covered in his bite marks -thank God your boyfriend was out of town on a school errand- as your hair fell about your face. “Hnng…” Your hips ached a little from the strain you were putting on them but the heat scorching your loins was way too compulsive for you to even think about stopping. 

John's heavy form was relaxed against the headboard as he lazily took another drag of his cigarette, cool eyes watching you almost casually. “What is it, babygirl?” You whined at the name he used and how the baritone of his voice drilled into your soul as he did so, causing for more slick gush out of you as a result. “Hm?” Your pussy was so puffy and needy. 

“Need you, Daddy, please!” You cried out your plea, feeling yourself on the verge of tears. 

“You do?” You vigorously nodded to his raised eyebrow. John snorted before tilting his head to one side and shrugging. “I don't know, baby” you pouted at his words, gulping a thick bile down your parched throat. Your lips were so dry. “Mr. Octs looks quite cozy tucked in between your pretty little thighs” it didn't matter what you looked like, he had a way of always making you feel like the smallest most precious thing alive. 

“But Daddy!” Your protest transformed into a moan midway.

The soldier exhaled a white cloud of eye watering smoke, his eyes squinting as he did so. “Aw,” he chuckled, leaning forward to finger your hair away so he could look at you better. “But what, precious?” His eyes darkly flickered down to your flushed lips and he connected the poisonous stick to his lips again, its lit end glowing a bright amber as he did so. 

“W- Want you!” You were dangerously close but it wasn't enough. “Want you o- only!” You needed him most, always. 

“You do?” He feigned surprise as his voice strained due to how he pushed the cloudy venom into his lungs.

“Yes!” You couldn't believe it. You were doing a hell of a job at showing him what he appeared to be dubious about. He was too mean. But that was exactly what you loved so much about him; the perfect mix of strict and soft.

John shrugged. “I don't believe you.” 

Your eyes widened. “Please!” Your voice became a little too agitated and the man looked at you a bit dangerous now. 

One of his eyebrows raised. “Please… what?” 

Your pussy clenched. God. He was too much. Your chest that spilled over the neckline because of how he had pulled your dress down ached from how it was heaving. “Please, D- Daddy…” A satisfied half smile quirked one side of his mouth up. “Please, n- need you…”

“Yeah?” He cupped one side of your face and collected the half tear that threatened to trickle down your face. 

It was a sign. You must show him. Daddy needed to be earned.

So you obediently wrapped your lips around the thumb he pushed in your mouth after tracing its shape with his rough thumb pad, exhaling through his nose as his eyes squinted again and the sight made you moan. You felt your cheeks hollow as your lips made an embarrassingly loud squeaking sound but you were way too far gone. 

“Oh, baby” John chuckled as he looked down at how you were animalistically grinding against the plushie. Your knees were getting tired and you were desperate. You needed him to lay you down or bend you over or put you on your side and take you until you were full and sore from his girth. “You are drowning Mr. Octs down there” his dirty words both added to the heat in your cheeks and between your legs. You moaned out loud and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

“Pweeee—” you tried to plead but his thumb alone was too much for you. You were just a little girl after all. You gagged. 

“Is that how you'll suck me dry, baby? You will be good like that for me?” He watched your glittery lip gloss coat his digit as he took a small suck of his dying cigarette. You hoped with everything you had for him not to light a new one. You eagerly nodded. “Gonna be good for your Daddy?” You meweled out a yes, feeling a cold droplet of sweat trickle down the side of your face.

“Mmm” he snuffed out the cigarette in the glittery ashtray that you had bought for him in secret and hid in your boyfriend's presence -since he didn't smoke and neither did you- like your life depended on it. “And how would you like Daddy to be good to you?” The remainder of the smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke.

“Nnng” John pumped his thumb in and out of your lips now. You settled the plushie in a slightly different position so you could free one hand. “Dada~” you lisped out through his digit as you cupped your pussy before moving to your ass and squeezing it before giving yourself a light spank, the twinge of pain bringing you to your orgasm and you threw your head back, feeling your thighs violently shake as you rubbed your cunt hot on Mr. Octs' belly, feeling your insides boil over with the sweet turbulent pleasure.

“Good girl,” the Captain praised as he unplugged your mouth to shrug his flannel off. “You did such a good job for Daddy” your hands desperately darted to your boobs as you squeezed them and pinched the nipples to show him how you wanted them to be treated. Although you knew right then that John would do better and more. He always did. It was the reason why you betrayed your loving boyfriend the way you did. “Now lay back for Daddy and let him take care of you.”

You obeyed but your mouth began to run from the sensitivity and need. “I— Daddy— I—”

“Hey,” the old(er) man pushed you further down with one of your boobs and then crawled over you like a vulture. “Shut up” he softened the blow of his words with a soft kiss, making your upper lip tickled with his bushy mustache. “I got this” he knew you had nothing valuable to say. Your mind just ran too fast sometimes. Fortunately, you had your boyfriend's dad to take the weight off your shoulders. “I got you.” 

. . . 

I appreciate feedback, reblogs and thots. Let's cry about our Daddy together <3 

[enwoso]

IS THAT REALLY HIM? — alessia russo x child!reader

twelve days of christmas | day 3

based on this request

"guess what auntie ella!" you shouted from your car seat in the back as your mummy was on facetime to ella, alessia parked in a car park outside of a shopping centre. the weather cold and frosty as the clouds were white as if they were filled with snow.

"what tiny?" ella laughed as your mummy moved the phone so you were in the camera as you poked your head over the top of your mummy's.

"i'm going to see santa!" you grinned excitedly as a over excited gasp came from ella as your mummy watched on the interaction with a warm smile on her face.

"no way, and you didn't think to invite me!" ella scoffed jokingly as you giggled then going on to tell ella she was too old to see santa that digging into ella a little as another gasp came from her and now both you and your mummy were laughing.

"too old! i'm younger than your mum i'll have you know!" ella quipped back as you jokingly stuck your tongue out at the manchurian as you moved to sit back in your car seat, your ipad playing a video you'd been watching previously.

“she’s very excited, if you can’t tell” alessia joked as ella hummed still in her small strop at your cheekiness of calling her old.

as the two caught up for a little, talking about their days them both differing slightly as ella still lived in manchester and alessia had obviously moved back down south.

you sitting patiently in your car seat listening in every few minutes before zoning back into your programme, you leg tapping against the seat as excitement filled you at the thought of meeting santa!

-

finally getting around to the christmas market as the air was thick smelling of cinnamon and pine as alessia led you by the hand through the bustling area.

you skipping beside your mummy in your red trainers, your blonde hair tucked under a knitted beanie your nonna had gotten you when the weather had turned cold.

the sound of christmas music drifted through the chilly air and the faint glow of fairy lights made the whole world seem magical.

alessia walking with her other hand that wasn't holding yours shoved deep into her coat pocket as a smile appeared on her face as she listened to you chatter excitedly about everything you saw along the way.

"mummy, look! there's a reindeer!" you gasped, pointing to the plastic statue near one of the market stalls.

"it's not a real one, lovie" your mummy told you gently as she crouched down to your level, "but if your really good, then maybe we can see the reindeer when we visit santa"

your eyes went wide as you jumped up a little trying to contain your excitement as your mummy laughed brushing a stray hair from out of your face. "but you have to promise to be on your best behavior. can you do that?"

you nodded, nodding so energetically with excitement that your beanie slipped down over your eyes making the world go dark for a few minutes before alessia adjusted it back to where it had previously been sat on your head with a small chuckle.

but when you reached the grotto, you froze. the excitement had worn off as you took in the scene in front of you: santa's workshop all decorated with oversized candy canes, toys and trickling fairy lights.

and at the center of it all sat santa himself, a jolly man with white beard and red suit waving cheerfully to all the children in line.

you tightening your grip on your mummy's hand as you looked up to her a nervous look in your eyes, "mummy.. is that really him?"

"of course it really him lovie" alessia smiled, her voice soft, "he's going to ask if you've been good this year and then you can tell him what you'd like for christmas"

your brows furrowed at her words, you weren't fully convinced, "what if he doesn't like me?" a pout appearing on your lips

your mummy's heart melted at your sweet innocence as she moved to kneel down to your height again. resting her hands on your small shoulder. "santa will love you, because you're amazing. and if your feeling shy — mummy is right there with you, okay?"

you gave a small shy nod as your courage seemed to return ever so slightly. so when it was your turn, your mummy and you approached santa together. you walked slowly as you stuck close to your mummy’s side.

“well, hello there!” santa said so jolly and warmly, leaning slightly forward in his chair, “and who do we have here?”

you a little hesitant as you looked up to your mummy who was smiling reassuringly as her head nodded slightly, “go on, tell him your name”

“i’m y/n, but people call me tiny” you said in a small voice as your hands clasped tightly together, a nervous smile on your face.

“what a lovely name” santa said, smiling as you moved a little closer moving away slightly from the comfort of your mummy’s side, “and have you been a good girl this year, y/n?”

you nodded quickly, before adding “i help mummy all the time when she loses her football boots and i clean up my toys.. sometimes”

alessia. stifled a laugh as she watched you grow in confidence a little, “she’s been very good”

santa chuckled as he hummed for a little, “well, that’s wonderful to hear, now y/n what would you like for christmas?”

your eyes lip up as you were now just inches away from santa, close enough you could definitely touch his gloved hand. “um a barbie doll.. and a bike.. oh and um for arsenal to win the league, please?”

santa grabbed his list, writing it down as he looked at you with a raised brow at your last request, “a barbie doll, a bike and the last one i um may have to get back to you on that”

“thank you santa!” you grinned, your initial nerves had gone out the window as you hugged santa before leaving as he handed you a candy cane and a small toy which you clutched tightly in your hands.

as the two of you walked out of the grotto, your hand back in your mummy’s as you were practically bouncing with excitement.

"mummy, did you see? santa liked me!"

your mummy laughed as she lifted you up into her arms, your small present from santa still wrapped in your arms as your smile never left your face. “i told you he would. you were so brave”

“does that mean i made it on the nice list” you asked as alessia hummed as she carried you back through the hustle and bustle of the christmas markets the strong smell of cinnamon still ever present.

the entire way back to the car you babbled your way about how you couldn’t wait to tell all your aunties about how you met santa, the real one at that!

alessia smiling as she listened, knowing this is what christmas was about, love, magic and making memories to last a lifetime.

[loafysainz]

the parent trap (remake) | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction & remake

chap 1, chap 2, chap 3, chap 4, chap 5, chap 6, chap 7, chap 8, chap 9

PART 8 MEETING DAD

As Mattia stepped off the plane, the warmth of Spain hit him like a wave. He felt both excited and nervous, his heart pounding in his chest. Clutching his suitcase, he scanned the crowd, and then, he saw him.

“Dad...” he whispered, trying to hold back the emotions welling up inside him.

Carlos Sainz Jr. appeared, effortlessly cool in a Cowboy outfit, looking every bit the part. As soon as he spotted Mattia, his face broke into a huge smile. He took off his sunglasses, eyes sparkling. “Hey, Matheo! Welcome home!”

Without a second thought, Mattia sprinted toward him, and as soon as he was close enough, Carlos crouched down and spread his arms wide. “Come here and give me a hug!”

Mattia’s eyes filled with tears as he flung himself into his father’s strong arms. “Finally… It’s you!” he said through his tears, smiling so widely his cheeks hurt.

Carlos picked him up while he was spinning around, with his son in his arms, after that he looked him in the eyes, laughing. “How was camp? Hope it was awful, ‘cause you’re not going back! I missed you too much.”

Mattia wiped his tears with the back of his hand, smiling up at his dad. “I missed you more.”

Carlos ruffled his hair, but looked at him strangely, when he remained somewhat silent. He always remembered that his son was quite expressive when telling stories. “Is something wrong, Chilli?” looking at him curiously. “Hold on... Is it just me, or are you getting taller?”

Mattia blinked in surprise. “What? No, it’s nothing, Dad! I just missed you,” he said quickly, trying to hide his nervousness.

Carlos just give him a warm smile. “Me too. Chilli.”

Mattia couldn’t help but smile. “Dad, how are Chessy and the others?” Mattia asked between the half hug and his way to the car, “Oh, they’re at home, anxiously waiting for you. A Chessy living in hysteria has ended her days. She miss you so much.”

Carlos looked at his son, who was looking at him strangely. “What's wrong? Did I shave too much? I didn't mean to cut off all my beard.”

“It's nothing dad, you really look good, even though you look like a cool cowboy" Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Well, seeing you for the first time is... well, I mean seeing you for the first time after the a month that passed.”

Mattia was nervous and didn't want to ruin the plan. Carlos kept looking at him and the boy felt more nervous. “Suddenly I feel like you're taller, dad.”

Carlos chuckled, patting him on the back. “Well, let's get home, little Chilli. Chessy and Sammy are waiting for you.”

****

Once in the car, it was a long drive for Mattia. But he loves the beautiful view outside, it was really great for him.

Carlos glanced over at his son, who sat beside him in the car, “So, how’s everything going, Chilli?” Carlos asked, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. “I remember someone promising me letters... but nothing ever showed up.”

“I am glad that I give you that chilli keychains, so you will never forget me” He continued.

God, Mattia didn’t know if his twins had promised to send Dad some letters, because they’re busy planning everything to go perfectly. Mattia scratched the back of his head, a nervous grin on his face. “Well, we were really busy Dad...,” he stammered, his voice trailing off as he tried to think of an excuse.

“Were we?” Carlos repeated curiously.

“I mean, me and my friends with camp and all, Dad. Oh, and I met this nice boy there. We got along so well—just... we kinda like brother’s”

Carlos chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Since when are you so polite, Matheo?” He finished with a smile as he remembered his twin brother.

Mattia shot his dad a playful look. "What? I’m polite! You know, ... it's all part of growing up."

Carlos was about to say something more when he noticed Mattia nervously chewing on his nails. He reached over, lightly grabbing his hand. “You still biting your nails, huh?”

Mattia blinked, taken by surprise. “How did you notice that, Dad?”

Carlos grinned. “How could I not? You’ve been doing it for 9 years.”

“Ugh, yeah! But I’ll stop! It’s a horrible habit, I swear,” Mattia groaned, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Carlos laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Nice boy, a horrible habit. Seriously, what camp did I send you to? A finishing school?”

Mattia burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Sorry, Dad, it’s just... I didn't realize I was doing it.”

Carlos smirked. “So, why do you keep saying 'Dad' at the end of every sentence, huh?”

Mattia’s face softened as he glanced out the window. “Ugh I... I don’t realize that, Dad" he admitted, his voice quieter.

Carlos looked at him out of the corner of his eye, trying not to laugh,

“But Dad, do you want to know why I say ‘Dad’ all the time?”

Carlos made a sly smile at that “Because you missed your old man so much, right?”

Mattia looking at his dad, with his smile and his big brown eyes like his dad eyes. “Exactly. It's because in my whole life, I mean, you know, for the past month, I was never able to say the word Dad. Never. Not once. And if you ask me, I mean, a dad is an irreplaceable person in a boy’s life. Think about it. There’s a whole day devoted to celebrating fathers. Just imagine someone's life without a father. Never buying a Father’s Day card, never sitting on their father’s lap, never being able to say, hi, Dad, or what's up, Dad, or catch you later, Dad. I mean, a baby’s first words are always, Dada, Dad, aren't they?

Carlos’s expression shifted as he processed Mattia's words. “Let me see if I get this. You miss being able to call me Dad?”

"Yeah," Mattia said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I really do, Dad." Carlos’s heart swelled with warmth as he tried not to show his emotion.

Okay now he like wanted to cry, but when Mattia noticed his dad gaze, “God, God, don't make things up!" he said when he saw the large estate in he said when he saw the large estate in the distance.

"Now you're the same Mattia as before," Carlos said, amused.

*****

The sun shine brightly over the sprawling estate, casting a warm glow on the vibrant gardens that surrounded it. Mattia, stepped out of the car, her heart racing with excitement. The estate was even more beautiful than the photos. Right at the entrance appeared a woman, who was coming towards him in a very cheerful manner. She was his babysitter, Chessy.

"Matheo, you're finally back!" The brown-haired woman greeted Mattia with great emotion and went to hug him and lift him up. Chessy put him back on the floor and looked at him.

"You're taller, Matheo! Tell your old man that you're not a kid anymore and you're ready for real action."

Mattia laughed a little at this "Okay, Cheesy." She replied with smile, then asked him. "Are you hungry? I made some Tortilla! Your favorites!"

Mattia smiled, he wasn't that hungry "Great!"

"Am I missing something?" Carlos asked, holding Mattia's suitcases. "Were you talking about Tortilla?"

"Yes, they're in the dining room," Cheesy told him.

"Good, because I'm hungry.” Carlos smiled before going inside the house.

Chessy tilted his head, seeing Mattia “You look different. Something’s... weird.”

“You sure you’re okay? You’ve got this... weird.”

“I’m fine!” Mattia said, a little too quickly, forcing a grin. “Just tired from the flight.”

Chessy squinted suspiciously but let it go, draping an arm around Mattia’s shoulders as they followed Carlos inside. Just then, a loud bark interrupted them. A Golden Retriever dog came skidding into the room, tail wagging wildly.

“Sammy!” Mattia grinned, crouching down. But instead of greeting him, the dog barked, tilting its head in confusion.

Chessy frowned, crossing her arms. “What’s the matter, Sammy? Don’t you recognize your brother?”

Mattia scratched his head awkwardly. “Maybe it’s because I smell like the camps?”

Chesssy chuckled, kneeling to pat the dog. “He’ll back soon. Right, Sammy?” Sammy barked again, but this time his tail wagged just a little.

Mattia straightened up, glancing around the room. The mansion was breathtaking, bright walls, wooden beams, and giant windows flooding the space with sunlight. “It’s even prettier than I imagined,” he murmured.

Chessy clapped his hands together. “Alright, little chilli, what’s the plan? Eat first? Unpack? Or eat while you unpack?”

Mattia’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re saying I can eat in my room?”

“Why not?” Chessy grinned.

“Super!” Mattia exclaimed, practically bouncing on his toes.

****

Then, on the other side of the room, which was like a door, his father appeared with a plate in his hand that had many Tortilla on it. "Hey Math! If you’re done come out to the terrace, I want you to meet someone," he said.

Mattia smiled “Okay dad”

“Okay Chilli” Carlos said walking to the other end of the terrace.

Mattia heard someone and came a little closer to get a better view. There was someone, it wasn't just someone, it was a young woman with her back turned, wearing a sexy dress and a hat.

“Will there ever be a day when I won't see you eating Sainz?” the young woman asked his father.

"I don't think so" She seemed to approach his Father and whispered.

"Have you told him yet?" Carlos swallowed his food. "Slow down Mer, not yet. He just arrived."

"Oh, Carlitos..." the young woman said in a baby voice.

Mattia frowned at what he witnessed from his room, his disbelief already at its peak. “Who is that woman?” He asked through gritted teeth, he could hear Chessy sighing tiredly behind him.

Its mean she was used to by seeing his reaction. He looked at the young woman again who still had her back to him, he couldn't ignore the feeling that something bad was coming from her.

[madridfangirl]

Intimacy Quiz gone Awry

(Jude Bellingham blurb. Mature language.

Can be read with or without Couple Intimacy Quiz)

Next evening, they had an early dinner and decided to laze around in one of their favourite spots. Ananya had set up a tiny floor bed in Jude’s house, by the living room French windows, looking into the backyard. Jude previously had some cushions there but Ananya had turned it into a proper floor setting, with a carpet, mattress and a couple of cozy throws. They snuggled there, sharing a throw, watching the rainy Madrid evening. It was chilly and the throw was light, but his body heat kept her warm. 

Rains often filled him with a tinge of nostalgia, reminding him of Birmingham. While the scent of wet earth took her back to the countless times she had played in the rain as a kid, with her friends back home in India. 

So much was left behind when they moved here. But so much was gained as well. Subconsciously, they scooted closer, her head tucked into his neck.

‘Feels like I’ve eaten for two today.’

Ananya touched her belly, appalled at the bulge that was forming there.

‘You kinda did.’

He copied her actions and played with the folds of her skin, making an ‘oooh’ sound & giggling a little. That appalled her even more & she slapped his hand away.

‘Never say that to a girl. Definitely not to your girlfriend.’

‘So I should lie? What happened to open & honest communication?’

He continued to tease & she gave him an incredulous look. She knew he knew how her body was a touchy topic for her. She was petite but wasn’t full of toned muscles like he was. Or like the girls he had been with were. Ananya was comfortable in her own skin. Before meeting Jude, this aspect had never bothered her. But him being an elite athlete and such a gym freak didn’t help. His perfectly chiseled body (which was only getting more buff with each passing day) didn’t help either. 

Mostly, he kept her touchiness in mind. But sometimes, him being a 20 year old boy showed in his terrible judgement. Like now.

‘Open & honest communication, huh? So you’re saying I should call you out every time you are being a cocky ass too?’

‘You love it when I’m cocky.’

‘Rubbish.’

‘Yeah? Was it your ghost that texted me last game how turned on you were to see me squaring up to those pricks?’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Not a good loser, yeah? Can’t concede?’

‘Pot kettle. Kettle pot.’

Jude chuckled loudly, the sound immediately calming her despite her prior irritation. He nuzzled his nose into her cheek, his beard scratching her in familiar fashion, his lips curving into a smile against her skin. She whined & made a half-hearted protest but simultaneously allowed him to pull her closer.

‘Oi, I was kidding. Love a little voluptuousness, more for me to dig into.’

She didn’t allow him an easy out, trying to keep a stern face while he continued his ministrations. 

‘And it’s not like you don’t call me out. Just last week you said I was an absolute clown for picking up that yellow and costing the team. YOUR team. Even Carlo didn’t say that to me y’know?’

She smiled. Because she did say that to him. Usually, she didn’t mince words when it came to football. Ananya loved him, but she loved her team as well. And she got cranky when anyone costed the team, even her boyfriend. Jude had thought it was his mum who always gave it to him straight, but he had learnt that his girlfriend could be as brutal. More so when it was about Madrid.

‘Truce?’

‘Fine.’

‘Can we continue that quiz then?’

She turned to face him, amused.

‘Now?’

He shrugged.

‘It was fun. Wanna see what else is there.’

Secretly, she was curious too. So she pulled out her phone & started looking where they had left it off. And instantly regretted it when she saw the next question, sighing loudly. 

‘How do you rate the quality of the sex?’

Jude immediately preened like a peacock, wanting to be complimented for his undisputed perfection. Now, if he hadn’t done that, she would have given him the praise he deserved. But she took another route now.

‘Well, I don’t have enough benchmarks. So this question is not applicable.’

His face fell; the animated smirk quickly turning into a frown. She almost laughed at the histrionics, but restrained herself well.

‘SERIOUSLY? That’s the line you’re taking?’

‘But it’s logical. Tell me if it’s not.’

She looked up at him innocently, batting her lashes. 

‘Boy you can be mean.’

Ananya knew what she was doing by not giving him this win. In their relationship, she was supposed to be the smart, mature one while he was the vibrant, spontaneous one who really drove their passionate activities (which he was extremely proud of). By taking this away, she was fundamentally questioning the balance of power.

But the way disappointment & betrayal took over his pretty features immediately dented her resolve. He really took it to heart, so she gave him what he wanted.

‘Baby, do I really need to say anything? You know how wonderful you make me feel.’

‘I wanna hear it.’

Ananya rolled her eyes loudly.

‘Fine. You’re the reincarnation of Cupid himself. Mightiest warriors in history are no match to your anatomy, stamina & vigour. Ballads should be written over your prowess. Harems would be set up in your honour. You rock my world in ways I didn’t know was possible. Happy?’

‘Minus the sarcasm it would have been nicer. But I know you mean at least half of it so it’s fine.’

‘More like 10%.’

‘Keep lying to yourself. Next question.’

‘What about me?’

‘What about you?’

Gosh, that boy was infuriating. Never missed a chance of making her spell these things out loud.

‘Same question. For me. About…me…in bed.’

He turned towards her, leaning closer, his breath fanning her face. Completely enjoying her discomfort & nervousness.

‘Should I be mean like you?’

‘No. Be nice. Please?’

She looked at him sincerely. There was no way he would deny that face.

‘You get me going, girl. So hard. Sometimes I don’t even need porn when I’m away, just your thoughts are enough.’

Her fingers played with the fabric of his jumper, as she processed his words.

‘Won’t any hot, naked girl you like get you going that way? Sex is sex after all, for men.’

This had always been on her mind, but it was the first time she was saying it out loud.

‘Sex is sex, yes. Mostly that’s enough for guys, yes. But how much a guy wants it & keeps wanting it with the same girl tells you what he feels about her. What she does to him. Men are different with girls they really like.’

He said plainly, and she kept playing with his jumper while he did so. 

‘Ok.’

She couldn’t deny how much he had chased her, and how he still couldn’t get enough of her. One of these days her heart might really believe it fully.

Ananya went back to her phone again, perking up at the next question.

‘Hmmm. Body count?’

She sat up & looked at him, tapping her lips, while he was still leaning back on the cushions against the wall, staring into space, clearly not prepared for this question. It was her turn to make him uncomfortable.

‘Well?’

She crossed her arms & he shifted slightly. They both knew her number - she had only been with her college boyfriend before Jude. This question was all about him. 

‘You know what they say - don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.’

Ananya chuckled at his attempt to be philosophical. The stuff desperation made people do…

‘Maybe I do want an answer.’

‘Do you? Why?’

He tried to throw it back to her but she was up to the challenge.

‘For the same reason we are doing this quiz. To get to know each other better.’

This wasn’t something he had a smart comeback to, and the faraway look was back.

‘Jude, pls tell me you know & remember the number.’

When he didn’t respond for a few seconds, she gaped at him, aghast.

‘Are you fucking kidding…’

‘I know. Of course I do. I mean…ballpark.’

‘BALLPARK?’

Jude was kicking himself hard for ever proposing this quiz and not anticipating this question. How fucking dumb. She was right. He could be so stupid at times.

‘Sometimes there were…multiple..’

‘STOP. Just stop right there.’

He gave her a few seconds to breathe.

‘See? That’s what I meant. I haven’t even gotten to the details yet and you’re already flipping out. Why go there then?’

She gave him an angry, dirty look. His hesitation was making it worse in her head. How bad could it be? How crazy was this number? What all had he done?

‘Because I have a right to know what all you’ve been up to.’

‘Absolutely. But you & I both know we won’t see eye to eye about my past. It’s a clash of beliefs. You won’t ever morally approve of some of these things yet as a single guy it’s perfectly normal in my world. Then you’ll go all passive aggressive on me. And it’ll take us days to recover. What’s the point of it, dove?’

Logically, he was bang on. Speaking absolute truth with perfect clarity. But the fact that he was fighting so hard to not go there was making her extra curious. 

‘Tell me one instance, one example.’

‘I started saying but you shot me down.’

‘Multiple…girls. That one?’

‘Yes.’

‘More than once?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you miss it?’

‘If you’re asking I’d rather have that than having you, the answer is a hard no.’

‘That wasn’t my question.’

‘It wasn’t a fair question.’

A few months ago, he would have walked right into that one. Not anymore. 

‘You say such complicated dialogues are not your forte but you seem to be playing it quite well right now.’

He smiled a proper Jude smile. Eyes crinkling, cheeks lifting, laugh lines all over that flawless face. 

‘Learning from you. TRYING not to dig a deeper hole.’

A staring contest ensued, which he broke by slowly leaning in for a soft kiss. She didn’t resist much, eventually letting him explore her mouth, sighing at the way his hand stroked her butt & thigh, grabbing & kneading in between. Her hands automatically went to his shoulders. The soft make-out continued for 2 minutes.

‘Just remember who I am with you. Coz that guy is quite amazing.’

Classic Jude confidence. Cockiness rather. But, despite herself, she smiled again. This was his superpower. He couldn’t help getting himself into these tricky situations but he also knew how to win her back right away with his charming irresistible ways.

Moments after, he took the phone from her to take charge of the rest of the quiz, to avoid any such mishaps. She saw right through it but let him continue feeling it was some slick move. 

‘Ok, this is interesting. Your favourite instance of your partner pleasuring you?’

His eyes locked with hers but she lowered them, playing with his jumper again.

‘Mine’s an easy answer. Valentine’s Day. First time’s a charm.’

It was the first time she had used her hands on him, and made him release over her chest & belly.  The most erotic sight in the world. The whole scene & feeling still fresh in his mind.

For her, the answer wasn’t easy. How he made her feel with his hands & mouth was almost as divine as when he was deeply seated inside her. He loved making her squirm & shake, readying her for himself this way, then entering her when she was dripping & over-sensitive. Way too many instances to pick from.

But one particular one still sprung to her mind, from a few weeks ago.

She had a big presentation that morning, which she had stressed over all week prior to that Monday. Had a restless sleep, woke up an hour before her alarm, went over the material again, then decided to reach the office half hour earlier to do a mock run in the conference room.

Jude was fast asleep but woke up from all the commotion in the room, trying to go back to sleep with a pillow over his head. She was getting ready in the adjoining washroom. When she stepped out, in her undergarments, hair & make-up done, looking for the dress she had ironed & readied the night before, his eyes followed her. Sleep was long forgotten.

The purple undies matched to the dress. The pair seemed new, Jude hadn’t seen it before. It wasn’t racy or anything, was a proper formal wear meant for work but still looked so fucking good on her, especially with the hair & make-up. Unaware of his gaze, she was fidgeting around with the dress, trying to decide if it needed more ironing. 

Jude decided to intervene.

He slowly walked over to her, keeping his hands on her waist, pulling her away from where the dress was hung and towards her desk, lifting her a little to make her sit on the table, while Jude separated her legs & stood in between.

Alarmed, she immediately used the safe word, looking at him like he’d lost his mind. There was no time for this, she had a thousand things to do. And she couldn't afford to get sore or messy or sweaty after spending so long to get ready.

‘Trust me. Just 5 mins, promise. Only for you. You’re too tense, just let me help.’

Before she could say anything, he pulled up her bra and latched on to a nipple, his hand tending to the other one. She threw her head back at the sensation, immediately feeling light-headed. His other hand slid down her belly, stroking her over her clothed sex, leaving her mewling. His thumb found her sensitive bundle of nerves, applying just the right pressure for her to turn incoherent. Given paucity of time, he moved both hands between her legs, rubbing & pressing & stroking & dipping inside her folds, while his mouth continued to work wonders on her tits. She moaned helplessly, while his expertly calculated moves took her closer & closer to her high. Jude wrung the pleasure out of her well within the promised time, while leaving her make-up & hair untouched.  Extracting a promise that she’d come to him later that evening after the presentation, no matter how late it was, and he’d get to take this dress off of her.

Yeah, it had to be that one. She slowly said it out loud & Jude concurred. Then went back to picking the next question carefully.

‘One fetish of your partner that you wish he/she does more of. Niiiice. You first.’

She was already a bit flushed from the memories of the last question, and this one didn’t help either.

‘Umm…eating things off of me I guess.’

Jude loved doing that. Putting stuff like chocolate syrup over her tits, bellybutton, and between her legs and just sucking it off. Making a complete mess of her & the sheets. 

‘Oh, dovey really likes that, yeah? Gotcha.’

She sunk further into his side, not wanting to face him right now.

‘Now, about you, more of you on top in my lap. You’re gorgeous like that.’

Her slowly grinding on top, straddling his legs, while he could bury his face in her neck & chest was one of his favourite positions. He allowed her to set the pace in the beginning, going slow, building both their pleasures, but later on he usually took over, grabbing her butt & bouncing her on top of him.

‘Ok last one. And probably my favourite one of the lot. Secret fantasy?’

‘You go first this time.’

‘Too many, but I’ll pick one. Doing it on a beach in broad daylight.’

‘You’re nuts.’

‘It’s doable. Trust me.’

That ‘trust me’ made her turn & look at him.

‘Wait have you done it before? With…someone else?’

‘Sadly no. But I’ve thought about the logistics, am firming up a plan.’

‘A plan?’

‘Yeah I’ll tell you when it’s ready.’

‘I repeat. You’re nuts.’

‘All geniuses were called nuts at some point.’

‘Sure.’

‘Enough evading. Your turn now.’

‘I…don’t have one.’

‘Liar. Out with it.’

‘But I…’

Jude held the back of her neck, pulling her close, foreheads & noses touching.

‘C’monn doll, we can try whatever you want. Tell me.’

‘It’s not so much a fantasy but a thought that…stuck with me after…watching some stuff..’

‘Porn?’

She nodded slowly. He was super intrigued.

‘Babe you’re killing me. Say it now.’

‘Like I’ve just wondered what It’d be like…’

‘ANANYA.’

She took a deep breath to collect herself, then fisted her hands in his jumper, and blurted it out.

‘I’ve thought about having my breasts sucked at the same time…in a threesome.’

Pindrop silence. Jude went eerily quiet. Just the sound of his heavy breathing filled her ears. Slowly, his hands dropped from around her, and he pulled away a bit.

She looked up nervously, unsure of what to do or what to make of it. His moods was something she was still getting used to. 

It wasn’t easy for her to say that but she did it coz he was asking her to. He always asked her to be more vocal & she was just following his lead. What the fuck just happened then?

Jude stood up abruptly, and went to the kitchen to fetch a bottle of water. She was numb. Frozen. Didn’t move for a few seconds. But then, she followed him into the kitchen and hugged him from behind while he stood in front of the fridge.

He was still. Didn’t acknowledge the hug, or her presence.

‘Jude, what happened?’

She whispered in a small voice.

‘My girlfriend just told me she wants to let another man touch her. And make me see it. That’s what happened.’

That hit her like a bucket of cold water. 

‘I..What??? That’s not what I meant.’

He whirled around, and her arms dropped from around him.

‘How else does a threesome work, Ananya?’

‘I told you it was just a thought…..just something I had seen…..It’s not so deep.’

‘Yeah? I saw how you said it. What it did to you. It’s not just a thought.’

She made the mistake of looking at his face and the storm in his eyes made her flinch. She knew this was him trying to restrain himself for her sake. Inside, he was 10x mad.

But it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t. She just said something which she thought was normal to share with her partner, at his constant insistence.

Then why are you feeling so guilty? Like you want the earth to swallow you whole?

Jude was watching her like a hawk and interpreted her silence in a thousand different ways. Wrong ways. 

‘I knew it.’

He spoke through gritted teeth, the chilling sound bringing her out of her thoughts. Back to the agitated man in front of her. She hated how she took two steps back when he came two steps ahead, backed against the counter now. His hands gripped the marble of the counter harshly, on both sides of her, caging her in.

‘Tell me, do you have a guy in mind as well? You do, don’t you?’

‘Jude no. No. Please it’s not like that.’

‘WHAT IS IT LIKE THEN?’

He grabbed her butt and put her on the counter, spreading her legs to stand impossibly close to her. The volcano burning inside him all too evident in all his glorious features. 

She desperately reached for his face, stroking his cheeks with the pads of her fingers and his cheekbone with her thumb, making shushing sounds, while he panted in front of her, mouth half-open, nostrils flaring.

‘Baby, pls let’s just forget about it yeah?’

He eyed her incredulously.

‘Forget about it? All I can picture right now is another man fucking you RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. And you fucking him back. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FORGET ABOUT IT?’

She flinched at the truthful crudeness of his words. 

‘But…you said you….have done…have been with multiple women…together…I just thought..’

‘That was before you. Before I was in love. Chalk & cheese, Ananya.’

Just then, she realised her mistake. Having this thought was fine (she firmly believed that), but like he didn’t say stuff about his past, knowing it would trigger her, she shouldn’t have said this to him either. Shouldn’t have put this image in his head, despite knowing fully well the extent of his possessiveness. Jude wasn’t strictly rational when it came to her, something she should have factored. 

She rubbed the taut muscles of his neck & shoulders, trying to relieve the tension there. And spoke in an assuaging voice.

‘You’re right. Shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. But baby - I don’t want anyone else. It’s not like that. Pls look at me.’

She cupped his cheek and titled his face towards her, looking straight into the fire dancing in his eyes. She nudged his hands away from the counter, and put them on her waist, where they instantly dug into her skin.

Some soft & soothing caresses later, his tension eased and she could see the vulnerability behind the rage.

‘Am I not enough? Do I not satisfy you?’

He spoke in a low, very ‘unlike her Jude’ voice. Her heart broke for him instantly.

‘Oh my love. My baby. You’re everything for me. Pls, I’m so lucky that you love me so passionately. Pls baby, pls you must know that. You already know that. You’re all I want.’

She looked up desperately at his torn face, and could see her words hadn’t fully seeped in. He was trying to believe her but something was holding him back.

Ananya wrapped her arms & legs around him, pulling him in for a kiss. Which he reciprocated, turning it into a punishing kiss, tugging & nipping her bottom lip, both panting afterwards.

‘Take me.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Jude, I NEED YOU.’

‘Ananya, I don’t trust myself around you right now. Don’t know if I’d be able to stop.’

‘Well I trust you.’

With that, she took off her sweater and threw it behind her, leaving her in a black lace bra. His absolute & utter weakness.

‘That’s not fair.’

‘Didn’t say I was gonna play fair.’

‘You don’t know what you’re doing.’

‘Don’t patronise me. Just fucking take me.’

When he still didn’t move, Ananya moved her hands to her covered boobs, kneading them slowly, gasping at the touch.

That did his head in. He was mad furious yet frustratingly aroused. The need to put her in her place took over all his senses. 

Jude grabbed her legs and threw her over his shoulder, taking her to the couch. Then taking her mercilessly. Marking her, inside & outside. He extracted deep apologies from her for putting those images in his mind and a promise to never push his buttons like that again. Till she could speak coherent words. Any words rather. Post that it was just deep moans and chants of his name,  from where she was face down into a cushion, something he could never get enough of.

.........................................................................

Wanted to write a quick 1k one and ended up doing a 4k one. God help me.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + eleven

authors note: i'm telling ya'll right now. this one will probably leave you with a certain number of questions. that's expected. all will, eventually, be revealed and make sense. don't be freaking out on me, por favor. 😭

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

cw/tw:  fluff, angst, language, suggestive themes, and scene of victim blaming/justifying dv (from character's pov, not the authors)

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

masterlist

words: 13k (i need help)

The moment the cotton round soaked in hydrogen peroxide makes contact with the largest cut on Roman’s face, a slash across his eyebrow bone, is the first time he visibly displays any sort of reaction. The first indication that he is in fact in pain.

And he’s immediately regretful.

Nakoa, his father, a tall man of muscular build, a thick salt and pepper beard, and dark eyes that seem almost black in dim lighting, is before him with a previously unreadable expression that has now morphed into something different.

Something Roman hates to see on his father’s face.

Disappointment. 

“Tell me what happened.”

Nakoa Reigns is a man who only needs to speak once, his deep, baritone voice emanating a level of power and authority that requires no repeating of anything. The first is the only.

Despite the sting of his cut and the bruising of his body, Roman sits up straight, all 78lbs of him and lifts his chin. “I—”

“He was trying to help us, fath—”

Nakoa lifts his hand, effectively silencing the voice of one of his older boys, Pika, Roman’s half brother. 

“I asked your brother.”

Pika recognizes his fault and shares a brief look with his other brother, Tane, before both drop their heads, rendered to silent shame.

Nakoa brings his gaze back to Roman as Viviana continues to work on heeding to her son’s wounds.

Roman swallows and answers as evenly as possible. “They were talking about you.”

“So you attacked them?”

Roman quickly debates leaving out unnecessary details then easily remembers nothing gets past his father, and honesty, while uncomfortable, is the best route. “Pika and Tane did first, and then I joined them—”

“You were defending my honor.”

Nakoa’s tone, something of almost pride, takes a young Roman by surprise. Yet, he shows nothing, recognizing that can and typically does change with his father. “Yes.”

It’s a wise decision, because Nakoa’s tone instantly shifts to something chilly. “And yet you lost.” Roman winces again, and it has nothing to do with the dabbing of the hydrogen peroxide against another cut. “Tell me, son, where is the honor in that?”

Knowing that there is no excuse, Roman’s shoulders slump a bit. “There is none, father.”

“If you are to defend this family, you will do it to completion. There is no room for failure. Ever.” It’s a tale as old as time, a lesson Nakoa has drilled into all eight of his children, but especially Roman, the youngest and smallest of the bunch compared to his other sons. “Pika. Tane.”

The older boys stand at attention as their father, The Tribal Chief, turns his disappointed gaze towards them. “You have also failed me. Your brother is small, but you are not. There is no excuse.” His gaze sharpens. “If they disrespect you, then they disrespect me, and if they disrespect me, then they disrespect our entire family. Does this sound acceptable to you?”

Pika, the older of Tane and Roman, is the one to answer. “No, father.”

“Exactly.” Nakoa’s large, intimidating frame is stepping away from them as he instructs. “Come. We will fix this. Today.”

As usual, Tane and Pika fall in line, walking in silence behind their father until only Roman and his mother, Viviana, remain in their large kitchen. 

That is when she finally speaks. Her fingers move under his chin, forcing him to look up, her icy blue eyes meeting with his light brown ones, a trait inherited from his father.

“Did you hit your head?” He shakes his head no, and she drops her fingers. “Good.” She studies him, lifting his shirt to see the purple bruises forming. A heavy sigh escapes her mouth as she moves across the kitchen, opening up the cabinet and grabbing the Children’s Tylenol. She pours the appropriate dosage into the medicinal cup and offers it to him. “Here. Take this. It will help with the pain.”

He’s immediately shaking his head, shoulder length hair brushing against his face. “I must pay for my failure.”

“You will learn nothing by suffering unnecessarily.” She again motions for him to take the medicine. Roman hesitates but obeys, downing the red liquid in a matter of seconds. She takes back the cup, rinses it, and puts it away before returning to finish tending to his wounds.

“Never pick or involve yourself in a fight you can’t win, Roman.” Viviana switches to Italian, an intentional tactic to ensure privacy as well as continue to push her eight-year-old son to better his fluency. He's advanced for his age but still not where she would like him to be. Where she needs him to be. 

“Should I have done nothing, mother?” Viviana hears it. The edge in his voice, the hint of challenge to her authority. 

Again, she grabs his chin, forcing him to look at her. “You should have been smart.”

“Pika and Tane—”

“I do not care about them.” Her dismissal is immediate and bitter. “They are not my sons. You are.” Roman is smart for his age. He’s always picked up on his mother’s dislike of his half–siblings, the five sons born to his father by his late ex-wife. No. His mother has only ever cared and focused on him and his two older sisters, Nesi and Sili. “And you are smarter than them.”

Viviana suddenly gives another sigh and places the cotton round on the counter. She crouches down in front of Roman, taking his hands in hers. “Do you know why your father and I are so hard on you?” She didn’t expect him to reply, verbally or nonverbally, and is therefore unsurprised when he does nothing. “It’s because you are not like your brothers and sisters. You are different. You come from two worlds. You are Bloodline, yes, but you are Cosa Nostra as well. That means you belong to the two biggest crime families in the world. It is your birthright to lead both of them.” Had he been looking up, he might have seen the almost sympathetic shift in her expression. “But the road ahead of you is not easy. They will challenge you. They will hate you. They will reject you, because you hail from two worlds instead of one over the other.” Any sign of sympathy quickly morphs into something determined and hardened. “That is why you must be better. You must be better than all of them. Faster. Smarter. Stronger. There is no room for you to be weak, Roman.” He lifts his head, mindful of maintaining and showing no sign of emotion, no indication of feeling. “You will show them, brutally, ruthlessly, and with no mercy who you are, and then, only then, you will rule them all.”

Roman straightens again, his posture representative of the alignment provided by his mother. By the reminder of his mother why he must always be the best and failure is never an option. He can succeed or he can succeed. There is no second option.

“Never forget, Roman.” She points to his chest, to his heart. “This is what makes you weak. It will distract you, it will deter you, and it will cost you everything.” Viviana speaks with almost sorrow to her, an almost unhealed scar from a time long ago. “But this….” She lifts her hand to his head, pointing to his brain. “This is power. This will bring and keep you on top. It is your greatest strength.”

Viviana presses a kiss to her son’s forehead and stands back up, motioning to the first aid kit. “Finish tending to your wounds, and go do your training.”

Roman is quick to hide his surprise, to hide the disappointment at still having to complete his daily combat training. He tries to be grateful though, thankful that his father, or mother, did not tack on additional training for his failure. 

But it’s when Viviana leaves and he moves to grab the gauze, a new voice interrupts.

“Boy, I thought she’d never leave.”

Instantly, Roman’s spirits are lifted in a way only his tina matua can provide.

Her warm eyes are on him, a frown falling on her face as she sees the cuts. It’s unsurprising and one of many fights he’s already been in at such a young age. But, it’s because he’s a protector. She can already see that is one of his defining traits: his strong urge and sense of duty to protect the ones he loves. 

To protect his family. 

She grabs the supplies and starts finishing the cleaning and bandaging of his wounds. “Those boys got you some good, huh?” She shakes her head, cursing in Samoan. “Don’t you worry. In a couple of years, you’ll be bigger and stronger than them, and then you can get your receipt.”

Fetu Reigns is unsurprised when her nephew says nothing. She knows his small size is a deep insecurity he struggles with, especially when all of his brothers have exceeded expected height and weight. She knows he sees it as a hindrance. 

“Did you know that your father was the smallest of our other siblings?” That is when Roman looks up and actually allows himself to show an emotion: surprise. His tina matua has always been the only person he can do as such with.

His parents would never approve, and his brothers would never let him live it down.

“It’s true,” Fetu discloses, adding. “And it bothered him too. Then one summer, he went through a growth spurt and suddenly the scrawny little boy we all teased towered over everyone.”

Fetu can see the continued struggle he has between the words she’s saying and the reality he’s living. She puts down the supplies and gently cups his face.

“Roman, I know there is pressure on you, my sweet boy. In this house and out. And you do carry a burden your brothers and sisters do not, but you also have something else, something they don’t have because your parents haven’t extinguished it out of you yet.” She lays her hand over his chest. “You have heart, Roman, and it does not make you weak. That is what makes you strong. A good leader, a great leader, leads with both his head and his heart.”

She hopes her words can penetrate the deep armor of stoicism that her brother and sister-in-law seem to want to bestow upon the child who already carries such a heavy weight at a young age.

Her heart aches for him a bit. 

She then informs him, hoping it will lift his spirits, even just a little, “Rikishi brought the twins over.”

And it pleases her to see the way his eyes light up. For a brief second, he’s just a little boy who wants to play with his cousins. But, it’s just as quickly gone, his shoulders straightening. “I have to do my training for today.”

She’s briefly disappointed but quickly reminds him of the ‘completion’ of that task. “but you did, remember? You got up early this morning to get it done. I was there watching you.” She gives him a wink, and Roman smiles. The first of the day.

“Thank you, tina matua.” He starts to run off when she calls his name, forcing him to look back at her.

“And where is my hug?”

Still smiling, he runs back over, hugging her tightly, soaking in all of the warmth she provides in his dark world.

She kisses the top of his head. “I love you, Roman.”

And his eyes shut, because at the end of the day, when all is said and done, he’s still just an eight-year-old little boy who needs the space and time to just be that innocent little boy for however long it can last.

“I love you too, tina matua.”

“Roman.”

Solana’s almost worried expression is the last and least wanted thing Roman expects to find as he’s ripped away from a memory so long ago that it almost feels unreal. There’s a moment of adjustment, a brief delay as he returns to reality. 

“Sorry.” It’s a bit gruff, a bit on the harsh side, an unintended side effect of resurfaced, previously buried memories he’d prefer to keep six feet under instead of at the forefront of his mind.

Solana steps forward, her hand on his forearm. “Are—are you okay?” Her frown deepens. “You’ve been kinda off the past few days.”

He can’t and won’t deny it, an inconvenient result of still trying to navigate just what the hell he’s supposed to do with information that feels almost too painful to sit on and do nothing about. He can’t march over and rip Xavier apart with his bare hands no matter how badly every fiber of his being wants him too. He can’t do that because he promised Solana he would let her make that call.

And now, more than ever, that’s the least he can give to her.

But the knowledge, the truth about the two events in her life he has no doubt sent her on that dark spiral, feels like something she should know.

It also, however, seems like something he feels could destroy her. And not even just the tremendous progress she’s made, but destroy her altogether.

“Just work shit.” There’s also that, but that’s nothing new nor noteworthy. It’s also insignificant compared to everything else. 

He doesn’t know if it’s her naivety or his adept skills of persuasiveness, but she seems to buy it. “Okay.” He hates this. The lying to her part. Shit fucking sucks, but he also still has no goddamn idea what he wants or even needs to do, so it’s all he has. “I know—I know there’s probably nothing I can do to help—”

“You can.” It’s an obvious surprising statement to her judging by the shocked expression on her face. Roman moves towards her, hand reaching for the small of her back as he pulls her into him. He watches as Solana bites on her bottom lip but still lays her hands against his chest. It’s a great sign of progress, as he’s always noticed the way she seems almost uncomfortable around him when he’s shirtless. “I want you to think about something for me.”

She answers almost immediately. “Okay.”

He locks his gaze with hers. “Moving into my room.”

Solana is clearly taken back by his offer, the way her eyes widen almost instantly only to settle into something that’s an almost mixture of a smile and a frown. “Really?”

He nods, fingers dancing across her back. “If you want us to eventually have a sex life, then sleeping in the same bed seems like a good place to start.”

Solana is quiet, listening to his words but also still in a bit of shock. She knows he’s indicated a desire to be with her, to want her in that way at least, but she never really imagined he’d be okay with her being in his space like that.

They’ve shared a bed on roughly two occasions now, but those were both by unplanned circumstance. Something that he was okay with because of how they came about. But now, it seems he’s okay and maybe even wants it to be a regular thing.

And when she thinks about, thinks about his offer, there’s no anxiety, no fear. There’s just…okayness.

A state of peace, almost.

“Dulce has to come with me.” She chews on her bottom lip, nervous about this being a possible dealbreaker. “She’s used to sleeping with me now.” 

He instead just shrugs. “She seems to keep finding her way in there anyway.” Dulce has also taken on the same squatter mentality of his twin cousins with her having walked her little ass into his room at various points in the middle of the night the past few days. It’s honestly a miracle he hasn’t stepped on her. “So, you’ll think about it?”

“No. I—” She gives a small shrug of her own, answering almost confidently. “I’ll do it. I’ll—I’ll move in.”

His eyes light with something that’s almost similar to excitement. “Good.” Her eyes shut when he dips his head, preparing for him to kiss her only for him to ghost his lips across hers, murmuring, “like you close to me.” He gestures down and adds with his gaze lingering on her chest a bit longer than what’s probably necessary. “I really like this outfit too.”

Roman’s noticed a shit ton of benefits from Solana being friends with Naomi and Bayley, which is a major reason why he didn’t rip them a new one for allowing her to get so shit faced drunk that night. Why he didn’t find a reason to justify keeping them apart. And one of the major benefits has become her change in wardrobe.

The baggy clothes have been swapped out for more form-fitting attire, outfits that accentuate her curves and showcase her beauty. He can also see the relationship between her wardrobe and self-esteem, specifically regarding her body. An increase.

And he likes it.

Happiness and confidence look good on her.

Roman kisses her, gentle at first, almost tentatively, just like most of their kisses. Like he’s always initially assessing her comfort level. And when she doesn’t push back, doesn’t tense, he deepens said kiss, tugging her close against him, their chests touching. Solana bites back a smile, giggling against his mouth, “Roman, you’re still sweaty from your workout.”

He’s unbothered, commenting suggestively with a wink, “you better get used to that, baby.”

Instead of discomfort, there’s only a strange, uncomfortable yet not feeling between her legs that’s unfamiliar but still….welcomed. It’s a hard thing to explain, and she’s thankful for the glance at the time on the microwave that provides her an out.

Still smiling, she informs him, “I’m gonna be late for work.” Solana is certain her cheeks are painted red judging by the heat that’s floating through her core. 

He’s unbothered. “And?”

Rolling her eyes, she pries herself away, asking, “are you still going to meet me when I get off?”

He taps her hip, hand close to the side of her ass. There’s a brief slice of anxiety that’s quickly pushed back by her daily reminder. Safe. “Of course.” 

Pleased, she leans up, kissing his cheek and backs away before he can pull her back for another kiss. She’ll definitely be late for work then. “Bye.”

He calls out bye after her, and by the time she’s outside, Solo is waiting expectedly by the SUV with that typical scowl. She expects the usual silence but is caught off guard when he observes as she climbs into the truck, “you’re late.”

Confused, she looks over at him, almost struggling with a reply as she reverts back to her overly apologetic state. “I’m sorry, I was—I was with Roman.”

He makes a sound and rolls his eyes. “Of course, you were.”

Her mouth dips into a frown. What’s that supposed to mean?

Before she can ask, or even consider asking a follow up question, he closes the door shut.

Literally and figuratively.

________

The work day seems to go by significantly faster when there’s something to look forward to. And for Solana, it’s being able to spend time with Roman. The more time they interact, the closer and more comfortable she feels.

There’s something so calming being around him. A strange dynamic, she recognizes, considering just who he is and the fact that his name alone strikes fear through most. 

But that’s not who he is to her. 

He’s….he’s a lot more than that, and though she still doesn’t quite know how to describe and label it accurately, she’s becoming less and less focused on the why and more focused on just allowing whatever this is between them to continue. To grow.

And that includes the intimacy portion, hence their current position, later that evening, laid out on his bed making out after being distracted in the midst of moving her items into his room.

Roman’s big hands are careful to remain in the safety zones of her body. The side of her stomach, the width of her shapely hips, the span of her back. It’s an intentional caution, she’s certain, one she’s appreciative of.

A boundary almost. 

But, it’s a boundary she’s currently in the space and range to play around with. 

Solana breaks their kiss, Roman instantly checking for her comfort level. “You okay?”

“Yes. I—” She’s not sure how exactly to word it but does the best she can, regardless. “You—you can touch me.” It sounds and even feels a bit weird leaving her mouth, maybe a tad bit uncomfortable too, but Solana knows that a lot about this whole thing will be uncomfortable at first. She just has to trust him. 

Trust herself. 

And when it dawns on her that a boundary within the exploration can be set, she stipulates, “just….just not there.” She doesn’t want to say it outright, a maybe silly sort of avoidance considering it’s what they’re eventually working up to, but for now, her comfort level is in the category of vague. “I can’t….not that. Not yet, at least.”

“Of course.” Roman looks at her with almost uncertainty. “You sure?”

She nods, fingers brushing through his hair that’s down instead of up like usual. She thinks she prefers it down. It makes him look…almost angelic. “Yes.”

His fingers dance across her back. “Can you lay down?”

Solana answers by allowing him to shift positions where he’s on top of her, hovering over her body. She closes her eyes when that nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach forms. It takes a second to redirect herself, to recenter herself to where she is and who she’s with. 

And Roman helps with that, his lips brushing over her jawline as he reassures her, “it’s just me, baby….”

She nods, moving her hands to his face, resuming their kissing as Roman carefully navigates this newfound ability to explore her. His hand moves up her stomach in a way that makes her sigh and moan into his mouth. His touch is something that does something so different to her. It’s a combination of nerves but also something else she can’t describe nor label.

But it’s when he moves his hand to her breast, kneading them almost gently, her back arches on an accord of its own. And she exhales deeply, fingers clawing the soft sheets underneath him. “You’re so sensitive to my touch….” He’s peppers kisses against her neck, mouth opening as he sucks on her soft skin, murmuring, “I fuckin’ love that shit.” 

She’s never felt this before, and while there’s a constant battle in her head to push away those dark thoughts that would rip her from this moment, there’s a growing level of almost pleasure that’s so unfamiliar. 

But she likes it. 

Solana reaches to touch him, her fingers lightly gliding across his stomach.

He hisses against her and says something she can’t make out before smashing his lips back onto hers with an elevated sense of urgency that she finds herself matching. Her arms move around his neck as she tugs him closer to her, Roman’s big hands continuing to explore her body, respecting her request that he stay away from the sensitive space between her legs. 

And it’s okay. It’s a level she’s okay with outside of some anxiety.

But then it’s over. 

Roman pulls away from her, almost suddenly, like he’d been zapped with something. Frowning, Solana sits up, panting, lips swollen. “What—what’s wrong?”

She watches with continued confusion as he lays on his back, eyes closed, chest moving up and down. “We have to stop.”

She shakes her head, hand moving to his forearm. Solana notices his jaw clenches at that interaction, a strange response. “But—I’m okay.” And she is, though this is broaching new territory, having his big hands explore more of her body, she feels a layer of protection at the fact that she’s still fully clothed. Her outfit is more revealing than what she would typically wear, but it’s another step she’s hoping continues to move her in the right direction.

If the goal is eventual sexual intimacy, then that most likely includes being naked in front of Roman. Working her way up into wearing more revealing clothes around him feels like a way for her to ease her way into developing that level of comfort. 

When he still says nothing and Solana finds herself almost wanting to continue, she urges, “really, Roman, I’m—I’m okay. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

“It’s not you,” he finally says, eyes still closed, voice almost strained. 

Now Solana is just stumped because if it’s not her, what reason would he have for stopping? Was he…..was he not enjoying it? It certainly didn’t feel like it.

She shakes her head, growing a bit self-conscious. “I don’t—I don’t under….” The trailing off of her words coincide with the way she trails his body, ceasing when she finally realizes why he stopped. “Oh.”

Solana’s cheeks are practically burning. She can only imagine how reddened she must look, and it has nothing to do with the intense makeout session from only minutes ago and everything to do with Roman’s very visible bulge.

He just makes a sound that’s equivalent to a “you get it now?”

“I’m—” She has no idea what to say, no idea how to respond. How did that happen? They weren’t even doing it. She voices her confusion. “But—but we were only kissing.”

Roman chuckles almost darkly. “You still don’t get how attracted I am to you, do you?”

She bites down on her lip, eyes briefly darting to his erection, quickly snapping back to anything but that. “I think—I think I’m starting to.” He smiles, and she asks, “do you….do you want me to leave?”

She may have no healthy sexual experience, but she knows enough to know that there are ways men tend to take care of….that kind of thing when actual sex isn’t an option. And Solana has no desire to be present for that. That’s just too much at this point.

Maybe at any point for her.

“No.” His answer surprises her. “Stay. Just….talk.”

“Talk?”

“Distract me,” he encourages. She has no idea how the hell she’s supposed to do that, how the hell her talking will help that to go away or go down. For her own mental wellbeing, she doesn’t even acknowledge the size of his bulge.

Being intimate with him is one thing, but realizing Roman is just a big human all over is something she’ll save for when that time comes. Another problem for another day. 

Suddenly feeling on the spot, she blurts out without much consideration. “I—I bought a bathing suit.” It feels so random, but she doesn't know what else to say, so she continues on this maybe not so great distraction. “I—I also want to try to get in the pool, but I didn’t have a suit, so I bought one. It’s a two piece, and I—I don’t usually like wearing those, but Bay and Naomi said it looked nice.” She thinks about the colorful two piece bikini that shows off more skin than she’s ever shown in public. She’s not sure she could ever wear something like that in public, but maybe around Roman. “The top is…it’s more revealing than I’d like, but I—”

“Solana.” 

“Yes?”

He sounds like he’s in some level of pain as he informs, almost kindly despite the suffering, “baby, that’s not helping.”

Her frown returns at hearing his tone, and another glance in his direction reveals why. “Oh. I’m—I’m sorry.” She can most definitely see why now. “I—I should just go.” 

He doesn’t protest this time around, just nods, and Solana doesn’t waste any time climbing off the bed and walking out the door, making sure to shut it all the way. She almost wishes that she could lock it too.

Solana finds herself trying to settle her own body as she makes her way down the steps and into the living room where Dulce is curled into a little ball sleeping away.

She closes her eyes and blows out a big breath, a small smile falling on her face. It’s the little things. Like being able to make out with her husband, his hands on her with only a small to medium level of anxiety being generated during the act that brings on the smile. Not even four months ago, they’d been in an eerily similar position with an entirely different outcome. She’d had a panic attack, and while he’d helped her through it, she was also left alone to navigate her big emotions on that even bigger day.

It feels almost like night and day how far they’d come. How far she’s come because this time around, Solana liked the feelings of his hands on her. There was still some uncertainty, but his gentleness with her, the way he kept reminding her that it was him and not them….it made a difference.

It makes a difference.

She finds herself reaching for her airpods, plugging them in her ears as well as the sketchbook on the coffee table.

Years. 

It’s been years since she picked up a sketchbook and pencil, years since she escaped in the form of art. Writing has been her main outlet for years, but once upon a time, she had writing and art.

Passions she shared with her mom. 

And in moving through her workbook, one of the exercises inquired about passions that died following the traumatic event, and in doing the hard work, Solana realized that the last time she drew was before she was raped.

It was a favorite hobby at one point, and she’d love to tap back into that. Even if just for the connection with her mom.

And it’s something she finds herself fully immersed in, so much so that she misses it when Roman rejoins her until she jumps a bit, pulling out one of her airpods. “Hey. I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

He doesn’t say anything, just sits down on the sofa next to her, arm moving around her. Naturally, she moves into his side. “Are you umm—okay?” Thinking about her outfit, she offers, "I can change."

He chuckles. “I’m not a teenage boy, Solana. Seeing you is not going to make me hard.” He dances his fingers across her upper arm as he explains, “it’s just touching you like that….it’s hard to control myself.”

She swallows. His words don’t unnerve her, just make her realize yet again just how attracted he is to her. Still a bit of a hard pill to swallow given that she’s never seen a man as beautiful as Roman. And yet he wants her. It still blows her mind. “Can I—can I do something to help?”

His eyes take in her body. “Not a damn thing.” She smiles as he then focuses on the book on her lap. “Did you do that?”

She looks down, realizing just how far she got in her drawing. A lot farther than she realized, that’s for sure. She looks up, nodding. “Fuck, you’re good.”

It seems like Roman is full of compliments when it comes to her, and it feels good. The more they come, the more she’s starting to believe it. Believe that she’s beautiful and talented and the exact opposite of everything her father and brother ever tried to make her believe about herself.

“Thank you,” she then goes on to explain. “I—I haven’t done it in years, but—but I used to love it.”

He nods as well, facial expression indicating he’s storing this information for later use. “Do you do any other kind of artwork?”

She has to think about it for a second. “I used to paint too. My….mother taught me.” The ending portion quiet, her pencil dragging along the eyes of the unidentified woman.

Roman notices though, asking, “is that her?”

With one glance, without even needing to think about it, she answers, “yes.” 

Her mom.

“You know the part I hate the most?” Her voice is still quiet, low and weighed with emotion. “I can’t—I can’t remember what her speaking voice sounded like. I’ve tried—tried to remember, but I can’t.” Her tone shifts to something else, something more of a bitter and remorseful nature. “But I still remember the sound of her screams every time he beat her.” Solana remembers more than that, feels more than that. But revisiting those painful memories to that extent is something she doesn’t feel mentally equipped for. “I used to be so scared. Praying because…because I thought he was gonna kill her.” Had she been looking at Roman, she’d have seen the flash of guilt in his eyes at her soft admission. “And sometimes I wanted him to, so at least she didn’t have to suffer anymore.”

Wetness pooling in her eyes alerts her to pending tears. She sniffles, quickly wiping away any sign of the impact of revisiting those dark days. “I’m—I’m sorry. I don’t—I don’t know why I said that.”

“Because it’s the truth. Because it’s how you feel.” Roman’s voice is soothing, soft, a stark contrast to everything anyone else has ever seen with him. It’s a different, almost caring side. And it’s everything she needs at this moment to feel safe. 

She nods, struggling to keep the tears at bay. It’s a failed mission at this point. “I just—I miss her. So much.”

Roman tugs her closer to him, as she angles her body toward him, crying silently into his chest unintentionally creating yet another layer of complexity for the man struggling already as to whether or not the information he’s sitting on could help her finally close a chapter of suffering with the finality of truth. 

Or bring her right back to the apex of trauma and suffering. 

________

Solana shoots awake with a violent gasp and heavy panting. Immediately, she looks to her side, hoping to see Roman only to find an empty space and ruffled sheets. 

Sniffling, she wipes at the tears and tries to regulate herself. Memories are one thing, but the memories that haunt her when sleep should overcome her have always been the hardest. They weigh heavier, leaving behind an emotional stain that’s hard to scrub out.

She wipes away the slight sheen of sweat on her forehead and kicks the blankets off her body. One glance at the ground, and she sees Dulce sleeping peacefully in her bed. 

Solana hugs herself, ready to find Roman. For what reason, she’s not sure. It’s not like he can do anything to take the remnants of the nightmare away. She just knows that she wants to be around him. 

A swish of a cool breeze brings her attention to the ajar double doors that lead to the balcony attached to his room.

She dabs at her eyes, doing her best to hide the tears before walking out to find him. Solana doesn’t necessarily want him to know the specifics, just needs to be near him.

He’s sitting back against the chair, eyes on the full moon and stars that blanket the night sky. But his gaze quickly shifts to her the second he’s alerted of her presence. He frowns almost. “Shit, did I wake you?”

She shakes her head, doing her best to muster up a smile that doesn’t give away the truth. “No. I just….can’t sleep.”

But, she should know better than that. Better than to think that this man can’t see through any lie thrown at him.

He motions her over. “Come here.”

She makes her way to him, unsurprised as he pulls her onto his lap, keeping her face forward so she can recline back against his strong chest. Solana’s hands rest on his forearms that are almost protectively around her.

Her eyes shut briefly when he brings his lips to her temple, asking, “what’s wrong?”

“Bad dream” she murmurs only to feel a sense of regret at her answer. He’s also obviously up in the middle of the night for a reason too. It’s not just about her.

But in a surprising flip of the roles, Solana feels Roman almost tense underneath her at her answer. “Solana, if us trying is triggering you—“

Her eyes widen almost as she works to assure him. “No. No. It’s not—not that. I haven’t—I haven’t had one of those in a while.” It’s been at least a few months since she’s had a nightmare about that. A far cry from when she would have them at least a few times a week. “It was about my mom.”

He seems to settle a bit, asking, “do you wanna talk about it?”

The answer is easy but also gently supplied. “Not really.” She then angles her head to look at him, asking almost cautiously. “Do you wanna talk about what’s bothering you?”

He chuckles, fingers tapping against the side of her stomach. She tries to focus on his words and not the action, knowing she’ll get too into her head. Her stomach has always been one of her biggest sources of insecurity. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

The rejection, albeit cloaked in vagueness, is a good distraction. She gives him a small smile. “Doesn’t mean I can’t try.” For all that Roman’s been for her in the past few months, she would feel remiss if she didn’t at least attempt to be a safe space for him. 

It’s the least she can do.

He looks at her, and she can tell he’s trying to navigate his words. “Solana, I’m not—I’m not used to talking about my problems. I keep that shit to myself, and I figure it out.” 

She doesn’t deny that one bit, knows that he’s a man who carries the weight of the world but makes it seem like a tennis ball. “I get that.” She doesn’t want to push him. Again, it's more to make him aware that should he ever want to, she’s here. “I just…..I know how lonely it can be not having anyone to talk to.” There’s a hesitation but eventual follow through as she offers quietly, “I don’t think I said it at the time, because everything happened so quickly, but I'm so sorry about your mom.”

He’s tense under her, replying almost stoically. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she points out gently.  “You—you never get over that kind of loss. Not—not really.”

She would know.

He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, and for a second, she berates herself. Chides herself for being too pushy, for bringing up memories that must be painful. Just because she’s venturing down trauma lane, doesn’t mean she has to drag him with her. 

Solana swallows. “I’m so—”

“I have to go out of town tomorrow.”

It’s deflection but almost maybe a genuine notice that’s much shorter than she likes. Regardless, her head snaps in his direction, big eyes on him with a mixture of confusion and shock. “What?”

“I have….I have something I need to handle for work.” That feels like an oversimplification, and she has no doubt it is. Knows that there’s so much about his work and what he does that there’s not enough time and space in the world for him to catch her up on. Not that she would even want to know the full truth, to be honest.

Some things are better left unknown. 

“How—how long will you be gone?”

Solana hates the way her mood has just taken yet another turn in a downward direction. She doesn’t know why it saddens her to know that he’s leaving, to have this sense of anxiety growing in the pit of her stomach at the knowledge that he’s leaving. 

He answers it so calmly, so easily. Like it’s the most simplest thing. “A couple days. No more than a week.”

A week.

The anxiety is slowly trickling into something deeper and heavier. It shows in her face and body language. 

Roman notices this and asks, “what is it?”

She feels silly even saying it, but there’s also a small desire to just be honest with him. To not hide anything. Even if she does feel a bit embarrassed saying so. “It’s just…I haven’t been away from you since the wedding.”

Solana hates that she’s making this moment about her, that she’s redirecting attention onto herself, but at the same time, she can’t ignore her anxiety at just the thought of Roman being gone. Roman is her protector. The one who has made it so nothing bad has happened to her since they exchanged vows. Even with the Theory and Waller situation. That only happened because she hadn’t made him aware. There’s no doubt in her mind now that had she told him from the beginning, he would have nipped it in the bud. 

But for the first time in months, she has to think about something unfamiliar. She has to think about being without his protection.

Her right hand moves to her pajama shorts, pulling at the cotton. Roman sees this telling action and brings his hand under her chin, lifting and making her look at him. “Talk to me.”

It’s suddenly a difficult thing, because she’s not sure she knows how to describe it exactly. So she just asks him instead, voice small, “will Solo still be here?”

And it’s in how he looks at her, how something flashes in his eyes that she knows he knows. “You’re scared.” It’s more of an assessment than anything, and she can’t deny it, no matter how badly she wants to. 

Because no matter how far she’s come, the steps and strides that she’s made, there’s still this deep down fear.

Fear of her dad and brother.

Fear of their anger and punishment for how she’s been made completely out of reach and contact with them.

Fear of their threat from what feels like so long ago.

“Either you kill Reigns, or we kill you.”

And suddenly the fear shifts from what they could do to her and entirely to what they could do to the man before her who suddenly looks like he’s engaging in his own internal dialogue. 

“I figured you would be.” She’s listening, but she’s also worrying, mind starting to race with thoughts about Roman and his safety. “Yes, Solo will still be here. And I asked Bayley to stay at the house with you till I get back.”

“Are the twins going with you?”

He looks taken back by her question, and her stomach drops when he shakes his head. “No. I….I need to handle this on my own.”

Her stomach is a resting stop for daggers. Sharp and swift slices of pain circulating. Solana sits up, angling herself so she can see him better. “You’re gonna be alone?” The scenarios could be in the millions now, her chest starting to tighten, matching the knotting in her belly. “But—but what if something happens? Who’s gonna look out for you—”

“Hey.” And he’s sitting up, one hand on her face, the other on her waist. “Solana, where is this coming from?” That only makes her anxiety spike, her eyes watering at horrible, dark thoughts that involve her losing the first person since her mom who’s ever made her feel wanted. “I’ll be fine. I won’t be alone. But even if I was, I’ve been looking out for myself for a long time. It’s nothing new.”

But that looking out for himself probably almost always involved a sense of knowing what to look out for. He can’t look out for her dad and brother if he has no idea they even have their grisly sights set on him. He doesn't know because she still hasn’t told him. Hasn’t been woman enough to be honest with this man when his literal life is at stake. 

It turns her stomach for an entirely different reason. Her sudden sense of self hatred. 

 Her internal strife must show as he gently moves his thumb across her cheek. “You worry that much about me?” It’s another statement, borderline realization, and he’s not looking for an answer.

She does. She really, truly does. Solana admits with all the emotion and vulnerability, both from his leaving and the inner turmoil at sitting on such a secret, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

And yet, she can’t bring herself to mouth those words, all of the various, horrible ways he could respond rushing to the forefront of her mind. He’ll be angry. Angry at her. He could….he could lose his temper.

He could lose it on her.

And she couldn’t even blame him, couldn't be upset at him because she would deserve it.

She’d deserve whatever punishment he saw fit. 

“It won’t,” he says, tone promising and convincing. It briefly brings her back to the main conversation at hand vs the debate going on in her head. “I been doing this a long time, Solana. I know how to keep myself safe.”

She believes it. Knows he’s capable of unspeakable acts in the name of protection and execution. Still, it does little to abate her nerves.

She whispers, “Roman…my father…” She feels physically sick, the weight of it all making it difficult for her to properly express herself, explain to him the real reason behind her concern. “He….he’s dangerous.”

Roman’s expression is unreadable, but she can’t tell if that’s because she’s so in her head or he’s put back on that mask that the rest of the world sees. That obscured countenance that’s no doubt deeply aided in all of his success. “Solana, I told you before, I’m not a good man. I’ve hurt more, killed more, tortured more people than you can ever imagine.” He’s not trying to scare her. She knows this. Just trying to remind her of who the fuck he really is. “That son of a bitch has no idea what dangerous is.”

“I just—” She’s able to simplify it all to one basic word that carries so much more than what he probably realizes. “I’m scared.” 

Roman sighs, disposition softening a bit. “I figured you would be…” He matches her gaze, almost needing her to look at him directly as he speaks without an ounce of indecision. “Solana, I would never leave you if I thought danger was present. Nothing’s going to happen to me or you.” He brings his mouth to her shoulder, pressing a kiss. “Solo will guard you, and I asked Bayley to come stay here at the house with you until I get back.”

The last part is what gives her the most pause and a small slice of comfort. “R–really?”

He nods. “I’d have asked Naomi too, but that means Jimmy be over here, and the last time his ass was here while I was gone, I had to redo the whole damn fireplace.”

She smiles and laughs a little, a much needed respite from all of her big emotions. There’s a story there. She’d love to know, but timing is everything. Maybe another day.

His lips linger on her temple, vowing, “everything’s gonna be fine.”

Interestingly enough, even in all of the confidence of his delivery, Roman is secretly wondering the same thing as Solana.

Will it?

________

The house feels strange without Roman.

Yes, he’s typically gone the majority of the days and makes it back late in the evening, but there’s still his presence at some point or another.

The past few days, however, have not provided that.

And while Solana is deeply grateful for Bayley’s presence, it’s still not the same.

It’s not Roman. 

She sits across Bayley and Naomi in the living room, Dulce snuggled up next to her as the three women chit chat about any and everything. Solana does her best to be as deeply immersed as possible. It keeps her from checking her phone to see if Roman has replied to her text.

In the time he’s been gone, their communication has been sparse. He always replies, eventually, but she’s noticed that she’s the one who’s initiated most of it. It makes her feel like a bit of a nuisance, like she’s bothering him. 

But, it’s the only thing that keeps her anxiety grounded. To be able to maintain contact with him. To know he’s okay.

Naomi notices this, sees the way she keeps glancing at her phone as if that’ll make it light up with a certain five letter name. “Don’t take it personal, girl. Roman does this every so often.”

At that, her attention fully switches from the phone to Naomi’s statement. “What do you mean?”

“He disappears for a few days. No more than a week. Goes completely off the grid. No contact with anyone. Not even Paul. Does it every couple months, sometimes more frequently.” She says it like it’s normal, like it should make sense. “He’s done it for years.”

“Despite the Bloodline being pretty family oriented, he can be a bit of a loner.” Bayley chimes, throwing some popcorn in her mouth.

Solana frowns, confused and slightly troubled by this information. “Where—where does he go?”

Naomi shrugs. “I don't know. Only the twins do, but they’ve never said shit and never will. They all might annoy each other on a daily basis, but the loyalty among the three of them is unmatched.”

Solana’s mind is racing. She can see someone like her husband wanting and maybe even needing time to be by himself. But the fact that it’s a regular thing, not to mention such a secret thing, has her mind racing and wondering just where does he go? What does he do while he’s gone?

Something Naomi said makes Solana clarify. “We’ve been texting since he left. Not…not as much as we usually do when he’s here, but he’s communicated with me.”

Naomi’s eyes widen. “Seriously?” Solana nods, almost unsure. “Damn. That’s a first then. He never talks to anyone when he leaves like that.”

Solana is quiet. Unsure of what to make of that either. Confused as to why Roman would break ‘tradition’ for her. And then she’s embarrassed, frustrated with herself for not being respectful of him and his time.

He doesn’t have all the time in the world to deal with her and her neediness.

Grabbing her phone, she sends out two texts and puts it face down, determine to not check again until later in the evening.

Solana: I’m sorry I’ve been bothering you while you’re trying to work.

Solana: I’ll leave you alone. Just please be careful.

Bayley is looking over in Solana’s direction when her eyes land on something. “Holy shit, is that what I think it is?” Solana frowns, confused as Bayley’s mouth slips into a shit eating grin. “It is. Damn, how did I not notice that before?”

And before Solana can ask, Bayley hits Naomi on her arm, pointing to Solana’s neck. “They must be having a good ass time over here.”

That’s when Solana realizes what she’s referring to. Her cheeks start to burn a bit as she places her hand over the courtesy of a certain husband of hers hickey.

Naomi is also smiling cheekily. “A very good time.”

But, it’s this conversation that paves the way for something else. That reminds Solana that these two ladies are her friends, her confidants, and also a lot more experienced in a certain area where she most definitely is not.

“Can I ask you guys something?” Naomi and Bayley both turn to Solana at the same time with Bayley being the first to speak. 

“Come on, Solana. You already know you can ask us anything.”

“Yeah. That shouldn’t even be a question.”

That was the easy part, the harder part comes with unveiling the nature of her request. “It’s umm—it’s about sex.”

While she initially expects some type of discomfort, she only receives an increased level of intrigue. 

“You can most definitely ask then.” Bayley quips, pulling her legs up under her on the sofa. “What’s going on?”

Solana starts to ask them to keep it between the group, but it feels redundant. She’s learned to trust that their conversations remain private and confidential. “Roman and I—umm—” Yup. this is definitely the hard part. “I asked him if we could….if we could work up to eventually, umm, having….you know.”

Naomi makes an ‘o’ with her mouth and then nods, almost reassuringly. “Okay.” She seems to be thinking on how she wants to ask, “are you—would it be your first time?”

Solana shakes her head, gaze dropping to her lap. “No. I—umm—” She presses her lips together and briefly closes her eyes, sharing in a quiet tone, “I was raped when I was younger.”

There’s such a mixed, jumbled bag of emotions at saying it aloud. At acknowledging her trauma without allowing that fact to overwhelm her. It’s only the second time she’s said it to anyone other than herself, but there’s also this space that feels a sense of relief at not having to hold it all in anymore.

That part of it….it’s liberating.

Naomi, however, looks distraught. “Oh my god, Solana, I’m so sorry. I didn't know—”

“No, no, it’s okay. How could you have known?” Solana knows they mean no harm, that Naomi was asking out of genuine interest vs trying to get her to divulge her trauma. She also appreciates how neither woman looks at her with an overwhelming sense of sympathy. Like they feel bad for her. Solana doesn’t want that anymore. 

Doesn’t want to be seen as a victim anymore.

She takes a deep breath. “That’s why touch is hard for me, but I’ve been—I’ve been using this workbook for people who were assaulted, and it’s—it’s been helping a lot.” That feels like putting it lightly. Solana has felt life changing differences from working through that book. “But now, I—I want to try to have…that with him, but I don’t—there’s a lot I don’t know about….about pleasing a man.”

Bayley again exchanges looks with Naomi before taking over the conversation. “Does….does Roman know about—”

“He does.” She nods, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “He….he was the first person I told.”

And she doesn’t regret it. Maybe regrets that she doesn’t recall how exactly it came out, but she’s happy he was the one to be there with her in that moment of release. 

“Okay.” Bayley seems relieved at this knowledge. So does Naomi. “And I don’t mean to make you feel like you need to tell him. That’s your truth. You tell or don’t tell anyone you want, but I do think him knowing could help him be….I don’t know, patient?”

Solana nods, explaining with all the truth and sincerity, “he’s been really great with that.”

Because he has. Roman has met her every step of the way of this journey, ready and willing to give her whatever she needs. 

“Good.” Naomi also appears genuinely reassured by this piece of information. “But also, Solana, it shouldn’t be about you pleasing him. It should be about him pleasing you.”

Solana shifts in her seat, shrugging slightly as she admits, “I don’t—I don’t even know if it could be…could be pleasing for me.”

That’s the part she struggles with. Tries not to think too much about it for fear of it hindering her progress. If the trauma of what she endured permanently ruined that for her. 

Naomi, however, is quick with the rebuttal. She shakes her head. “Trust me. With the right partner who knows what he’s doing, it can definitely be pleasing.”

“I guess that’s what worries me too. He’s….he’s so experienced, and I’m—I’m not.” She frowns, sharing and unveiling a layer of vulnerability. “I don’t want it to be…..to be bad for him.” Solana has heard and learned enough by now to know that her husband is a person who likes sex, who’s tumbled in the sheets with more women than she’d probably care to know. And that part doesn’t bother her as much as the comparisons component does. It’s hard not to think about how he’s well versed and probably has high expectations that she’s almost certain she could never exceed, let alone meet.

It’s a bit discouraging, to say the least.

“Fuck him,” Bayley suddenly exclaims and then clarifies. “Not literally, but like, girl, this really is about you. This is….this has to be a big thing for you, and the fact that you’re even willing to try it makes me think Roman must be doing something to make you feel comfortable enough to try it with him.”

That’s an understatement. A small smile falls on her face, just thinking about the measures he’s taken to ensure her comfortability. “He is….he’s really good to me.”

Naomi jumps in. “And that just blows my mind because he’s never been with any woman the way he is with you. He’s never given a damn about them, but he clearly cares about you. And that also makes me think he’ll also be all about making you feel good versus you getting him off.”

That gives Solana a slice of comfort. The fact that he seems to be going against his preferred sexual nature to meet her exactly where she is. He hasn’t given off any indication this is something that bothers or frustrates him. At least none that she’s seen yet. 

Bayley suddenly shifts gears a bit, seeming a bit awkward as she struggles to get out her sentence. “I will say though, there are….rumors that….well—” She turns to Noami, advising. “Might want to cover your eyes.”

She instead rolls her eyes. “Girl, he’s family by marriage. Not blood. I’m listening.”

Bayley laughs as Solana continues to look on a bit confused. “There are a lot of rumors that Roman is….well, he’s big all over. Like….everywhere.” She gestures to her crotch area. “You get my drift?”

And though her cheeks are painted red to match the heat inside at this conversation, Solana nods. “We….we were kissing the other day. Well, maybe more making out, and he….well, he became…..he got hard, and it was….noticeable.”

Solana feels a bit mortified at sharing such intimate details of her interaction with Roman, but Bayley and Naomi seem almost vindicated. “Oh my god, so they are true. I knew it.” 

Naomi is fanning herself as she points out. “also, sis, if he’s getting hard just from kissing you, then he’s definitely gonna be all about you when you guys finally go there. His attraction to you is insane.”

Solana can’t find it in her to deny that.

Because her attraction to him is just as intense, if not more.

Bayley practically squeals but clears her throat, switching back to a more serious tone. “But back to the initial topic, because he’s well endowed, it may hurt a bit at first. It’s a matter of learning your partner, and your partner learning you. Communication is also key. If something isn’t right or doesn’t feel good, let him know.” Solana internally winces at the comment about it hurting. That’s a part that makes her nervous, that pain bringing on flashbacks of her assault. But, that’s also when she knows she has to remind herself that this isn’t that. That Roman isn’t them. 

He’s not trying to hurt her.

Naomi gives her gentle shove. “But, once you get past that pain, it really can be a wonderful thing.”

It makes Solana smile a bit. That’s what she’s hoping for.

“Especially with Roman, cause I mean this with all the respect in the world, Solana, but that man is fine as hell.” Bayley lifts her hands in a surrender motion. “Don’t worry, I don’t want him like that, but I’m not blind either.”

“It wouldn’t make a difference even if you did, cause baby, he is all about Solana.”

Solana’s blushing is on level 10 as she looks down, shrugging with one shoulder, “he’s….he’s really great. I—I’ve never had a man be so nice to me before.”

Naomi shakes her head. “That’s because you’ve never dated a real man before. Hell, you’ve never been around real men until now. Because real men don’t do what your shithole ass brother and father did to you. And probably your ex’s too. Cause I feel like you mentioned an ex.”

Solana nods, gently disclosing some details of her last relationship. “He used to…he used to talk about my weight.” One of many things, but that seemed to be his favorite talking point. “I think I tried to make it work because…well, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because he never tried to make me do anything with him. He…he used to say that I—that I was too fat for him to want to fuck me.”

Four months ago, talking about this would maybe have Solana in tears. But now, it just somewhat upsets her that someone could be so cruel, that she ever believed that. That she ever believed she was so unappealing that no man would want to be with her in that way.

Meanwhile, Naomi looks like she’s contemplating murder. “Girl, please give Roman that man’s name so he can fuck his bitch ass up.”

“Fuck that. I’ll fuck him up myself because what in the actual hell?” Bayley seems legitimately pissed off too. “Like bro, if your dick is small, just say that.”

“Solana, on a scale of 1 to 10, how attractive was your ex?”

She has to think about Naomi’s question. At the time, the score might have been higher, but now, it’s much lower due to well learned common sense. “Maybe a 4.”

“And on a scale of 1 to 10, how attractive would you rate Roman?”

That’s probably the easiest thing she’s been asked all day. “A 10.”

“Exactly, so if a fine ass man like Roman sees how equally fine you are, you do realize your ex was just an insecure prick, right?”

That’s also a surprisingly easy answer. Solana shakes her head. “I do now.” He was never good enough for her, and she never deserved to be spoken to so cruelly. These are facts she cannot and will not dispute.

“Good.” Naomi sighs with relief, leaning back into the sofa. “God, I hate the male species sometimes.” She takes a sip of her wine and is back on track, “but anyway, back to you and Roman, just make sure you stretch real good.”

“Oh my god, Naomi.”

“What? We can’t have her out here not prepared.” She defends and advises, “If you’re on top, and I don’t know, that may be better for you so you feel more in control, moving your hips as if you’re spelling your name will make any man come in under a minute. Guaranteed.”

Bayley adds on, “yeah, but you also gotta have strong legs if you’re riding. I be getting cramps and shit.”

Solana is trying to sit on this information, a strange yet pleasant feeling pooling in the small of her stomach at some of the things being said as well as a brief glimpse of those things coming to fruition.

She shifts in her seat. 

Naomi then unintentionally provides a nice detour of the conversation. “But wait, I have to ask just how well did your date go with Roman because ya’ll seem to have jumped hurdles in such a short time?”

Just thinking about their surprise date has her smiling all over again. “The date was really nice, but—but you guys didn’t have to go through all that.”

Bayley chuckles. “Not according to Jimmy.”

“Jimmy?” Her frown is back. “What are you talking about?”

Naomi is the one to answer, explaining, “he said when we went to see Roman the other day at his office, ya’ll were arguing. It’s why he rushed to have us set up that dinner. Said it was a bad fight.”

“Arguing?” Solana shakes her head. “No. No. We—we were kissing when he walked in.” And the blush is back again at the memory of his soft lips on hers for the first time. A first she’s certain she’ll never forget. “Roman was irritated because we were interrupted. Not…not at me.”

“Lord Jesus, I swear my husband is lucky he’s fine because the way this boy really had us all thinking ya’ll were about to get divorced or something.” Naomi is rubbing her temples. “So, you’re both good?”

Solana nods. She’s not sure she’s ever been more happy in her life than she has been the past couple weeks.

Not since her mom was alive. 

The women continue to chat it up, switching gears and topics when Jimmy and Jey arrive, both heading straight for the fridge to grab the containers of food she had ready and waiting for them.

It’s when the group is trying to settle on a movie or something to watch when Solana finally checks her phone to see her lock screen littered with notifications.

All from Roman.

She immediately unlocks it, reading over the messages.

Roman: Solana, you never bother me. 

Roman: Where is this coming from?

Roman: Answer the phone.

It’s only then she sees she has a missed FaceTime call from him as well. 

Solana untangles her legs and gets up from the sofa, laying Dulce in her bed so she doesn't try to jump off the sofa. 

She attempts to let the group know of her brief absence. “I’ll be right back. Roman called me.” 

Bayley sort of nods in acknowledgement, but the other three seem stuck on trying to pick between a comedy and a thriller. 

Solana taps at her phone and hits the call button as she moves through the kitchen to go out the backdoor.

Roman answers almost immediately. 

She slides the door shut behind her, opening up with a textbook apology. “I’m sorry, I was talking to Bayley and Naomi, so I wasn’t checking my phone.”

He doesn’t waste a second in jumping right to the point. “Why do you think you’ve been bothering me?”

Solana takes a minute to get situated on the sun chaise, setting up the phone so it’s propped against the back of the chaise while enjoying the excuse to not have to give him an immediate answer. 

“I don’t know.” She finally answers, gaze on her crossed legs instead of him, an intentional deflection. “I was looking over our texts, and I didn’t realize just how much I’ve been texting you.”

“Solana…”

“I just didn’t mean to be messaging you so much when you’re trying to work.”

“Solana, you should know me by now to know I don’t do anything I don’t want to fucking do. If I didn't want to respond to you, I wouldn’t have.” He says it so confidently that she almost doesn’t feel like she has the right to not believe him. “I would have left you on delivered just like everybody else. But you’re not everybody else, so I responded.”

Solana looks up, noticing that he’s sitting outside as well, on a patio of some sort. Same as her.

“I know something else triggered that for you, and I’m gonna find out what it is, but I’ll let it go for now.” She’s thankful for that too. This doesn’t seem like a FaceTime type of conversation anyway. “How you feeling?”

“Good.” It’s an accurate answer. Him being home would make things even better. “Having Bayley here has helped a ton. Thank you again for asking her to stay with me.” According to Bayley, it was less him asking and more of him telling, but Bay stressed that she was more than okay with it, hence Solana not feeling like she was inconveniencing anyone.

“I knew you wouldn’t want to be alone.” And she’s appreciative of that. That he’s seemed to learn her well enough to know that even with Dulce, it would be an uncomfortable thing for her. “You said Naomi’s there?” She nods. “Fuck, Solana tell me you didn’t.”

And it’s interesting to her how she already knows where this is going. A small smile growing on her face. “They’re your cousins.”

He ignores that, straight up asking. “Did you let them back in the house?”

Feeling a bit emboldened, she throws it back at him, asking. “Did you ban them from the house?”

Solana was wondering why the twins hadn’t been over since Roman was away, only for Naomi to inform her that they’d been getting denied entrance at the gate to Roman’s property.

A directive from Roman himself prior to him leaving. 

And he doesn't even try to deny it. “I sure fucking did.” 

Solana shakes her head, but she can’t help the smile on her face. His relationship with his cousins is so comical to her. “Roman, that’s mean.”

“Solana, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not a nice person.” She starts to push back on that, push back on his belief that he’s somehow not a good person when he’s one of the best people she’s ever met. “I like you, tolerate them, and hate everyone else. Matter of fact, they asses are about to be grouped into the hate category too.”

“They’re not that—” And before she can finish her line of defense, a loud sound, a shattering of sorts cuts through that attempt. She frowns and turns toward the house.

“Man, what the hell did you do!”

“Aye, it ain’t my fault! I told you the shit couldn’t hold your weight!”

“See, now ya’ll breaking shit in Big Dog house! This why he don’t be wanting ya’ll over here!” Jimmy’s voice becomes louder and clearer followed by the sliding door opening and Dulce running out, jumping at the chaise for Solana to pick her up. 

She does as such, noticing that Dulce is shaking, most likely in fear. “Jimmy, what—”

“What the fuck did ya’ll break now?” 

Roman’s voice catches everyone off guard, even Dulce whose ears perk up and tail starts to wag as she sees him on the phone screen.

Jimmy looks a shade of anxious asking in a harsh whispered voice. “Damn, SoSo, why you ain’t tell me ya’ll was still on?”

“Fuck! I stepped on glass!”

“I told your dumbass to put shoes on!”

“Ayo, Bay, watch ya’ fucking mouth, alright?”

Jimmy chuckles almost nervously, moving near Solana to be in frame of the camera. “Whasup, cuz. Nothing. We just, uh, was watching a movie.”

Roman looks even more irritated at the obvious lie. “Ya’ll got ten minutes to get the fuck out of my house—”

“Damn, Uce, I hear Naomi calling me. I’ll see you when you get back!” And Jimmy doesn’t even wait for Roman to reply, no doubt the continuation and issuance of a threat anyway.

But it’s as he runs back into the house, bickering continuing between him and Jey that Solana rethinks her initial stance. “Maybe….maybe you have a point.”

“Do you see what I’m saying?” Roman looks at Dulce who continues to look at him through the screen, barking occasionally. She’s so excited to see him. “Look, even the damn dog don’t like em’. Ain’t that supposed to be man’s best friend or something?”

Roman’s irritation is felt through the screen, but it doesn’t scare her, doesn’t bother her. Her smile grows again as she asks, “are—are you still coming back Sunday?”

His answer comes on the end of a long sigh, his anger naturally melting away. “yes.”

An instant wave of relief washes over as she asks a follow up question. “So you got everything figured out?”

He hesitates, looking at her for a bit before answering. “For now.”

Solana wants to ask more, because she knows there’s more. He’s saying just enough to answer her questions, and while she normally would leave that alone, there’s a part of her that worries. Something was clearly bothering him before he left, and he suddenly feels or at least seems better. She can’t help but wonder what was bothering him, what helped him to feel better.

Or who.

Because she can’t stop thinking about the information she received from Naomi. It’s not uncommon for Roman to disappear every couple months, sometimes more frequently, okay. But just where does he go and why is it some big secret?

“You’re overthinking something.” Even however many miles away he is, Roman is still exceptionally adept at reading her. “What is it?”

Lying to him isn’t an option, but the full truth isn’t either. “Just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m good, Solana. I promise.”

She wants to believe him, but it’s hard. She just does her best to not feed too much of the anxiety. 

Studying his face, she has to force herself to get past his attractiveness to recognize the dark circles under his eyes. “You’re probably tired.” Not to mention, she feels bad for pulling him away from whatever he was doing. “I should go help them clean up.”

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of talking to you.” Her stomach flutters with all the butterflies only he can seem to give her. “And no, they broke the shit. Let them clean it up.” He easily adds on, “besides, I need to run some things by you.”

This gives her pause, as she stammers a bit. “O–okay.”

“One. I need to know what you want and want to do for your birthday. Two, there’s a Gala next week I have to attend, and I want you to come with me.”

Two major things, the first of which she didn’t realize was coming, the second she doesn’t even know how to think about. 

And maybe it’s less she didn’t know her birthday was coming and more it’s been so long since she’s acknowledged her birthday. Since anyone around her acknowledged her birthday. It feels almost foreign just the idea of doing anything.

Finally, she answers more of his first question than the first. “Nothing. I don’t—I’m not big on birthdays.”

She hasn’t been since her mother’s murder. 

That was the last year anyone ever told her happy birthday.

Roman, however, doesn’t seem to find this as an acceptable answer. “No, your pussy father and brother probably barely acknowledged your birthday, but I’m not them. We’re doing something. Preferably something out of town, because if my fucking cousins interfere in any way, I’m killing them.”

Her smile returns, soft and slightly amused. “Roman, you don’t have to. I just—just come back home, and I’ll be fine.”

And it’s the truth. Just him being back will be more than enough.

Again though, enough for her, but clearly not him. “I’ll handle it then.”

She shakes her head. “Ro—”

“What about the gala?”

Something tells her his mind is made, and when that happens, there is no room for negotiation. So she redirects her focus on the next topic. A gala sounds fancy, uppity almost. It doesn’t seem like his setting, but something also tells her it’s more an appearance he has to attend as leader of the Bloodline vs a preferred outing. 

But, there’s only one main question at the front of her mind. “Will you be with me the whole night?”

“Of course.”

There’s an instant wave of relief as she agrees. “I’ll go.” As long as he’s with her, she’s okay. And if he has to be there, she’d like to at least support him in any way she can.

“Good.” He seems pleased by this, adding on coyly. “Selfishly, I just want to see your fine ass all dressed up.”

Solana giggles as Dulce barks. A comfortable silence settles over them as something flutters in her chest, a warm, almost fuzzy type of feeling. 

Happy. 

She feels happy.

But….but something else. Something both warm and cool, different but familiar, pleasing but scary. A perfect yet imperfect balance of feelings. 

Lips parting, she tries her best to ignore the thumping feeling in her chest. “Roman, I–”

“Ayo, Soso, ya’ll got a fire extinguisher?”

________

“Still nothing?”

It’s the first thing Xavier asks as soon as his son steps foot in his hospital room. It was only a few days prior that Wes was released, finally cleared and recovered enough from his injuries sustained from the Bloodline.

Xavier, however, has not been as lucky. Age and a body already riddled with health issues has prolonged his stay. However, this has only given him time to think, time to plan, time to really evaluate the actions that got him here.

His son answers with a cold, "no."

But while Xavier has schemed, Wes, however, has only stewed. Sat and become overcome with feelings of rage. All directed to one person.

Solana

Just thinking of her makes him snap as he punches his still healing fist into the closest wall. “That little bitch betrayed us!” 

Xavier is used to his son’s violent outbursts, so he has no reaction other than a knowing smirk. “Maybe not.”

Wes looks at his dad, wondering if he’s so high on morphine that he has no idea what he’s saying. “Have you spoken to her? Cause I sure fucking haven’t. She was supposed to keep in contact!”

“She was supposed to earn Reigns trust.” Xavier corrects calmly. “And it seems she has.”

Wes calms down a bit, interested in where his father is going. “What are you talking about?”

“Think about it.” Xavier thinks highly of his son, recognizes his potential for greatness. But there’s still some room for growth. Wes can often be blinded by his own hubris. “That level of rage Reigns had….that wasn’t his usual. It was personal.”

Wes is still stumped, not following fully. “What do you mean? That smug bastard is always like that.”

“No. He came after us specifically for her. Because he was upset about whatever she’s told him we’ve done.” Xavier doesn’t waste the opportunity to bestow a lesson upon his son. He asks, challenging his critical thinking skills, “why do you think that is?”

Wes is quiet, thinking carefully on not only what occurred but what can be inferred between the lines of what occurred. And as realization sets in, so does his vile grin “He cares about her.”

Xavier smiles wickedly. “Exactly.” He rests against the pillow behind his back, ignoring the pain that just that slight movement causes to shoot through his still healing body. Damn morphine must be wearing off. “It seems our little beauty has enchanted the beast.”

Wes nods but then points out. “But how can we be sure? It could very well just be him being possessive. Feeling disrespected only because he sees her as an extension. What we see as personal could just be pride.” 

Another smile befalls Xavier’s still bruised, cut up face. “You’re learning.” He nods, grabbing his phone. “That’s exactly correct. We must know for certain before making any moves.” He flips his phone showing the exclusive invite to William Regal's annual gala. “But, I know exactly how we’re going to find out.”

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 13 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warning(s): derogatory slurs! several of them!

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12 / chapter 14

It was Friday. The last day of school, the night of the talent show, and just a few days before Christmas. They'd be passing out the candy cane-grams. There'd be some assembly, probably.

Your leg jittered restlessly while you tried to focus on your bio paper. What kind of sadistic fuck assigned an essay on the last day before break? The biology teacher, apparently. He had a superiority complex, you were sure. Allergic to happiness.

Your mind kept drifting back to the photo album. Surely, Regina had it. You'd put it in her locker on Wednesday, so she'd have found it first thing Thursday morning. You hadn't dared to take a peek in her locker, afraid Gretchen would sniff you out again.

Something had clearly gone down between them. Gretchen didn't sit with them at lunch, instead opting for her boyfriend's clique. She didn't seem to fit in too well and Jason didn't seem too pleased to have her there. Karen and Regina sat by themselves, conversing casually.

Cady had been banished somewhere. You'd heard talk Aaron had dumped her. You knew Janis and Damien weren't talking to her after she turned her back on them. Since the whole Kälteen bar shebang and the subsequent smear campaign Regina had doled out, she hadn't been exactly welcome at any table. From what you understood, Gretchen and Cady were on speaking terms, but Karen and Gretchen weren't, but Cady and Karen were. It was all terribly confusing.

You had a table for yourself. Some of your old friends crowded the ones nearby, quite pointedly not sitting with you. You were no longer cool, it seemed. Easier to focus on your paper, you told yourself. The cafeteria was serving chilli today. The slop was slightly too watery and the meat was a mystery, but it'd do. You'd run out of food at home. You'd wanted a goddamn Christmas dinner and a good slab of ham got pricy. Couldn't rely on Mrs George for a feast this time around.

"Hey," Someone called near you. You looked up, surprised somebody was talking to you. A boy, more specifically a jock judging by the varsity jacket. "You good?"

"What?" Your brows furrowed. "Yeah?"

He smiled smarmily. "Cool."

And he walked away. You kept looking as he went, staring after his back. His buddies were looking your way, the same kinds of grins on their faces. That was odd. Didn't bode well.

It didn't take long for you to find out why. The period following lunch was when Damien would be visiting classrooms as Santa Claus, handing out candy canes.

He walked right up to you with a grin hidden under the fake Santa beard, wiggling his eyebrows all the while.

"The whole bag..." He drawled. "Impressive."

Confused, you peered into the sack. A couple dozen candy canes filled it, apparently all for you. You picked one out, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as well as the snickering of the boys in the back rows.

Dyke. The message was just one word. It was clearly assigned to you, your whole name displayed proudly. Your body went numb, hands holding the candy limply. There was no signature to show who they were from. People were staring at you. Damien had lingered awhile to see what'd been written to you. The grin behind his beard had turned into a shocked scowl.

"What... What do they say?" Cady, of all people, the nerve of her, asked. She was seated a few rows from you.

"Alright, Mr Leigh, thanks for-" Ms Norbury tried to intervene.

"Dyke." You read out loud. Then you pulled out another. "Lesbo." And another. "Carpet muncher." The boys had trouble holding in their laughs. Another. "Queer." There were others you didn't deign to read out loud. Freak. Pervert. Degenerate. Homo.

If not for a few people finding all this amusing, it would've been dead silent in the classroom.

"These were supposed to be checked before handing out." Ms Norbury strode up to you and promptly confiscated the candies. Her face was set, expression severe, as she regarded Damien sternly.

"I- that wasn't my job. I don't know how, how they would've..." You watched Damien try to put it together.

"Well, is it really offensive if it's true?" Dylan, if you remembered correctly, piped up. He was a sporty guy, decently popular but nothing special. Now, though, he might as well have been an A-lister with how utterly low you'd plummeted.

Murmurs spread out around you. Damien and Ms Norbury retreated to a corner of the classroom to figure out how in the hell this had happened. People were looking at you. Your skin was crawling. It couldn't be Janis who told. She was in the same boat as you and she didn't have the power to do something like this. To make the committee ignore hateful messages meant some strings had been pulled. The only other person that knew, that could realistically do this, was Regina.

You bit your lip, closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Okay. You got the message. The album had been too much. This was a sign to stay away, to forget all the sentimentalities you'd had.

"Hey, calm down now, we'll figure this out- hey!" You didn't pause to listen to Ms Norbury when you booked it out of the stifling classroom. You couldn't bear to be there any longer.

You hid in the bathroom. Both hands held against your mouth so you wouldn't make a noise, you cried long and hard. Your breathing was choppy and laboured, and in no time at all your nose was blocked off entirely. Your eyes stung and your vision blurred.

The bell rang and pretty soon people came into the bathroom. You refused to get out, pretending to take the longest shit ever. It didn't take very long for the people coming in to discuss what had gone down in one of the junior calc classes.

It spread like wildfire. You were pretty sure the boys had nicked some of the candy canes from Ms Norbury since you could hear people reading the notes out loud, the rustling of the plastic covering.

"Who even is that?"

"Who cares? A total freak is what she is. Oh my gosh, Steph, do you think..."

"What?"

"Do you think she used the girls' bathroom? She's probably spread her diseases all over the seats! We're all gonna have gonorrhoea!"

You wanted to sink into the ground and never see daylight again. By the time the bell rang again, signalling the start of the next period, the rumours had inflated and grown disproportionately in severity.

Apparently, you were riddled with sexually transmitted diseases, preyed on freshmen and sold them hard drugs, behaved creepily in locker rooms, and had had a stint with Cady Heron while she was still with Aaron Samuels. You guessed that last one had to do with the time you'd dragged her into the janitor's closet to yell at her about the Kälteen bars.

In short, you were fucked. Your life was fucked. You'd hoped, so hoped, that even if you wouldn't get everything you wanted, you'd get some. You wouldn't get a high school girlfriend, wouldn't have slumber parties, wouldn't be normal. You wouldn't be Regina's friend. Fine. At least you could've had a quiet life, gone to community college and worked at the shop, had some buddies, and maybe lost your virginity one day. Not even that now. Not even a little bit of that. Your future in this town was just no longer there. You had nothing. You were nothing.

You skulked out of the bathroom once you were sure there'd be nobody in the halls. You got into your car and drove home. Just as you'd slumped down onto the couch, the house phone rang. Groaning, you went to answer. If it was your dad, missing it would mean there'd be hell to pay.

"Hello?" Your voice was croaky. It hurt to talk.

"Hi, sweetie! You don't sound too good." Mrs George's chirp greeted you. "I assume you had to leave school 'cause of that. I just happened to see you drive by. Rick got called to work last minute and Kylie's got tutoring till late. Come keep me company?"

"I'm not feeling too well, I'm sorry..." You said, holding the phone to your ear while your other arm wrapped around your body. You tried to breathe deep and not burst out crying, again. Your eyes felt swollen shut.

"Oh, I'll come by with some soup, then," She sounded so genuinely concerned.

You bit your lip. Tummy rumbling in its emptiness, you decided now would be as good of a time as any to bite the bullet.

"Actually, uh, if it's not too much to ask, and um- I-" You took in a shuddering breath. "You don't have to say yes, it's totally okay and I'm sorry if this is, like, too much-"

"Sweetpea, just ask." She chuckled.

"I don't have any food. Or, like, I have ingredients for Christmas 'cause I wanted to make dinner for myself, but I guess I forgot I have to eat before then too?" You tried to laugh, but the sound was strained. "Um, could you take me to the soup kitchen downtown?"

You could've driven yourself. You could've, in that you were capable of driving yourself, but with how your vision was impaired, how your body ached with loneliness, and how you weren't sure you wouldn't just impulsively drive into oncoming traffic, you doubted you would've survived the trip.

"No." She said bluntly. You flinched, feeling the refusal like a knife to the gut. "No, absolutely not. We are going grocery shopping and getting you food to last the rest of the damn year. I'm picking you up."

"Mrs George, I don't have money-"

"You shouldn't be spending your hard-earned money like that. Doesn't your dad send you enough to cover utilities?"

"He sends me grocery money. I gotta pay for gas and stuff on my own."

Mrs George's resounding silence spoke volumes of her opinion on that. "I'm coming to get you. I'm buying you groceries and then we're gonna meal prep. Okay?"

"Okay."

When Mrs George saw you, her determined attitude shifted to that of maternal worry. You fought hard not to break down, though all you really wanted to do was curl into her and cry your little heart out.

She drove you to Whole Foods, a place way out of your budget. But she insisted, so there was little you could do. She took you from aisle to aisle, prattling on and on, chatting about this and that. You listened mostly silently, humming here and there.

She picked out a lot of canned stuff, like beans and tomato purée. All that stuff was made to last forever, so you wouldn't always have to buy fresh ingredients. She bought all your favourite snacks, which she somehow remembered. When you commented on that, she just pointed at her temple with a knowing grin. Mothers never forget, she'd said.

Once you were all done, the cart was quite literally overflowing. The total nearly made your stomach drop out of your ass. Mrs Geoge simply flashed her black card and, without even a wince, paid the price. The receipt was, like, three feet long.

Carrying it all to her car was a daunting task, but a worker did come to help you. A young man, probably home from college, was all too eager to carry the bags for Mrs George.

The way he was blushing all the way up to his ears, the way she was amused by him but not receptive, made you think about what Regina had said months ago. You'd been on your way to her nail appointment and she'd gone on a tangent about how women died at menopause.

Mrs George was thriving. She was above it all. Her worth, or mortality, wasn't determined by the men around her. She'd been cheated on, continuously neglected by her husband, and put down by her teenage daughter, and still, she was beautiful. She existed independently.

In short, you were right and Regina was wrong. You saw things how they really were. She saw things tilted to the left, through a warped lens. The confirming of this brought you no comfort, she'd already ruined you and there was no redeeming herself after this, at least not for you.

"Phew, what a trip, right?" She nudged you with her elbow as she buckled her seatbelt.

You nodded along, voice still weak. You buckled in as well.

"I'll pick you up for the talent show." She said as she turned away from the parking lot. "Oooh, we should have a night in. Order some pizzas and slob around the couch. How's that sound?"

"I don't think I should go to the talent show."

"Oh, why's that?"

"Just... Something happened at school. I don't wanna go."

Mrs George frowned and glanced at you. "Honey, you know you can tell me anything. I still think you should come."

"Everybody hates me." You faced the window and crossed your arms. Very mature.

"I'm sure that's not true." She sighed. "I'm not supposed to tell you, but Regina's got something prepared for you. I think you should go see her at least."

Your face twisted in anger. "Something prepared for me- like she prepared something for me today? I don't fucking think so."

"Language." She said and you grumbled. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. It's nothing." You rubbed your hands down your jeans. "It's not gonna be good. She's gonna humiliate me."

"It's supposed to be a surprise, but I can guarantee that she's not going to humiliate you."

"What do you know?" You turned to her with narrowed eyes.

"I've been hearing her practice, is all." She responded, tone much too light.

You studied her face carefully. "Fine."

She smiled, seemingly relieved. Then, as if to cut the tension in the car, said:

"Oh, and by the way, I'm filing for divorce." With a giddy smile on her face, she blurted it out. You just stared for a while, almost suffering whiplash from the sudden change in topic.

"Uh... Finally." You laughed a little as you said that.

"Yeah!" She laughed with you. "It's been a long time coming. I just needed to sort some things out. Emotionally and financially. I had to get rid of some investments so I wouldn't have to pay alimony."

Your jaw dropped. The Georges were, like, filthy rich. Rich beyond reason, excess income to a ridiculous degree. You'd always assumed it was Mr George's money. How archaic of you.

"I... I kinda wished you'd done it sooner." You looked forward again. She was driving carefully since the snow made the roads prone to ice.

"Me too. The girls... They... I thought that having two parents would be the most stable, safe environment for them. I was wrong."

"Yeah." You swallowed. "Um. Since we're, like, just saying things. I'm, by the way, gay. Like, a lesbian."

"That's wonderful, honey!"

"Yeah." You couldn't say you agreed.

"Should we go get you a haircut?"

"I don't need to look any more butch than I do."

"I don't know, I think you'd look dashing." She feigned light-hearted. "Regina might like it."

"Mrs George!"

Notes: More drama! Yay! Do y'all think Regina did it?

Taglist posted separately. Please comment on the taglist post to be added on there :)

[shotmrmiller]

okay so maybe like angst/hurt comfort bc the boys are soft and i love that house indulge me thank you 😭😭😭 (tw unhealthy relationship, nothing descriptive but to each their own with how it goes/how dark you want it)

but say reader is with someone else, someone who frequents the boys usual bar. and they see you quiet often and come to look forward to seeing you, even if you’re with someone else. you’ve caught their eye a couple times and always send a shy smile back and have even gathered the courage to say hi to them every once in awhile when they come up to the bar for a refill.

and the more they go, the more rundown you seem. more tired, lackluster, smile straining at the corners. even if you’re happy to see them, look forward to seeing them, it doesn’t reach your eyes like before.

one evening they go out the side for a smoke and see your partner berating you (perhaps more, worse, etc) and they get involved bc how fucking dare they. they damn near tear the collar off with a knife and pull you away to protect you, and keep you safe from them.

TW: implied verbal abuse

"You talk to all your defenseless pets like that?" Mohawk man's face twisted in anger as he fiercely confronted your 'handler'. The guy was silent, choking on his fear, when he got slammed against the wall so hard his head bounced off of the surface.

The behemoth with a skull balaclava placed his palm right by his head and got within inches of your handler's face.

With a menacing tone, he growled, "He asked you a question."

Chilly hands cupped your face and turned your head, forcing your attention from your handler borderline pissing himself on the wall to the guy in front of you, that wore a hat with a UK flag on it.

"Focus on me, sweetheart. You alright?" he softly asked.

Too stunned to speak, you weakly nod.

"Good. Captain? Got a knife?" The man with a mutton chop beard answered him.

"No. Simon?" Without looking, the masked man threw his sheathed tactical knife at Captain. Hat man slowly moved, taking great care to not make any sudden movements, and grabbed the knife, and explained, "I'm going to cut this collar off, yeah? I promise I won't hurt you."

He waited patiently for your consent, and when you finally did, he gave you a tender smile.

"Good darling. Hold still now."

Swiftly placing two fingers under your collar, he cleverly used them as a barrier between the delicate skin of your neck and the blade.

As soon as it snapped off, a rush of air filled your lungs, and your eyes stung with the welling of tears. You were finally free.

Captain took off his coat and wrapped it around you, enveloping you in warmth.

"Let's get you outta here, yeah?"

In the secure embrace of Captain, you were swiftly carried away from the chaos, and when the unsettling noise of skin colliding with skin reached your ears, you tightly covered them— blocking out all sound.

--

why was this so hard to write? maybe cuz if i was one of the boys, im just pulling out the glizzy.

find peace in the embrace of the goddess, type beat.

[visionarymode]

Winter Whispers

✧ warnings: smut, language, 18+

✧ pairing: roman reigns x female reader

✧ word count: 2,832

“God, it’s fucking freezing out there,” he breathed out as he shut the door behind him.

“Baby I told you to just leave it for tomorrow,” you sighed, getting up from the couch to walk over to him. Your jaw dropped at his bright red nose as he rubbed his hands together. He looked so cute all bundled up with his black beanie and thick jacket.

“Oh my god,” you giggled, still baffled that he wanted to go outside in this negative degree weather to shovel the snow. Yet he insisted that it wouldn’t be a big deal and he’d be quick. You grabbed his big, cold hands to wrap your own tiny, warm ones around them as you got on your tip toes to kiss him. His lips were so cold yet still so soft.

“Mm,” he hummed as he went in for seconds. “I feel warmer already…” he deeply mumbled against your lips making you lazily grin with your low eyelids focused on his own pearly whites.

“Let me get daddy some hot chocolate first,” you giggled as he playfully grabbed a handful of your ass.

You walked over to the kitchen counter and added whipped cream to both mugs and topped it off with some mini marshmallows and chocolate drizzle. You couldn’t help but stare at his gorgeous self as he cleared his throat, took off his jacket, and slicked back a few strands of hair falling in his face from his messy bun. He caught you looking and quickly steered your attention at the drinks in front of you as he licked his lips and ran his hand over his thick beard. You felt your cheeks flush as you heard him chuckle at your embarrassment. He got himself comfortable on the big couch as you grabbed both mugs and headed over join him.

“Thanks baby,” he smiled as he took a sip of the mug, dramatically fluttering his eyes as he licked the remaining whipped cream from his lips.

“Good huh?” you giggled, plopping your self next to him as you swung your legs over his lap.

“Mhm,” he mumbled as be took another sip, his other hand gently rubbing on your bare leg. His subtly eyed your exposed skin as be lowered the mug from his lips that he licked, watching you as you teasingly bent your knee and rocked it side to side making his gaze slowly peer up your entire body. You were wearing an oversized ugly christmas sweater with nothing but panties underneath and some long fuzzy socks.

“What?” you chuckled, as he raised his brows, a smirk creeping up on his lips. He loved your subtle yet scandalous little outfits you always put together.

Your eyes focused on his as you took a sip from your mug, purposefully letting some slip on your bottom lip. You wiped it with your thumb and laughed at his sudden tight, frustrated grip on your lower leg.

“Quit your little games and come sit on daddy’s lap…” he deeply ordered as he snaked his hand up your thigh. You placed your mug on the coffee table and obliged as you hopped on his lap. You heard him wince as he turned his body to set his own mug on the table.

“Are you okay?” you asked worriedly, furrowing your brows at his sudden pain.

“Yeah…my shoulders just a little sore from the shoveling,” he grunted, looking back up at you as he scratched his beard.

“Just a little?” you asked again, your tone slightly above a whisper as you softly smoothed your hands up and down his upper arms. You knew he was undermining how painful it really was, he was always one to not make you worry.

“Yes…just a little,” he not so convincingly reassured, pulling you in by your sweater to place a kiss on your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck allowing your foreheads to press together as he ran his hands up and down your back. He cupped the side of your face, keeping you close as he sensually took his time exploring your mouth with his thick, warm tongue.

“You’re still cold,” you whispered with a frown, feeling him shiver a little beneath you as his face still felt chilly.

“But…you’re helping…a lot,” he whispered back in between kisses. Your lips stayed connected on the last one, both of you transferring some extra love and lust towards the other as your fingers brushed his beard. He sniffled a little, making you hide your laugh at his still bright red nose.

“What?” he asked, playfully furrowing his brows as you played with his sweater strings.

“Your nose is so red. You look like Rudolph,” you teased with a giggle.

“Oh I’m Rudolph now?” he sarcastically asked with a deep tone, brushing strands of your hair out of your eyes.

“It’s cute though,” you reassured, your hands resting on the sides of his neck as you leaned in to kiss his chilled nose. You pecked it again as your thumbs softly swiped across his freckles sprawled under his eyes.

“It makes your freckles pop,” you softly spoke, kissing each freckled side. He wrapped both arms around you, pulling you as close to his chest as possible with another little grunt, and you knew it was once again from his soreness.

“I know you’re in pain,” you pulled back to whisper, running your hands up and down his biceps again as he lovingly gazed at your concern, his eyes crinkling from his smile.

“Sweetheart…I’m fine,” he reassured once again against your lips with his big, plump soft ones. You both exchanged about five short and audible kisses before you came up with your own offer.

“You sure? I could give daddy a little massage…” you bribed, trying to hide your taunting smile. You delicately and dedicatedly dug your fingers into his shoulders to show him a preview as he pleasingly inhaled from the temporary relief.

“Uh huh…” you mocked as he closed his eyes from the wonders of your fingers.

“That does feel good…” he pleasantly responded, his eyes still closed as he licked his lips.

“Mhm…a little massage…and a nice, hot shower will make daddy feel real good” you whispered as you snaked your hands down his chest and stomach, picking the hem black hoodie, reaching further underneath to pick at his long sleeve. Your little grind against his bulge got him to open those deep brown eyes of his as he bucked his hips in response.

“Oh yeah?” he deeply asked slightly above a whisper, his eyes fixated on your bare thighs as they slowly gazed up your body and eventually up your hungry, inviting eyes. He ran his big hands over your tiny body, cupping your breasts, a smirk creeping on his lips as his right hand found your cheek to cup it, pulling you down onto his laid body. You both moaned as your lips found each other, tongues enticingly swirling to savor each other’s sweet and cocoa taste.

“You’re so beautiful…” he groaned between kisses and head turns as he squeezed your ass cheeks, using them as leverage to rub against his hard on. You satisfyingly exhaled as his hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head to grab a handful of your hair to pull on, exposing your neck. He left sloppy, wet kisses down your jaw making you bite your lip as you felt your panties get wetter…and wetter…

“Mmm…” he deeply moaned as he slid his thick, warm tongue along your neck. A hushed gasp escaped your lips as he sucked on your sweet spot, his large hand tightly squeezing your right ass cheek as you let yourself unapologetically ride his bulge.

“Roman…” you moaned his name as his lips audibly smacked against your sensitive skin.

“What sweetheart?” he asked as his hands smoothly ran up your lower back and around your hips to tightly grip them as he removed his lips from your neck to gaze up at your flushed face.

“Hm?” he pressured again, running his thumb across your glossy, wet bottom lip as your lost eyes never left his sinister ones.

“Wanna hit the shower with me?” he whisperingly asked as your lips naturally parted, allowing him to slowly slip his thumb inside and along your warm tongue, making you suck on it.

“Mhm,” you nodded with a not so innocent grin, his thumb fondling with your lip again as he flashed his own pearly whites. You yelped as he suddenly scooped you up into his arms. Your legs naturally wrapping around his torso, giggling as he spanked you while heading up the stairs.

“You can put me down I don’t wanna make your shoulders worse,” you expressed in worry again as he kissed his teeth in disagreement. He placed you on the counter, gently grabbing you by the throat as your lips brushed together.

“Stop…worrying…about my body…and let me fuck yours,” he growled. You practically moaned watching him slowly and torturously take off his shirt, exposing his tanned, tatted, and muscular body. You slipped off your own sweater, exposing your black laced bra and panties while he turned on the water on.

“You’re so perfect…you know that?” he softly asked once he turned back around, keeping his fascinated and loving eyes on you, tilting your chin up with his finger while the other one found your back to unclip your bra. It fell in your lap before he snatched it and threw it on the floor making you grin against his lips. Your legs clutched to his waist as he easily scooped you back up in his arms. You both exchanged a slow kiss, smiling against each others lips as he stepped inside the shower. You couldn’t help but feel guilty about him continuously carrying you with his sore muscles but he instantly made you forget as his tongue wrestled yours. You got lost in his juicy and wet lips and forgot you were even under the running shower by how quickly you both got wet. You gasped as he dropped you down and spun you around without warning, grabbing your hands to place on the wall as he pressed the tip of his dick between your ass cheeks. He held both of your hands up above your head with his left hand, the right one hooking right under your panties to feel your wet lace.

“Baby…” you moaned as he left sloppy kisses down your back, his hands roaming around your curves as he knelt on the floor. You felt his hands grope your ass cheeks, the sudden poke of his teeth on your skin as he held the hem of your laced panties with his teeth, sliding them off as you lifted each leg to help him.

“Good girl…” he muttered with the lace still between his teeth, smacking your ass again as you turned around at the sight. You bit your lip, lovingly gazing up at his tall figure, soaked in water as it dripped down his body…making you snatch the panties between his teeth and throwing it over the rod. His lips found your neck again, making your eyes flutter as your right hand reached below to stroke his slippery, hard, and tanned dick in your palm.

“You wet for daddy?” he moaned in your ear, his two middle fingers sliding up and down between your sticky, slick folds making you gasp from his touch.

“Yes…” you whined as he slowed down the pace of his slithering fingers between your folds, teasing his long middle one against your hole. His dick was rock hard against your belly as he grabbed your throat with his other free hand, keeping a tight grip on your neck while that thumb and forefinger toyed with your jaw.

“Please…” you begged with a gasp as he slowly slipped his middle finger inside of you.

“Hm?” he taunted, placing his wet lips on yours. You panted between the slippery kisses as you nodded, hoping he’d fulfill your begging needs.

He removed his finger to slide it against his tongue, enclosing his lips around it as he tasted your needy, sweet juices. He picked you up and pinned you against the dripping wall, his left arm wrapped around your lower back as his right grabbed his dick.

“I got you baby girl…” he cooed with a reassuring, sexy nod as he dragged his streaming tip along your soaked entrance making your mouth drop open. He dragged it in vertical strokes a couple times before slipping his entire length inside of you with ease, making you both moan at the familiar and pleasureful reunion. He started with nice, slow, easy thrusts as you both moaned against each others tongues. You jerked in his arms, struggling to stay still as your legs tightened around his waist.

“Feel good baby?” he groaned, the fast droplets of water falling between his lips as he spoke, pulling you right back in between them as you bit his soaked bottom lip.

“Yes…fuuuuuck,” you cried out with a gasp, his thrusts intensifying, the sound of his doused balls slapping against your wet skin growing louder, and the parting of his mouth widening from his gratifying bliss watching you in pleasure.

“Like that sweetheart? You like daddy’s dick?” he moaned as his hand slid over your drizzling thigh and around your ass to spank it.

“Y-Y-Yesyesyes…” you loudly moaned, your left arm sliding off his neck to cup the right side of his wet and glistening bearded face. Water dripping down his dampened strands of hair and parted lips as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your head fell back to the wall for a split second before a new wave of warm, shocking pleasure sparked your lower belly making your head fall forward onto his forehead. He slid his tongue into your mouth to get another whine out of you as he subtly slowed down his thrusts.

“You gon’ cum sweetheart? You gon’ cum for daddy?” he deeply whispered yet was so audible over the loud drops of water from the shower head and your wet bodies smacking against each other. He held you tight as he took a step back to get you both covered right underneath the water, slapping your right ass cheek.

“Yes daddy…” you gasped as he picked you further up against the wall, slowly sliding you back down the tiles at the same pace of his tongue as it licked you between your middle breast bone and back up to your neck as his dick slipped right back in you. You felt like you were seeing stars as your eyes fluttered uncontrollably, your breasts bouncing frantically against his soaked and tatted chest, and his moans filling your ear as he pumped his length in and out of your overstimulated pussy.

“I-I-I’m gonna cum,” you moaned with heavy pants as the his grip around your body and left thigh tightened. You felt your walls contract around his throbbing dick, his thrusts quickening by the millisecond. Your eyes struggled to stay open, the water hurriedly dripping down your fluttering eyelashes.

“Cum with me sweetheart…cum all over daddy’s dick,” he coached you as his heavy grunts heightened. Watching him soaked, in pure bliss, and hearing him call you your favorite name sent you right over the edge as you shut your eyes with one last loud and high pitched moan as your orgasm took complete control. He thrusted one last time inside of you, keeping his dick deep inside your gushing walls as his own warm and creamy cum filled you up. Your arms stayed wrapped around his neck and both of your heavy breathing slowed down to peaceful ones as he removed a couple wet strands of your bangs out of your face.

“I love you…” you whispered against his lips as he caressed your cheek with his thumb, a smile spreading across those dripping lips.

“I love you more sweetheart,” he confessed with a passionate kiss, slowly dropping you back down to the floor, both of his thumbs still cradling the sides of your face.

“Real shower time?” you asked with a giggle. He nodded as he flashed his pearly whites, using his right hand to move his hair out of his face.

“Real shower time. C’mon now…” he teasingly ordered as he ran his fingers through your hair, grabbing your shampoo with his other hand.

“No…you first. Your body needs a break,” you tried grabbing the bottle out of his hand but he snatched it away.

“Break?” he asked with a chuckle. He poured some into his hands, lathering it up as he rubbed them together.

“Baby-”

“Baby…” he cooed back as he interrupted, spinning you around by the waist as he started massaging your scalp with the shampoo.

“We gonna get cleaned up….and then I’m gonna make this pretty pussy cum all over again once we done.”

✧✧✧✧✧

thank you so much for reading! <3 I hope y’all enjoyed it ✨ happy holidays ✨

if you want to be added to my tag list let me know :)

you can read more of my fics here ❤️‍🔥

tag list ♡ @harmshake @cyberdejos2 @hangermads-s @foreverlyjay @sassginaswanmills @theninthwonder @jeyusos-girl @bebesobrielo @2-muchsauce @southerngirl41 @allmyn1ghts @venusesworld @alyyaanna @gomussy @jstarr86 @nayys-world @mainthingdoja @empressdede @skyesthebomb @geekinstilettos @zzedah @justazzi @mzv11 @msbigredmachine @smile1318 @pixieduststyles94 @pinkpantheris

[pernillecfcw]

Chilly 🥰🥰

[darsynia]

Heyyy. I hope ur requests are open. Anyways. Can I get a shot of tequila w/ Steve Rogers and the reader reunited after like 6 months apart because he went on the run and didn’t want to disrupt her life. Like maybe she was on Tony’s side in Civil War but helped Steve anyway because they were together since CA:WS. She tracks him down in Switzerland and he comes home to the safe house to see her heels by the door like they usually would be back in New York. Then he sees her sitting in the dark, save for the fireplace, and they argue about how he can try to leave but she will find him everytime because she loves him. So they have some “reunion fun” and maybe after, they’re having some pillow talk where she’s worried that he’s been with other women in 6 months apart. because let’s be fair, we can’t blame her. have you seen the nomad-hair ‘n beard?… 😭

Thanks for the request, nonnie! I couldn't work in the very last bit, but hopefully you'll enjoy. Rating is NC-17, minors DNI. 1,800 words. (I forgot to add, 180F is a good temperature for green tea--and yeah, a kettle would be in C probably but bear with me for the metaphor ❤️)

180

The chilly wind is not the reason Steve feels cold on his walk home. He’s living in a fully furnished home for the first time in six months, but nothing about the space feels welcoming. He can’t settle. Somehow the many barracks he’s lived in over the years made him feel more comfortable, and he knows the reason why.

You’re not there.

The thought stings, and he grits his teeth, keeping his eyes on the road. The last thing he wants to do is look familiar, and maybe that’s the problem. If he’s not allowed to be Steve Rogers, no amount of handmade quilts and cozy living room furniture will make him feel at home.

He rounds the corner, pulling out his key with a half of a block to go. The rental is quiet, out of the way, obscure, even. Half the time even he struggles to find it. From three houses away, he sees a pair of deep red heels next to his front door, as incongruous among the quaint townhomes in Willisau as a palm tree. The spasm in his chest isn’t something the serum in his veins can heal, but Steve tells himself nothing’s really there. He’s imagined your shoes waiting outside of almost every place he’s laid his head since he left, and now it’s Switzerland’s turn.

He studiously ignores his lintel as he unlocks the door and goes inside.

 Steve’s sure he’s right when everything is the same as he’d left it. You've never failed to leave your personal touch in his living spaces--a hand knit scarf hung next to his coats, a delicate bunch of flowers on the table in a vase he'd long ago forgotten he owned.

The orange of sunset stretches across the floor from a back window, and he can smell the tang of woodsmoke, a familiar occurrence in this neighborhood. It isn't until he puts his shoes and keys away and pads into the kitchen that he finally realizes he’s not alone.

The smoke smell isn’t from outside. The fireplace is lit, and when Steve steps into the doorway, he sees a familiar, precious silhouette. Even though you have to have heard him, you don’t turn around, so he chooses discretion as the better part of valor. You’ve always said a warm cup of tea is comforting after a long day, and it has been that.

He sets the temperature on the kettle, places two mugs, and then goes looking for tea, concern and frustration growing. You've never not greeted him, but those had always followed a goodbye, something Steve hadn't had the courtesy to give when he'd left. The first two cabinets yield nothing, and you haven’t spoken or come in, yet.

Then, suddenly, you’re there, walking in and showing him exactly where the tea is, right in time for the kettle’s finishing beep. You’ve always been like that, exactly what he needs at exactly the right time, and that hasn’t changed. It’s damning and loving all at once.

Steve grabs at one of the tins, but you set a light hand on his, leaving it there are you say something about temperatures and tea leaves. He’s barely listening, focused on the way your touch has jump-started his heart, his lungs, and… everything else.

“Steve!” you say, snatching your hand back and giving him an affectionate, frustrated look. It’s more the latter than the former, but at this point he’s parched soil grateful for a slight drizzle. “Did you hear any of that? I asked what temperature you set the kettle.”

“Uh, whatever the default is?”

Brand new to this kitchen though you are, you pick it up and start it again, noting that the water bubbles up right away. “208 is my guess. That’s too hot for this. It’s green.”

Steve very much wants to point out that all tea is green, but he knows better. Instead, he says, “We can pour it out and start over?”

You look at him for a long moment, your body a foot and several hard conversations away, and finally nod. Neither of you say anything as the new water heats up, but Steve feels the metaphorical distance between the two of you narrow as you breathe each other’s air for the first time in forever.

When the kettle finally sounds, it’s somehow familiar. In his head Steve feels another timer go off, and he heeds it.

“I’m--” he starts to say, but you interrupt.

“I know.”

To hide his apprehension, Steve grabs the sugar, a spoon, and an amused look. “You don’t know what I was going to say!”

“I know all of them. You’re sorry. You’re not coming home. You’re doing this for my own good. You’re lonely.”

“You’re right.”

“I know.”

The two of you settle next to each other on the couch with a not inconsiderable amount of painful distance between you. That doesn’t translate to the conversation, though. It’s full of honesty (“I didn’t want to leave. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but I’m not done with the things that need to be done, and it’s not safe for you here.”) from both sides  (“You’re physically gone and I hate that, but emotionally, I know you don’t want to let me go. I’m always with you, and I’ll always find you. There’s no one that can keep me safer than you can.”).

Once the tea’s long gone and the fire has died down to embers, neither of you have said the most important words, the healing words. 

Finally you whisper them, tears welling up in your eyes. “Steve, I love you. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

He opens his mouth, certain of his mission, as sacrificial as it is--but you slide up beside him, warm and loving and his.

“It can be like this,” you rasp, sliding your hand along his chest and up into his hair to pull his lips down to yours.

Steve groans in gratitude, angling his head in welcome and grasping at your hips to drag you onto his lap where you belong. He sends up a prayerful apology to any member of his family that still checks the earthly realm to watch him live a sinless life. Today is not that day. 

You’re wearing soft dress pants, just loose enough for him to slide his hand past your waistband, thumbing caresses along the heat of your inner thigh until your hitching ‘yes’ of a sigh gives him more explicit permission. He’d missed your body, missed this, the warm slick of your welcoming folds, the way you gasp and tense when he strokes you. This angle shouldn’t work, but he’s strong, and he knows how much you love that, so he nuzzles the join between your neck and shoulder, breathing you in.

You release your deathgrip on his shirt to snake your hand up into his hair, dragging your fingernails deliciously against his scalp. Your movements are imprecise and shaky, a testament to his own erotic movements, and Steve groans aloud at the realization. The timbre of your voice as you whisper his name hints at how close to orgasm you are, and he takes the opportunity to escalate his onslaught.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he whispers against your skin, thrusting his fingers inside at unpredictable intervals to prolong your pleasure. You have always both loved and hated that, wanting instead to lose yourself in the rhythm of predictable movements--but your most vocal climaxes come just like this.

Steve backs off again, and you roll your hips, tempting him to return. “I’ll never let go,” you growl, pushing off just far enough to start unbuckling his pants. “You should know that.”

It’s an inflection point, and though Steve’s a soldier, he doesn’t fight you. You’d been so close your whole body had started to tremble, but instead of taking what you could from him and then shifting the mood, you’d taken the route of self-sacrifice. Those thoughts flee the battlefield when you urge him to lift up enough to tug his pants out of the way. Impatience sings through his veins. He wants to take charge and--

“Oh,” he says. The whole world shifts from black and white to color as you slide down between his legs, taking him in your mouth. He’s almost too sensitive for this, grabbing a fistful of the couch instead of your hair, knowing his own strength. You anchor yourself with a hand grasping that same forearm, moaning as you suck as if feeling the flex of his muscles is itself erotic.

Steve knows the whining noise he can hear is coming from his own throat, but doesn’t care about anything but the surging joy of this moment. You know exactly how to work him, adding everything he loves about you, about the ‘us’ he’d wanted to build with you. When he’s almost, almost there, when he knows your next move would be a deep-throated encouragement to spill in your mouth, you pull back.

The lesson is sharp and warranted, but Steve’s trust doesn’t waver. He looks down at you--‘submissive’ at his feet but fully in charge of the moment--and nods. I get it. Your light smile and little squeeze of his arm before you get up feels more like home than anything in months.

“I love you,” he says, and means it more than he ever, ever has.

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to say that in the middle of sex?” you tease, moving fluidly to shed the rest of your clothing. The only thing you keep on is your electric blue bra, and Steve lets out a tiny little noise of want when he sees it. It’s his favorite. Eight months ago you’d tried to get rid of it and he’d snatched it up out of the ‘to toss’ pile and buried it in his drawer, the drawer you’d given him in your bedroom for when he slept over.

He hadn’t wanted to leave it behind, to leave you behind, but it felt like the right thing to do at the time. Now, looking at your sultry, challenging expression, he truly understands the mistake he made.

Steve opens his mouth to tell you how beautiful you look in the firelight, how sorry he is that he ever thought he could walk away to make your life safer, how--

“Prove it, soldier,” you tell him. The words are confident, but there’s a waver in your tone that he put there.

He reaches for you, pulling you onto him, into him, straight through his skin, your sighs writing your name on his heart. It's exactly where you, where he belongs. The result is a rolling boil, a volley of exploding shells, a Brooklyn apartment with a pair of red heels at the door.

It’s been a battle, but he’s home.

Note: I misremembered boiling point, embarrassingly. Fixed.

[ki-kink]

Hi. I've been interested in the wereteenager theme and in particular in the transformation, but I have trouble imagining it. It seems to be gradual and has various phases. Is there a precise sequence in the physical changes? How do fat mass and muscle mass change in the various parts of the body? Is it painful? What thoughts or images form in your mind during the various phases? In short, if we were to shoot a scene from a film that represents it in its entirety, like the one in "An American Werewolf in London", how should we imagine it.

There is no photographic or even filmed documentation. What I have found is this protocol of a patient. Sorry, that's all I know….

22:00: Photo for the transformation protocol is taken. It's the usual feeling before a Friday night. Anxiety. Anticipation. In any case, it's a strange feeling.

06:00: The alarm clock wasn't actually supposed to ring for another 20 minutes. But like almost every Friday, I'm woken up by an incredible morning erection. Like almost every Friday morning, I also had a wet dream. I have to make up the bed.

06:30: To get rid of the erection, I masturbated in the bathroom. It didn't take long to ejaculate. The plan to measure the amount once didn't work out again as I spread my sperm uncontrollably around the bathroom. My testicles are covered in soft fuzz, as is my upper lip.

07:30: After showering, I had to masturbate a second time. I have the feeling that the ejaculation was stronger than the first one. Although I'm freshly showered, I already smell of sweat under my armpits again. My armpit hair is much bushier than usual.

09:30: The morning board at Teams was torture. I find it hard to concentrate. Especially when Luke is in a call. He looks incredibly hot. I have a steadfast erection and a wet precum stain in my pants.

12:00: The morning has been exhausting. I'm finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. To be honest, I've been online most of the time. Watching football scores, TikTok, Instagram… My colleagues went out for a salad. I had such a craving for a burger. I went to a burger joint around the corner. There were three hot high school jocks sitting at a table. I asked if I could sit with them. The looks were a mixture of disgusted and amused.

2:00 p.m.: Had to jerk off, couldn't help myself. Fantasized about standing in the shower with the guys from the burger joint after a soccer training session. When I washed my hands afterwards, I looked in the mirror. Despite shaving this morning, there's already beard fuzz on my upper lip again. But apart from that, my reflection pisses me off. That's not me. I'm not an old man.

4:30 p.m.: End of work. At last. On the subway, I see that I'm wearing my worn-out Chucks. It's a good thing none of my colleagues saw. The sun will set in a good hour. I still have no idea what I'm going to do tonight. There's not much pocket money left. Shit, I have to piss. Good thing I have to go out next stop.

4:35 pm: Yo, I'm at the station loo, takin' a leak. Bro, my dude: Däng! This thing's rock hard, like a baseball bat, no joke! My whole body's shakin', but not 'cause it's chilly. More like when you're doin’ your thing on the QB's ass. Man, my bladder was about to explode. Piss everywhere—looked like I got sprayed. Had to swap my threads. Good thing we got football practice today, right?

4:42 pm: I'm at the sink in my jersey and shorts, checkin' my hair, feelin' fresh. Then this dude sneaks up behind me, crazy eyes and all. His hand's on my junk, and he’s old—like 30 or somethin'. Just goes “50”. Bro, 50 bucks for a blowie?! Jackpot! This night is gonna be lit!

02:00 am: Dude, I'm so lit right now! Almost forgot that damn control pic. But the team doc and coach need it, I think. Gotta hit up that skater dude I met at the club. Total lean machine, dude’s got stamina, and an epic cock! Let’s go!

[nightlyrequiem]

Hello :3

So, what if, Valeria taking reader with her in a meeting (reader is wearing a skirt) and Valeria slips her fingers in, slowly adding more while reader fights to stay quiet >:)

🎀 have a nice day and thanks

Hiii :3

How scandalous! How devious! I need her to do it to me next. What? Who said that? Anyway, love this prompt. Pretty little reader making a mess all over Valeria's lap? Yes please 😍

Also sorry this took so long to get out :( I had it written and proofread but then I hated it and had to rewrite it

Tags/Warnings: Public Indecency, Fingering, WLW, Fem!reader, Thigh Riding

Knuckles Deep

Valeria usually never invites you to meetings. She'd prefer to keep you separate from the dangerous and disturbing intricacies of her work. Whenever you asked about it, she'd press a kiss to your forehead and tell you not to worry about it. So, attending your first meeting with her has you feeling a little jittery. Valeria has you sat in her lap. A surprisingly public display of affection.

The room you're in is nice. Whenever you imagined her going off to meetings you expected a bland, rundown room inside of a warehouse. Nothing but uncomfortable chairs and a wooden table for furniture. Instead, the walls are a warm creamy colour, a few paintings hung up for decoration. You were correct in picturing a wooden table but even that looks expensive.

Some of the men cast you uncomfortable looks. Clearly unsure of how to behave when their boss has her girlfriend perched on her lap. You're certainly out of place amongst the rough, violent criminals. Valeria adjusts you, pulling you closer as she leans over the table, pointing at some marked spots on a map.

"The fishery is under scrutiny by the feds." She says, her voice strained. She softly strokes the bare skin of your thigh where the hem of your skirt has ridden up. Her short, blunt nails gently scratching your skin.

"Should we move the product stored there?" A bearded man asks. Valeria nods, lips thinned into a line.

"Yes, I want them moved to the warehouse near sector sixteen."

Valeria's hand trails higher up your leg, fingers tentatively brushing against your inner thigh. You give her an inquisitive look, but you're unable to catch her eye.

"When should we have that done?"

You clench your jaw when her fingers brush up against your panties.

"I want to scope things out first." She replies with a frown. "Figure out a good time window to do that. If we collect our product while they have someone watching, we're fucked." Valeria slowly pulls your panties to the side, making you dig your nails into her back, heart elevated at the idea that you could be caught.

"Valeria-"

"Sh." She cuts you off. "Be quiet while we have this discussion." She looks at you, a gleam in her dark eyes.

She turns her attention back to her workers. You stay unnaturally still as her finger circles your clit. Slowly, you turn yourself so that your back is to the room. Her finger drifts down to collect the arousal pooling from your core. She continues to rub your clit firmly. Working you up in front of the whole room. Everyone none the wiser. You grip the back of Valeria's shirt, trying to calm your breathing.

"-We'll need to get this done as quickly as possible." Valeria's voice registers in your arousal-fogged mind.

Her finger slowly, agonizingly so, dips inside you. She gives you a few, barely satisfying shallow thrusts. Just barely poking your g-spot. You try to subtly roll your hips just for more stimulation. Valeria begins to insert a second finger. She pumps them in and out of you. Finally hitting that spot inside of you that makes your legs shake. Her fingers curl, caressing it. You bite your lip to stifle an embarrassing moan.

"Is she okay?" Someone asks, scaring you into stillness. Valeria doesn't stop though. Steadily thrusting her fingers into your cunt as she replies.

"She's a little chilly."

Because the cool temperature of the room is definitely to blame for your shifting.

You want to slap Valeria. Heat pools in your lower belly. Noises threaten to escape from you., getting caught in your throat as you subtly grind down on her hand. Feeling a wetness on your inner thighs and the denim of her jeans. Soon, a third finger joins the other two. Forcing itself past your filled hole. You bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood, not being able to do anything while Valeria fucks you with her fingers.

You bury your face into her neck and squeeze your eyes shut. Clenching around her as if trying to suck her fingers in even deeper. Your abdominal muscles tighten with pleasure.

"Next week is when we should strike." Valeria says calmly. As if she weren't knuckles deep inside of you right now.

"Kill on sight?"

"Kill on sight."

She keeps up a steady pace. In, out, in, out.

You gasp quietly ass her pinky pushes into you. Stuffing you to the brim. You go limp against her, forced to take what she gives silently. You practically gush around her fingers, grinding against her palm. Your eyes roll back as a thin line of saliva escapes past your parted lips. A pressure steadily builds up inside of you. A bubble threat being to pop with every thrust of her fingers.

"- He owes us money." Valeria says sharply. "Find him and bring him to the abandoned warehouse on fifth."

Someone replies. Maybe even a few someones. Their voices go in one ear and out the other.

You exhale harshly as that bubble pops. Your walls clamp down on her fingers as you cum. Pulsing and leaking into her palm. Some of it drips onto her pants, creating a large wet patch. Valeria rides you through your orgasm without breaking her train of thought. The pleasure soon turns into overstimulation, and you squirm with discomfort. Valeria slowly pulls her fingers from your cunt, dragging them along your thigh.

You relax against her, tired and all fucked out. Feeling a little sore from being stretched so much.

[suempu]

Hey there :3 I hope you’re having a good day and schools going good for ya!

If you can, can you please write a story about CHILCHUCK 🗣️ and a gender neutral reader spending some quality time together?

Please I love that midget so much it actually hurts 💀

Live laugh love chucklefuck ‼️‼️

anon, your energy is so funny LMAO i love it

post canon + chilly chuckles has facial hair + literally no plot, just some domestic nothingness

<3

chilchuck sighs in content, one hand gripping a bottle of alcohol as he leans back at his chair. you were currently next to him, sitting on your own chair while you snack on some nuts and fruit.

“you look like you’re on retirement.” snickering before cozying up on your seat, the sounds of crickets and owl noises in the background as you and chilchuck spend your night out on the porch together.

he brings the bottle to his lips, too tired to actually get mad at your comment. “after the day i’ve had, i’d appreciate it if you’d just let me rest.”

“no energy left in you, old man?”

chilchuck groans, “i swear—“

“i’m kidding!” chuckling, you stand from your seat and squeeze yourself right by him.

you remember 2 weeks ago when you’ve just moved in, the both of you arguing over where to place the furniture, squabbling over decor, and the different kinds of paint jobs. it made you smile, the excitement of living with your lover kept you high and happy.

“couldn’t you have stayed right where you were?” grumbles chilchuck, currently squashed between the arm chair and your body, head lazily leaning on to your chest. with the way you’re both seated, he’s almost on your lap.

“come on, i missed you.” you mumble, taking his free hand and rubbing your thumb on his palm. “you’re the perfect cuddle size.”

he sighs, accepting his fate before drinking the last drop of alcohol. “i’m past my prime. i can’t believe i’m getting sleepy from a beer.”

“you’ve had at least 3… and you were already exhausted to begin with. i think it’s time for bed.” you hum, continuing your caresses on his arm while picking the remaining dried fruits and nuts with your other hand.

“yeah, but before that, i need to wash my face and.. maybe shave.” his head lays on your shoulder, closing his eyes in content at the touches. “the hair on my chin is getting a bit itchy.”

“but i like your lil beard.” you pout.

chilchuck places the empty bottle down beside his feet, huffing as he settled himself on your lap again. “i’ll keep the stubble. for you, i guess. cause apparently your needs far outweigh my comfortability.” he snickers sarcastically.

“i’ll help you out with it.”

“you almost cut yourself last week when you did, i’d rather not.”

“third time’s a charm.” you say smugly.

“i’ve lost count on how many “third times” you’ve had.”