#this is the only way I’ll be able to go back to sleep without another crying sesh I really need to fucking get it together lmao

[wazzappp]

Thought about them to hard and started feeling a. Lot. Of feelings so take a very messy ‘make me feel better’ sketch of Robbie Protecting His Brother From Everything

[luveline]

could you write bombshell!reader getting a tattoo of spencer’s name or something that reminds her of him and his reaction please?

“Why are you kissing me?” you mumble, your voice hoarse with sleep. 

They’re light kisses. “I’m going now,” Spencer says, matching your quiet tone. 

“No.” 

You wrap your arm behind his neck and feel his hair against your wrist. His nose and lips warm your jaw. 

“Yes.” He kisses your jaw. “I have to go, but I didn’t wanna leave without a kiss.” 

That’s really sweet, he’s so sweet, you’re so tired. “Please don’t go, Spencer.” 

“I have to go.” He readjusts your hugging to hum against your temple, distinctly content despite your pleading. “I’ll be back by six for dinner, promise.” 

“Promise,” you say.

You get to keep him for a few minutes, regardless. His neck must sing bent as he is over you but he doesn’t relent, doesn’t move until you encourage his face back to kiss just under his bottom lip. “Sorry, I’m making you late,” you whisper. 

“No, no, I accounted for this. You’re on my agenda.” 

“How much time did you allot?” you ask through a smile. 

“Seventeen minutes. That’s how long we usually hug in the morning.” 

“Gotta get that time down,” you say. 

“Or up.” He holds your face. You turn your head into his touch and keep him for just another half a minute. 

“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes flutter closed again, “you can leave, I’m gonna go back to sleep.” 

“Good idea.” He kisses you, and he says goodbye. You’re sleeping again before he’s even left your room

When you wake properly, you still feel loved, like a sunburn but with less stinging. There’s something very special about your boy; something permanent about the way he loves. You can’t imagine he’ll ever stop loving you like this, he’s embedded you so deeply into his life and his routines (and you’d beg him to keep you if he ever changed his mind). That in itself is crazy. You can’t have imagined begging a guy to let you stay, but for Spencer, you would.  

When he comes home that night, half an hour before six, you have no regrets. 

You hadn’t noticed how he was dressed when he left, but he looks lovely in just a simple t-shirt and jeans. Remarkably casual for him, you used to think he only wore t-shirts to bed, but the older he gets the better propensity he has for comfort. What makes it for you is the cardigan. 

“You look nice,” you praise, more than satisfied when the first thing he does after he takes off his shoes is lean down to hug you where you’re sitting on his couch. 

“Thank you.” He pats your back and pulls away. “You’re beautiful,” he says with ease, like he’s commenting on the weather. “Good day?” 

Your lips pucker into a twist. 

“What?” he asks. 

Unfortunately, he sounds deeply worried. 

“No, it’s nothing, I just hurt my arm. Can you have a look?” 

Spencer takes your arm. “What did you do?” he asks, pulling the sleeve of your shirt carefully up to your elbow. The Saran wrap confuses him, until it doesn’t, and he grins at your skin, before frowning again. His flickering emotions worry you, until he says, “Is that mine?” 

You hold your arm in the light. “Of course it’s yours?” 

It’s just a few words from a note he wrote you, perhaps too soon into your relationship for sweetness, and yet one you kept anyways. He told you the story of the I Love You lighthouse, or rather, the Minot Ledge lighthouse, and how the man who lived there had to live on a different island to his family while tending the lighthouse, so he would flash the light once, then four times, and then three times, one flash for every letter of each corresponding word: I love you. The note was left on your dresser. You’d slept together the night before, but he had to leave early. Nowadays he wakes you up, but  back then he’d been too shy. 

I want to be able to do that for you but I can’t find a lighthouse in D.C. that will let me in to try. I’ll keep looking. 

“I’ll keep looking,” Spencer reads. His thumb heistates just under your small font.

“It’s from that note you left me.”

“I know, I remember.” He does his awful frowny face where his eyelids lower and you're sure he’ll never smile again, he looks that upset. “You know this is permanent?”

“They do tend to be,” you say with a lovelorn sigh. 

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should kiss you, or hug you, or… I don’t know why you’d do this.”

“But it’s okay?” you ask. It could make for a very awkward conversation if he doesn't like it.

“It’s perfect.” He holds your gaze. “You’re perfect.”

He acts like your tattoo is a gaping wound as he moves in to hug you, careful of your new ink, but relentless in the tightness of his arms behind your back. You laugh, then squeal at his insistence, a giggly girly thing that nobody else should ever hear but him. He doesn’t make fun of you, just squeezes you to him, his face pressed so hard to yours you can feel his cheekbones. 

“Now I just have to say something romantic for you to get tattooed and we’ll be equal again.’

“So we aren’t equal?”

“Um, no way.” Your laugh is self-satisfied and breathless. You turn your lips to his cheek. “I love you. I’m gonna build you a lighthouse.”

“Can’t believe you kept that note.”

“I have a whole shoebox of them. I love that you write them.”

He stops holding himself up, half on the couch and half in your lap as he hugs you with every bit of strength in his arms.

[gojoest]

BEDTIME STORY (about love) — gojo satoru

in which satoru tells his daughter the story of how you met. those of you who’ve read this already know, but your now 4-year-old daughter is yet to hear it

girl dad satoru, father-daughter time, she/her pronouns used for reader, wc: 1k, not proofread, just a silly little thing

“papa”

“yes, my life?”

“how did you and mama meet?”

“oh my, i never told you the story?”

“no, papa. you didn’t”

“well—"

one thing gojo satoru never fails to do, no matter how busy his schedule, is reading bedtime stories to his 4-year-old daughter. even when he’s swamped with missions, he would make sure he is at home by the time his daughter had to sleep — after tucking her in, he would sit beside her with a book in hand and read her a story until she’s fast asleep.

but tonight, your daughter asked for a different kind of story — the origin of your love, how the two of you met — and truth be told, satoru was more than excited to talk about it (as he always is whenever the topic in question involved you).

his eyes glowing with the same old dreamy glint anytime your name was mentioned, he puts the book on the nightstand and makes himself comfortable next to his little one in bed. slightly scooching her over so he could sit with his back leaning against the headboard, he cradles her in his arms and takes a deep breath before starting.

“it all happened on my birthday, 7 years ago”

“december 7th!”, your daughter excitedly points out.

satoru chuckles, his chest swelling with joy that his little daughter remembers his birthday. “that’s right, my life. your mother came into my life like a birthday present”, his lips curl into a gentle smile as he reminisces about the night that changed his entire life.

“was mama invited to your birthday?”

“no, but we just happened to be in the same restaurant that night. while i was celebrating with friends, she was there, on another table, with her coworkers”

your daughter hums, “i see”

“she was so beautiful, i noticed her the moment she walked in. and i couldn’t take my eyes off her for the rest of the night. i knew i had to go and talk to her before she left. something in me knew she was the one, you know?”

your little one tilts her head up to look at satoru, eyes curiously blinking, “but how did you know, papa?”

“my heart whispered it to me, beating relentlessly the entire time. it was like this unknown force was pulling me towards your mom and the whole time i was trying to come up with a plan, an excuse even, to go talk to her without coming off as a weirdo”

“and did you succeed?”

“well, by the looks of it—”, he points at her and gently boops her nose, “i did”

she chuckles sweetly, “no, papa—i mean did you manage to not be a weirdo?”

“hmm, i’ll let you decide on that one. so pay attention, okay?”, to which she silently nods. his hand rubs the top of her head softly before continuing.

“you see, i couldn’t think of anything but nor could i wait any longer. i decided i’d just go and say hi. so i stood up and made my way towards her table. i had to know her as soon as possible, because every second of inaction felt like it was taking away from my future with her. any second was precious, you know? if i could be with her sooner, be it even a planck time earlier, i had to take it — as it would only add up to the time spent with her”

“what is planck time, papa?”, your daughter cuts him off.

“it’s theoretically considered to be the shortest measurable time”

“is it less than a second?”

“waaaaay less”

“woah, papa you were down bad for mama”, your daughter gasps in amusement.

an audible laugh breaks through satoru’s lips, “yea, i was. and i still am”

“and what happened when you went over?”

“i said hi but she wasn’t having it at all, didn’t even bat me an eye. tried to chase me off before i was able to introduce myself. but i was already determined to make her mine, i knew it deep down that she was my person. so i forced my way and introduced myself”

“papa you’re a stubborn one”

“yea, but your mother turned out to be even more stubborn. she dodged all my attempts at her. so, i had to make it very clear to her, let her know that the man standing before her was the one to be her boyfriend, then her husband, and then the father of her children — therefore, in order for all this to work, i asked for her number”

“you really said all that?” — satoru nods to her question affirmatively. “papa, that’s so bold of you, honestly”, another gasp leaves your 4-year-old’s mouth. “and then?”

“and then she got mad at me, thought i was playing around with her”, satoru chuckles, brushing a hand across his face at the memory, closing his eyes to replay that very scene in his mind. your reaction is still pretty vivid to him, how your eyes grew wide in disbelief after what he had just told you...

i am gojo satoru, also known as the man to be your boyfriend, then your husband, and then the father of your children — and you are to be my girlfriend, then my wife, and then the mother of my children…

…and then how you narrowed your eyes and gave him a good lecture.

is this your move? you pull this on everyone you find remotely attractive?

“to be honest, i was slightly panicking internally — this was my best move, you know? and it was failing. but luckily, your uncle suguru came to my aid. he convinced your mom to give me a chance before blatantly turning me down. and she did — i got her number by the end of the night”, a soft smile painted on his lips again. “look at us now — wasn’t i right about all that?”

“papa, you’re a hopeless romantic”

“you bet i am”, he smugly confirms.

“…and a bit of a weirdo”, she cackles quietly.

“oi”, satoru furrows his brows. his hand softly tickles the side of her, incurring a loud laugh on her end. “shhh, time to sleep now or else mama will scold me for keeping you up past your bedtime”

“but, papa — you did well, being a weirdo paid off”

“yea, it really did — it gave me a home and a family”, his eyes soften observing the treasure in his arms.

[paarksunghoon]

part two for this (https://www.tumblr.com/paarksunghoon/764887604741210112/heeseung-with-a-corruption-kink-and-maybe-size?source=share) please…Heeseung corrupting her into fucking 🤤

part 2 to this drabble

warnings: subtle (?) manipulation but not really because she wants it, she’s just shy

***

Heeseung’s got you on your back with the pillows situated underneath your head for support while he leans down to kiss your lips once before pulling back. He’s bare from the waist down and all you’re wearing is sheer tank top. His breath touches your lips. Paired with the way his dick is sliding between your folds, it almost makes you feel like you’re losing your mind.

“Let me stick it in,” he whispers, pushing his lips to kiss your neck softly. His feather-like touches make you shiver.

You don’t say anything yet. The boy on top of you keeps his ear close to your mouth and your soft whimpers make him hornier by the second. You hear the wet splashes and how it sounds as he glides right against your wet pussy, and it almost convinced you to give in.

“It’ll feel so good,” he says against your neck. “Are you scared, baby?”

“A little…”

Heeseung brings his head up and pushes your bottom lip with his thumb as his dick catches your clit. “Are you a virgin?”

You shake your head. “It’s just…it’s been a while.” Heeseung grunts from above you. His warm cock feels alright against you. You’d probably be really tight, tighter than the girls he sleeps with.

“I’ll make it feel like the first time.” He grinds even slower, letting his dick make its way up to nudge your clit at its own pace. “I’ll make you come as many times as you want, I swear.”

You bite your lip and look up at the ceiling. “You already do.”

“Mm, yeah I do. But I’ll make you come with my dick inside of you. Don’t you want to feel good too?”

“I don’t know…”

“I love grinding, don’t get me wrong, but…” Heeseung lifts his hips just high enough to rest the tip of his dick against your hole. “Grinding only does so much, ya know? Fucking though…your pussy’s gonna love it.” He pushes the head inside and loves the way you gasp and clench his biceps.

Ever since that might a few weeks ago, Heeseung hasn’t been able to get you anywhere farther than grinding, sometimes with or without clothes. He has his share of girls to hookup with when he needs hard and fast sex, but he can’t deny that the slow pace you set keeps him on his toes. He loves that lovey dovey shit in between his rough hookups but he won’t admit that to you. You’re a pallet cleanser for him.

He thinks he might be addicted to the change in pace when he’s with you because you don’t really expect him to be anything or anyone when you’re both together. You let yourself be pleasured in a way other girls don’t. Heeseung enjoys the high intensity he gets with other people but, mostly, he likes that he doesn’t have to think too hard when he’s with you. It’s probably why he keeps coming back even though you haven’t let him fuck you yet. So far, you’re the only person who can get him to stop what he’s doing or leave whoever he’s with for the chance to actually hook up.

“See?” Heeseung says when you clench around his tip. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah…” His tongue licks against yours and captures another moan from you when he starts to thrust only his cock head into you.

“You’d love the way I fuck.” Something about your silence and compliance underneath him makes him crazy. Heeseung seems to let go of his demanding person when he’s got you in his bed and finds himself talking you through it.

“Oh yeah?”

Heeseung smirks against you. Hook, line, and sinker. “Yeah. I know you want that kind of sex, baby. I feel it every time you sit on my lap and get yourself off.” You feel him push another inch in when he speeds up his hips. “I’ll make you come as many times as you want. I promise.”

“Do you…do this? With other girls?”

Heeseung raises an eyebrow. “Do what? Fuck?”

You look always. “N-No…do you make them cream?” He pushes even more of himself inside you just thinking about it.

“All the time,” he moans. “Love it when my girls get all wet like that. It’ll be hot when you do it too.” You clench again. “Ohhh. That felt good. Do you like it when I talk about how I fuck?”

You suck even more of him inside of you. He grins wickedly. “You’re so dirty, aren’t you? My shy little thing, have you been hiding?” Heeseung laughs. “I prep them all nice so they’re sopping wet. Some like it when I fuck them dry at first. Others like it when I show no mercy and make them all creamy.

“Everyone loves it when I come inside, though. They always tell me it feels so good. It’s good for me, too. Love watching it drip out of their pussies.”

Your legs wrap around his body as his hand comes to grip one of yours. Heeseung pushes the rest of himself all the way in and drinks in the way you moan into his mouth. His pelvis touches yours and he grunts right into you.

“I like the slow sex with you, though,” he says honestly. There’s a lot of truth behind it, even if he can’t figure out why. “I don’t do the whole kissing thing, you know. Just with you.”

You snort. “Sure.”

“It’s true.” He bends down to kiss you and mumbles against your lips. “I’ve wanted your pussy around me more than anything.”

You barely speak above a whisper. “I want you.”

“Yeah?” Heeseung picks up the pace and feels your chest bounce against him. “Want my dick?” He moves like he’s on autopilot when you nod, keeping the slower pace until you give him a signal to go faster. “We’ll get you up there soon.”

“To where?”

He chuckles. “Rough sex, sweetheart. I know you want it. You clench every time I talk about it.”

“Mm, yeah…”

“Don’t worry, baby.” He kisses your lips again. “It’ll take some time but that’s okay, right? I’ll have you get used to me until you’re ready. We can practice until you get there.”

“We can?”

His cock slides in and out of you like some kind of physical prayer. “As much as you want, sweetheart. All day and all night. Whenever you want.”

You don’t say anything. He feels your arms encircling his shoulders and that tells him everything he needs to know. Speeding up his hips, Heeseung fucks you well into the night and you lose count of how many times he makes you come.

Despite himself, he stays the night.

***

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Zayne, and Sylus react gn s/o who always makes it a habit to tell him that they love him whenever they can like when they wake up, before going to sleep, before they leave, and when they return?

Hearing you say such sweet and simple words like I love you at any and every given moment will never not warm his heart, ever.

Sylus could hear you speak the words softly against his chest, right where his heart is when you wake up, almost as though you were whispering secrets to it in such a loving and caring way that it only made it race within his chest and swell with warm emotions within moments of you saying such tender and powerful words.

‘I love you Sylus, stay safe and don’t do anything stupid.’ You’d tell him as you kissed his forehead, pulling away only to rest your own head against his to stare into his crimson eyes, crimson eyes that stared back at you heavily with love and utter adoration as he chuckles. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it my love, for whom shall warm you in bed when I depart?’ He’d ask jokingly.

‘Mephisto.’ You’d reply jokingly as the crow could be heard squawking confusingly from his corner of the room, head tilted to one side.

You brought or perhaps revived a warmth Sylus thought was long buried within his chest.

You brought it forth so easily that he couldn’t help but find himself wanting nothing more then to rush his business meetings just so he could hear you run towards him, burry your head into his chest as you embraced him while telling him how much you loved and missed him; almost as though the confession weighed heavily upon your tongue like it was something you had to admit to before you couldn’t anymore.

He loved how much softer and sweeter the moments before you both drift off to sleep, the last thing he hears is you saying you love him in a sleepy mumble, face buried deep into his chest as sleep encased you both whole. It was a moment he repeats when you’re far away on a mission, knowing damn well he wouldn’t be able to sleep without hearing your voice, not after having gotten use to it after your short stay in his home.

Sylus has become accustomed to you being in his home, with him and blessing it with your warmth and personality. So to have to endure a week without you was enough for Sylus to reach for the phone and call you just to hear you tell him you love him, to know that even if there was distance between the two of you that the love between you was still as strong as it was when your both together. Sylus had grown accustomed to you sharing your thoughts and inner most emotions with him, with you always kissing him on the lips or wherever you could reach and whispering;

‘I love you’ afterwards before going about your day as though you didn’t leave him wanting to keep you locked in his arms in your shared bed, to drink you and your early morning look as you both partake in sharing your warmth, lost in one another as everything else fell away for it didn’t matter as all that truly mattered was love of your life that you held in your arms.

I love you was a strong word but your version of I love you was to say that you loved him after every moment, and in the end he found himself whispering ‘I love you’ against your forehead as he kissed it softly, holding you closer to his chest protectively before you fell into peaceful slumber together with a content smile upon his face.

Stylus was complete for his other half was welhere they belonged; in his arms.

Zayne would feel as though he was back to how he felt when you first admitted your feelings for him each time you reminded him of your love for him.

His smile upon his lips was soft and gentle, his eyes were equally so as he felt light on his feet and his heart sang your name so dreamily even long after you leave his sight.

They were words that one shouldn’t say lightly but when you say ‘I love you Zayne, I’ll see you when you get back from work to watch that new movie together.’ Zayne truly believed he could hear the angels sing as he finds himself walking into work with the goal of going back home to you.

Something of which he had once thought was never going to happen even in a million lifetimes, but he had found himself blessed to even be sharing a bed with you in this lifetime.

‘I love you Zayne.’ You’d whisper softly against his lips after pecking them multiple times, wanting nothing more than to wake your beautiful doctor with some much needed affection, all the while watching the fluttering of his eyelashes as he opens those gorgeous eyes of his to look at you sweetly.

‘I love you too my dearest.’ He relies in his morning voice, rubbing his hand softly up and down your back as he brought you into kiss your temple.

Those three words only made Zayne feel as though the progression of your relationship thus far was more than worth the longing and the pinning he has to endure in silence. Even though you did tell him there were moments where you knew he felt something towards you that went beyond platonic and into something far more romantic and genuine.

‘I love you Zayne’ were words that lived within his head constantly, even if he didn’t show it sometimes he couldn’t help but find himself wanting you to say it more and more.

Was it selfish? Yes but Zayne couldn’t help it, he wanted to hear you say it for as long as he possible could, for he knew he could never get bored of hearing you say it as it was something he had been waiting for all this time.

It was like two long lost souls finally finding each other again after so, so long. It brought a weight off of his shoulders and Zayne was more than anticipating where your future would lead you, especially if admiring to your love for one another was going to become easy as breathing.

[kiss-inthekitchen]

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.” 

“Yeah.” 

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 

“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 

“Spence?” 

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 

“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 

“Man, I’m good.” 

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.��� 

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 

You laugh. “For the whole day?” 

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 

“Okay, rest day all day.” 

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 

“Maybe the floor.” 

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 

“Say no more.” 

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 

You let out a little gremlin laugh. 

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.” 

“We did.” 

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 

[munson-blurbs]

Hi! I absolutely love your work and I hope this week treats you well!💗 I was thinking of this Eddie imagine I don’t know if you’ve done something like this but I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. Ok here it goes: Eddie’s fucking you stupid, it’s raw, it’s passionate, it’s filthy and in the midst of it all he says, "marry me". You think nothing of it, so you say yes obviously cock drunk and Eddie starts to fuck you even harder. Cut to the next morning you wake up stark naked next to the love of your life with a pretty engagement ring on your finger

I'm such a sucker for fluffy smut, and this is no exception 🙃

WC: 717 Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, pet names (baby/baby doll)

The night is still, save for the sound of bed springs creaking and panting breaths that you and Eddie exchange into each other’s mouths. Strong hands pin your own wrists to the pillow as he thrusts into you, moaning as he sucks a bruise into the crook of your neck. A bead of sweat trickles down his sparse chest hair and lands between your cleavage, another way your bodies are joined tonight.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he groans just under your earlobe. “How d’you always feel s-so fuckin’ perfect? Jesus Christ!” You can feel him tremble as you clench around him, already indebted to you simply for letting him see you like this. Small, crescent-shaped indents mark his bicep from where your fingernails dug into him earlier, a piece of you left behind. They’d eventually fade, but Eddie would always remember them being there.

He’s deep inside you, his wiry patch of curls brushing against your clit with each piston of his hips. You bite your lip to suppress a moan. 

“Nuh uh.” Eddie briefly lets go of you, bracing his body weight on one forearm as his other thumb peels your lip from between your teeth. “Wanna hear those pretty noises loud and clear, baby doll.”

You nod and whimper, “yes, sir,” which only makes him increase his pace. He lowers his body so that your chests are pressed together, and slips an arm around your waist when you arch your back. 

“This body…this perfect—fuckin’—body,” he grunts, thrusts accompanying each word. “Want this body forever.”

“‘S yours,” you manage, breath hitching in your throat as he grows even harder inside you. “All yours, Eddie. No one else’s.”

He leaves nipping kisses along your shoulders and collarbone. “Marry me,” he murmurs, surprising himself. It’s something he’s wanted for an absurdly long time, but he hadn’t planned on asking you mid-fuck. “Let me worship you for the rest of our lives. Please, baby.”

“Y-Yes, fuck—fuck, Eddie,” you cry out, and your affirmation has him bucking his hips without much precision. Still, he hits your sweet spot over and over again, throaty yeses emanating from your diaphragm. 

Yes, that feels good. 

Yes, I’ll love you forever. 

Yes, I’ll marry you. 

You chant it until you’re both cumming, your release creaming his cock and his release filling you entirely. Harsh breaths make way for giggles as he flops down next to you, falling asleep with his tattooed arm draped over your torso. 

His sleeping form leaves no way to discuss his marriage proposal—if that’s even what it was, and not just something he’d spouted out in the heat of the moment. Exhaustion overtakes you soon after, and you don’t wake until you hear Eddie pattering around the kitchen the next morning. 

It’s not until you wipe the sleep from your eyes that you catch a glimpse of something new: a shiny diamond ring on that finger. It’s beautiful but modest; nothing flashy, but you’ve never been the type for over-the-top jewelry. It’s perfect. 

Eddie comes into the bedroom, a bowl of cereal in each hand. He’s in just his plaid boxers, exposing the soft happy trail below his belly button. Heat blossoms in your core at the sight of him. 

“Hi, fiancée,” he grins, placing your breakfast on the nightstand. A bit of milk sloshes over the side of the plastic bowl, but you don’t care. You’re too busy frantically kissing him, morning breath be damned. “I guess that ‘yes’ of yours still stands?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, fingers dipping below his waistband. He’s always at least half-hard in the morning—he claims it’s because of you, but you know it’s probably just basic biology. Your hand easily finds what it’s looking for, and Eddie chuckles. 

“Don’t you want to eat first?” he teases, but he’s already putting down his bowl and climbing on top of you. He takes your left hand and kisses just above the ring now adorning it. 

“I love it,” you tell him, noticing that you’re wearing matching smiles. “I love you.”

Eddie presses a kiss to your nose. “I love you, too.” He slides a hand up your still-naked body, cupping your breast and gently sucking on a pert nipple. “Y’know what’s better than morning sex with your boyfriend?”

“Hmm?”

He grins wickedly. “Morning sex with your fiancé.”

--

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Trigger warning. Joel triggers your PTSD when you see him drunk for the first time causing you to have flashbacks of your abusive ex.]

Mentions of DV

“You weren’t suppose to see this, baby” he stumbled in your direction.

Joel knew how you felt about alcohol, he knew the hell you had gone through with your ex boyfriend because of it. Having known him for a year, you and him both traveled alone surviving together. Never had you seen Joel intoxicated, neither of you had come across liquor during your journey and when you did Joel ignored it out of respect for you. Of course, Joel missed the alcohol helping him somewhat sleep at night yet he never mentioned it.

Tonight the two of you had gotten lucky, after being on your feet for nine hours walking through the woods you both came across a cabin that looked as if it had been abandoned for a while now. After making sure it was empty you both claimed it as your own, at least until you had to keep moving again.

“Oh it’s nice to finally have a bed tonight” you looking at the bed at the other end of the room. Joel smirked as he looked around, peaking through the cabinets where he found two full bottles of whiskey. God it had been so long since Joel had a taste, the only thing that numbed him entirely, he craved just a glass.

“What cha find?” You asked as you began to unpack your bag. Joel quickly closing the door and clearing his throat as he moved along.

“Nothin’ uh, a few cans of food and towels” Joel knowing damn well it was nothing to mention.

“Good, I’m hungry” you spoke excitedly as Joel grabbed the cans to sit at the table.

Joel and you lay on the couch, your body slouched against his for a moment as his hand brushed through your hair.

“Oh I’d love to be able to just watch a movie now, have some popcorn” you sighed, the thought making Joel slightly smile.

“What movie would we watch?” He asked curiously.

“Hmmm…I don’t know, how about a romantic comedy?” You winked at him as he playfully shook his head rubbing his eyes.

“Oh baby, I’d watch anything with you” he whispered looking down at you before kissing you softly.

“Who knows, we probably wouldn’t even watch anything” he chuckled as you playfully shoved him.

“We should get sleep” your lips brushing against his as you spoke. He nodded before you pushed yourself up and walked to the bed.

“Are you coming?” You yawned as you dusted the bed off a bit and pulled back the covers.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a few” he called out to you before looking back at the cabinet that held the two bottles of whiskey. Too exhausted to wait, your eyes closed and you fell right to sleep.

Once Joel was sure that you were asleep, quietly he got up and stopped right at the cabinet. Looking back at you he reached for the first bottle, slowly opening it up. Without thought Joel began to drink savoring the taste he hadn’t had in so long, wiping his lips feeling the burn in his chest.

“Fuck” It’s just what he needed after not being able to sleep properly in weeks.

Closing his eyes in relief he took another chug before taking the bottle back with him to the couch. Within fourty minutes he was half way through, slowly getting to the bottom. The buzz creeping up on him as he leaned his head back and took a deep breath.

Joel began slowly walking around the cabin, reading some of the frames on the wall when he began to stumble. Reaching for a frame Joel accidentally knocked it to the ground causing you to wake up.

“Joel?”

“Shit” he whispered.

Rubbing your eyes you go out of bed to see Joel across the room.

“You ok?” He turned to you revealing the half empty open bottle in his hand, that’s when you looked at his face and realized he didn’t look like the Joel you knew.

“Didn’t mean to…wake ya..” he whispered as he noticed the way you stared at the bottle in his hand.

“Where’d you get that?” You asked softly as Joel took a deep breath with regret.

“You…-“ he began to walk towards you.

“You weren’t suppose to see this, baby” he stumbled in your direction.

“Maybe you should….lay down” you spoke nervously as he stopped right before you.

“Shit baby, I fucked up..” he whispered. The smell of alcohol making your stomach turn, the memories of the nightmare you lived with your ex boyfriend now coming back to you. Your heart racing as you felt a panic you never thought you would feel again.

“You’re mad at me, ain’t cha?” He couldn’t hold himself still as he stood before you, you took a step back feeling the wall behind you as you slowly shook your head. Mad wasn’t the word as your nerves took over. You trusted Joel yet seeing him in a way you never had…seeing him in a way your ex had his violent outbursts, you were terrified.

“Don’t be…mad at…..me, baby. Ima make this..right” he slurred.

You watched as he dangled the half empty bottle around before closing the top in a clumsy manner and placing the bottle on the table beside him.

“There” he placed his hands up showing you he was done. As drunk as he was he could see the fear in your eyes.

“Please don’t be mad at me-“ he unexpectedly reached for you causing you to step back against the wall harder than you meant to.

“I ain’t gonna hurt cha” his eyes desperate for you to trust him. Yet, his words only seemed to make it worse. It was something your ex would love to say just before he actually would hurt you.

“Fuck” Joel shoved the chair beside him causing you to jump.

“Stop it! Just stop!” You felt yourself begin to lose any control you thought you had.

“Baby-“

“Just go lay down! Go to sleep!” You couldn’t even look him in the eye. All you wanted desperately was for him to get away from you. Joel stood silent as he took a step back and did as you asked. Quietly going to the bed he lay down and let you be.

As soon as he walked away you began to silently hyperventilate. Squeezing your eyes shut you tried to fight off the memories, the trauma…you tried to fight the fear.

You knew you would no longer be able to properly sleep that night. Joel was out in a matter of minutes while you sat up on the couch watching him. Your eyes feeling heavy, it was getting harder to stay awake until eventually you fell asleep.

After a few hours Joel began to wake up. With a slight headache he slowly pushed himself up with a groan before looking up and noticing the bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. Quickly he looked around the room to find you sitting on the couch asleep facing him.

“Shit” he whispered to himself brushing his hand through his hair. Bits and pieces of the night before flashed in his mind, one thing he couldn’t stop picturing was how afraid you seemed of him.

Joel stood up walking towards you, he could tell you didn’t mean to fall asleep. You seemed cold and so he grabbed a blanket from the bed and slowly placed it on you. The feel of the blanket covering you causing you to slowly open your eyes and when you did, you jumped not expecting to see Joel standing over you.

“It’s me-“ he tried to assure you.

“It’s me, baby I’m sober, I ain’t drinkin’ I promise” it took a moment for you to realize he actually was sober. There was the Joel you knew staring down at you with concern. Staying silent for a moment you looked around a bit confused, you hadn’t even realized you fell asleep, let alone for how long. You looked at him quietly as you slowly sat up and took a deep breath.

“You-“

“I know” he quickly spoke as he stood up straight.

“I’ve never seen you like that before” you whispered.

“and I….I thought about Cameron and-“ he noticed you begin to slightly tremble.

“I just didn’t know what you were capable of” you blurt out as you held back your tears.

“Scared the hell out of me” Joel brushed his hand over his lips before quickly getting down on one knee.

“Look at me” he spoke low looking directly into your eyes.

“I would never do anything to hurt you. Ever. You understand that?” He was serious. He meant every word he said.

“I wish I could find the prick that did this to you, I guarantee you he’d never have a drink again” you quietly nodded yet he could still see you trembling. It was getting harder for you to control.

“Hey” he placed his index finger beneath your chin and tilted your head up.

“I ain’t gonna drink again alright? I should’ve never done that” he whispered. You let out a breath of relief and threw your arms around him pulling him in. Joel held you hold close and kissed your forehead.

“Come on, get into bed with me, baby” he slowly lifted you up and carried you to the bed. You watched as he walked to the counter and poured the left over liquor down the drain. As much as Joel loved a drink, your peace of mind was more important to him. Throwing the bottle out the window he walked back to you and lay beside you pulling you close as you fell asleep..

[munsonsmixtapes]

Joyride

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

I heard the song joyride by Kesha and had thoughts

word count: 4.2k

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) oral (f receiving) Eddie receives a handjob, hair pulling, Eddie has a slight degradation kink

Loud music blared from the speaker in the living room you were sitting in. You sipped on a warm cup of beer as you looked around at all of the dancing bodies, wondering what you were even doing there. If you were being honest, it was just for the free booze and that sucked too. If you had known that it was going to be that bad, you would have just stayed home with a bottle of wine and your vibrator to keep you company. 

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system-you had only had a few sips-but you found yourself pulling out your phone to send a text. You scrolled through all of your conversations when you came across a name that you had completely forgotten about. Well, tried to forget. You couldn’t have forgotten him even if you tried. The way his hands moved along your body and the words he had whispered in your ear were all imprinted in your brain. The things you thought when you were trying to get yourself off or even just trying to fall asleep. 

Without a second thought, you tapped on his name and quickly typed something out, sending it before you could think too much about it. You then stood up from the couch and made your way to the kitchen to pour out the disgusting drink and throw your cup away. There was no way that you were going to stay there another second. Not when you got something better waiting for you. Well, you hoped so. 

Eddie’s phone pinged on his nightstand and he paused the video game he was playing with Gareth to answer it. He had no idea who would have been texting him so late. One of them was sitting next to him and the others were either working or sleeping. Once he flipped his phone over, his eyes widened as your name flashed across the screen. 

That one night the two of you had spent together had lived in that man’s head rent free. The hottest moans he had ever heard echoed in the back of his head when he pleasured himself and he wished you were right there with him, sucking him off, taking all of him into your mouth like the little slut you were. 

I’ll be outside yours at midnight. Need your cock so bad.

He was so close to moaning just from reading your text. The woman he had fantasized for months was texting him to hook up so there was absolutely no way he was passing that up. He was going to fuck you until you were seeing stars, to the point where you wouldn’t be able to walk for days. Oh, he was going to do so much to you and he was going to enjoy every fucking second of it.

Your phone pinged in your purse as you put your jacket on, closing the front door of the house. You pulled it out and rolled your eyes at the response from Eddie. 

How bad? 

Typical Eddie, always wanting you to beg. But you liked it, maybe more than you were willing to admit. You quickly typed out a response and sent it before getting into your car and pulling out of the driveway.

I guess I can just get myself off, don’t worry about it.

You always were a brat. I think you need to be taught a lesson. 

On my way.

You locked your phone and focused on the road as you drove to Eddie’s, feeling your cunt getting even more wet as you thought about him fucking you until you were raw, until you couldn’t walk, needing him to carry you up to his room because you weren’t in a place to drive home. You then wanted him to eat you out, lapping up every last bit of your slick and his cum because you wanted him to fuck you without a condom, feeling his bare cock inside of you, wanting this time to be even better than the last. 

As soon as Eddie got your text, he threw on his jacket and rushed out the door, barely even bidding Gareth a goodbye as he hurried down the stairs, almost falling down them as he did so. He then rushed to put on some shoes before heading out the door, practically collapsing onto his porch because of how fast he was moving. 

Your car rolled up to the curb and Eddie watched the window roll down. He descended the steps of the porch, making a beeline for you, standing awkwardly in front of your door. He put his hands behind his back, looking like such a gentleman for someone who was so rough with you the one time you slept together. 

You pulled down your sunglasses, looking up and down. He was dressed in an oversized band t-shirt, a pair of jeans and a leather jacket on top. It was honestly unfair how he was able to look so hot in something so simple. You were really looking forward to taking it all off. 

“Get in, loser,” you nodded your head to the passenger seat. “We’re going for a joyride.” He took no time to round the hood of the car and get into the passenger seat. Once inside, he turned to you, taking in your outfit. You were wearing a top that could have passed for a bikini top with a pair of short shorts that barely covered your ass. On your feet were a pair of white go go boots and on top, you were wearing a very fluffy, cropped jacket. 

You looked so fucking hot. Eddie always thought you dressed well, but this had to be your best look yet. You removed your sunglasses and set them in one of the cup holders before turning to face Eddie, that seductive look in your eyes. You two hadn’t even done anything and he was convinced that he was going to cream his pants. 

Before Eddie could register what you were doing, you were unbuckling your seatbelt and crawling to the backseat. He watched you, letting his eyes drift to your ass, seeing it hanging out of your shorts, begging for him to give it a squeeze, maybe even a slap. He desperately wanted to leave hand prints on it as you begged for more, loving the sting the slaps left behind. 

He knew that you loved being degraded and he was more than happy to oblige. He wanted to tell you just how much a whore you were while he pounded into you, making you beg for more as you left scratches down his back, making him-

“Are you going to drool all night, Munson, or are you going to fuck me like you said you would? I’m still waiting for you to teach me that lesson.” You had now shed your jacket, giving Eddie a perfect view of your chest, your cleavage, your hardened nipples that he could see through the thin fabric. 

Without a word, he climbed to the backseat and planted himself right next to you, his thigh pressing to yours. His brown eyes bored into yours as he slowly brought his thumb up and brushed your bottom lip with a featherlight touch. You grabbed hold of his wrist and slowly pushed his thumb into your mouth, giving it a hard suck and Eddie was damn near close to cumming right there in his pants. 

You looked up at him, your eyes staring into his as you continued to suck on his thumb, loving how you were able to make him come completely undone just by watching you sucking on him. He let out a moan as he thought about you doing the same thing to his cock. You had done it before and the image of your pretty lips wrapped around him was something that haunted still months later. 

You slowly removed his thumb from your mouth and and slowly rested your hands on his shoulders, inching your face closer to his, knowing exactly what he was wanting but needing him to beg for it. You were desperate to hear him whine for you, all but getting on his knees, whimpering that he needed you to fuck him right then and there. 

Eddie could feel your breath hitting his lips and he let out a shuddering breath, his hands moving to your waist, feeling your warm, soft skin underneath his hands. Your lips met his in a featherlight touch, slowly slotting together. They moved together as you tried to figure it out, but as soon as you got the hang of it, it became messy and rough. 

Your tongue swiped along his bottom lip, licking back and forth in a teasing manner and he was quick to open up, letting you inside. Your tongues tangled together in a sloppy manner as you pushed off each other’s jackets, letting them clatter to the floorboard. 

Your hand slowly traveled down to his, lightly brushing his rock hard cock that was tenting in his pants. You then pulled away, your hands moving to the button of his jeans, unbuttoning as slow as possible as a way to tease him, staring at his face, hearing that pretty whine pass his lips as he was growing frustrated with how slowly you were looking. 

“Look how hard you are,” you said. “And we haven’t even done anything.” You zipped down his pants and pushed them down to his thighs then pulled down his boxers, his cock springing free. 

“Been thinking about me, huh? About what we got up to last time?” 

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, his breathing becoming labored. 

“Need me to take care of this?” You asked, looking down at his dick that was already leaking precum. 

“Please,” he whined and you spit into your hand before pumping slowly, Eddie already letting out a moan as you did so. Good. He was right where you wanted him. 

You watched his eyes close as pleasure rolled through him, your movements getting even faster. He’d never tell you that this was exactly what he had been wanting for months, the whole scenario plaguing his mind more than he was willing to admit. Anytime he jacked off, he would imagine that it was your hand, your filthy words of encouragement filling his ears as he orgasmed, your lips connecting with his afterwards as you told him that he was a good boy. 

Your pumps got faster and Eddie was feeling embarrassed that he was already close, the thing building inside him, on the very tip of his tongue as he felt his vision go hazy. 

“Fuck,” he swore and you felt yourself getting wet as you watched him reach completion, loving how you were able to get him there in record speed. 

As he was coming down, you removed your shorts, making sure that he was watching, your movements slow as to give him a show, a treat for being such a good boy. His eyes moved down to your thong, a tiny white thing that you had worn with the intention of someone seeing them. You had secretly hoped that someone would have been him. 

“Wanna take them off?” You asked, tucking your thumbs into each side of the waistband, gingerly pulling them down to give him a peek, but not the whole thing. 

He didn’t respond, just scooted closer and ripped them off of you, a gasp leaving your mouth at how quick he was. You then pushed him onto his back, his eyes widening at how confident you had gotten since you had last seen each other. 

“I don’t have a condom,” you told him. 

“Me neither.” 

“But I’m on birth control and I really want to feel you inside me.” Your voice was so whiny and pleading that there was no way that Eddie was going to deny you. He would have given you whatever you wanted if you were going to talk to him like that. 

You climbed on top of him and you both let out loud moans as he entered you. Your hands moved to his shoulders and his went to your waist, the two of you moving together slowly to remember what it was like to be connected in that way. 

But as you got used to it, your movements got faster, your tits bouncing as you rode his cock. He felt drool collecting his mouth as he stared at them, wanting to see them, suck on them. 

You were so fucking hot that it was unfair and he was wondering what he had done to be fucking you in the backseat of your car outside of his house. And you had reached out to him first. You had sent the text when you had told him that it was only going to be a one time thing. 

“Oh,” you let out a loud moan and Jesus Christ. It was like you were wanting him to cum right there on the spot. It was even hotter than he had remembered. Anyone else would have probably said that you were faking it, but Eddie knew that you were just loud and enthusiastic. 

“Look so fucking hot on top of me,” he said, his eyes moving back to your tits, seeing the beads of sweat in your cleavage, driving him crazy. He was seconds away from licking them away. 

“Yeah?” You asked, your hands moving to where your top was tied at the back of your neck. You gave the string a pull and the whole thing fell, revealing your tits, hard nipples and all. “How about now?” 

“Fucking perfect,” was all he was able to respond. They were even better than he had remembered, somehow bigger, your tits already hard for him and now your were sporting piercings on each nipple. God, how had you gotten even hotter? He needed them in his mouth and he needed it right then 

Before you even realized what was happening, Eddie pulled out and pushed you down onto the backseat, his cum leaking down onto your stomach as he did so. He lowered himself on top of you, peppering your collarbone in kisses. You were driving him crazy on purpose and now it was his turn to have his way with you. 

He continued to work on your collarbone, mixing in his tongue, licking and sucking all across it and he didn’t miss your small sounds of pleasure. He then went in and nipped at the skin, causing you to let out another moan. 

His hand that wasn’t on your hip was massaging one of your nipples, the rough pad of his thumb feeling so good against your soft skin. You had imagined this exact scenario for months and now that you had the real thing, there was absolutely no way that you could ever fuck anyone else. He was just too good. 

His lips moved down your chest, continuing to lick and suck until he got to your nipple, his tongue swirling around it lightly as a way to tease you then taking the whole thing into his mouth and giving it a rough suck, another moan leaving your lips, your back arching. 

Eddie took that as an opportunity to slide his hands underneath your back, pulling you closer to him. He took your piercing lightly in between his teeth and gave it a light tug, causing you to let out an even louder moan. 

“More,” was all you were able to say, your words already getting slurred. He tugged a little harder and that caused you to come completely undone, His name falling from your lips in a loud scream as you reached your orgasm. But Eddie didn’t stop there. That was only encouragement to keep going. There was still so much he wanted to do to you and you were totally down to be pulled along for the ride. 

He moved to your other nipple and gave it the same treatment, but focused more on your piercing since that was what you seemed to like the most. Another scream ripped through you and Eddie tried his best not to laugh to himself, feeling proud of himself to make you cum twice in only a matter of minutes. That had to be a record of some sort, surely. 

“Fuck,” you breathed. 

Eddie brought his lips to your ear and you shuddered as his hot breath hit the shell of it. 

“There’s more where that came from, doll,” he whispered. “I’m fully prepared to devour every inch of you, making the prettiest marks on your body so everyone knows that your mine.” He then took your earlobe between his teeth and gave it a little nibble before pulling it into his mouth, giving it a suck before kissing along your jaw until he got to your lips, slotting his between yours. 

His hands moved to yours, intertwining your fingers as he kissed you, his movements so gently and slow, so different with how rough he had been with you, but you loved the duality. He then reached up with one of his hands and pushed your mouth open so he could slide his tongue inside, letting it swirl around yours. 

Your hands moved up his shirt, gripping the bottom of it and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the floorboard before pressing your hands to his back. Just when you were getting into it, he pulled away, hitting his head on the roof as he did so. 

“Do you want to take this inside? As hot as this is, it’s kind of cramped,” he chuckled. 

“Yes please,” you begged. Eddie grabbed his t-shirt and helped you put it on before the two of you finished getting dressed. He then climbed out of the backseat and held his hand out for you and you gladly took it. 

As your feet hit the sidewalk, your legs suddenly felt like jello. Eddie seemed to notice too because he grabbed hold of the back of your legs and helped you wrap them around his waist.

Your lips connected once again as he carried you to his front door only breaking away for him to open it and slam it closed behind him. He carried you to the couch, neither of you patient enough to make it upstairs. He was just grateful that he was smart enough to tell Gareth to beat it as soon as he had gotten your text. There was no way he was going to fuck you with anyone around. 

He threw you down onto the couch and got onto his knees in front of you. You removed your shorts once again and Eddie grabbed hold of your thigh, holding your leg up as he removed your boots and socks before spreading your legs wide. 

Your cunt was soaking wet and he was so desperate for a taste. He looked up at you hungrily and you were so close to yelling at him to go for it since he seemed to be taking his sweet time. His teasing was starting to drive you mad. 

“Eddie, I swear to god if you don’t do something, I’ll just take care of it myself,” you told him, but he only found it hot that you were bossing him around, that you were threatening to finish the job for him. 

“Do it,” he said, his eyes clouding with lust. The idea of you getting yourself off was so hot that he was going to cum again right then and there. 

“What?” You were unsure of what he was talking about. 

“Wanna see you fuck your fingers, doll.” 

“You do? I-I thought you were going to eat me out.” 

“Later. Wanna see you make yourself cum right now.” You hadn’t ever masturbated in front of an audience, but if you were going to do it with anyone watching, you wanted it to be Eddie. You knew that he would have been nothing but encouraging, wanting you to feel as comfortable as possible. 

You slowly brought your hand down to your cunt, closing your eyes as your fingers reached your entrance, moving back and forth across it, just like you did so many times before.

Eddie watched you, his eyes darkening as your fingers dove into your cunt, another moan falling from your lips as your head hit the back of the couch. 

“That’s it, doll,” he encouraged. “Just like that.” He never knew that he could get so much pleasure from watching someone else pleasure themself, but he was hypnotized, getting so hot from watching the whole thing unfold before him. 

You shoved them farther inside, on the hunt for that spot and once you watched it, you let out another moan and Eddie followed, not able to keep it inside. You were really doing things to him. 

You hit the spot again and your back arched in pleasure, another moan falling from your lips. Once you came down, you removed your fingers from your cunt and opened your eyes to look into Eddie’s. You then brought your fingers up to your mouth, giving them a suck, making the most filthy noises as you did so. Perhaps you were beating Eddie at his own game. 

He sat up, a whine escaping his lips as he leaned closer to you. You removed your fingers from your mouth and hovered them over his lips, batting your eyelashes as you did so. 

“Do you want a taste?” You asked and Eddie nodded, his Bambi brown eyes widening. 

“Fuck yes,” he whimpered. 

“Okay, open up.” He did as you asked and you slowly slid your fingers into his mouth, that all too familiar taste hitting his tongue. He licked and sucked until there was nothing left and all you could think about was having that tongue on your cunt. You were desperate now and couldn’t wait any longer. 

“Need your mouth on my cunt, Eddie,” you whined, the words coming out more desperate than you had intended. 

“I’d be more than happy to do that, doll, but I’m gonna need you to beg a little more.” Motherfucker. 

“Eddie, please,” your whine was even more loud and that seemed to do the trick. He spread your legs even wider to get a better look, your slick making a stain on the couch because of how wet you were. 

He grabbed hold of your ankles and pulled you closer to him, burying his face into your cunt, causing you to gasp at the feeling, your hands moving to his hair. His tongue licked a stripe from your slit to your clit before he began sucking on the area, trying to lick up every last bit of your slick, not wanting to leave a single drop behind. 

“Oh-” was all you were able to get out as you moaned. Your fingers wound further into his hair, digging into his scalp. 

Eddie took no time to stick his tongue inside you, on the hunt for that one spot that would make you scream his name. He was trying to see how quickly he could make you cum, wanting to be better at the job than your fingers were. As hot as it was to watch you get off like that, he was the one who wanted to do the job. 

He curved his tongue and your fingered tugged at his hair, your thighs pressing against his head and your ankles locking at the back of his neck. Jackpot. 

“Eddie,” you moaned. “Sh-shit. Oh my god.” He moved you lower, wanting to see it for himself. Wanting to watch you come absolutely undone. Your head was back against the back of the couch and your eyes were shut tight. Your back arched and your mouth wide open as another moan escaped. Your were so fucking hot. 

Just when you thought he was done, he lifted you up, grabbing onto your ass, burying his face further into you, his whole tongue making its way into your cunt and you let out another scream just as his fingers were digging into your ass. 

“Sound so fucking pretty. Wanna make some more noises for me?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your knee. All you could do was nod, but that wasn’t good enough for Eddie. 

“Use your words, doll.” Another kiss to your knees. 

“Yes,” you slurred and Eddie just let out a chuckle. 

“Let’s go upstairs, hm?” He asked, knowing just from your slurring that you were too far gone to consent. 

“Gonna fuck me good, Munson?” 

“In the morning, for sure,” he nodded as he pulled his t-shirt down to cover your pussy. He then grabbed hold of your hands and helped you to your feet, catching you right as you were about to fall to the floor. 

“Already falling for me, hm?” He asked as he picked you up and carried you to the stairs. You had fallen for him that first night together and that was why you told him it could only be a one time thing. 

But then you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The man plaguing your every waking moment, even when you were trying to sleep. You dreamed about him every night. Eddie sleeping on the other side of your bed. Eddie resting his head on your shoulder while you made breakfast, pressing kisses to your cheek and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. You were falling for him even though you didn't want to admit it. And looking up into his pretty brown eyes as he carried you up the stairs, you were beginning to think that maybe he was falling for you too.

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡

♱ ━━━ PAIRING: BANG CHAN X READER ♱ ━━━ CW: CNC, SEX FANTASY, ROLEPLAY (INTRUDER & VICTIM), SEXTING, DEGRADING, PRAISE, ORAL (M. REC), FACIAL, PUSSY SLAP, MIRROR SEX, DYCRYPHILIA, HAIR PULLING, MIRROR SEX, RECORDING, FINGERING, MANHANDLING, CHOKING, SPANKING, UNPROTECTED SEX, FEAR PLAY, “NO” IS SAID BUT IS NOT A SAFEWORD, CLIT PLAY, MULTIPLE ROUNDS, CREAMPIES (2), AFTERCARE ♱ ━━━ WC: 2.6K ♱ ━━━ NOTE: ♱ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Chan sighed as he looked at the text message. He truly did spoil his girlfriend, but he loved doing it. He always gave in to what she wanted since she knew she’d only ask if she really wanted it. If his princess wanted him to fuck her dressed like a serial killer, he would. 

     He worked for another hour before packing up and heading home to his girlfriend. Almost forgetting about the conversation till he walked through the door to their apartment. Being greeted by his very happy girlfriend wrapping her arms around him. “Hi, handsome.”

     “Hi princess,” Chan greeted as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pecked her lips. 

     “When’s the mask coming?” She asked, bouncing a little in her place as he slipped his shoes off and set his bag down

     “End of the week.”

     “And you’re off this weekend?” 

     Chan saw the little light in her eyes as he trapped her in his arms and walked her back to the couch, “Depends.”

     “Chris,” Y/n whined before he laid her on the couch and laid on top of her.

     The Aussie chuckled and leaned up to peck her lips. “How about you tell me how you imagine me fucking you in the mask would go and then I’ll decide if I go in and work this weekend.”

     Y/n smiled at the mischievous look in his eyes.

     Chan did go into the studio. Briefly mentioned to his girlfriend that Changbin and Han needed his help for a track. Promising to be back as soon as he could. Y/n pouted as he kissed her in the kitchen before he headed out the door. She knew damn well he’d be getting home late, knowing how those three always getting sidetracked when they were working together.

     But it couldn’t be helped. She went on about her day, checking in on her boyfriend every so often and reminding him— and the other two— to eat at meal times. Y/n did some chores she had to do around the house and ran a couple of errands she had to do. Getting home before it got dark. Making dinner and an extra plate for Chan for whenever he came home. 

     Y/n wound up in bed not long after, the TV in their bedroom playing as she waited for him to come home and cuddle. Y/n checked her phone. No messages about coming home yet. Probably deep in his work, normal. 

     11:48 pm

     He’d worked late but not this late. She sat up in bed and unlocked her phone. Opening up their messages and texting him. 

Y/n: Coming Home soon? 🥺 Channie💕: sorry Princess. This track is a lot more work than we thought. We’re trying to fix a few things. I’ll let you know when I leave. You don't have to wait for me, baby. Get some sleep. I’ll be there when you wake up 💕 Y/n: Mmmm want to fall asleep in your arms though

     Y/n sighed as she looked up from her phone and caught a glance in their free-standing mirror. She smiled and got out of bed. Tossing off her sleep shorts and underwear before sitting in front of the mirror in one of his zip-up hoodies. Unzipping it almost all the way down, just covering her lower half  

Channie💕: I know Princess 😖 I’m sorry but you know I won't be able to sleep if we don't fix this Y/n: But I won't be able to sleep without you        [1 photo]       Please, baby 🥺 Channie💕: Princess                   My baby looks so good in just my sweater Y/n: think I’d look better under you, getting split open on your cock.  Channie💕: Yeah?                    Can you show Daddy that pretty pussy?

     Y/n smiled and leaned back, taking her legs out from under her, and planting her feet on the floor. She unzipped the sweater fully so her wet folds were in perfect view of the mirror and camera. The sweater fell off her shoulder as well, exposing one of her boobs as well. 

Y/n: [1 photo] Channie💕: Been touching yourself, Princess? Your soaked Y/n: No Daddy. Just thinking of you Channie💕: Maybe Daddy should come home and help you out then Y/n: Please🥺🥺 Channie💕: Give me an hour and I’ll be home princess😉 Y/n: Channnnniiiieee

     Y/n waited for a response but nothing. She sighed and locked her phone, finally looking up in their mirror just for her mouth to get covered by a black gloved hand, white scream mask behind her. Their purple LED lights reflected off the mask. 

     Y/n squirmed in his hold and closed her legs, trying to save some dignity as she grabbed the arm that was covering her mouth dropping her phone on the floor. The masked man behind her pulled her legs open, “Don't want to keep ‘em open? Didn't have a problem showing off earlier.” he chuckled, gloved hand slapping her clit a few times.

     Y/n tried arching away but he had a tight grip on her jaw. Making her look straight ahead in the mirror. Y/n closed her eyes as he massaged her clit, trying not to moan. 

     “Open your eyes,” the man growled and slapped the inside of her thigh.

     Y/n screamed into his hand and opened her eyes, tears pricking her lash line. “Good girl,” He cooed, covered fingers running between her wet folds. 

     Y/n clenched as his fingers teased her hole, hoping she could keep him out if she clenched hard enough. She heard him tsk before he pulled his hand away and stood up behind her, letting go of her jaw. She turned her body to crawl past him and escape but he was quick to grab the hair on top of her head and kept her in place. The white mask looked down at her as he pressed her mouth against his clothed crotch. Y/n grabbed the ripped fabric of his jeans as his hard cock was pressed against her mouth. 

     She could feel him smiling under the mask and use his free hand to unbutton his jeans. Pulling her away to unzip and pull his hard dick out. Y/n tried pulling away from him but he had a tight grip on her hair. “Open up.” He tapped the red leaky tip against them.

     Y/n pressed her lips in a tight line in protest  He yanked her head back, Y/n letting out a pained moan as her jaw fell open in the process. Giving him the perfect chance to shove himself down her throat. Y/n gagged as his tip quickly hit the back of her throat, the built-up tears falling down her cheeks. 

     “See? Not that hard, is it?” He chuckled behind his masks, hand keeping her pressed down on him

     Y/n hummed to disagree but that did get across. Rather, the man moaned as her throat vibrated against his tip. Pulling his hips back and thrusting back into her mouth. Y/n gripped the frayed fabric of his jeans as he held her still for him to use. A tight grip on her hair that wouldn't let her pull away. 

     Forcing her to look up at him as he used her mouth. His free hand reached behind him and pulled a phone out. Her eyes went wide as she tried to protest. Whines went unheard as he pointed the camera at her. Switching to moving her head up and down rather than thrusting into her mouth. 

     Y/n whined as she tried to push against him only for his whole shaft to be shoved down her throat. Watching his head tilt back before he pulled her off him. Y/n coughed as she caught her breath just for him to laugh at her. Pulling her back down and fucking her throat again. Y/n whined in protest which made him moan. 

     Pulling out of her as he felt himself starting to cum. Some of the semen caught in her mouth while the rest landed on her face. Y/n’s jaw hung open as she closed her eyes, waiting for him to finish

     “Good slut,” He said as he put the phone away and all but pushed her back onto the ground. Getting down on his knees between her legs. Y/n tried backing up but she should’ve known better now. 

     He grabbed her legs and turned her on her stomach. A harsh smack landed on her ass and made her jump before her lower half was lifted. 

     “Look at this pretty cunt,” he said behind her. Y/n felt him spread her folds then two fingers pushing into her. “All nice and warm.”

     Y/n whined and covered her mouth with her boyfriend's sweater sleeves as he quickly pushed his fingers in and out of her. Whining into the cloth as more tears rolled down her face. Thumb moving to rub her clit. Trying her best to ignore his fingers spreading her out. Walls clenched around them as he worked her clit. Gloved fingers curled into her walls as she felt him lean over her back. 

     Grabbing her hands away from her mouth and pinning them in front of her on the floor. “Don't need to hide how good it feels. Having someone fuck your tight cunt open.”

     “It doesn't,” Y/n whined

     “No? Maybe another finger will help.” 

     A third finger entered her before she could protest. A moan left her as her walls spread to accommodate the additional girth. Biting her bottom lip, resting her head against the bedroom floor. The knot in her stomach tightened the more the little bud between her legs was stimulated. Small broken pleas went unheard as they were said into the floor. 

     Her walls clenched around his fingers more and more. Her hips bucked as she was getting closer. Trying not to let the pleasure take over and beg to cum. Not wanting to give that satisfaction. He got it anyway as she let out a loud moan into the carpet and came around his fingers.

     “Feel better now?” He chuckled as his fingers left her. Y/n felt his hand leave her wrist and she daringly looked up a her mirror while she was barely coming out of her high. She saw him up higher on his knees and spreading her cheeks. Feeling his tip sink into her had her trying to get away again, begging him not to. 

     “Take it out, please! I don’t—“

     “Who said you could make orders?” he barked and yanked her head up. Cock sank into her in one thrust. 

     “Cock sleeves don’t talk,” He growled as he watched her jaw fall open. Walls made way for his thick length. 

     “‘M not—“

     Y/n cried as another slap landed on her ass. Effectively cutting her off. 

     “Don’t act all innocent. You were whoring yourself out earlier. All wet and desperate for a dick inside you.”

    The masked man pushed her back on the floor and held her down. Hand on the back of her throat as he started pistoning himself in and out of her. 

     Y/n caught a glimpse of him leaning over her as he pounded into her. Whining with each hit. Still, uselessly, trying to get away from his grip. Each time she attempted she was met with a hard spank that made her jump. 

     “Maybe we should send that little video out. Let your boyfriend know he’s dating a whore.” 

     “No!”

     “Then stop squirming.”

     Y/n whimpered as she lay on the ground, seeing a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. Then he moved his hand from the back of her neck to the front and lifted her head. Making her look in the mirror again. 

     Warm tears ran down her cheeks as his thrusting grew more erratic. Phone camera pointed at the mirror, capturing every movement and reaction. 

     “Gonna fill this little cunt up,” He groaned behind her

     “Please, pull out!” Y/n cried 

     “Mhm? Want me to fill you up?” He questioned, not hearing the last part. 

     “No! Pull out please!” 

     He buried himself in her and filled her sensitive cunt up. Cries left her lips as he dropped her head back to the floor. Y/n looked at him through the mirror. Hips pressed against her ass as he emptied himself inside her. 

     He pulled out after he was for sure finished and spread her folds apart. The camera captured his cum dripping out of her before he flipped her over onto her back. Pulling her legs over his hips as she tried to cover herself. 

     “Haven’t learned yet, slut?” he asked, slapping her thigh and tearing her hand away from her cunt, and running his thumb over her clit. 

     “No more!” Y/n whined, grabbing his wrist 

     “You can handle it,” He answered as he dropped the phone and slid back into her. 

     Y/n moaned as he filled her up again. The masked man chuckled as he rubbed her clit again, feeling her clench around him from the stimulation. Y/n could feel him getting harder inside her while she tried to push him away. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them down against her chest. Adjusting himself to thrust into her again. Her whines turned into moans as she tried to pull her hands away.

     The man hummed as he pressed harder on her clit. Watching her body jerk through the eyes of the mask. No longer trying to squirm away or protest. “There we go,” he chuckled, “Poor slut just needed her clit touched again.”

     “Not… a slut,” Y/n said through her tears. 

     “Sure feels like you are.”

     His speed picked up again, leaning over her body. More moans fell out of her mouth as he rubbed the little bud faster. Feeling her walls contract around his length again, her body jolting ever so slightly. Soon enough she was covering him in her orgasm, arching off the ground and crashing back down. The masked man let go of her wrists but kept his thumb on her clit. Working himself inside of her to another orgasm. Dick twitched inside her as all her words died in her throat from the overstimulation.

     A groan left his throat as he came inside her again. Pushing a second load deep inside her. Stopping his movement on her clit and laying both his hands next to her head, leaning over her body. 

     After a moment, Chan took off the movie mask and set it to the side. Tossing the gloves off next before running a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. 

     “You okay baby girl?” He asked 

     “Mhmm,” Y/n nodded, a smile on her face.

     “Sleepy now?” Chan asked as he pressed a kiss to her neck

     “Yeah,” Y/n answered

     “Stay awake for me long enough to get you cleaned up? Then we can go to sleep, have a lazy day tomorrow?” Chan suggested 

     “Sounds nice,” Y/n said

     “Okay, princess. I’m gonna pull out then we're gonna take a bath.”

     Y/n nodded as Chan gently pulled out of her. Y/n made a small whine before he sat her up and pulled his jacket off her. Helping her into their bathroom and setting her on the toilet while he started the bath. 

     Leaving momentarily to grab her clothes and coming back. Filling up the tub before gently placing her in the warm water and getting behind her. Washing her body and leaving little kisses and praise in her skin. 

     “Feel okay princess?”

     “Just tired,” She grumbled

     “Hmm. Can you turn around so I can wash your face?”

     Y/n slowly turned around to face him as Chan cleaned her skin and rinsed it off before letting her fall against his chest.

♱ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

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© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[anything4mymoony]

~That you weren't mine~

MINORS DNI !!

One bed trope- enemies to lovers- forced proximity? 

Anyways- lesbian smut-fingering- reader is in charge for my domming w/w out there

Also- don't come at me, I haven't written smut in a PHAT minute so ya'll 🫣

You and Kit had practically been enemies since you were five. You loathed each other for some reason that now, as you grew older couldn’t remember. You would have gotten over it if kit weren’t the cockiest princess known to mankind. 

She was a great swordsman which only added onto her giant list of reason why she believed she was the best-person-ever-who-literally-had-soooo-much-talent. You hated every time your parents forced you to go visit her kingdom for “diplomatic appearances” to prove that both kingdoms were friends. 

And every time you were with Kit, she somehow managed to send you back home in a fury, fists clenched with the annoyance and frustration of her remarks. 

So it wasn’t really all that different when you went to visit for the who knows now many time. You both however, managed to get through dinner without a single squabble that both sets of parents had begun to believe that your childish antics were finally coming to an end. 

Their wishes had lasted for only so long, that as when you both exited the dining hall, the spell of your silence had broken. Kit managed to start it this time, asking with a snarky tone how your search for a suitor was going, somehow managing to add in that you were a intolerbable troll and oh- who would ever want to marry you? 

You bit back saying that her head was so far up her ass that her ego was so much larger an all of the men’s egos combined from both yours nd her kingdoms. Jade howeverr, finally had enough od the arguing between you both- a migraine that always seemed to return every time you two got together. So- Jade came up with an idea- one that she believed to be great. 

That night, when you were getting ready for bed, Kit opened your door, slightly confused to find you already in there. 

“What do you want?” You sighed, rolling your eyes. 

“I-um,” Kit began “um- Jade told me one of the maids accidentally set my bed on fire and that this room would be available for me to sleep in,” 

She couldn’t concetrate on her words, her eyes falling towards your slightly unbuttoned shirt that you were clearly in the middle of putting on. 

“Well this is my room. I'm staying here for the night. You can go find another room,” you spat. 

Kit made a face before turning to open the door to leave, only to find that it was locked. “Well shit” 

“Well shit what?” You asked, joining her side as you tried the door only to find that it was locked. You frowned “the door must have gotten stuck. I call the bed, you can sleep on the floor for all I care.” 

Kit gasped at your words “no way am I sleeping on the floor. You can!” 

You turned around before poking a finger at her chest “Kit, I am your guest here. I sleep in the damn bed,” 

You went to lay down on the bed, proving your point. Kit watched you for a moment, as you snuggled yourself in the middle of the bed, a smirk on your face. Kit only rolled her eyes and laid down next to you, her small spot on the edge of the bed. You frowned in disgust. 

“What are you doing?” You snapped. 

“I’m laying down,” Kit replied before digging her elbow into your ribs for you to move over “move over, I wont be able to sleep with such little room.” 

“This is my bed, im not moving,” you crossed your arms 

“Technically- I own this bed, I own everything in this castle. Move over or I’ll have to sleep on top of you.” 

“I’m not moving, Kit.” you frowned “You were the one who decided to bother me in my room and now you are stuck in here. Whose fault is that?” 

Kit didn’t respond. Instead, she rolled over to where she was onto of you. Her legs were straddling the sides of your body while her face hovered over yours. For a moment, you could have sworn you saw her eyes drift down to your lips before bouncing back up to your eyes. She gave you a lazy smile. 

“I guess this is going to have to do since you wont move over.” 

“Get off of me!” you tried to shove her off, but her hands were planted on either side of your head, keeping her upright. you felt your heart race at how close kit was to you, how she was practically onto of you. Your skin warmed at the feeling and you tried to move your legs. 

“You may hate me,” Kit leaned down, whispering in your ear as her warm breath brushed against your neck “but I believe your body thinks differently.” 

You parted your lips trying to form a sentence but your body was too overwhelmed. The warmth of her breath on your neck seemed to have made your brain short circuit. The only thing that came out of your mouth was a shuddering breath. 

You felt Kit smirk against your ear before she leaned down and kissed your neck. there was nothing that you could do with her body onto of yours- not that you wanted to do anything. Your body was filled with a warmth from where her lips had touched your skin. Kit continued to make her way down your neck, stopping to leave a little mark above your collar bone. 

A involuntary groan left your lips, body falling limp in the bed as you eyes fluttered for a moment. In that moment, you couldn’t remember why you had hated her so much, you could only think about how good her lips felt on you. 

“Kit,” you panted, hesitantly reaching up to grasp at her hair. 

“Are you sure you still hate me?’ Kit mumbled against your skin. 

“I…I dont think I ever did,” you responded as you pushed her off of you and rolled onto of her. 

Being on top of kit was a sight that you even thought you’d see. But you spent a few seconds marveling at how her flushed face looked against the pillow, her short locks splayed around her head. You shifted yourself on her, trying to fix your legs when your hips brushed against hers. Kit let out a sigh, eyelids almost drooping shut from the feeling. 

You cupped the sides of her face and kissed her gently, only for kit to grasp at your hips and kiss you back more passioanlty. It seemed as if she had been wanting to kiss you for such a long time- all of her thoughts and feelings had been conveyed into the kiss, groaning as you ran your teeth along her bottom lip. 

You quickly moved to kiss her neck as kit bit down on her lip, noises threatening to spill past her lips. A loud sigh left her as you found the sensitive spot on her neck. You stayed in that spot, running your teeth over the area before licking it to soothe the pain. While you did that, you slowly traced your fingers up kit’s arm. She shuddered from your touch. 

“Do you like that?” You whispered against her skin. 

Kit could only nod, biting down on her lip before a whimper escaped. You smiled at the mess that you had managed to reduce her to. You moved your hand up to her face before you looked up at her. 

“I need to hear you say it, Kit.” 

She nodded, trying to summon the willpower to speak. Her body was too overwhelmed from your touch and she felt like she was dreaming again. Ever since you had arrived to her kingdom after years of being apart, kits eyes had never left you. 

You can come back stronger and more dignified than you were the last time she had seen you but then you both had only been kids. Now, not had you only grown to be more breath taking- but there was something about your maturing personality that drew her in and kept her hooked. 

“Yes,” she whispered. 

I kissed at her lips as my fingers hovered over her waistband “is this okay?” 

“Ye-yeah, yes, please” 

You shuddered at how desperate she became, the begging in her voice forced a soft moan out of you. you moved yourself off of her. With her permission, you ran your fingers down her pants and between her thighs, teasingly touching her. Kit bit her lip as her head fell back against the pillows. Her breathing was becoming short and messy with the desperation to feel you. 

Her hips chased your touch, a moan rolling past her lips. You giggled from the sound she made before pressing a finger too her lips. 

“Shh,” you breathed against her mouth “can’t have anyone hearing us.” 

You slid a hand over her mouth, using that as a shield from the sounds you so deseralty wanted o hear. But something turned you on with the risk of being heard, with the forcefulness of having her moan into your hand sent something stirring inside of you. 

You dragged your pointer finger along her cunt. Kit arched her back, eyes practically rolling to the back of her head when you slowly inserted them into her wet pussy, half finished moans being spat into your hand. you moved your thumb along the top of her clit, seeking to create a wave of pleasure rolling through her. While you covered her mouth with one hand and the other in her pants, you leaned over to kiss at her neck, finding the same sensitive spot as before, running your teeth over it. 

She withered underneath you, bucking her hips to create the friction that you were teasingly building up with a slow pace. Kit whined your name into your hand, practically begging for you to speed up. 

Once you did, she let out a shuddering moan. Her hands were in your hair, pulling softly at the roots in an attempt to ground herself from the stinging pleasure building up inside of her. 

“You’re doing so good,” you praised, eyes rolling over her body and the messy state she was in as you pulled away from her. Your fingers sped up, kit’s hips rolling to meet the same pace and you could tell by the rapid breathing and frequent noises that she was getting close. 

Kit said something against your hand and you moved it away from her mouth. 

“I-i think I’m-“ she gasped, cut off by a groan. 

You could feel her clench around your fingers as you leaned in to kiss her lips once more before whispering “come for me, baby” 

You forgot to put your hand back over her mouth, letting kit moan loudly as she came, her body sagging with relief as you kissed her forehead. 

“You did so good,” you whispered giants her neck. 

Her breathing slowly came back to a normal pace, her hair wild and clung to the sides of her face damp with sweat. Kit reached up to kiss you, lips warm and swollen. 

“I never hated you” kit whispered “I hated how I couldn’t have you.” 

“Well now you do,” you whispered back, stroking back a strand of her hair. 

[milswrites]

Stubborn Little Fox

~ Eris Vanserra X Reader

Summary: Eris struggles to look after his stubborn mate when you are sick.

Warnings: Poorly reader but it’s pretty much fluff. Maybe some suggestiveness.

Notes: Just a silly little fic to tide you over until I finish the angst I’m writing. Dedicated to @sarawritestories who wrote me this exact scenario in an attempt to get me to stop writing and go to bed 😌

Your bed was empty.

Again. 

The wrinkled covers pulled back to reveal the bare sheets of where you had once laid, where Eris was supposed find you soundly sleeping upon entering the room.

The Autumn Prince cursed lowly under his breath, knuckles turning white with frustration as he tightly gripped onto the tray of food he had prepared for you.

It was easier to control his hounds - Eris thought as he carefully placed the tray down on the edge of the bed, lest he toss its contents onto the floor in his anger.

Eris was used to completing impossible jobs, and yet nothing has been more difficult than trying to wrangle his sick mate and convince you to sleep away your illness. Your inability to sit still making caring for you harder than Eris had initially anticipated.

He needn’t try too hard to find you, a swift wander down the hall and to his office was all Eris needed to walk before he opened the door to find your sickly form hunched over his desk with a pen in hand. Scribbling away at whatever documents had been left for you once you had recovered.

It was impossible to stop the exasperated sigh which fell from his lips as he took in the paleness of your face and the worrying sheen of sweat which had coated it.

“And why, pray tell me, aren’t you in bed where you’re supposed to be Little Fox?” Eris snarled, all comfort forgotten as he once more found himself trying to coax you back towards your bed.

With shaking hands you reluctantly place your pen down, guilty eyes meeting the burning stare of your mates unforgiving glare. “I’ve got work to finish!” You defend, gesturing to the stack of paperwork which had only grown during your absence from your job.

At your excuse, the red-haired male inhaled deeply, a disbelieving hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. And it wasn’t until Eris exhaled his frustrations that he allowed himself to reply as softly as he could, “work can wait until you’re feeling better.”

“It can’t,” you reason, a disappointed sigh drawing from your sickly lips, “I’m far enough behind as it is. Another day without work and I’ll never be able to catch up. Besides, I’m fine. I feel much better now.”

Whilst Eris prided himself on holding back the roll of his eyes which threatened to occur, he failed to stop the raise of his brow as you proceeded to burst into a fit of coughs after your weak-willed reassurances.

“All better?” He mused, a small smirk finding its home on his lips as he watched you pitifully try to compose yourself. Innocent eyes meeting his own as your incessant coughing eventually came to a halt.

“I have to say Little Fox, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you like going against my orders” Eris chided, slowly walking towards you as he spoke. Each step forward drawing you deeper into his hypnotic trance. “Would I be correct in assuming you keep leaving your bed because you want me to scold you?” He asks teasingly, bringing his face down to meet yours, until his playful eyes were level with your own.

“I can’t say I’d hate it if you had to take care of me” you replied honestly, unable to help the way your gaze drifted towards your mates slightly parted lips.

“Is that not what I’ve been doing all this time?” Eris feigns hurt which fails to read through his wicked smile, “Taking care of my mate?”

“I can think of a few more ways I’d like to be taken care of” you answer, hoping to be seductive but ultimately failing as another round of coughs wrack your chest.

“Later” Eris chuckled, his strong arms coming to lift you from where you were sat, “for now you need sleep.”

You furrow your brows in protest, opening your mouth to argue with your mate before he beat you to it. Eris’s soothing voice acting to calm you, “Don’t worry, I’m going to have to cuddle you just to make sure you don’t run off anywhere else.”

Eris’s warm lips came to meet your aching forehead, his kiss already working to dissipate the uncomfortable pulsating of your sore temples. Your mates healing touch enough to already have you drifting off in his comforting embrace.

“My stubborn Little Fox,” he uttered as he began to move back towards the bedroom which you shared, cradling you close to his body in hope that the heat which he emitted would soothe your aching joints, “you better feel well again soon, I’ll be waiting to deliver your punishment for disobeying me.”

You hum happily in response, nuzzling your face into his warm chest to hide your smirk of anticipation, “I’m looking forward to it, My Prince.”

It was only once you woke, when your fever had broken and the ache in your muscles had quelled, that you noticed that Eris was no longer holding you. That it was his turn to escape the comfortable confines of your sheets which had now grown cold in his absence.

Stepping out from the warmth of your covers, you walked barefoot across the cold wooden floors. Seeking the ever-lasting warmth of your mate. You followed the call, moving through the hall until you found yourself outside his office, the strong scent of crackling wood and chestnuts enough to tell you the male was waiting inside.

Cracking open the door you peered inside, noting the way Eris was slumped over the freshly inked papers you had saved to work on when your health had improved.

Your mate - your selfless, loving mate - had completed them all. No doubt seeking to ease your worries and provide you with the extra hours of rest you would no doubt need once you had woken.

Quietly pulling the door to, you move to the kitchen to prepare your love a warming tea. Because as much as Eris longed to take care of those he loved so dearly, sometimes what he needed was for someone to take care of him in return.

[nats-firefly]

favorite crime

natasha romanoff x reader

summary: she wanted to sign the accords, you didn’t, and you didn’t see another way out

warnings: angst, some swearing

a/n: i know i originally said no pt 2 but i'm reconsidering (the reason i'm reposting is because i had an idea for a pt 2)

🚩 warnings are clearly stated please do not report/flag :) 🚩

words: 1.5k | feedback is always welcome | masterlist

divider source | gif source

“For the record, this is what making things worse looks like,” She gripped your arm as you walked down the long hallway. “Try not to break anything while we fix this.”

She threw you a hard look and you turned your body to Steve, looking down and playing with the silver ring around your ring finger. Your heard the people around you exchanging remarks, but you couldn’t take your mind off the way Natasha looked at you.

You looked back down at the simple silver ring on your finger, thinking back to when Natasha gave it to you. 

“It’s more discreet, so people know you’re taken even when you’re working.” 

You thought it was adorable and it gave you something to fidget with on long trips during missions, and it always brought you comfort when you were away. But now it just felt like a weight dragging your body down. Steve bumped your arm, making you look up at his sympathetic smile.

“She’ll come around,” He said. You bit the inside of your lip, turning your attention back down to your hands. You and Natasha hadn’t been able to have a conversation without fighting ever since the accords were brought up. You didn’t want to sign it, she did.

The accords weaved themselves into every conversation you tried having. And you ended up passive aggressively yelling at each other every time before one of you hurt the other’s feelings, the only civil conversation you’d had ended in you lying through your teeth.

“I’m not gonna make you sign it,” She chuckled, running her hands through your hair when you were lying in bed before going to sleep. “But if you don’t sign it, what are you gonna do?”

“I’ll retire,” You said, she scoffed and you looked up at her. You didn’t want to lie, but every other time they were brought up, the two of you ended up in a fight. As much as you didn’t want to. Part of you thinks it’s because you knew they were the start of the end. “What?”

“Really?” You turned on your stomach, leaning up on your elbows and looking at her face, your eyes moving over her lips, her delicate nose, then the arch of her eyebrow. She cupped your cheek, tilting her head and letting a soft smile appear on her face. 

“Nat, we’re getting married,” You twirled the diamond ring on your finger, something you had gotten used to doing ever since she put it on your finger. You finally looked into her eyes. “It’s probably time for one of us to start settling down.”

You were pulled from your thoughts as you started being ushered into a glass office, but before you reached the door, your arm was pulled back by Natasha who led you to a different office, one with more privacy and only one glass wall.

“I told you not to do this,” She said leaning both her hands on the table as you sat on the swivel chair across from her, resting your hands on the table and slouching on the chair. You avoided her eyes as you continued to spin the ring on your finger, you legs starting to bounce up and down. She sighed, trying to control her voice. “Not even a day after the accor-”

“You knew I was never gonna sign th-”

“This isn’t about signing the accords,” She interrupted you, her voice harsh and cold. “It’s about letting things cool down for a couple of days.”

“I wasn’t the one who bombed the conference,” You said, your tone mirroring hers as you sat up and looked her in the eyes.

“No, you were just the person helping him get away with it.”

“It wasn’t him,” You said as she sighed turning to the glass wall, making sure no one was paying attention. “And if you listened to me for one goddamn second, you would know that.”

“And if you hadn’t committed an international crime, maybe I would.”

“Look who’s talking,” You scoffed, looking back down at your hand, your attention returning to the ring on your finger. “As if you haven’t committed several crimes.”

“I never said I hadn’t,” Her fingers rubbed her temples as she pulled a chair up to the table across from you. “But I’ve changed since then, I know better now.”

“Really? It doesn’t seem like it,” You said, refusing to look away from her. Her eyes were locked onto yours. You felt the knot rise up in your throat, feeling your chest tighten with her harsh look on you.  

“Look what we became,” You mumbled out voice breaking and running your hands through your hair. Natasha took a deep breath, looking through the glass wall to see if anyone was looking and taking the time away from your eyes to wipe the tear that had escaped. You sat back, fumbling with the ring on your finger which made another wave of dread rip through you. You loved Natasha and it felt like your heart was being torn out of your chest by letting this get between the two of you.

“Is this what it’s gonna be from now on? Walking on eggshells all the time? And what happens if I do something, are you gonna arrest me?”

“No, I’m not gonna arrest you-” 

“Then what the hell is this?” You mumbled to yourself, but made her pause her sentence, giving you a sharp look. 

“Someone will. And this is an office, Y/N, it’s a hell of a lot better than a cell,” Her eyes were cold and her tone was harsh, it tightened the knot in your throat and you had to swallow hard to keep yourself from breaking apart in front of her. “And what if I’m not there to clean up the mess you make?”

“You’re the one that signed those accords-“

“You’re the one that said you were gonna retire.”

“Then I guess you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.” You raised your voice, trying to keep it from breaking. She fought back the tears threatening her composure, it broke your heart. She probably knew you better than you knew yourself.

She was silent as you returned to playing with the ring on your finger, refusing to look at her. Her eyes however, locked back onto on you.

“Where do we go from here?” Her voice was controlled, her eyes also trained on the way you started taking your engagement ring on and off as you were deep in thought.

“You tell me, Natasha,” You looked back up at her, her green eyes burning holes into your skin.

“I want you to sign the accords,” You rolled your eyes, leaning back onto the chair and looking at the wall.  “Please, for me.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I know when SHIELD fell, you took a hit-”

“This isn’t about SHIELD.”

“But it is,” She sighed an exasperated sigh as you looked into her eyes.

“I don’t want to be someone you resent,” She said, your eyes making their way back to looking at her. “I already signed the accords, if you signed it, it would solve the problem.”

“You made that decision on your own Natasha,” You said, barely above your breath but loud enough for Natasha to hear. She stopped herself, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “It used to be different between us, it used to be ‘if you were going down, I’m going down with you,’ but now-”

“It’s still like that,” She said, but you suddenly stood off your chair.

“No it’s not,” You raised you voice again. “Ever since you decided to sign the accords, it turned into you against me. I’m not gonna stop, Nat, am I just gonna be a criminal to you now?”

She was silent, and when you blinked, tears escaped out of the corners of your eyes. “There’s only one way to solve this problem now.”

You didn’t want her to have to watch over you for the rest of your lives. You didn’t want to have to keep things from her, and you didn’t want her not to trust you. You were able to read her like the back of your hand just a few days ago and now she felt like a stranger.

“What are you saying?” She asked, hoping you didn’t mean what she thought you did. “Are you gonna sign the accords?”

Your lip quivered as you swallowed the knot in your throat and rolled the thin silver band across the table towards her. The rolling sound of metal on wood echoing around the room. Your vision blurred and you flinched when she slammed her hand onto the ring and dragged it off the table.

Her face hardened and her jaw squared. She walked out of the room as you fell back into your chair, looking up at the ceiling and trying to keep your tears at bay. 

Natasha clutched your ring as she made her way back to the main room, her eyes focusing on Bucky’s video feed, but the sound being drowned out by the ringing in her ears. Her arms crossed around her body as she attempted to keep herself from falling apart. But the look on your face as you refused to meet her eyes was frozen in her mind. 

[charmercharm3r]

steady streams

BC

Masterlist

8/8 of The Sleepwear Series

wc: 4k

Synopsis: Sometimes, the dead of night is the only time you get him all for yourself.

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, fluffy bf!chan, genderneutral!reader, unprotected sex, handjob, oral, light choking, talk of pleasuredom!chan hehehehe, reader crying during sex but nothing bad!! they just luuuuvvvvv each other so much..pretty tame

Chan is a man already spread way too thin, mind in a million places, phone always just in reach, shoulder so weighed down by his duties that sometimes he feels like a fucking zombie. And he admits, sometimes he thinks he actually is. But hey, it puts food on the table and keeps a decent amount of change in his pocket.

That’s why you always made sure he left all of that outside the door when he came home. Chan was grateful you didn’t ever let him sulk for too long, or let him leave early in the morning on an empty stomach– those meal preps in the fridge are life savers for his incredibly long days.

It was another one of those days, drainingly long and so, so far away from you. Another thing that weighed on him, he felt like the world’s worst boyfriend for spending so much time at work and only being able to see you so late into the night when he came home. In all honesty, it did suck, of course it did. But you understood him and his workaholic lifestyle, and dating him turned you into a night owl as well.

Judging by his lack of enthusiasm in his texts, he just wanted to get home. So you opted to pick him up in the wee hours of the morning instead of him taking a taxi, sending him a quick notice and a few comforting hearts.

Chan was waiting outside the building by the time you’d gotten there and let out the loudest sigh as soon as he sat in the passenger seat. You were thankful for the lack of traffic on the corner of the street because he threw his bag in the backseat and leaned over the center console to take you into an exhausted embrace. He still smelled so good, musky but somehow the vanilla lingered on his clothes and skin, you couldn’t help taking in a deep breath of the scent as you hugged him back. “You okay, hon?” You cooed, voice muffled by how tightly he held you. Only receiving a groan in response, you laughed lightly and kissed the part of his body you could without breaking away.

He held on for a bit longer until he’d had his fix, pulling away but keeping content with his hand in yours. The drive home was pleasantly quiet, your late night playlist softly playing in the background while Chan kept his eyes closed and head rested back, occasionally rubbing his thumb into your hand to tell you he was still awake because of course he was.

Getting back home as you unlocked the door, he let his forehead fall against your shoulder from behind for a moment. You say nothing, leading him in and tossing all your belongings down before Chan could follow suit.

“What do you need from me tonight, baby?” The gentle nature of your voice was already calming as it was, but your open arms were even more inviting. As if the hug in the car wasn’t enough, Chan leaned his head into your neck and encased you in his arms, intent on not letting go. He didn’t need to explicitly tell you that he needed the physical affection, he always wanted it, but it never hurt to ask.

“Need to shower,” he murmured back as his arms slithered tighter around your torso and crushed your bellies against each other.

“Eat something small and I’ll get it started.” Hands in his hair, you knew he wasn’t going to let you go easily now that your nails raked against his scalp.

“‘M not hungry. Stay with me,” Chan’s voice was low while pulling far enough just so he could peck your cheek and trail his lips to yours for a chaste, longing kiss. He moaned against you, practically melting in your arms.

You barely nodded before he was blindly leading you towards your ensuite bathroom, the same route you’d make a million times a day that either of you could do in your sleep if you’d gotten any. Clothes were strewn about the pathway through the bedroom door, past the perfectly made bed, and into where the steamy oasis awaited. Granted, it took a minute to get it the right temperature, but Chan just couldn’t stand the wait. He dragged you into the shower before it was hot enough and bore the burden of standing in the lukewarm stream just so he could have an excuse to hold you skin to skin.

There couldn’t have been less space between your bodies but it still didn’t feel like enough for him. All he wanted was in his arms, lightly scratching up and down his bare back as the water finally reached the perfect temperature.

“Would you like to tell me about your day?”

“After you tell me about yours. Wanna listen to you talk.” His admittance made you smile and kiss his neck.

“Well, then let me help you clean up and I’ll tell you about all the drama at work.” Chan nodded and leaned back, keeping his hands on your hips at all times. His eyes closed as the warm water began to soak his hair and drip down his face. The image of him was enough to stop you in your tracks and admire his pretty features. Delicate and somehow prominently defined bone structure, pink plump lips with a lovely cupid’s bow, your eyes raked down his thick neck to the built traps of his wide shoulders and broad chest and you wondered how on earth you came to call this beautiful human yours. His looks alone were enough to cast a spell over you, make you want to do anything you could to take care of him, in this very moment you were entranced.

With him still holding on to you, you reached for the shampoo bottle and poured a bit in your hands, lathering it up before massaging the bubbles into his hair. Chan’s lips parted a little at the action followed by a slight groan. “My boss is still an asshole, but today was okay for me, he was pretty occupied. Remember that girl I was telling you about? The assistant? Well, I saw her sneak into my boss’s office during his lunch break.”

Chan peaked one eye open, “what? Really?”

“Mhm,” you nodded your head, “you’ll never believe what happened.” Once your fingers started to get rubbed raw, you figured it was time to rinse. “Head back,” he followed your instructions and let the water clean the shampoo away. “My boss came back after lunch, but his wife was with him!”

Both of Chan’s eyes shot open and he gasped, “no way! Was the assistant still in his office?”

“Yes! And the door was closed! I saw the whole thing as it was happening. Head up.” Conditioner next, then body soap on a scrub glove. You took your time rubbing the exfoliating glove over the expanse of his skin, enjoying getting to clearly see all of his little features up close, particularly his chest and arms. Chan smirked a little as he watched you ogle him.

“What happened next?” He prodded.

“I couldn’t see what the assistant was doing inside his office, but I heard her say that she was just leaving his week’s itinerary and organizing some files and she ran out. The wife was totally clueless.”

Straightening out his arm, you held it up as the soap coated his skin, smelling like a soft lavender. “Damn, I really thought the wife would finally realize her husband was cheating on her.” Chan mindlessly used the suds to clean his lower half as well.

“You and me both, babe. Turn around.”

His back was like a dream to look at, let alone get to see all soapy and wet. You squeezed the glove across his shoulder and let the suds drip down for your own amusement. The little giggle that left you had Chan peaking over his shoulder, “enjoying yourself?”

“Mhm. A lot,” you kiss his lips as he chuckles before continuing your task. “Wanna tell me what made your day suck so bad?”

Chan’s head fell forward with a long sigh, he rinsed the conditioner from his hair. “It’s not even anything terrible. It’s just… the regular stuff that is getting so exhausting.” 

Taking the shower head off the hook, you rinsed his body and hung the scrub glove, handing it to him to put back so you could wrap your arms around his waist. Chan’s head hung in the hot water while you pressed your ear to his back and listened to his heartbeat. The soft rhythm was almost mind numbing somehow, not realizing you were feeling him up and down until he cupped his hands over yours to stop before they got too low. “How can I help you?” You could only whisper, wishing there was a way to make all of his responsibilities evaporate like the steam on the bathroom walls.

“Just hold me.”

It was another few quiet moments with him like this until you started to get antsy. Your boyfriend was right in front of you, yet it still felt like his mind was so far away. You knew it was, a bad habit of his that not a lot seemed to break as he thought of all the things he still needed to do. And you missed him, so much that you couldn’t bear to tell him because it’d be one more thing on his plate.

Instead of voicing your concern for his overly bombarded thoughts, you figured it’d be more beneficial to put a pause on his brain all together.

So slow that he didn’t seem to register, you tiptoed your hand south and splayed your palm over his pelvis. It wasn’t until you took hold of his semi-hard cock did Chan realize what you were doing. His head shot up and tried to look back at you, but you lightly wrapped your hand around his neck and said, “relax, baby. No more thinking tonight.” You felt him swallow, then nod.

Not even thirty seconds later and he was at full mass, entirely at your mercy as the water acted as lubricant for lazily pumping him. Knowing just where to touch, just how to nibble lightly at his skin, just enough pressure around his neck to make his head fall back, Chan bucked into your palm and already felt so grounded beneath your touch. The warmth of the water was making him overheat even more now that his high was rising quicker than he’d expected. Your fingertips ran over the head of his cock before wrapping your hand into a tighter ring and speeding up your movements, Chan shuddered and let his head rest back against the side of yours. While you worked him up further, he placed a grip over the hand on his neck and squeezed tighter while his other reached back to grab your ass and pull you flush against his back side. Every time he rutted into the ring of your palm, your hips moved with his, fluid and in sync with every motion until he bit his lip to hold back the strained moans that wanted to erupt. “Let go, sweetheart. You deserve it. I won’t let you go,” the loving coo of your voice was what tipped him over the edge and release onto the tiled shower walls with a deep groan. You squeezed his neck just a little tighter while his nails dug into the fatty flesh of your ass, hips twitching until his shoulders slumped forward with relief.

“Fuck, I needed that. Thank you,” Chan rolled his head to kiss your temple. As he turned to take you into a hug again, you quickly took the shower head and cleaned the wall off and washed his seed down the drain.

“I know.” You hugged him back, but still felt his erection hard against your stomach.

His breathing returned back to normal soon. “Did you shower earlier?” He asked, you nodded, “good.”

Before you could question him further, Chan was guiding you out of the shower and letting the steam flood the bathroom even more. He dried you down before drying himself, taking in your lips as you attempted to wrap your hair in another towel to catch you off guard with your arms up and body exposed.

The kiss was hungrier than any of the past few shared since picking him up, so much needier and desperate that he unexpectedly picked you up and dropped you onto the bed in a matter of seconds. You squealed when your bare back hit the mattress and Chan fell to his knees in front of you. Doing your best not to get the sheets wet with your soaked hair, you looked down at him wonderfully confused, “what’re you doing?”

His lips were peppering kisses up and down your legs, coming to your thighs and he looked up at you through his long lashes. “You’re so sweet to me,” Chan said into your skin. “Packing me meals. Picking me up so late at night. Getting in the shower with me even if you’re already clean just because I asked. Always treating me so good and that was just today. You didn’t think I’d let you leave without a reward, did you?” Each sentence was accompanied by more kisses and slight teething to leave soft red marks.

Throwing your legs over his shoulders, he made his way higher and hooked his arms under your thighs. “I wasn’t going to ask for anything in return,” you admit, unabashedly indulging in how pretty his hair was when it was wet and curly, you couldn’t stop from twirling it between your fingers as his kisses came to the junction where your thigh met your pelvis.

“You don’t have to ask, baby. I wanna give it to you. Y’always deserve something just as sweet as you are. Let me? Please, please let me?” He was begging as his warm breath fanned over your center, sending shivers up your spine and raising goosebumps along your limbs.

Just a nod and a whine, he was overly enthusiastic in the way he began to devour you. Slurping noises filled the room from the very start, Chan clutched your thighs tightly to keep you from squirming and against his mouth at all times. His big tongue covered so much area, made you feel tingly all over especially when he peered up at you from between your legs, an obvious smirk as the same tongue wriggled to tease you for making such pretty nosies for him. Maybe a little too lost in it, Chan sat up onto his knees, hunched over and took your lower body up with him to fold you in half as he continued to stimulate what felt like every nerve in your body. He was looking down at you now and slightly menacing but in a way that was painfully arousing, he knew what he was doing when he began to hum. Hands in his hair, you were rutting into his face as if he was only there for your pleasure, and he loved it. So much so that even after you came into his mouth and he swallowed every bit, after you finally let him go and he placed you back onto the bed, Chan begged to let him do it again.

“Baby, I don’t think I can. Too tired and sensitive,” you breathed heavily as he crawled over your body.

“I know I can make you cum one more time at least. If not with my mouth, then…” His voice trailed off, lowering to place supple kisses across your chest and up your neck. “Let me fuck you, nice and slow just how you like. Wanna keep making you feel good, the way you make me feel. Wanna feel you around me, pulling me in so deep that you feel me in your belly,” he emphasized his sultry words by tracing his fingers across your lower stomach, making you shudder again. “Let me fuck you so soft until you cum around me, make you feel how much I love you and appreciate everything you do for me.” Your stomach twisted at his lewd, heartwarming promise, there was no denying him when he asked so kindly.

Tugging his head down for more kisses, Chan hiked your legs around his hips and immediately aligned himself with your core. The initial push in was a burning, blissful stretch to accommodate his swollen size, the both of you a sensitive mess from already coming once each and loudly groaning into the bedroom air.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck– you feel so good, so warm,” he mumbled against your lips, unable to shut himself up. Not that you minded, you adored when he told you how you made him feel, and he loved the reaction you gave him.

“See that, sweetheart?” He bucked his hips impossibly deeper, seeing the bulge in your lower belly protruding slightly. “What’d I tell ya? Isn’t that just the prettiest sight? Aside from you, of course,” Chan chuckled as he slowly fucked in and out of you, pressing his forehead against yours to watch as his tip prodded lightly upwards from your stomach.

His fascination for seeing himself within you was maddening, when he said he’d fuck you slow, you didn’t think it’d be this slow, to the point of almost stagnant. Whining and clawing at his biceps, you tried to buck yourself back and forth just for the friction and he laughed. He actually laughed watching you struggle to get yourself off after protesting it not even ten minutes ago. “Oh, you’re just so cute! Trying so hard. Is it working? Think you can do it yourself?”

“Baby, please– you said you’d–”

“I know, I know, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I could never say no to your pretty face.”

Chan adjusted his stance so his thighs brushed against your bruised ass and settled on his forearms on either side of your head. Cheek to cheek, you held onto him from under his arms, one hand hooking under his shoulder and the other reaching as far down as you could to dig your nails into his ass the same as he did earlier. The slight pain of your nails was encouraging, pulling out and pushing into you again at a languid pace. The sound of wetness filled the room from both the sloppy kisses he was leaving anywhere he could and from where your bodies connected.

He was alway vocal in bed especially when he was feeling the way he did now, at rock bottom but somehow on top of the world because he had you beside him, conflicted inside thinking he doesn’t deserve the love and support you provide but can’t seem to fend off the selfishness to push you away. You were better that sleep, better than three hot meals a day, better than any drug that could run through his veins because drugs eventually wear off, but there was no way he was ever going to get you out of his system.

So yeah, if the opportunity to tell you how much he adored you ever came around, he was going to take it. Such as now, for instance, fucking into you with nothing but love and passion while also letting out all of his day’s frustrations through his words.

“My beautiful baby, you fit me like a glove. Oh, you sound so pretty when you say my name. Say it again please? Hngh– there we go– ah, fuck– do that again. God, this hole is perfect, so perfect for me. Don’t ever wanna pull out. Wanna fuck you all day and night, make you cum over and over again until you can’t remember what day it is. How does that sound, love? Would you let me? Just say so and I’ll do it.”

If dirty talk was an olympic sport, he’d take the gold year after year because the flame in your gut was burning brighter and brighter with every thrust– or was that just his cock?

Didn’t matter, it could’ve been minutes or hours that he spoke to you like this, kept you teetering on the edge with just the right pace and depth to have your toes curling. It was so good that you wanted to cry, not just from the pleasure but because of how much you loved him, and there was no way to express that love without actually making the two of you break into tears.

But you couldn’t hold back the few that escaped down your cheek, though it was the sniffle that caught his attention to sit up and look at you with deep concern. “Baby? What is it?” He pulled out immediately, making you whimper and claw at his back for him to return. Chan was confused, but did as you asked and slowly pushed back into you, making your eyes screw shut and dig back into the mattress. “Talk to me, why are you crying?” 

As he swiped the tear away with his thumb, you held his hand and nuzzled your cheek into his palm. “Love you so much,” it came out as less than a whisper and if Chan wasn’t looking at you, he wouldn’t have understood.

His eyes softened more than they already were, he almost felt the need to let a few tears shed as well but held up the strong fort for your sake. If he had cried too, that would’ve been the end of your little steamy session, and Chan knew better than to take the promise of pleasure away from you. So he squished your cheeks with both hands and planted kiss after kiss against your puffy lips, not letting you breathe as he did so.

“Love you so much more, you’ll never understand.”

Pressing his forehead against yours, not letting his eyes stray from your glistening ones, he continued to fuck into you until your body began to feel like it was floating and you were locking him between your legs in a vice grip, finally closing your eyes as the high stole your vision with a white blur. Chan’s head fell to the side of yours, still holding on when the pulsing of your walls finally let him give in to the euphoria he’d been trying so hard to keep at bay because truth be told, he almost came as soon as you said you loved him.

Bodies damp and tired, Chan would’ve collapsed on top of you if not for his knees tucked below him. Kissing you slowly, feather light and cherishing, he slipped away for just a moment to grab tissues off the nightstand and wipe you clean, then reaching for a clean pair of his boxers to slip up your legs. He giggled when he realized how much bigger they were and weren’t going to stay up.

The comforter was still neatly tucked under the corners of the bed, but Chan decided that while he had you here momentarily immobilized, he’d tuck and roll you into the blanket like a burrito, just your head sticking out of the top. “Nooo! I can’t hold you!” You complained, but laughed along with him anyway.

“It’s for your own good! So you can’t run away from me,” he challenged and wrapped himself around your blanket bundle tightly.

“I told you, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

“You’re stuck with me, actually. I have you trapped with no escape.” He rubbed his nose into your cheek with a sleepy grin.

“Oh nooo, what will I do?” The fake worry made him sigh, but still smooch your cheek sweetly and roll over so he was on top of you again.

“What do you think will happen with the assistant and your boss?”

“You’re so nosy!” The two of you giggled much too loudly for how late at night it was.

He didn’t let you loose, choosing to keep you wrapped up tightly in the blanket, safe and sound and in his arms.

-

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit. @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101@skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @leebitsimpracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @kaitchan @iadorethemskz

[thehistoriccemetery]

would love if you could do prompt 1! especially if tav is being a hard ass and trying to keep pushing themselves hehe :3

Companions with an Exhausted Tav

Three posts in one week?? I’m truly on a roll. (Nah I was sick this week so I was off work for two days.)

Anyway here’s Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheira with a very sleepy (and stubborn) reader.

Shadowheart

You usually go to bed quite a bit later than Shadowheart, but luckily she’s never awake to realize just how late you’re staying up.

Until one night you push your luck a little too far. By the time you climb into bed next to her she pops her head up and notices the sun is already starting to rise.

“Love, have you been up all night?” She asks. You decline to answer, and luckily she’s too sleepy to push the matter, for now. You both fall back asleep.

You’re livid when you wake up to the noon sun and find the adventuring party had already left for the day. Without you.

You find Shadowheart polishing her spear, as she decided to stay back today as well.

You approach her, but she doesn’t even look up at you. “Good afternoon sleepyhead.”

“What the hell were you thinking not waking me up this morning?” you say, clearly aggravated.

She props the spear up next to her. “I did” she says, finally looking up at you. “If you’re too tired to get up the first time I wake you, you’re too tired to go adventuring. Now go lay back down. You clearly need a nap.”

You soften, immediately realizing your mistake. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just…”

“Tired,” she finishes for you. “I know, love. Seriously, go back to bed. You’re so grumpy when you’re tired.”

“I’m not grumpy!” You protest. She morphs her face into an over exaggerated pout, and repeats your words in a mocking tone.

You can’t help yourself, so you laugh. “Whatever. I’ll go back to bed.”

Lae’zel

You wake up in a panic as you’re being roughly dragged across the ground by your ankles.

You flail and struggle against your captors strong hand, but you can’t get loose.

“Tskva! Stop doing that!” Lae’zel shouts. It’s only then you realize who your “captor” really is.

“Lae’zel?” You ask, confused. “What are you doing? Why are you dragging me across the- ow!” You shout as you’re dragged over a rock.

“Seems this is the only way to get you to bed,” she responds, unfazed by your outburst.

She only stops dragging you once you’re in your bed. You immediately sit up and try to escape.

She catches you and pushes you back down. “Lae’zeeel,” you groan exaggeratedly. “I was doing something important.”

“If it is important than you should be able to keep your eyes open while doing it,” she retorts.

Well fuck. She has you there. You have been having trouble focusing for the last couple hours. Maybe it is best if you just go to sleep.

You’re surprised when Lae’zel crawls into your bed beside you. She doesn’t usually stay the night. “What are you doing?” You ask.

“Sleeping. Just like you should be,” she answers. You sigh, thinking of all the crafty ways you could sneak past her once she goes to sleep.

She interrupts your thoughts with a “and if you think you’re sneaking out, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Karlach

You’re passed out over a desk when Karlach gets up for a little midnight snack.

“Oh love,” she sighs. It must be four in the morning. How long have you been up?

You wake up slightly and mumble something indecipherable. You can hardly lift your head up off the desk.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” she whispers, throwing your arms over her shoulders and picking you up.

You unconsciously nuzzle her neck and let out a soft “mmm” at the familiar scent of your lover.

She lays you down on her own bed, trying to keep you upright for long enough to get you out of your armor.

She tries to be quiet, not only to disturb you as little as possible, but also to not wake up the entire camp.

When you’re finally out of your armor, she realizes she can’t find your camp clothes. Eventually, she settles on giving you one of her shirts that’s way too big for you.

You smile and mumble something that may or may not have been a “thank you.”

She finally lays your head against the pillow and you snuggle into the soft sheets and warm shirt.

She crawls cautiously into bed next to you, trying not to wake you up.

She can’t quite tell if you’re awake or not when you climb up on her chest and mumble “mmm warm.”

Minthara

The thing about Minthara is she’s not going to argue with you about taking care of yourself.

You can eat when you’re hungry, sleep when you’re tired, and piss and when you need to piss because you’re an adult and you can take care yourself.

So when she catches you burning the midnight oil for the third night in a row she’s angry. Like more angry than you’d expected.

“Hold on, Minthara,” you say, knowing she about to make you go to bed. “I just need to finish th-“

“No.” You’re interrupted abruptly. “You’re going to bed and I’m not going to catch you out here like this again.”

“Minthara, there’s things that have to done-“

“They can wait till morning,” she interrupts again, trying to stay calm even as you’re testing her patience.

“Just let me-“

“You have to take care of yourself, Tav!” She shouts, finally loosing her temper. “This isn’t an endurance test, this is your life: the one you have chosen to share with me. And I will not have you squander it out here, night after night, robbing yourself of sleep.”

You sigh, taking her hand and pulling yourself to your feet. You don’t even realize how tired you are until you’re swaying trying to keep upright.

She picks you up unexpectedly. You would have never taken Minthara for the type to carry you to bed. She’s never carried you to bed before.

Still, you accept the rare affection and wrap your legs around her waist while your arms and head rest on her shoulder.

She gently lays you down on your bed and pushes your hair off your forehead before giving it a kiss.

She really does love you, and she’s doing her best here. You just gotta take care of yourself, okay?

Jaheira

“Am I going to have to set a bedtime for you like I do the children?” She half teases, surprising you as she approaches your half asleep body.

You groan as if she just woke you from deep sleep. “I’m awake, sorry what time is it.”

Jaheira smirks and bends down so she’s close to your face. “Well past your bedtime,” she teases before giving you a short kiss.

“But I haven’t finished-“

“You’re done,” she interrupts matter of factly. Clearly this isn’t up for debate.

You groan again and mumble “fine,” reaching your arms up for her to carry you to bed.

She laughs, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over her shoulder. If you’re going to insist on her carrying you, you’re going to deal with her doing it like this.

She’s gentle when she lays you against the bed, crawling in next to you and wrapping her arms around you.

“Wait, so if it’s so late why are you up?” You ask.

She chuckles. “Don’t worry about it,” she answers before kissing you behind the ear and falling asleep.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + four

authors note: hi! thank you so much for everyone who has left such kind words for this story! i'm so appreciative for the support and interest!

this one, i think, depicts a lot of contradicting thoughts and feelings for our two favorite characters. that's intentional.

i also take some creative liberties with medical and wrestling shit. let's just go with it, friends, por favor.

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

cw/tw: language, violence, sexual harassment, hints at past self-harm, allusions to past suicide attempt, references to traumatic pasts

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

words: 10k

Roman has spent years coming home to a dark, empty house. It’s been his preference for just as long, enjoying the isolation following day after day of shit that needs to be handled. Because that’s usually how shit plays out for him. Roman’s always calling the shots, always figuring out how to navigate difficult, sticky situations. 

It's just what he does.

It’s why he’s been able to advance the Bloodline as much as he has. Because Roman is a man playing professional chess among a group of elementary checker players.

And he’d never voice or admit it to anyone, but the weight does sometimes get to him in one way or another. So, he’s learned to appreciate solitude. 

But he’s not met with solitude upon entering his home, which is both surprising and irritating considering it’s pushing 2 o’clock in the morning.

The only sound he should hear is the sound of his heavy footsteps from the front door to the bedroom. Instead, his feet carry him into the source of said sounds that are more pots banging and dishes being washed.

That’s how he immediately knows who it is without needing to check. But, Roman is more curious as to why she’s in the damn kitchen at this time of night instead of sleeping than the noise itself.

And he goes to ask as such when he gets even closer and realizes there’s more to the sound than clanging pots and running water. A soft, melodic, almost soothing voice singing in a language he doesn’t understand but recognizes as Spanish. 

Solana is singing, and she’s singing well, beautiful even. So much so that he finds himself leaning against the wall closest to the kitchen, watching as she moves about, earbuds pressed in her ears making her oblivious to his presence.

There’s a sense of relaxation to her, an almost smile as she sings. She doesn’t seem nervous nor skittish….just at peace.

That is she turns around and realizes he's standing there, watching her.

She snatches her earbuds out and immediately jumps on the train of unnecessary apologies. “I’m sorry! I didn’t—-you said you’d be back late.”

He chuckles, calmly pointing out, “it’s almost 2am.”

Her face is flushed red with unnecessary embarrassment. “I thought—I guess I figured that meant you’d come back in the morning.”

“I sleep in my own bed, if I can help it.” It’s a comfort thing, a nod to his preference for solitude. He’s never even stayed the night with Samantha, mostly because he knows her ass would see that as a damn marriage proposal.

Well, maybe not anymore.

“Why are you still up?”

“I—I couldn’t sleep.” It’s a simple answer he’s certain also includes a very real, dark backstory as to why she can’t sleep. He’s been there.

He gets it.

“I’ll be done soon—"

“You can stay up as long as you want. I don’t care.” And it’s true. The house is big enough for her to be making as much noise as she needs, and he probably wouldn’t hear anything from where his room is. He also recognizes the misery that comes with wanting but not being able to sleep, so if being in the kitchen is her distraction, then he’s good with that.

Of course, she continues with the apologies. “I’m sorry about the music—I just—the house was too quiet. I—I don’t like the quiet.”

“Solana.” He has to interrupt her. Roman’s not in the mood for her apology tour. Granted, he does hone in on the part of not liking the quietness of the house. Of course she would be the opposite of him. “I don’t care. Do what you want. Shit doesn’t impact me.”

Roman can see she’s unsure of how to take his words, most likely wondering if there’s some catch, if it’s followed up with a stipulation. But, there is none. As long as it doesn’t impact him, she can do what she wants.

“You have a nice voice,” he compliments, because again, it’s the truth. He’d never taken her as the singing type, but gradually, Roman is starting to see there may be more to Solana than meets the eye. 

Her unsure expression remains unchanged with the exception of her blush deepening as she mumbles a quiet, “thank you.”

Compliments of any sort seem to bother her, or maybe it’s less they bother her and more she’s unsure of how to respond because she’s not used to them.

He’d lean more on the side of that being the case.

Nevertheless, Roman decides to leave her be. “I’m going to bed.”

“Okay,” she says almost sheepishly, adding a quiet, “goodnight.”

Roman takes her in, the quietness and passiveness no longer as irritating as he once thought and believed it to be. It might still irk him, but the level of irritation isn’t as high as it used to be.

Whatever that means.

“Goodnight, Solana….”

————

From day one of moving into Roman's mansion, Solana has noticed the watch dogs that occasionally patrol the premises along with the armed guards. And while she’s always been tempted to ask to pet one, she’s also always decided against it. These dogs, like their handlers, are trained killers, not emotional support animals.

They’re not there for her to treat like objects.

But it’s when she walks outside, ready to head off to work, that she notices one guard with a dog Solana hasn’t seen before, a puppy, that she finds it in her to approach. With a couple minutes to spare before she has to leave for work, interacting with a dog seems like a nice way to start off the day.

Hand on her purse strap, she shoves back her anxiety about approaching this strange man, asking in a soft voice, “i–is he new?”

The guard sizes her up and down, answering with a gruff, “yeah.” 

Solana looks down at the dog who’s also staring up at her with just as much curiosity. Smiling gently, she carefully crouches down and waits for him to move closer. There's a generous leeway of his leash that would allow him to do so. 

Sure enough, the dog walks over to her, ears down. Giggling, she cautiously moves to pet him. “You’re so sweet….” And he is. Solana wonders if he’ll retain that sweetness once he undergoes his training. Unlikely. “Good boy…”

“He’s not a fucking pet.” The guard harshly scolds, giving a tug on the leash that makes the dog start to growl. Solana frowns, recognizing he’s annoyed with her interruption.

“I’m sor—”

But before she can finish her sentence, there’s a flash before her that seems almost too quick for her vision to process. But, when she does, she realizes Roman is now present, directly in front of the guard, hand wrapped around his throat. 

“Speak to her like that again, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out your mouth.” His voice is as menacing and terrifying as the fire in his eyes. Roman shoves the man forward and demands. “Apologize. Now.”

The man is coughing, struggling to regulate his breathing but still manages to cough up a muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Solana feels and probably looks stumped at hearing such a thing. She can’t recall the last time someone has ever uttered those words to her. Understandably, she doesn’t know how to respond or react. 

“Leave,” Roman demands. And Solana isn’t sure she’s seen a man haul off as quickly as he does, guiding the dog along with him. 

Roman takes in her appearance as she stands up, nervously brushing any invisible lint off her pants. “You good?”

She nods, still not quite knowing how to take this. How to take Roman seemingly defending her. Or maybe he’s just defending what belongs to him. It has to be the latter of the two, because why would he care about defending her?

Red-faced, she tries to explain her actions. “It—it was my fault. I just—I saw the dog, and I just—I wanted to pet it.”

“Why are you apologizing for someone being rude to you? Does that shit make sense to you?” When he says it like that, no, it doesn’t. But it’s clearly meant to be rhetorical, as he then asks, “you like dogs?”

Nodding, she clarifies. “Small dogs, mostly. Big ones, umm, they kinda scare me.” As do most things. This, she’s sure, he’s noticed by now. “Uhh—what time do you want dinner ready?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll be back late tonight.”

“Oh.” Solana is unsure why there’s a strange sense of disappointment in her belly at this. Late….

In her experience with her dad and brother, that usually means they won’t be back until the next day, most likely in the morning. 

This should make her feel a bit relieved, not having to be on edge, feeling worried about upsetting him. 

Even if the only thing regarding her that she’s seen upset him is when he perceives she’s being disrespected.

She’s not quite sure what to make of that either.

“Ayo, Lil’ Soso.” A new voice enters the conversation, one she’s gradually growing comfortable and used to. Jey walks out with a rubbermaid container in his hand, chewing obnoxiously as he approaches Solana and Roman. “What are these things? They’re pretty good.”

There’s a couple of things to process in that one interaction, starting with the nickname Jey has used to refer to her in the times she’s run into him in the house. The twins, along with Paul, seem to be at the mansion often. The interactions though, have allowed her to feel less tense around him. Around Jimmy too.

She hasn’t had enough interaction with Paul to feel that way about him, and she’s certain that won’t change. He seems only concerned with Roman and no one else, which is valid and fair considering his role as Roman’s chief advisor.

Going back to his question, she answers, “conchas.”

“Con what?”

His expression and delivery make her smile. “Conchas. It’s a Mexican pan dulce. Sweet bread.”

“I don’t know half of what you said, but this shit good as hell. You got any more?”

“Don’t you have fucking food at your house?” Solana would never show or admit to it, but it’s sometimes funny to her how Roman seems almost always annoyed with his eccentric cousins. There’s no doubt in her mind though that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill for them, that he’s probably done so. And vice versa.

But they also seem to get on his nerves just as much. 

“Man, Nicki on that shit again, talking about she ain’t cooking until I start treating her right. Me and the kids been eating out.”

Kids? That surprises her. She didn’t know Jey was a father. 

“Solana! When you train with Naomi, can you exchange some recipes with her or something?” Jimmy also joins in the conversation, walking over while rubbing his stomach. “Cause I don’t know what that meal was in the blue container, but shit slapped.”

It takes a minute for her to remember which one that was. She’s always been a bit meticulous about separating her meals accordingly. “Carnitas Huevos Rancheros.”

Jimmy hesitates. “Yeah sure, that.”

“Am I running a fucking food pantry?” It’s hard to tell if Roman is genuinely annoyed. Something tells her it’s that type of irritation he naturally gets with the twins but won’t actually do anything about. “It’s not her job to feed you idiots.”

“I don’t mind,” she offers, adding. “I–I like to cook.” And it’s the truth. It reminds Solana of her mom, of all the times she’d spend in the kitchen learning from and spending time with the one and only person on this planet who ever loved her. 

“See, Uce, she likes to cook,” Jey points out, wiping the crumbs off his fingers on his pants and tucking the now empty container under his arm. “I’ll just take this off your hands.”

Solana’s watch vibrating, reminding her that her shift starts in half an hour, is the perfect reminder that while this conversation is comical, it’s also interfering with her schedule. She’s also certain Solo is waiting patiently, or impatiently, by the SUV for her to jump in so they can get a move on. “I—I’ve gotta get to work, but I can have the food ready by tomorrow. I’ll just come home and cook after training.”

“If you feel like it,” Roman adds, and she knows better than to push back and tell him cooking is one of the few escapes she has. It’s become even more of an escape without the anxiety and pressure of her dad and brother demanding the food always be ready in sometimes unrealistic time frames and lashing out when that doesn’t happen.

To Roman’s credit, if he’s ever been annoyed with waiting a few extra minutes for meals, he’s done a perfect job not showing as such. 

She simply nods, acknowledging his stipulation, offering a quiet ‘bye’ as she jogs off to the SUV with Solo ready to escort her to work.

It’s when she’s gone that Jimmy walks up beside Roman. “Man, she can cook, she don’t got a smartass mouth, and she got a body? Shit, Uce, ain’t you glad I told you to go with her?” Roman doesn’t offer a reply, but he definitely gives Jimmy that look that lets his cousin know to get away from him. Roman’s always been big on personal space.

“Does she cook every night?” Jey comes up, asking with an almost level of excitement. “Shit, me and the kids finna start coming over here.”

“Shut up.” The hell they will. Roman is still adjusting to living with someone. The last thing he needs is his cousin and his spawns running around his place, making noise, breaking and touching shit. Not going to happen. “Is Paul already at the office?”

“Yeah. He’s got the updated figures for you to go over. And the RKO proposal was sent over as well for you to review.”

Nodding, Roman starts to create a mental agenda for tasks he needs to complete for the day. And it goes without saying that he’s forever impressed how his cousins are easily able to slide back and forth between professional bag and bumbling morons. 

It’s one of the reasons he keeps them around and as high up in command as they are.

“Good,” Roman acknowledges, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes. “Let’s go.”

————

“Hey!”

Naomi’s smile is just as bright and genuine as the first time Solana met her, and that’s something she doesn’t know how to take. A part of her figured Naomi was just being nice to her because Roman was around, because she was given an order, and no one defies the Tribal Chief’s orders.

And maybe she could even chalk this up to being an order as well, Roman tasking her with training Solana on how to fight, hence the continued kindness.

Regardless of the motivating factor, this woman is clearly a capable and trained fighter. A killer. 

Solana would do well to stay on her good side.

“It’s good to see you. We didn’t really get a chance to talk much, but obviously, I’m Naomi. Jimmy’s wife.” For some reason, Solana can see it. Can see these two together, even if she’s only been around both less than a handful of times. “I train a lot of the new recruits, mostly women, some men.”

“Men?”

Naomi chuckles. “That’s typically their reaction too. Right before I remind them who I am and what I can do.”

Solana isn’t sure she wants to know the answer to either of those. 

“Just out of curiosity, do you have any kind of combat training? Fighting knowledge in general?” It’s a valid question that only has one embarrassing answer. Solana guesses that Naomi picks up on this embarrassment, adding gently, “it’s okay if you don’t. It just gives me a baseline on where we should start.”

“No—I—I’ve never done anything like this before.” And she’s still not sure if she wants to, not sure what Roman thinks she will get from this. Him, along with everyone else around her, learned how to shoot a gun at the same time they learned how to walk. She doesn’t think she’s ever even held a gun. There’s no way humanly possible she could ever be even a fraction as good at this. 

And Roman has to know this.

So, why is he making me do it?

Again, either Naomi is insanely perceptive or Solana is much worse at hiding her emotions than she initially believed. 

She’d bet on the latter of the two.

“He doesn’t want you to be like us. He just—”

“He wants you to stop being so damn weak,” a new voice interjects. Solana recognizes the tall, intimidating woman from before when Roman had taken her to the Warehouse. She hadn’t had any direct interaction, but just the mere fact alone that she’d simply looked at Solana with disgust told her all she needed to know. “Wants you to grow a backbone.”

“Nia.” Naomi’s smile is dropped, traded for an intense stare. “Lay off her, okay? You heard what Roman said.”

“Oh yeah, we have to be nice to her.” Nia’s smile is mocking, her unimpressed gaze taking in Solana from head to toe. But Solana focuses on what Nia just said versus her judgmental countenance. Did Roman really tell them to be nice to her? Why? Why would he do that?

Nia walks over, crossing her arms over her body. “Well, here’s some kind advice, I can tell from one look at you that life hasn’t been very nice to you. But that doesn’t make you special.”

Naomi steps in. “Nia!”

“Bad shit happens to people all the time. At some point, you have to stop allowing yourself to be a victim.” If not for the fact that Solana knows Nia can’t stand her, she’d almost think Nia is offering what she believes to be genuine advice vs judging her. “You’re here. You survived it. Make that survival worth something.”

Naomi pushes Nia away from Solana, saying something to her that appears to be in defense of Solana, which she’d appreciate if not for the fact that she’s now in her head.

Nothing Nia said is inherently wrong. The world is undoubtedly both good and bad, perfect yet imperfect, wholly and incompletely balanced. These are all facts she’s well aware of, but what Nia doesn’t know or understand yet is that a person still being here doesn’t mean they survived. 

Solana is already broken.

There is no survival.

There’s just existence.

“Don’t listen to Nia,” Naomi advises. Looking around, Solana sees that at some point in her dissociation, Nia departed. Naomi continues with that same warm smile. “She can be a bitch sometimes, but she does mean well…..occasionally.” Hands on her hip, Naomi brings the attention back to the whole reason Solana is even at the Warehouse. “How about we just start with flexibility and mobility? Most of us are smaller than the men, and you definitely are, girl.”

Small……

That’s a word Solana has never thought to use to describe herself. 

“Being smaller means we can move around faster, can navigate around an attacker in a bit of a quicker way. But, you also have to be able to move in a way that’s lithe. Don’t worry. I gotchu, girl.”

They are reassuring words, words that Solana is grateful for, especially as they begin and she feels completely out of her element. Because she is. Solana isn’t the least bit lithe, and she’s certain her hand eye coordination is straight up shit.

But regardless of all that, Naomi remains kind, patient, and even makes conversation with her.

It doesn’t feel like she’s being made to do this, but more like something she gets to do. And Solana is grateful for that interaction, for the space to not feel like she’s burdening someone. That feels nice. So, so nice.

But equilibrium is a hard thing to achieve and even harder to maintain, so while one safe space is being created, another unsafe space is gradually forming in the midst of her oblivion.

Austin Theory and Grayson Waller, two upcoming, arrogant, fighters and wannabe heads have used the Warehouse for their training space for the past few months after finally proving and gaining access to the elite training grounds. 

And while the initiation and acceptance process was brutal and would ward most off from fucking up their membership status, Austin and Grayson have always been hardheaded, too blinded by their own hubris to recognize when they’re about to shoot themselves in the foot.

And shooting themselves is the least of their worries when Grayson is casually surveying the gym to see who’s present, his eyes landing on a woman in particular who catches his interest almost instantaneously. 

“Well, who do we have here?” Austin is confused initially, Grayson motioning across the way to where Solana completes her cooldown with Naomi. 

Immediately, Austin scoffs. “Since when does this place offer a weight watchers class?”

Chuckling, Grayson still pushes back. “Hers is in the right places though, mate,” Grayson again advises Austin to watch Solana as she happens to be leaning back, palms flat on the ground making her top hug against her chest.

Austin makes a face. “Decent.”

“Who is she?” Grayson asks again as Austin notices a semi-familiar face walking nearby.

“Melo.”

Carmelo shifts his Beats headphones so they’re no longer covering his ears. “Whassup?”

Austin subtly gestures to Solana, asking, “who is that?”

Carmelo follows the line of vision and almost immediately snatches his eyes back to the duo. “Yo. You fuckin’ crazy?” 

“What?”

Carmelo repeats himself, a sense of urgency in his voice. “Do you know who that is?”

“Pretty sure that’s what we just fucking asked you, dumbass,” Austin slaps him upside the head. “Now who is she?”

“Solana Miller. Well, Solana Reigns now, I guess.” Carmelo lowers his voice, as if speaking too loudly will attract too much attention. And he’s not entirely wrong. “Roman’s wife.”

Grayson makes a face, looking between Carmelo and Austin for elaboration. “Reigns got married? Bullshit. That bloke is the last man to ever walk down the aisle.”

“You two would do well getting your head from up your asses every once in a while. It’s a recent thing, but still a thing. So unless you want your insides literally ripped from out of you, it’d be best to leave her the fuck alone.”

Austin, the most smug of the two, is the first to protest. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those. Everyone makes Roman out to be this big bad who can’t be touched. He defends, what, once every six months?” Austin scoffs. The fear that the “Head of the Table” seems to have over everyone has never made sense to him. Sure, he’s heard things, even seen some things, but that’s always been because Roman called the shot. He’s not the one actually taking or making them. “Everyone knows he has his heron boys do his dirty work for him.”

“Plus, isn’t the guy pushing 40? What the fuck is he going to do?” Grayson laughs.

“Break his fucking hip trying to chase us.”

Carmelo shakes his head as the two dipshits laugh at their unfunny humor. “I’m telling ya’ll. Messing with her is a death wish. Plus, I heard she’s not even like that. That’s she’s like….shy and shit.”

If intended to ward the two off, it does the complete opposite. Theory smirks. “Those are always the freakiest.”

Carmelo backs away, lifting his hand in a surrender motion. “Can’t say I ain’t warn you. Dig your own graves.” With zero interest in having any part of what these two are clearly planning, Carmelo puts his headphones back over his ears and jogs off to start his training. 

And it’s a wise decision as Austin and Grayson, forever the patient predators stalking their prey wait for Naomi to walk off, time it well so that there’s an appropriate enough time for Solana to walk off to the showers, get clean, and walk out at the same time they happen to be lurking in the halls that lead to the locker rooms. 

That’s exactly how it plays out too, Solana looking down in her bag to grab her phone and text Solo that she’s done and ready to leave when a voice nearly knocks the wind out of her.

“Hi there.”

Solana gasps as loud as the sound of her back colliding with the brick wall behind her from how startled she is.

Instantly, she’s met with a set of cold blue eyes and wicked smile. “Solana, right?”

Breathing feels like it’s an optional thing, her hands still gripping the brick wall behind her. She can only nod her answer.

“Austin.” He then nods to the other man that Solana realizes is leaning back against the wall opposite her. The anxiety intensifies. “This is my buddy, Grayson. You must be new around here?”

Solana doesn’t want to speak, doesn't want to be near these two who have her practically cornered. But, she also doesn’t want to piss them off either. “Y—yeah.”

Austin’s eyes twinkle with nothing that seems good. “You really are shy, huh?”

“They make the best.” Grayson comments from his propped up position. Solana doesn’t allow herself to think too much about what he’s implying. She just wants to get the hell away from them. One look, and she knows they’re up to no good.

It makes her sick to her stomach.

The idea of walking past these two brings a visceral, physical response that has her mouth watering. She feels like she’s going to throw up, but she also knows she needs to get the hell away from them. “I—I have to go.” From where the next thing to come out her mouth stems from, she doesn’t know, but it’s blurted with all the nerves in her body. “R-Roman is waiting for me.”

He’s not. She actually has no idea where he is, but there’s a part of her that wonders if reminding them of who she is, who her husband is will make them back off.

“Of course,” the one with an accent speaks, motioning with his arm for her to leave. “Don’t want to keep the Chief waiting.”

The mockery in his tone unease her even more. Does he not realize just who Roman is? What he’s capable of. 

Regardless, the second Austin backs away a bit, she’s darting through the hall, trying to put as much distance between herself and the two men, but she’s not far enough to miss the ominous departing statement from Austin.

“See you around, Solana.”

Something tells her this won’t be the last time she runs into them, and it leaves a deep, disturbing feeling in the pit of her stomach.

This isn’t good. 

It’s not good at all. 

————

Dear Mom,

I’m still alive. 

That’s a good thing, I guess. Life with Roman has been….a strange experience. The most important thing is that he hasn’t hit me yet, but I’ve been trying really hard not to upset him or get on his bad side. I do my best to make sure all of his meals are ready and on time, which I guess helps. 

But to be honest……he kinda confuses me. 

He hasn’t been unkind, and I don’t think I’ve ever experienced him really yelling at me. Not like I’ve seen him yell and scream at others. So, that’s also good. It’s a bit of walking on eggshells, just waiting for him to snap and hit me, but not as much as I was thinking.

I don’t know….it hasn’t been as bad here as I thought it would be. For the most part, he just leaves me alone. We don’t even eat dinner together, which is fine, cause I can’t see why he’d want to spend time with me anyway. 

But, he confuses me because it feels like sometimes he’s defending me or something, which doesn’t make sense because why would he do that? That would mean he has to care to some extent, right? I keep trying to remind myself that it’s probably not me he’s defending but his pride and standing, because I think being mean or disrespecting me is like disrespecting him? I’m not sure, but it’s definitely a new experience.

I haven't spoken to or heard from Wes and dad. Roman made me get a new phone with a new number that I’m not sure either of them have. I don’t know if I want to think too much about how bad it’s going to be when I finally do see them again…..

Wes made it clear I was supposed to be keeping in contact with them, but that hasn’t happened. Truth be told, I try not to think about that. Think about the fact that I’m somehow supposed be figuring out a way to…..to kill Roman. I could never do that. I could never kill anyone. You know that, mama. 

Even more….I feel like Roman is growing on me, like maybe he’s not as bad as I thought, like maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye.

I think….I think that I could learn to like living here.

—------

“WarGames?”

To Solana, it’s a simple question, because it’s definitely not an everyday term. But that’s clearly not the case given the startled expressions on both Bayley and Naomi’s face.

It’s becoming something she is slowly starting to enjoy. Not necessarily the training part, but the socialization. It’s something Solana has been deeply deprived of over the years, so to have someone to talk to, someone who wants to talk to her means a lot. 

Even if it’s technically a job she was assigned by Roman, Naomi has never made her feel like their interactions are forced. 

Moreover, it was just in last week’s training session, Solana was thoroughly and pleasantly surprised to find out Bayley is also a member of the Warehouse and friends with Naomi, that reunion almost giving Solana a sense of giddiness. 

She’s wanted to reach out since the wedding but never followed through based upon her fear that she’d be bothering Bayley. 

Clearly, that’s not the case. 

Solana is certain she’ll never forget Bayley’s kindness on a day where she really needed to believe in something, believe that there is always at least one reason to keep breathing, to be alive.

But, it’s when Solana asks about this topic Naomi and Bayley were discussing that attracts confounded expressions. 

“You’re kidding right?” Bayley is the first to speak, glancing between herself and Naomi. “He didn’t tell you?”

Still confused, Solana presses, “tell me what?”

“I’m not surprised Roman didn’t, but someone definitely should have.” Naomi shakes her head, shifting into an explanation.. “War Games. It’s an annual match. Super big deal. It’s a show of strength and dominance for the Bloodline. Kinda hard to explain. You’ll just have to see for yourself.”

It sounds….intense. “I—I don’t think I’m invited.”

“Your hubby has clearly been a bachelor for way too long for him to realize that he has to tell you these things.” Bayley rolls her eyes but protests Solana’s belief that she would somehow not be invited to one of the Bloodline’s most important yearly events. “You’re definitely invited. As Roman’s wife, you have to be there. It would be seen as a sign of great disrespect to him if you didn’t.””

Disrespecting Roman…..never a good idea.

“When is it?”

Naomi seems to hesitate before answering. “Tomorrow night” And before Solana can panic at such short notice, Naomis is reassuring her that it will all work out. “Don’t worry. Bay and I will help you get ready.”

“Hell yeah.” Bayley already goes into strategizing mode. “I’ll handle your hair and makeup, and Naomi can find you a kickass dress.”

“Red, of course. That’s the only non-negotiable. Bloodline thing, ya know.” Solana figured as such. She also briefly wonders if that’s why Roman has been coming back home late the past few weeks, because he’s been training? “But, I will say we usually dress….well, like we’re going clubbing for these kinds of events, so it’s gonna be short, tight, and a tad bit revealing.”

That is something that gives Solana pause. None of those things scream appealing to her at all. She doesn’t have the body to dress like that. Not with the rolls, stretch marks, and scars that mar hers. 

“I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she finds it in herself to voice her opinion. A rarity. “I don’t—I don’t think I’d look good in something like that.”

Both Bayley and Naomi cast her confused expressions, Naomi being the first to speak. 

“Why?” Naomi presses, gesturing up and down. “Girl, you have a nice ass shape. You would fill out a bodycon dress nicely.”

Solana has a hard time digesting what Naomi is saying. She would look great in a dress like that. Naomi is both fit and curvy, the perfect amount of curves in the right places without unnecessary fat. Same for Bayley.

For Solana, the less skin she’s showing the better, though she wonders if the kind of attire they’re describing is some type of dress code, meaning there is no room to protest. 

The last thing she wants is for it to get back to Roman that she’s being “difficult.”

Defeated, she murmurs an ‘okay’ as the two of them engage in more conversation about this WarGames as well as fashion options. To be fair, they try to include her in, but Solana is too into her head about what this alleged night is as well as what it could include.

—---

Naomi wasn’t lying when she said that Solana would have to see WarGames for herself to understand it. That’s the absolute truth. 

It’s a spectacle, to say the least. 

For one, it’s a ton of people packed around the ring, the massive room where fights take place. The noise is boisterous, almost deafening, people drunk, swearing, placing bets, most of which are on the Bloodline.

And thankfully, Solana and Co. are seated in the upper area, a VIP box of sorts, away from the unruly crowd. She’s thankful for this for a lot of reasons, one of the biggest being the fact that she feels extremely uncomfortable in her dress. And just in general, but mostly with how much scarred skin is showing.

The dress is exactly as Naomi said it would be: short, red, and a bit revealing. Thankfully Naomi picked out a dress with a halter neckline that prevents any cleavage from showing, but there’s a split high up on the thigh that she finds herself trying to constantly adjust.

“You look great, Solana.” Bayley wears that same friendly, encouraging smile from Solana’s wedding day. “And I get that you’re self-conscious about your body, but I can guarantee these men would line up by the dozen for a chance to go home with you if not for your psycho-killer husband.”

Bayley playfully nudges her shoulder, and while Solana can emit a chuckle, she can’t bring herself to laugh. That line of men would be just as disappointed as she’s sure her psycho-killer husband was on their wedding night.

But, this isn’t the time and place for that.

“You look nice,” Solana compliments, partially a deflection technique but mostly the truth. Bayley, Naomi, and Nicki, who she met earlier that night and learned was Jey’s wife, all look exceptional in their numbers. Bayley is the only one not wearing red, for obvious reasons, but the jade green compliments her complexion well.

“We all look nice,” she says loud enough for the other two to hear.

Nicki opens her mouth to respond when the lights in the arena start to shift.  “Ugh. This bitch again.” Nicki’s scowl and expression of irritation draws Solana’s attention to the woman in the ring, who now has the spotlight on her, a woman she immediately recognizes as being there that night Roman woke her up from a nightmare.

The woman is tall, curvy in the right places, beautiful, bouncy curls cascading down her back. If she has a lot of makeup on, Solana can’t tell because it’s painfully obvious she’s been blessed with natural beauty. Everything about her is just so gorgeous.

At the time, she didn’t think anything of it, too caught in the haze of trauma. But now, curious and believing she can receive an answer, Solana asks, “who is she?”

“The most annoying person ever,” Nicki answers, taking a swig of her drink. In only knowing Nicki for less than an hour, Solana both does and doesn’t understand the compatibility between herself and Jey. They seem very much alike yet dissimilar. It makes sense why they fight as much as they do.

“That’s Samantha.” There’s no way to misinterpret the disgust in Nicki’s voice even as she pronounces Samantha’s name with undeniable distaste. “She does the announcements for events, but her daytime job is being a professional hooker.”

“Nicki!” Naomi shakes her head. “I think she’s a paralegal for a lawyer or something, but she’s mostly known as a pain in everyone’s ass. Always has been. Ever since we were in high school. She thinks because she’s light skinned with ‘good hair’ that she’s better than everybody.”

“Don’t forget about Roman,” Nicki chimes with her nose upturned. “She really thinks she’s hot shit though because she’s number one on his ‘I want my dick sucked’ list.”

This causes Solana to pause for a second. “What?”

She’s not stupid. Why else would this Samantha have been over at the house that late at night? And with Roman? Solana figured early on that if he isn’t getting any from her, then he has to be getting it from somewhere. Truthfully, even if their marriage did involve sex, she’s not sure he still wouldn’t find his way in between the legs of another woman.

But, there’s something about having it confirmed, hearing for herself that he gets around, that he clearly has a high sex drive that adds a whole new layer of insecurity.

She’s known from day one she could never be anyone he wanted or needed, and he expressed as such that day at the library, but this conversation makes it feel more…..real.

And she’s unsure why or just what makes this bring on a sense of sadness.

“Come on, I get you’re quiet and innocent and shit, but everyone knows that man is a hoe. If you’re black or black–ish with a vagina, fat ass, and big titties, he’ll fuck you. Cause none of them fools fuck with white girls.” She glances at Bayley, almost sympathetically. “No offense.”

“I’m Mexican.”

This serves as a brief, nice distraction for Solana. She suspected that Bayley wasn’t entirely white, but hearing that she’s Hispanic, Mexican, makes Solana feel a small slice of excitement. She makes a mental note to ask her if she speaks Spanish. 

Solana hasn’t been able to communicate in the language her mother made sure to teach her in secret given Xavier’s protest since her murder. So, the idea of being able to communicate with another person in that language makes her feel a bit excited. Maybe more than a bit.

Nicki is dismissive, though there���s a hint of humor there. Like she knows and is just messing with the other woman. “Sure you are, Bay.”

Bayley rolls her eyes and assures Solana. “Don’t listen to her.”

“Ya’ll, don’t lie to this girl.” Nicki seems dead set on stressing this point, and Solana can’t figure out if it comes from a good place, a drunk place, or somewhere in between the two of them. “If it wasn’t common knowledge he don’t fuck none of these bitches raw and makes most get on birth control, I’d tell you to not let that fool touch you with a ten foot pole.”

Bayley is watching Solana, sees the discomfort growing at this conversation and moves to change the conversation. “Why don’t we talk about you and Jey and why I literally saw him flirting with Sasha the other day?”

At that, Nicki drops her drink, cussing loudly, “man, fuck him! I don’t give a fuck about him or that bony heifer! I’ll beat the shit out both of them.”

“Nicki. Shut the fuck up. You may beat her ass, but you gon be right back to drunk spilling about how good Jey’s dick is when it’s all said and done.” Naomi dismisses, and something tells Solana she’s not wrong. Nicki and Jey seem to have a bit of a…..tumultuous relationship.

“I mean it this time!”

“Uh huh, sure sis.”

“And if you don’t give a fuck about him, why are you here?” Naomi challenges. 

All eyes on her, even Solana’s slightly curious gaze, Nicki falls back in her chair and mumbles, “cause that’s my man.”

Naomi and Bayley are a chorus of laughter and whooping and hollering, roasting Nicki for her contradictory statements.

Flashing blue lights illuminate the arena as everyone immediately moves to their feet followed by opening music that almost instantly brings chills up Solana’s arms. The lights then transition to a combination of red and blue, the sound of cheering intensifying as she redirects her focus back to where the first group entered. 

Solana’s eyes instantly, maybe even naturally, land on Roman. He stands first among the men, shirtless, ula fala around his neck, championship belt around his waist, a look of fierce determination and stoicism painted across his handsome face. 

And that body…..rippling muscles glistening under the heat of the lights.

It’s a strange and miserable experience. Feeling all of the sensations and attractions a human typically has to another human being but having an almost inability to act on them. It’s not that Solana isn’t attracted to Roman. She finds him to be sinfully attractive. The issue is that whenever she thinks about what physical acts take place when two people find each other attractive is when her head is swarmed with vivid memories and flashbacks of being violated in the worst way possible.

And the attraction is stumped by fear and trauma. Fear of being touched. Fear of being with anyone in that way. 

It’s like Roman said. He can get that from anyone, so why would he bother with her?

When he has someone like Samantha, prettier, smaller, easier, at his disposal?

It brings a wave of sadness over her that she’s grateful isn’t noticed by the other ladies who are focused on the start of the match.

And to her credit, Solana tries to pay attention, grateful and thankful for Naomi and Bayley occasionally pointing out certain aspects of how it works, why the two groups are separated, individual members from each side periodically being sent into the line of fire.

“Roman always goes last,” Naomi explains at one point.

“Save the best for last type shit,” Bayley adds, finishing off her beer and asking for another. 

“More like once he gets his ass in there, it’s a wrap. Everyone left getting smashed.” Solana believes this wholeheartedly. She’s just not sure if she wants to see that, see that side of him up close. 

It exists, obviously, but it’s hard to compare the killer she knows he is to the man he’s been to in the short duration of their marriage.

Almost….almost kind. 

The fighting, brutal and bloody, all occurs in the ring, but Solana constantly finds her gaze falling back to Roman. He remains seated, patiently or maybe impatiently waiting for his turn, never once ripping his gaze from the match. She sees Paul outside the cage, occasionally speaking to Roman, advising as he always does. 

Solana can tell he’s completely immersed, focusing solely on the match before him. 

And it’s when there’s some type of in-ring argument between the twins and the other member-in-training of sorts, Sami, she thinks Naomi called him, that she turns to the ladies. “What are they doing?”

“Sealing a death wish,” Nicki answers with a shake of her head. “Roman gon’ have all they asses for this.”

Naomi sighs loudly, advising Solana after the bickering results in one of the men from the other group getting the upper hand, landing a particularly brutal looking kick to Jey. “There’s been some….contention between Sami and the twins, mostly Jey, but Nicki isn’t entirely wrong. They should know better than to let that shit interfere with a match. Roman will most likely make them stay after and……yeah.”

Solana doesn’t need a detailed explanation. She has a good idea of what Roman making them pay will look like. It’s also not something she wants to see.

The match, in and of itself, despite the excitement and pure interest of everyone around her, isn’t necessarily something she wants to see. Solana has seen, been exposed, and experienced enough fighting violence to last her a lifetime. 

This is entertainment to them, but for her, it’s been her lived experience.

So, she doesn’t feel any sort of adrenaline rush watching grown men beat the crap out of each other, blood, sweat, and bruised, battered bodies putting themselves through hell. It gives her some relief to see that the Bloodline, for the most part, remains with the upperhand. Even with their in-house argument earlier in the fight. 

But, it’s when the timer that ends with another man joining the brawl moves to a ten second countdown that her interest grows a bit more. It grows a bit because Roman is finally about to enter the ring.

She watches him, has mostly just watched him this entire time. He’s just as unbothered as he was the minute he walked in. Adjusting his gloves while Paul clearly tries to bestow some last minute wisdom before he makes his entrance.

It feels a bit redundant. She’s certain this man doesn’t need anyone helping him with anything.

And as soon as the timer winds down to zero, Roman gradually making his way to the ring, Solana knows she was right. Knows he doesn’t need help, because he’s been studying and planning for the past almost 45 minutes. Strategizing.

It shows the minute the men, all 10 of them go at it. It’s hard to keep track of all of the mayhem, fists flying, kicks landing in areas that are sure to require a couple days to recover. But, it’s Roman who still manages to catch and hold Solana’s attention. He moves with such precision and accuracy, blows every bit as barbarous and violent as his reputation warrants.

There’s a small part of her that experiences something she can’t quite label or understand when he takes a hit, especially when a member of the other team manages to catch Roman off guard, sending him into the table, the weight of him snapping it in half.

At that, she nervously starts to move her fingers up and down the side of her dress. But, Roman, while clearly impacted from the blow by the blood starting to stream down the back of his arm only seems further enraged. Like being attacked has somehow refueled him, recharged his already pre-existing rage.

“They are in trouble now….” Naomi murmurs, shaking her head, as if she knows what’s about to come. “Roman hates getting hit, and they made him bleed too?”

It’s the blood part, maybe, that bothers Solana. It’s silly given who he is and the fact that he’s clearly holding his own just fine, but Solana wonders why he doesn’t or can’t have that tended to. It has to hurt.

But, then again, it all hurts, so maybe the pain just numbs itself out.

And maybe Roman is clearly caught up and consumed in adrenaline, in the mad rush of the battle, because it seems from the table slam on out, no one is touching him. He’s all over the place, strong blows resulting in grown men crying out in pain. She’s certain those closer to the actual ring can hear the sound of bones crunching, an inevitable thing given the abnormal distortion of limbs she sees on the other team.

He yells and taunts his opponents, one by one, laying them out with the somewhat assistance of the rest of the men. Truth be told, Roman could have probably tagged out the other four men and handled the other team all on his own. 

He’s just that effective.

And when there’s only one man standing, barely, Roman moves to the other side of the ring, face turned up in rage, watching and waiting for the perfect moment for him to dart across, laughing into a spear so forceful that it knocks the man unconscious instantly, guaranteeing an instant, easy pin.

The crowd erupts in cheers, Roman’s music sounding as Samantha formally announces the Bloodline as the winners.

There’s a strange sense of relief that Solana has at that, at the fact that this is all over, that the fighting is done. That Roman is done, because her mind keeps going toward the fact that he probably needs some level of medical attention and when said attention is going to happen.  

But while she expects the Bloodline to start their exit, she’s instead met with security dragging the unconscious bodies of the losing team outside of the ring.

“What’s happening?” Solana asks Bayley, realizing that the women are starting to pack up to head out. “Isn’t—isn’t it over?”

“For us, yes.” Her eyes set on the twins, Solo, and Sami. “For them, it’s just beginning.” Solana reflects back on their in-ring argument and Naomi’s foreshadowing about this happening, about this punishment.

And one glance at Roman, his hulking shoulders lifting and lowering with his heavy panting. His eyes are flaming with a fury he clearly intends to take out on his team.

“Come on.” Naomi draws Solana’s attention. “I’ll ride home with you, cause Solo ain’t gon be free no time soon.”

None of them will.

Solana recognizes this and agrees, but it’s not without a sense of disappointment at not leaving with Roman.

And that confuses her. It confuses her a lot.

She didn’t arrive with him, so why would she leave with him?

More importantly, why does she care that she’s not leaving with him?

—----------

“I–I can do that for you.”

There are some things meant to be thought and some things meant to be said. This is one of those things that should have stayed in Solana’s head instead of rolling off her tongue the way it does. 

She was only supposed to ask him if he wanted her to make anything in particular for breakfast tomorrow, not offer to freaking suture stitches for him.

Well, that’s not entirely true, because as it’s almost damn midnight, she could and should at least be in bed trying to sleep. She’s been home for almost two hours, showered, changed into her oversized shirt and sweats. 

She shouldn’t even be standing before him, but there was some type of unease she had at trying to fall asleep without making sure he made it home, without seeing to it that he tended to any injuries he sustained tonight.

Solana almost feels like that’s what she should do, like she should make sure she’s available to assist him with anything he may need. Like it’s just another thing that could keep him from directing his anger from earlier towards her. 

And it’s slightly less stressful for her in knowing that he’s more likely to harshly dismiss her, maybe even chastise her for unintentionally implying he’s somehow incapable. However, instead of a rebuff, he simply looks at her, asking, “you know how?”

Solana doesn’t know why, but she takes this as a sign that he’s accepting her offer. Walking over to where he sits at the kitchen island, she sees he already has the supplies laid out. “I—I’ve had a lot of experience.”

Some of it from patching up her dad and brother but most of it from patching up herself over the years, from watching and learning from her mother tend to her wounds after sustaining beatings from Xavier. “My mom was also a nurse. She—she taught me a lot.” Like the proper way to suture. “Did—did you already disinfect?”

Solana is slightly nervous when he says no. That means she’s the one that’s going to have to inflict that brief but potent burning pain.

Lovely.

Nonetheless, she readies the cloth, holding it over the cut before warning, “this—this might sting.”

“I don’t care.” And she believes it. Seeing him in the ring tonight, his prowess, his brutality, she’s not sure if anything could hurt him.

Solana proceeds to clean and disinfect the area before grabbing the sutures to start stitching him back up.

Roman suddenly asks her. “Did you want to go into the medical field?” Roman recalls from the file he read on her that she never pursued any higher education beyond high school, something else he marked against her at the time. Education and knowledge have always been important to him.

But meeting her and slowly learning more about her backstory, he wonders if that was of her own choosing, hence his asking.

Solana, meanwhile, can’t figure out why he’s even talking to her in the first place. He seemed, justifiably, annoyed with and not wanting to be bothered with any and everyone post match. Now he’s asking her questions about things she hasn’t thought about in years. 

Still, she answers with the truth. “I—I wanted to be a nurse. Like my mom.” 

This doesn’t surprise Roman as he follows up with, “why didn’t you?”

A lot of reasons. Many of which she has very little desire to share, not that she could or would even want to ever voice as such to the man sitting in front of her. 

That’d be an instant death wish.

“My—my father. He, umm, didn’t want me to leave home.” It’s a version of the truth, the unabridged version being he didn’t want her to leave home because he wouldn’t be able to control her if she did so.

And Solana has a feeling that she doesn’t need to share all that, that Roman already knows this.

“Why didn’t you just leave?” Roman’s delivery, like most of the time, is insensitive. But, he genuinely wants to know. For what reason did she stay there all those years, in a house of horrors instead of just leaving and never looking back?

It’s a fair, simple question with a complex, layered answer that she greatly simplifies. 

“I tried. It—it never worked out.” And it’s when Roman hears the sudden sadness in her voice, sees the way her eyes temporarily shift to her inner forearms, horizontal faded scars that he’s just now able to see from how close she is to him that he gets it.

He realizes that she tried in more ways than one, none of them being successful.

And in a truly coincidental way, Solana notices he’s also cut on the back of his bicep. It’s also in her being so close to him that she realizes underneath the intricacies of the tribal tattoos on his forearm, there are scars. Burn scars, nothing severe, but visible enough for her to notice. 

It makes her wonder about where he got them, how he got them, not that she’d ever have enough bravery to ask.

She instead clears her throat and gestures to the cut. “Do–do you want me to do that one too?”

It takes a second for Roman to think about what she’s asking. “Is it deep enough?”

Without thinking about it, she brings her hand to finger to lightly feel the cut that was clearly poorly and in a rush patched up post fight. Nodding, she explains, “it’s deeper than about 1/4th an inch, so yeah, I—you should let me.” And in realizing she’s touching him, like she isn’t doing the same thing while suturing, she snatches her hand back, apologizing quietly.

He doesn’t think he’s ever had a woman apologize for touching him.

“Okay.” 

And that’s it, he doesn’t protest, doesn’t chastise her for making it seem like he doesn’t know or understand injuries. He just allows her to work on him, Solana doing her best to ignore the fact that he’s so close to her, his big, strong body, even while seated, overwhelming her. 

But while this would typically cause Solana to go into panic mode, being so close to a half dressed man, she doesn’t feel that with Roman. She doesn’t feel anything at all. No anxiety, no fear, just some nameless emotion that doesn’t evoke her typical nervous responses.

“Okay.” Finishing up, Solana moves to clean up the supplies, discarding what is no longer usable. “Just….don’t get it wet for next few hours, and apply the ointment as needed, but—I’m sure you know all this already.” She feels silly for speaking to him as if he hasn’t patched himself up or been stitched up countless time before. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna go to bed now.”

Not wanting to risk embarrassing herself further, she turns on the heel of her foot and starts walking off, only to stop when he calls for her. 

“Solana.”

She turns around, and Roman is briefly caught up in how she presses her lips together, trying to suppress a frown. She thinks she’s done something wrong.

One more sweep of her frame from bottom to top, remembering the stunning complement and contrast of the red dress against her complexion. He compliments, “you looked beautiful tonight.”

She looks absolutely taken back by what is an obvious statement. Taken back and confused. “M—me?” She’s pointing to herself, brows arching together. And for a second, there’s a small hint of a growing smile as she asks, as if he could have made a mistake. “Really?”

He didn’t.

Roman doesn’t make mistakes

Solana has a lot of things fucked up about her, but one thing not a damn person can deny is that she’s absolutely gorgeous with a body to match. That’s just a fact, why he felt the need to express said fact is a bit beyond him, but Roman doesn’t allow himself to think too much about it. It’s not a sentimental thing at all, just a plain fact being stated, if anything.

“Thank you,” she finally says as he notices the reddening of her cheeks. “Umm, good night.” Solana’s hand is on the banister, her finger squeezing tighter than the coils in her stomach. “Roman?”

It would be a hell of a lot easier if he would have just ignored her, but he doesn’t. His gaze snaps up to her from the phone now in his hand.

The same hand she witnessed just tonight pummel grown men, just as muscular and intimidating as he is to a bloody pulp. The same hand that could easily take her life, could have her clinging onto life with just one beating. And that’s all she can see at the thought of telling him about Grayson and Theory messing with her, that it’s now happened twice, they’ve caught her off guard and alone, sexually harassing her. 

Nia’s words from the other day return to the front of her mind.

“He wants you to stop being so weak.”

He’ll blame her. He’ll blame her the same way her father blamed her for what they did to her. He’ll blame her for being so weak. That’s what Solana knows will happen. Knows he’ll say she was leading them on, that she must have done something to garner their interest in her. And he’ll be angry.

He’ll be angry at her.

And nothing good ever comes out of Roman Reigns being angry.

She’s seen it for herself firsthand tonight.

Determine to find a way to deal with this on her own, she shakes her head, “nothing. S–sorry.” She’s turned back to the steps when he says her name this time. His tone clear and authoritative.

She jumps, immediately turning back around to face him. He’s now standing near the steps where she stands, halfway between rescue and ridicule.

Something flashes in his gaze at her obvious nervousness, but he quickly refocuses on the topic at hand. “You have something to say, so say it.”

A deep layer of regret and anxiety settles in at the realization that there is no lying to Roman. He’s adroitly skilled in reading between the lines and seeing through bullshit. Or maybe she’s just that bad at lying.

Hopefully not the latter because another lie is about to roll right out.

“I was just—I was gonna sleep in tomorrow, but I have to make your breakfast, so I’ll just—”

“You don’t have to do anything, Solana.” 

Roman knows she’s lying. Knows she just pulled that out of her ass instead of sharing whatever it is she initially wanted to say. It’s probably something stupid too, something he won’t give two shits about, but something she thinks he gives two shits about. And he’d push her if not for the fact he can tell she’s getting all nervous and shit on him again. The last thing he needs is her having another panic attack. 

“Sleep in,” he directs. This is a conversation, much to his chagrin, that will have to take part in sections. And it’s too late in the evening to hash out one of those sections. And to be fair, there is a part of him that recognizes she probably does feel like she needs to be up at the ass crack of dawn like him to have his first meal of the day ready to go. And his lunch. And his dinner.

Granted, Roman can’t and won’t complain about all of it, because the girl can cook her ass off.

But, it’s not necessary.

He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.

He’s done so since he was 10 years old.

“Thank you.” She does that thing again where she smiles like he’s just told her she’s won the lottery or been given the cure to world hunger. It’s the simplest things that seem to make her happy. Considering the bar has already been set so low, it makes a bit of sense.

It makes a lot of sense.

“Goodnight.”

Roman is certain she’s intentional in the way she turns on the heel of her foot to move up the stairs, putting as much distance between the two of them to avoid a follow up question. Her avoidance behavior is a bit impressive, irksome, but still impressive, nonetheless.

And it would be remiss of Roman to not sneak a peak of her retreating form moving up the steps, his eyes glued to the sway of her ass, again remembering that short, red dress that momentarily distracted him when he laid eyes on her at the match.

Roman would never deny his physical attraction to her. That’s just a fact. She’s shaped in a way that makes his dick hard at the thought of having that body underneath his, writhing, begging for him to not stop fucking her in all the ways he would if he could.

But, that’s a fantasy. It’s a fantasy because the reality is that he can’t even touch this girl without her freaking out on him, something that would annoy him greatly if he didn’t realize there’s a reason behind her jumpiness.

Something that’s beyond just her shitty father and brother. 

Roman doesn’t allow himself to travel down that path, to see what it might lead to because just the thought of what might be the reason she doesn’t like being touched has his fist forming at his side, nostrils flared, and anger brewing at an accelerated pace that doesn’t make sense.

It also doesn’t make sense when he grabs his phone, navigating to the desired thread, sending a text he doesn’t think much about.

Roman: Get me a list of dog breeders. Small dogs. Preferably local. We can travel if necessary.

Paul: Sir?

Roman: Just do it.

Paul: I’ll have it to you by tomorrow morning.