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fellpyrean · 1 year

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Advent Statement 2 - Storm Chaser

Two things before this one: 1) I love it to bits. It’s very, very personal in how I grew up and viewed tornadic storms and absolutely pulls a lot from my youth. I think I talk the most in the notes on this one, because! 2) this one is still on ao3! Check it out, if you would!

But if you’d prefer to read here, then let’s begin our second statement: Storm Chaser. cws: just canon-typical Vast, honestly.

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Have you ever seen a thunderstorm?

I don't mean the little ones; the ones where you'll see a single flash of lightning if you're lucky, and the thunder may as well be a small dog growling for how loud it is.

Not those ones.

The real ones.

The ones where the clouds blot out the sun and are lit entirely from within - enormous, pitch dark and heavy, glowing with purple-white snaps of light, with brilliant, blinding forests of lightning sprouting, branching across the dome of the sky and the thunder comes loud enough to rattle your teeth, rumbling like a leviathan.

Those are the thunderstorms I mean.

The ones that span for miles and miles. As far as you can see, the sky's forest shattering and cracking above you and shaking the world in its wake. Nothing else will make you feel smaller. More aware of your own insignificance as clouds larger than cities roil above you and lightning dances from one end of the horizon to the next.

I don't think there's anything more beautiful. More awe-inspiring.

I saw quite a few of them growing up, you see. We moved to the Midwest when I was very young, to a house in a neighborhood a quick exit away from the highway. I can tell you it ran to the northeast; we joked they simply paved over the path a tornado left in its wake, because every summer, the storms followed it. I would come home on the school bus to heavy gray skies - swollen with rain and growling -, head inside and turn on, as I called it, "The Weather Show." This was not an actual show, I should explain. It's simply that, when storms become severe enough, when the winds begin to swirl and twist and the clouds rise in massive, looming banks, every channel becomes the weather.

I would watch, then. Sitting on the couch, boneless as any post-school teen in an oversized hoodie, I would watch the swirling colors of the radar, a sea of lightning icons flashing to represent every lightning strike. I would watch the greens and yellows on the map bloom into orange, into red and I would smile. On some days, the red would go black. Even electric pink. I would watch for lightning out the windows, listen for the thunder growing closer, snapping at the heels of the strikes. And then… I went outside. Just on the porch. There was a single little square of concrete outside the front door, and I would stand beside the bucket of petunias and gaze upwards. I liked best when the rain had yet to fall. I could still see the clouds, then.

I liked to watch the coming fronts. See how they moved and turned and roiled and drink in every single shift. I would stand and stare and feel the wind go cool and warm and whip about me, twisting and tugging and sending leaves rustling, swaying, flying on its fingers.

Lightning struck, thunder rolled. And as the clouds began to dance, I would hear it. The tornado sirens began to sing and the storm reveled. And so did I.

I was never that concerned for my safety. My parents didn't like it, but they'd usually be at work and in no position to enforce me going inside. They thought it was dangerous. I thought that there was nowhere safer to be than right where I could watch it; it’s not like we had a basement or anything, so even if I did have to take shelter, it would have just been in the downstairs bathroom. And if it had been a truly big storm, then, well. You may as well hide in a cardboard box for all the good a house will do you. There’s little difference to the wind.

I would only head inside if it began to rain. That made it dangerous. They call them "rain-wrapped," you see. When tornadoes are hidden in a curtain of thick rain.

When you can't - won't - see them coming.

Radar can tell you a lot about a storm, but it can't tell you when a funnel has landed. It can show rotation, capture the churn as an adorable, laughable little swirl on a radar map, but you need real, human eyes out there to confirm if it’s just a cute little swirl on a map or a behemoth. Freshly landed and ravenous.

I never truly saw one in my childhood.

I saw pictures. I saw what they could do. Rest assured - I loved the storms. But I had seen exactly what kind of damage they could leave in their wake and exactly how insignificant I would be in the face of a one brandishing its strength. They can wind sheet metal around trees like ribbons. Isn't that something? That something so intangible as the wind, when truly roused, can simply… wipe the earth clean.

There was a mall, or a warehouse maybe. I can't remember exactly and I only saw the foundations left afterwards. A single, barren block of concrete stretching across empty, flat land. No trees. Not even a pipe left poking out. Nothing. Just barren concrete and scrubby grasses. They said the tornado that ate it was more than a mile wide.

How hungry it must have been.

I thought of those ribbons of metal every time I stood sentry, and thrilled and shivered at the idea.

There was only one time I ever felt truly afraid. It was not raining, so I got to watch. As the sirens screamed, I knew it would be different this time. Because the sky had gone black.

No gentle gray. Not even a dark, moody slate. The clouds above had gone black and sickly green and I could see them begin to turn. Coiling in on themselves, twisting and gathering and descending. I still watched. It was like… like I was transfixed. Like I could feel It before I saw It.

Rain began to fall in heavy, spattering drops, hand in hand with hail that crunched and bounced off the ground. My little square of concrete remained dry, but by all means I should have gone inside by then. The storm was furious, its teeth bared and flashing all across the green-black sky. The thunder came so loud, so close, that it set off car alarms.

And in the clouds… don't laugh, alright? Because that day, in those descending clouds, I saw something.

A hand.

Massive. As black as the clouds it swirled and toyed with, with lightning sparking across its fingers.

I could see it twirling the clouds like… Like I might have done water in a bucket. But where I could manage only a little whirlpool, there and gone in an instant, this… this being. It spun the storm into a funnel that came and came until it brushed the tree tops. The branches, the shingles reached up to meet it, pulled and snapped and whisked away - and then it simply stopped.

The hand withdrew, and the funnel petered out.

I suppose it got bored with its bucket that day.

I had no idea what I had seen, but as I leaned back against the front door, the breath pulled from my lungs as the storm lumbered on, I never looked away from the clouds. Not until the storm front passed. I did not see that hand again.

It changed things.

The terror that had lanced through me. The sheer awe of something so… so vast. A being that held the skies in its palms and molded clouds like clay.

I still watched the storms. But… I did not only watch the clouds, the brilliant lightning anymore. I searched. As terrified as I had been, I wanted to see that being again.

So, I became a storm chaser.

It seemed the best thing to do, really, although my mother really, really disagreed. It wasn't… it wasn't exactly a job? I mean. I had one. But storm chasing was my passion. It was only a few months a year and it most definitely did not pay the bills, but I did get paid sometimes. Honestly, I was just in it for the chase. The fear, the wonder. I took a lot of pictures. I helped call in information for the Weather Show. I probably helped save lives by letting people know when they needed to stop watching the clouds and the radar and get down, even when I was out there right in the thick of it. I learned quite a lot about tornadogenesis and definitely became one of Those People at a party, but instead of my dog or my hypothetical children, it'd be mesocyclones and subvortices - which nobody ever liked to learn much about. "Multiple Vortex Tornadoes" also weren't popular, which was a real shame.

It's probably a good thing I didn't go to a lot of parties.

I had friends of course. Other storm chasers, mostly, but I never chased with anyone else. Stopped and rested, choked down greasy dive burgers galore and refueled at gas stations visited by just as many guys on horses as us in our ratty but dependable chasing cars, but I never, never rode along with anyone.

After all… I never told anyone about what I saw that day. It seemed like a good way to get a ticket to the shrink, honestly. Didn't really want to tell my mom or the other chasers I was chasing some storm-spinning giant when everyone was already worried enough about perfectly mundane lightning strikes and hail and goddamn deer in the road.

And, I admit, if I saw it again, I wanted it to just be me there. Just me and the storm.

But after I'd had a go at chasing for a season or two, I noticed something… odd? Crazy, maybe.

I could smell when it would be a good storm. Others bemoaned my luck when I followed the scent to some truly incredible, terrifying shots of a real monster of a storm, and when it happened more? I certainly knew my meteorology, but there was only so far it and dumb luck carried me and I was well aware of it. At some point, I'd get this. This urge. An instinct, I think. And I would roll down the car window, breathe in the air, and I'd follow where the sharp scent of lightning and vapor and twisting currents lead me.

Once I tuned into it, like, really nailed it down, it never led me wrong. I had some close scrapes - mostly at night, when the storm can bear down on you astonishingly silently for something described most often as sounding like an oncoming train, which is dreadfully accurate - but I always came out alive and uninjured and my car mostly intact until I got better at sniffing out the storm and could drive myself down the best roads at just the right time.

It became… bliss. Knowing in the air when a storm would come, smelling the potential of it as I rushed out to my car and sped off down the back roads, well before the sirens began to wail. To chase the storms and revel in their song.

That's how I met him, actually.

Mr. Fairchild. Excuse me, Simon Fairchild.

I'd been watching the sky that day, and I knew that it would do something good. The storm hadn't quite formed yet, but the air was right and static jittered down my spine as I ambled through the shack of the nearest convenience store/gas station and got my drinks, snacks, and a spare gas tank ready with what I hoped was passably calm. I don't think I quite got it right because the cashier seemed a little… unnerved? When I came to the register, but, well. I could definitely feel the pull building and it got hard sometimes to not, as my friends would say, "be a little intense about it."

I was almost vibrating in my skin when I got back into my car and had to take a moment to focus around the scent thick on the wind.

It was different. I hadn't smelled something like this before. It was like… all the scents of all the storms, of all the skies I'd ever known and more, and a tang of something like salt all rolled together and compressed. Maybe… maybe expanded? It was all encompassing, and kind of confusing, like trying to comprehend something that enormous and complex was pointless, but it made my blood race with anticipation.

I drove down the back ways with my windows open, eyes fixed on the clouds as I watched the front begin to build. It was a heavy one. The wall cloud climbed right on up to the vaults of the heavens, lightning crowning its distant peaks like a snow-capped mountain. I reached a good spot - somewhere I knew wouldn't be right in its path, but close enough I could see its every twist, and pulled off the road.

On either side of the road sat empty fields of bored cows and exactly the one tree they gathered under, and between them and me, a grassy ditch to keep the roads from flooding and barbed wire fences to keep the cows contained.

There was nobody else around - not even a farm house that wasn't a mile or more away in the distance - so you can imagine my surprise when I got out of my car and there was a man there.

He had not been there when I pulled over. My eyes are too sharp and the scenery aside from the sky was nothing to write home about, so I definitely had not just not noticed him.

No exaggeration, he looked about 200 years old and like a stiff breeze would turn him to dust. And this pink little man took one deeply amused look at me, standing gawping at him and laughed.

“How ambitious,” he said, half-wheezing at some… joke I was evidently the punchline of.

I decided I did not like him.

I think he knew and just didn’t care. His eyes were sparkling as he practically skipped over to me, cane completely forgotten, and reached up to pat my cheek.

“What would you even do,” he chuckled, “if you managed to catch it?”

This did not make sense at the time. But I was… Hah, I guess I was fortunate enough that he didn’t leave me hanging.

His hands were surprisingly strong when they tightened around my arms and turned me around. And I saw that the storm… had turned. It made no sense. The winds weren’t moving this way at all before. But now they were. Blowing headlong into my face, the storm billowing and growing unnaturally fast as it practically galloped towards us across the plains.

And then… then I saw It again.

That massive hand, dipping through the clouds and stirring them with a lazy flick of the wrist. Again and again.

My heart beat rabbit-quick in my chest.

I should have shaken him off. Should have jumped right back into my car. The door was still open and it was right there. My every sane instinct was screaming at me to go, to run.

But the scent on the air… it pulled me too strongly. That unimaginably deep scent, layered and layered with every wind in the sky. It came from that… being. It clung, I realized, to the little man chuckling beside me. Like he’d been saturated in it. And wreathed in it as I was, watching the dust stir and dance on the ground beneath that hand, watching the clouds swirl and funnel. I knew there was no time to run anymore. Those fingers dragged through the dirt, the clouds landed, and it began to charge.

It was… enormous.

And yet I couldn’t quite muster the fear. It was there, but like… like there was a layer of plastic between it and myself? I wanted to run, but it was a genuine battle whether it’d be away - to throw myself into the shelter of the ditch and pray - or towards it. Like it was something I could chase down and bite?

I had hunted for this thing for years.

There was no way I would run from it.

And oh how much Simon laughed as I realized I was grinning, ear to ear. A bright, feral thing as the tornado ripped apart the field across the road, as the winds whipped so fiercely about us it hurt - carrying dust and grass like bullets and knives it was all too excited to wield.

The last thing I remember for sure is watching that barbed wire fence being uprooted, peeled apart like a spool of yarn and he… Simon. He let go of my arms, then. I think he spread out his own, and stepped forward into that blackened, swirling wall of destruction that blotted out everything else - and then… I suppose everything went black.

I wasn’t unconscious exactly. I know I was ripped off the ground. I know I felt the wind toss me like a leaf.

I know I saw that hand inside the funnel. Saw enough to trace it upwards as I spun in that dizzying whorl - up and up, the rest of an arm enormous beyond comprehension.

I saw up into the center of the funnel and beyond. Into an expanse of impossible, pure, sky-spotted black that was… was its body, I think. If something like that even has a body? It was a view that shouldn’t have existed, either way. I’m not entirely sure if it was a hallucination caused by… well, by being thrown around inside an absolutely massive tornado, which is not exactly the most hospitable place for the human body. It feels like it was real though.

I think I even managed to touch It. I may not fully remember what happened in there, as I was left at the mercy of the storm, but I can… remember with weird clarity the challenge that odd little man had thrown at me.

What would you even do if you caught it?

I had no idea, but it didn’t matter. Before I blacked out for real, I saw that hand lift up past me, and I reached out. If I close my eyes, I can see it. So dark, like an expanse of black-blue velvet. And my right hand, so small, framed against it, reaching and reaching, determined to catch. I had to.

Ah. Unfortunately, that’s all I remember.

The next thing I recall, I woke up in a field. I was… a mess. But I was whole and alive, which was more than I could say for my car. I never found it. That was not surprising. Not when I managed to sort myself out and stumble my way to a hotel.

That was when I actually learned Simon’s name. Why?

Because tucked into my wallet was a credit card, with the name Simon Fairchild emblazoned on it. And a note.

There’s so many more storms out there to see, it said in a neat, loopy script. Why restrict yourself to just one sky?

It listed an address in Florida and a date and I knew without hesitation whose it was. Could practically hear his gleeful little accent.

I didn’t let myself think about it for a bit. Not until I’d wobbled my way through a shower and had a chance to check the weather reports.

It was… hahaha, god, I. I still can’t believe it. Out of everything, this is the thing my head has the most trouble with, so I’ll just say it.

The tornado that picked me up traveled 200 miles. A single funnel, almost record-breakingly huge, and I had been inside it for hours. I wasn’t even in my state anymore.

And I was alive. I wasn’t even bleeding. And I was… drenched in that storm scent. My right hand even more so, where I could still feel the phantom tingle of the sky against my fingertips.

It took me a few days to handle things. I bought a new car on my gifted credit card with minimal guilt involved and once I had that and new clothes and let my mother and chaser friends know I was alive, I started to drive. There were storms behind me, I knew. I could smell them so, so clearly now. But that singular scent on the wind pulled me away.

To Florida.

I wanted answers, I told myself, and an address where I could get them.

And I wanted more skies.

You can probably guess how that went. I mean, this office you’ve got here definitely isn’t the Midwestern United States. I still don’t like the Fairchilds, but I guess Simon Fairchild seems to like me. We run into each other a lot. He still finds me funny for some reason.

We don’t… we don’t travel together. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I might be chasing storms around the world now on the Fairchild dime, but I’m not so mad as to get on an airplane with any of them.

It’s just… he was right.

There are so many more skies out there. I’m still fond of the storms. Nothing quite raises my pulse like the snap of lightning and thunder in the air, but… there’s just so much more.

And the storm scent hasn’t led me wrong yet.

#crowswritings #tma #tma advent project #HOWLS i really can't say enough how happy i was to write this one #it's something folks not from the midwest kind of struggle to accept?#like i tell folks yeah man i would stand outside to watch the storms come in and they act like i'm mad hahah #there's something beautiful and terrifying about the power of those storms that inspires such awe and respect that i go hoooghghg #oh also the fairchilds absolutely have beachfront florida property #sorry i'm telling the truth

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13atoms · 22 days

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Handsome and a Genius (Spencer Reid x F!Bau!Reader)

Inspired by that one scene in x files where mulder stands like a himbo looking handsome and being the future of beauty. you know the one I mean

Summary: Spencer’s overactive brain draws more attention than it ought to on a case, and you see him in a new light. 3k words.

Contains: hostile witnesses, spencer being clueless (but an absolute babe), friends to lovers. (No offence to Florida im sure it’s very nice, reader is having a bad day, and I am far too British for that kind of heat)

The sticky Florida air had long since plastered your clothes to your skin, leaving you short of breath and with the unpleasant feeling of damp hair against your scalp. The whole team had groaned at the revelation their next case would be in the outskirts of Miami, and as soon as the plane door opened you understood why.

You were hot, and grumpy. The salty, swampy air made you feel disgusting as you approached witness after witness. There was a serial killer operating in and around mobile home parks in the area, with the two most recent murders taking place in Royal Biscayne Trailer Park, both over a week ago. While the rest the team spread out across the other crime scenes, you and your partner had been dispatched to this one.

It was a world away from Quantico: sun-bleached, dense, full of plastic and palms instead of concrete and maples. Nonetheless, the principles remained the same no matter where you were. Take everything in, speak to everyone, suspect everyone. Stepping in and out of trailers gave you very little relief from the heat, although respite from the sun pounding down on you was a welcome break.

Dr Spencer Reid stood a short distance away, shielding his eyes with his hand as he contemplated the sea of trailers around him. He’d stared around as you drove into the park, something faraway in his eyes as he memorised every detail from the safety of the SUV.

Now he stood close to you, heads inches apart as he whispered so that only you could hear. He faced one way, you the other, and you could focus on his words knowing that Spencer was watching your back.

“These things all come equipped with the same locks, at least each model does. If you recognise the trailer home, you know how to pick it. It’s fairly trivial, for someone with some basic industry knowledge.”

You hummed through pursed lips, surveying the small crowd who had gathered to gawk at a pair of FBI officers on their turf.

“And that would be true of all of the trailer parks… we know he’s got a common MO.”

“Exactly.”

“You reckon someone in the industry, then? A salesman? Maintenance guy?”

Spencer rolled his neck, stared up at the sky for a moment. His curls were long at the moment, damp at the name of his neck, a little frizzy in the humidity.

“Not necessarily.”

“It’s quite specific,” you agreed, “anyone operating as a common thief around here would have the knowledge too. We could be talking about a classic escalation – burglar to home invader to murderer?”

His eyes snapped from you to his phone.

“I’ve asked Garcia to check out any patterns in robberies, home invasions… the locks are hardly scratched. We know he wears gloves, cleans his tools. This guy knows what he’s doing.”

You nodded, surveying the street again. The sun was glinting off of white plastic, making you squint. You worried for Spencer, the heat and the light wouldn’t be doing his headaches any good.

“You want me to take that?” Spencer was saying, and you snapped your attention in the direction he was gestured.

There was middle-aged man a little way forward of the crowd, shoulders hunched, hands entwined. Nervous. He had the tan of someone who lived here year-round, not a big believer in suncream, with tanlines when he removed his hat and glasses to speak to you.

“I’ve got it,” you murmured, and Spencer nodded.

It was an unspoken part of your partnership, that Spencer liked when you started conversations with witnesses. You liked that he trusted you, trusted your skills, never questioned whether you’d done the right thing when you spoke to people.

Instead he remained a short distance away, climbing up the front steps of someone’s home for a higher vantage point to survey the place.

“Hello, sir. Can I help you?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you. You said you’re with the FBI?”

The man had a tip, and it was an interesting one. A rumour spread throughout the HOA about someone trying the locks at night, the sound of metal against the doorways, silhouettes against frosted glass. A few people even had security camera footage, though nothing identifiable. It was great. You gave him your card, told him to get the footage to you asap.

It must be terrifying, you realised, to hear that kind of noise in the night. To be so close to danger, after a neighbour had been killed. The local sheriff’s department seemed frustrated by the interest the case was garnering – frankly you were amazed the story wasn’t bigger. There was no small amount of comforting involved in the conversation you had with the witness, and soon enough a few more people stepped forwards from the crowd. All seemed middle-aged, likely transplants to the sunshine state, and equally shaken.

When everyone’s stories had finished, they stood in silence for a moment. You frowned, noticing their gazes slightly misaligned.

Spencer.

He was stood at your shoulder, sharp gaze flickering across each face of the gathered residents.

“This is my colleague, Dr Reid. A few of you have already met, I believe.”

“You know,” he began, “the socio-economic factors influencing the way we think about crime in mobile home communities are fascinating. Often trailer parks are stereotyped negatively in the media, and because they are generally cheaper to live in than traditional housing estates, and that can foster a sense of shame or isolation for residents. Transient populations can also make community policing and security difficult, and anomalies in the patterns of everyday life become more difficult for people to subconsciously spot.”

You held your breath, and tried not to look worried at the reaction of the small crowd. Instead, you focused on Spencer. He was speaking with his hands a lot today.

“But I think the assumptions we tend to make about trailer parks completely overlook the very nature of living so close to your neighbours. There is a sense of community in living so closely, as evidenced by the conversations we’ve been having today. I’m not sure whether the killer understands that, or is exploiting the former theory that places like this allow for more deviations from the way we implement traditional security in communities. An unsub might hold some sort of resentment towards trailer parks, or some specific resident in his past, or perhaps he’s simply exploiting how incredibly easy it is to simply walk up to a mobile home and slip the lock open with a humble mass-produced lock pick.”

He was greeted with a sea of blank faces, littered with the occasional frown. Finally he looked to you. You caught the furrow of his brow, the way his shoulders hunched into himself, the clutching of his elbows to his body.

Oh, Spencer.

“That’s really interesting!” you tried to say, but Spencer was already backing away.

“Anyway, I’ll, um, leave you to it.”

“Thank you, Dr Reid,” you called after him, as he fled, disappearing into the shade of a nearby trailer.

Your heart ached for him a bit, but you pushed that aside. Instead, you had a sea of potentially offended retirees to keep on side.

“God, what I’d give for a brain like that,” your witness laughed, his linen shirt straining under the movement.

You couldn’t help smiling, a little relieved the tension had broken.

“It’s not often someone has a face like that and a good head on their shoulders,” one of the older ladies piped up.

You found yourself looking over your shoulder at Spencer, his profile sharp as he looked down the road, deep in thought.

“He’s certainly a rare breed,” you agreed fondly.

A number of the crowd were following your gaze, and someone in you wanted to snap them out of it. Stop them from staring.

“He actually has an eidetic memory. Once he’s seen or heard something, he remembers it perfectly, forever. It’s incredible.”

“Oh, my goodness! I can hardly remember my own email password!”

“I wouldn’t mind if he hung around me and talked like that all day, even if I didn’t understand a word of it. Though perhaps he could use a haircut…”

There was a chorus of agreement and various coo-ing which seemed to occupy the entire scale from grandmotherly to entirely inappropriate. You couldn’t help staring at Spencer a moment longer, wondering if he was truly oblivious, or simply pretending to be.

A rare breed.

You were certain you’d never met anyone else like him. Certain you felt like a better version of yourself in his company. That you’d trust him with your life, that you searched every room you entered until you saw him. Watched the elevator doors each time they opened, all morning, until Spencer walked in.

You were certain you’d felt giddy the first time Spencer insisted the two of you would work together, alone.

“Imagine knowing that he’d remember everything, forever…” one of the women was saying, her eyebrows raised in a way you didn’t particularly enjoy.

You cleared your throat, and hooked one hand over the badge at your waist.

“Unless anyone has any further leads, we’d better be on our way…”

The group silenced, and watched you dutifully. You passed out a few more cards, reiterated how dedicated the team was to stopping this killer, and gave out a few promises that there would be a police presence after dark throughout the trailer park.

When the request for any further questions was met with more glances towards Spencer, you thanked your witness, and made a beeline for the car. After only a few seconds Spencer was beside you, jogging to catch up.

“All done?” he asked, and you smiled at the question.

“I think so.”

You started the engine and both waited with the doors open for the car to cool down. The department’s penchant for black SUVs was not helpful when the sun was so vicious. Feeling the heat themselves, the group of residents had dispersed into a few groups, wandering into one another’s homes to continue gossiping.

“God, I’m disgusting,” you lamented, “sorry for the sweat-smell. I might actually take a cold shower when we get to the hotel.”

Spencer was already waving you off, leaning into the car to mess with the AC. Through the open door you saw him groan at the heat, swiping a curl from his face.

“I’m afraid to raise my arms. It’s so humid, I’m not sure why anyone would retire here. High humidity aggravates a number of chronic conditions, especially respiratory ones, which are common in older people. Not to mention the skin cancer…”

“And it ruins your hair,” you teased.

Spencer faked a gasp, and reached for a damp, limp section of his hair.

“I mean, look at it!”

You laughed, and rolled your eyes at him, nothing but fondness settling warm and tight in your chest.

Surveying the road in front of you for one final time you saw a few curtain-twitchers, but no new faces. You climbed into the car, wincing at the heat. The seatbelt buckle was burning hot, and you swore as it burned your fingers.

“I always forget about that,” you grumbled, slamming the car door closed.

“You know, if you fasten your seatbelt after you get out, it stops the metal getting hot and burning you,” Reid offered, and you rolled your eyes at him again.

“Gosh, doesn’t it get exhausting being right about everything?”

Spencer went quiet, and all you heard was the click of his own belt. After a few moments the car was cool and bearable, and your lungs felt like they could finally move again. The sat-nav happily talked away, and you started stealing worried looks at your partner once you’d returned to properly-maintained roads.

“What you said out there was really good, do you mind if we go over it again once we get to the station? I think it’s worth exploring.”

“I shouldn’t have said it in front of them.”

He was right, but you didn’t have to heart to say anything. That was the thing which made your heart twinge about Spencer – he was so insecure, and yet so self-aware, it was the worst of both worlds. Being an expert in body language was a double-edged sword.

“I don’t think they minded. Did you hear those old ladies talking about your big brain?”

Spencer didn’t laugh. He turned himself towards the window, curled up with his hand beneath his jaw.

“They were very impressed. So was I, for what it’s worth. I think we’ll make some really good progress on this profile tonight.”

He hummed agreement. Watched a vista of blurred blue and green and white going past the window. The radio was turned down to a low hum, you could hardly hear it. Silence pierced its way through and sound of mumbled songs and road noise.

“Are you okay?” you asked finally.

“I’m okay.”

You sighed. Tapped the steering wheel. Sped a little to get through an intersection on amber.

“Spencer…”

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to ruin that for you I just… sometimes I think of things and it’s like I have to tell you.

“Spencer I’m not mad at you! Not at all! I think we’re both just tired, and too warm…”

He didn’t say anything.

“Honestly, I was worried you’d heard what those ladies were saying about you and gotten upset. It was inappropriate of them…”

“I didn’t hear anything. What did they say?”

Your gaze was focused on the road, but you met Spencer’s eye in the rear-view mirror as he watched your face.

“Just that you were a handsome young man. And that they wanted you to get a haircut, which I firmly disagree with…” you teased.

Spencer touched his hair self-consciously. He was still quite curled up, leaning away from you despite his interest in the conversation.

“That’s nice of them, I suppose.”

“‘Nice’ is an interesting way of putting it, but I’m glad you’re not upset about it.”

“When I was a kid, I read a book at the library about how to tell if you’re attractive. It was for women, all about makeup and stuff, but there was a section about what made guys hot. I could never figure it out, I just always thought I looked like an alien.”

The sudden change made you sit up straight, heart in your mouth as you rolled to a stop behind a queue of traffic.

“I think everyone feels like that sometimes. Being a teenager is really hard.”

“I… yeah. I suppose so.”

“I always felt so jealous of the people who walked around looking perfect every day, confident that they were not. It just never came naturally to me.”

“Really? I assumed you were one of those girls in school who I’d be too afraid to talk to.”

You scoffed, and for a moment were struck by how little you really knew about one another. The way Spencer looked at you, looked it everyone, it felt as though he had an x-ray into every tiny detail of your life. How could he know, though?

“Of course not,” you laughed nervously.

You weren’t sure if you’d prefer Spencer knew the truth, or kept believing whatever he’d made up ini his head. You weren’t sure what any of this conversation meant. Traffic was moving. The precinct was two turns away.

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

He was teasing you. Finally he leant back in his seat, shoulders square to it, legs stretched out in the passenger footwell.

“Either way, I’m glad you can talk to me now. I’d miss it if you didn’t.”

“You might be the only person on this planet with that opinion.”

You took a moment to glance across the car at him, and caught a flash of a smile. He was joking. You released tension from your shoulders you hadn’t realised you were holding.

“I’m sure that’s not true. You’re a handsome genius, just like Barbara said.”

“Her name was Barbara?” Reid laughed.

You shrugged, and took the final turn into the precinct parking lot.

“I’ve got no idea.”

Even with the SUV in park, the aircon no longer blasting away, neither of you moved. Not for a moment, at least. A moment of peace before the chaos all began again. Just the two of you. Wherever you were, with Spencer was your favourite place to be.

“You’re the same, you know. A genius. And handsome…”

You frowned.

“Pretty! Beautiful. You know what I mean.”

“Handsome?”

In truth, you didn’t care about the words. Not at all. Not when your heart was pounding at the realisation Spencer had his gaze fixed on your lips, his eyes soft and pupils blown wide.

“Beautiful,” Spencer repeated, “You know, in a lot of languages, handsome can be translated for men and women. The word itself doesn’t have a gender. Guapa, for example, in Spanish…”

You let him talk, on and on. You decided you wouldn’t kiss him yet, while your hair was matted in sweat and Spencer’s face was brushed with sunburn and embarrassment.

“Bella is more popular in South America, though, or bonita. My favourite is Japanese, though. Kirei. To be beautiful both inside and out…”

Only a few more moments passed before Morgan arrived and banged on the glass with a wide grin and a sweat-beaded brow, announcing a break in the case. You were sorry for the interruption.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #fluff #fic #13atoms #im so sorry if this is ooc

1K notes · View notes

proxima-writes · 11 months

Note

I’d like to request a boyfriends dad fic where reader is on vacation with their family and Joel gets handsy with her but she convinces herself it’s okay. Then when her boyfriends ditches her Joel fucks her. Bonus points if boyfriend comes back super drunk while Joel is fucking reader and Joel just puts his hand over her mouth and continues fucjing her and bf passes by them but doesn’t notice 🤷🏻‍♀️

Just some thots…if it inspires you a fic/Drabble would be awesome

I may have....gotten carried away with this one.

title: karma is my boyfriend's dad

pairing: boyfriend's dad!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6588

summary:

Your boyfriend, Sean Miller, is an asshole. The one redeeming thing about him?

His dad, Joel Miller.

And he's just invited you along on the family vacation to Panama City Beach, Florida.

author’s note: thank you for the request!! this was a fun one. my 1000 follower mark is quickly approaching and i cant wait to do something fun for it! thank you for all your support and love so far 💕

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, alternate universe - boyfriend’s dad, age difference (21F and 56M), power imbalance dynamics, infidelity, asshole boyfriend, alcohol use, sunscreen as a flirting mechanism, reader wearing a bathing suit, touching in public, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, almost getting caught, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), thigh riding, sex against a door. let me know if any are missing!

Sean Miller is a shitty boyfriend. He constantly ditches you to hang out with his frat brothers, he’s left you at parties by yourself, he’s forgotten birthdays and anniversaries and, to top it all off, he’s never made you come. You’ve been with the guy for two years and not a single orgasm in all that time.

You deserve better. You deserve orgasms.

The only redeeming thing about Sean is his dad, Joel Miller.

Joel is the textbook definition of a DILF. He’s tall and broad with dark curly hair streaked with gray and kind brown eyes. Even approaching the upper fifties in age, he’s built like a tank. Wide shoulders and biceps that stretch his flannel shirts to the point where you’ll sometimes sit there willing a thread to pop, his thick thighs and a tight ass always hugged by the most sinful pair of Levi’s.

But besides looking like sin, Joel is kind. There’s been more than one occasion where Sean had forgotten your plans, leaving you waiting at his house where he still lives with his dad and Joel would always take pity on you and invite you to watch a movie with him, the two of you sitting on opposite sides of the couch while he played a comedy to cheer you up. On your birthday, he sent you a Starbucks gift card and a text when his own son didn’t even remember. When you would update him on how school was going, he’d always pat your shoulder and say, “‘Atta girl.”

That last memory in particular always makes your tummy erupt with butterflies.

In the last few months, things with Sean have been especially strained. He’s started hiding his phone from you, flipping the screen face down anytime you’re within arms reach of him. On the rare nights he spends at your apartment, he’ll get calls that he insists on taking privately.

Honestly, you were more than ready to end it before Joel caught you in his kitchen one day and asked if you wanted to come with him and Sean on their vacation to Panama City Beach.

“Really? I thought this was supposed to be, like, a guy’s trip?” You ask. You stayed the night last night and Sean was still asleep, always one to sleep until noon if given the opportunity. Joel is making coffee while you sit at the bar.

Joel shrugs. “I’m sure he’d want his girl there. You two can party and leave the old man behind for his bedtime,” he says with a playful smile that makes your heart flutter.

“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Miller, but there’s no way I can afford a ticket to Florida right now.” You reach for the cup he offers, only for him to pull it back out of reach.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover everythin’,” he replies. “Say yes and you can have your coffee.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a burden.”

Joel’s fingers brush against yours as he hands you your warm mug. A shiver runs down your spine at the contact.

“I’m positive, darlin’.”

________

Joel knows that his son treats you like shit, and he fucking hates it. He’s tried to talk some sense into the kid but all his wisdom just goes in one ear and out the other. He has to pretend that he doesn’t hear him bringing other girls over and it eats him up inside because he wants you to know, wants you to have better, but if he tells you, he’s severing the one tie he has to you and what then? He’s fifty-six, over thirty years your senior. He’s lived over two lifetimes in the course of your one. There’s no way in hell you’d look at him twice, and that’s not even including the fact that he’s your boyfriend’s dad.

Joel’s not sure what possessed him to invite you on vacation. You’re right, it was supposed to be a guy’s trip, a gift from Joel to Sean for his twenty-first birthday that was unfortunately right in the middle of his finals. He knows damn well Sean is, in fact, not going to be happy that you’ve been invited along. He’s certain the younger man fully intended to turn his hotel room into a revolving door for women he picked up at the bars along the beach, one time flings he could write off before returning home to a sure thing.

He tells Sean about the change of plans that evening over dinner. His son whines petulantly, slamming his fork down on the table.

“Dad, seriously? Why the fuck would you invite her, this is gonna ruin everything,” he says.

“Shouldn’t be talkin’ ‘bout your girlfriend like that,” Joel admonishes. Sean rolls his eyes.

“She doesn’t even put out anymore, I don’t even know why I keep her around. I should just break up with her before the trip.”

Joel’s jaw clenches with frustration. “I already bought her ticket. She’s comin’ whether you like it or not and that’s final.”

“Fuck this shit,” Sean says, chair scraping across the floor as he stands. “Whatever. Won’t stop me from having a good time.”

Joel’s counting on it.

________

Joel and Sean pick you up from your apartment at 4 am for the 7 am flight to Florida. Your boyfriend is passed out in the front passenger seat, but Joel shakes him awake and tells him to get in the back. The younger man grumbles but does as he’s told while Joel helps you load your luggage into the bed of the truck. The trip will last four days, so you’ve squeezed everything into a single carry on and your backpack.

After all, it’s Florida. You plan on spending every day in a bikini.

Sean passes back out as you settle in his vacated seat, placing your travel mug of coffee in the cup holder besides Joel’s. He gives you a polite smile as he puts the truck in reverse, placing his arm on the back of the seat and twisting to look out the rear window, his other hand deftly turning the wheel.

You can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, your core already aching at his proximity.

You’re in for a long four days.

_______

The three of you make it through airport security quickly, the early hour lending some reprieve from the crowds.

“Why is this flight so fucking early?” Sean grouses, slumped in one of the uncomfortable terminal seats.

“Did you want more or less time in Florida?” Joel replies, flipping through his newspaper.

“Whatever,” Sean replies with a roll of his eyes, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up and burrowing into it.

You return from your quest for breakfast at that moment, a white paper bag in your hands and a bright smile on your face as you sit between the two men.

“I got you a bagel,” you say to Joel, pulling a plain bagel wrapped in wax paper from the bag.

“You get me anything?” Sean asks, peeking from beneath his hood. Your shoulders drop.

“Oh…no. You don’t usually eat breakfast,” you reply. Sean groans. “We can share mine?” You offer.

“No, it’s fine, whatever. Thanks for thinking of me.”

Joel’s brow pinches in irritation, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he watches your smile fade into a frown as you look at the bag in your hands. He nudges you with his shoulder.

“Hey, I appreciate it,” he tells you quietly. You give him a tentative smile.

He misses the bright one.

________

“I call window,” Sean says when the three of you have boarded the plane, flopping into the seat after haphazardly tossing his bag into an overhead compartment without waiting for a reply.

Joel fixes his son’s bag before settling his own beside it and turning to hold a hand out for yours. You hand your duffel over to him with a quiet, “Thank you.”

“Which seat do you want, darlin’?” Joel asks you.

“I can sit in the middle,” you offer, scooching past him in the tight space. Your back brushes his chest and he catches a whiff of your strawberry shampoo, the scent making his mouth water.

He sits beside you, tucking his backpack beneath the seat in front of him. Your thigh brushes his as you get comfortable in your seat, the row a tight squeeze for the three of you.

“How long is this flight?” You ask, pulling a pair of headphones from your backpack. Sean’s already unconscious again, his head tilted against the window and his mouth open in a snore.

“‘Bout two hours,” Joel says. You nod, shifting in your seat again. Your shoulders knock into his when you do, and you give him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Tight fit,” you tell him. He swallows around the lump in his throat.

He can think of something else that would be a tight fit.

The flight attendants go through their pre-flight duties and take-off occurs without any issue. When they give the green light to use electronics, you pull out your phone, cursing when the screen remains black even as you hit the power button.

“My phone died,” you explain. He smiles sympathetically.

“You wanna watch a movie on mine? I downloaded a couple,” he offers.

“Sure. We can share my headphones?”

“Good idea.”

Joel plugs your headphones into the jack on his phone and passes you the right earbud before sticking the left one in his own ear. He queues up a movie, some action film called Triple Frontier that seemed interesting based on the synopsis, and holds the phone on his lap. You lean into him, that strawberry scent settling over him once again.

You keep fidgeting in your seat, twisting and readjusting your upper body against the arm rest between your seats. After the third time, he reaches down and flips it up, your body slumping closer to his. When he looks down at you, your face is tilted up towards his and he has to concentrate very hard to keep his gaze trained on your eyes.

“Thanks,” you whisper before returning your attention to the movie. “Hey, that guy kinda looks like you.”

________

The flight passes quickly, much to Joel’s dismay. He would have liked to keep sitting pressed up beside you for longer.

At the car rental facility, Joel gets handed the keys to a Jeep Wrangler. Sean’s eyes light up when he sees it.

“Can I drive?” He asks.

Joel sighs. “Fine, just be careful would ya?”

Sean lowers the soft top before hopping in the driver’s seat. Joel insists that you sit in the front passenger, because he’s a gentleman, but he quickly regrets the choice.

With the top down and the music blaring, Sean is in a relatively good mood. He’s smiling at you and even reaches over to grab your hand, pulling it towards him to press a kiss to the back of it. Joel can feel the tug of jealousy in his gut as he watches you smile back at him but there’s nothing that he can do about that.

After all, you’re Sean’s girl.

And he’s just going to have to live with that.

________

Sean is standing behind you with his hands on your hips, lips trailing kisses along the exposed skin of your shoulder in your tank top while Joel is speaking with the hotel clerk, checking into the rooms. You squirm away from Sean’s attention, the man dropping his hands from you and frowning.

“Why are you being such a prude?” He snaps.

“I’m not being a prude,” you say with a sigh. “Your dad is right there.”

He tries to pull you back towards him with an arm around your waist. “Come on, babe. He’s probably already heard you moaning my name,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Not likely, you think.

“I just don’t think it’s appropriate.” You step out of his grasp again as Joel approaches, holding three key cards.

“Room 102 for the two of you,” he says, handing two of the cards to Sean. “And I’m in 104, if y’all need anything.”

“Great,” Sean says, grabbing your hand. “Come on, let’s go put our stuff away.”

You trail behind Sean, but can’t help looking back at Joel.

You’re surprised to find his dark gaze already fixed on you.

________

“Come on, let’s go find a bar,” Sean whines. You’ve just left the bathroom after changing out of your travel outfit of leggings and into a bikini and a sheer cover-up dress.

“It’s so early. I highly doubt there are any bars open. Besides, I need to charge my phone,” you tell him, packing a tote bag with your sunscreen, a book, your copy of the room key, and your sunglasses. “Why don’t we go to the pool?”

“It’s PCB, babe, there’s bound to be a bar open,” Sean says with a roll of his eyes. “But if you wanna be boring then by all means, go to the pool.”

You sigh. “You do whatever you want, Sean.”

He grabs his wallet from the nightstand, shoving it into his pocket. “Fine. I will. Come find me when you’re done being such a fucking bitch.”

The door slams behind him as he leaves, the sudden noise making you jump in surprise.

You can’t even find it in yourself to be upset.

________

Joel’s just opening the door to his room when he hears his son’s raised voice across the hall. He freezes, the door half open as he listens.

“Fine. I will. Come find me when you’re done being a fucking bitch,” Sean says before slamming the door.

Anger courses through Joel’s veins as he listens to his son’s heavy footsteps echo down the hall. He takes a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, before opening the door fully and crossing the hall to knock on your door.

When you open the door, you look surprised to see him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Joel has to make a conscious effort to not let his eyes wander your body. He can see the neon pink strings of your bikini tied around your neck and god does he want to see more.

He clears his throat. “Hey. Everythin’ alright?”

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. I was just about to go to the pool,” you tell him.

“I’ll come with you,” Joel immediately offers without thinking.

“If you’re sure. I don’t want to get in the way of any plans you had, Mr. Miller,” you mutter.

“I’m sure.”

________

Joel sets some hotel towels on loungers positioned beside each other on a sunny part of the pool deck. The pool is fairly busy and to your surprise there’s a live DJ and a bartender is already making a steady flow of drinks behind the poolside bar. The pool itself is huge and even boasts its own lazy river that you’re looking forward to floating down.

Your attention is dragged to Joel once more as he reaches for the hem of his t-shirt, lifting it up. Your mouth goes dry as you watch his back muscles work, rippling beneath miles of tan skin that you want to trace with your fingertips.

You shake your head free of thought and remove your coverup while his back is still turned, stuffing it into your tote bag you’ve dropped beside the lounger. You pull out your sunscreen and sunglasses, slipping them over your eyes to combat the harsh Florida sun.

When you look up, you’re surprised to find Joel already watching you, gaze fixed squarely on your chest. You clear your throat, wiggling the sunscreen bottle at him.

“You want me to get your back?” You offer.

“Sure. Thanks,” he replies, voice rough. You have to fight the urge to rub your thighs together for relief from the ache between them, your brain conjuring scenarios of that deep timbre in your ear telling you how good you feel around him.

He sits on the lounger with his back to you, waiting for your next move. You squirt some sunscreen into your palm, rubbing your hands together before smoothing it across his back. His shoulders tense briefly at the first touch of your hands before he goes lax against you, his head dropping as you smooth the lotion on him.

You get lost in the feeling of his skin beneath your fingertips as you drag your hands over the broad muscles of his back and shoulders and down his spine. In a moment of bravery, or stupidity, you let your fingers drag the tiniest bit beneath the elastic of his navy swim shorts, just enough that it could be passed off as an honest mistake.

When you’re finished, you hand the bottle to him over his shoulder. He takes it silently, lathering the rest of his body while you adjust your lounger flat and lay face down. You reach behind your back, tugging at the strings of your bikini until they fall to the side.

“Could you do me next?”

________

Joel takes a seat on the lounger, his hips brushing yours. He’s hard as a fucking rock in his swim shorts, has been from the moment you opened your hotel door wearing your sheer coverup, pink bikini taunting him beneath.

It was a stupid fucking idea to ask you to come to the pool with him. He was clearly thinking with the head in his pants and not the one on his shoulders because he didn’t stop to consider that he’d be getting a front seat to the soft skin of your thighs and tummy, the curve of your waist and ass and breasts on full display for him to commit to memory.

And now you were asking him to touch you. Giving him permission to have his hands on the same flesh he imagines when he’s gripping his cock roughly in his palm and chasing an orgasm that offers hardly any relief.

He swallows nervously before uncapping the sunscreen and squirting it directly on your back. You give a little yelp of surprise, the lotion no doubt unexpectedly cold, but you settle back down when he smooths a palm across your back.

You’ve untied the strings of your top, leaving him with no obstacles as he works the lotion into your skin. He loses himself in the repetitive motion, smoothing his hands across your shoulders and down your spine like you had done to him. He lets his thumbs press into the divot of your lower back, fighting the urge to drag them beneath the scant bit of fabric covering your ass.

As he finishes, he drags his hands back up your sides, his fingertips dragging across the soft skin of the exposed sides of your breasts. He feels the hitch in your breathing as he does and he worries for a moment that perhaps he’s gone too far.

“Thanks,” you say, voice breathy. “Would you mind getting my legs for me? I don’t want to get up.”

Joel thinks he should mind. He should absolutely mind being asked by his son’s girlfriend to rub lotion into her back and legs. The action is too intimate, it’s crossing a line and he knows this.

He just can’t bring himself to give a fuck anymore.

Wordlessly, Joel squirts some more sunscreen into his palm, this time warming it between his hands before smoothing it on your legs, starting with your calves. He slides his palms up your legs, high enough that his fingertips brush the crease where the curve of your ass meets your thigh. Your legs spread just the slightest bit and Joel lets his thumbs drift toward your inner thighs.

He’s playing with fire now as he presses his thumbs deeper, higher, the tip of one even grazing your bikini bottoms. He desperately wants to slide it beneath the elastic, to drag his thumb through your slit and find out if you’re wet just from the touch of his hands.

But Joel pulls his hands away and stands, moving over to his own lounger and laying facedown on the towel covered cushion. His dick presses uncomfortably into his thigh and he uses that discomfort as a means to will the hardness away.

He’s in for a long four days.

________

Your pool day with Joel runs from the early morning to the late afternoon. Neither of you hear from Sean during that time, but you can’t find it in yourself to be bothered. Not when Joel Miller is sitting beside you in an inner tube, floating down a lazy river as you talk about everything and nothing, drops of water clinging to his skin and catching the light. You could stay in a moment like this forever so long as he’s there, too.

As the intensity of the sun starts to wane, Joel suggests finding somewhere to get dinner.

“Pick somewhere nice, though. My treat,” he says as you’re parting ways at your hotel room doors. He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, shutting his door and leaving you smiling in the hallway like a girl with a crush.

You let yourself into your hotel room, not surprised to find it empty. Your phone is still sitting on the charger with no new notifications. The part of you that’s been in a relationship with Sean Miller for two years feels a pang of sadness at your boyfriend’s silence.

The part that wants to fuck his dad doesn’t give a shit.

You shower and change into a sundress before slipping your sandals back on. Checking the time, you grab your bag and head to the lobby to meet up with Joel.

Joel’s already in the lobby, leaning against the wall near the exit and scrolling through his phone. He’s wearing a light blue short sleeve button down that hugs his biceps deliciously, the tan of his skin popping against the fabric, his usual boots, and khakis. You were almost certain this man didn’t own anything besides perfectly broken in Wranglers. His hair is combed back, still damp from his shower, and he looks so good you have to consciously stop your jaw from dropping.

“Hey, you pick a place?” Joel asks as you approach, slipping his phone into the pocket of his pants.

“There’s an oyster bar nearby that looks good,” you reply. He holds the door open for you, broad palm ghosting across your low back as you exit the cool hotel lobby and out into the hot Florida night. The traffic on the sidewalk is thick, people moving like the nearby ocean as they ebb and flow from place to place.

“You hear from Sean at all?” Joel asks as you navigate the crowds, his arm brushing yours as he sticks close to your side. You shake your head and Joel sighs. “I’m sorry. I love the kid, I do, but goddamn if he doesn’t piss me off sometimes.”

You sigh. “It’s not your fault, Mr. Miller. You don’t have to apologize for him.”

You’re both quiet after that. You don’t know what’s going through Joel’s head as you sneak a glance at him and catch only his furrowed brow and tense jaw.

You nearly pass the restaurant in your distraction, but Joel catches you by the arm, tugging you with him to the entrance.

It’s a cute little bar and restaurant, the kind of place that’s cozy without being horribly cramped. The lighting is dim and booths line the walls while tables sit in the middle, candles flickering and casting shadows on the walls and across the white tablecloths.

The hostess seats you at one of the booths, tucked away in the corner. You sit across from Joel, setting your bag beside you after digging your phone out from it. When the waitress walks away without leaving menus, Joel looks adorably confused.

“You have to use your phone,” you tell him with a giggle. “They have the QR code menus.”

“I’m gettin’ too old for this shit,” Joel complains. You roll your eyes, standing and moving over to his side of the booth, settling beside him. His thigh presses to yours and you’re acutely aware of the contact as you lean close to share your phone screen with him.

When the waitress returns, you place your drink and food orders. Joel opts for whiskey, neat, and a medium rare steak because you can take the man out of Texas but you can’t take Texas out of the man. You order a spicy pineapple margarita and a plate of herb crusted oysters.

You should probably move back over to the other side of the booth, but you don’t want to. The feel of his body pressed to yours lights up your nerve endings in an unfamiliar way, his clean woodsy smell settling over you like a comforting blanket. He doesn’t say anything about how you remain seated next to him, just turns his head to talk to you.

The drinks arrive first. The sour tang of the pineapple makes your face pucker when you take a sip, making Joel laugh. You might be imagining it, but you think his gaze lingers on your lips for just a beat too long to be coincidence. You cross your legs beneath the table, squeezing your thighs together for some semblance of relief from the ache between your legs.

A second round of drinks is ordered and delivered while you talk about a TV show you both enjoy. This drink leaves you feeling pleasantly fuzzy around the edges. Joel makes a joke about one of the recent episodes and it makes you laugh so hard you’re leaning against him for support.

You place your hand on his thigh close to his knee. Joel tenses beside you but doesn’t say anything, his eyes dark over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip. You can’t bring yourself to look away but you’re also frozen in place, not daring to drag your hand further up. The spell between you is broken when the waitress drops by with your trays of food, setting them on the table and walking away with a request for another round of drinks from Joel.

“These look amazing,” you say, squeezing lemon over them. Joel’s started to cut into his steak, inspecting the center and giving a tiny nod of approval that makes you smile. “Hey, did you know oysters are an aphrodisiac?”

Joel coughs on the piece of steak he’d been eating, reaching for his whiskey and tossing the rest back as he swallows. “They’re what now?”

________

“Aphrodisiacs. They increase your sex drive,” you say, your lips wrapping around the bite poised on your fork. Your eyes flutter shut as you let out a little moan of satisfaction. “God, these are better than sex.”

“Must not be havin’ very good sex, then,” Joel immediately responds without thinking. His hand freezes halfway between his plate and his mouth, his eyes going wide as his brain catches up to his mouth. “Sorry that...that wasn’t appropriate.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Miller,” you say, patting his knee. Your hand lingers there again, the second time this evening, and it makes Joel’s brain misfire. This whole dinner has been a test of his self-control and he is quickly fraying at the edges the longer you sit pressed beside him, that god forsaken strawberry scent flooding his senses.

The waitress delivers the third round of drinks and your hand leaves his thigh to pick yours up and take a sip. His eyes track the way your lips wrap around the straw, mind wandering to something else he’d like to see them wrapped around.

He takes a sip of his own drink, letting the burn of the whiskey down his throat distract him. The third drink is making his mind spin, a voice in his head urging him to trace his fingers along the exposed skin of your thigh beneath the table. He sets his hand on his own thigh, casual as can be.

You’re telling Joel a story about the time a guy in one of your classes was so hungover he fell asleep in the middle of an exam but Joel can barely concentrate. His eyes keep lingering on your lips and trail lower, lower, lower, over the delicate line of your neck, the dip at the base of your throat, the swell of your breasts.

Joel stretches his pinky, the tip of his finger barely skimming the soft skin of your thigh. He watches your face for a reaction and finding none, he feels emboldened. He inches his hand closer, his ring finger joining his pinky in caressing you.

He’s focused on your face, watching for any indication that you notice what he’s up to beneath the tablecloth. He holds his breath as his fingers dip beneath the hem of your dress. You stutter in your story, tripping over your words and Joel’s fingers pause in their exploration.

Joel shouldn’t be doing this. He should pull his hand back and forget any of this happened, forget the silky smooth feel of your skin beneath his fingers, forget the way your smile lit up your face as he floated down the lazy river beside you.

Then you’re tilting your head, eyes boring into him like you can see right through him, see every depraved thought running through his head and your knee presses more tightly to his, your legs spreading beneath the table and Joel’s hand sliding to your inner thigh with the movement.

“Can I get y’all anything else?”

Joel rips his hand from your leg and swallows guiltily as he looks up at the waitress standing beside the booth. You sit up straighter, your heat leaving his side and he curses the interruption.

Perhaps it was for the best, though.

You’re still Sean’s girlfriend, after all.

________

Your skin is buzzing with the liquor in your veins and the phantom feel of Joel’s touch on your thighs. The man is quiet on the walk back, brooding even. His brow is furrowed, jaw tense, hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants like it’ll stop him from touching you again.

The thought makes you downright giddy.

“Thanks for dinner, Mr. Miller,” you say as you stand in front of the doors of your respective rooms.

He gives you a tight smile. “‘Course, darlin’. Have a good night,” he tells you before disappearing into his room, the heavy door shutting behind him and echoing in the hall.

You swipe the key for your room, opening the door to find it still dark, everything the same as you left it. You drop your bag on one of the beds, pulling your phone out to check if you have any missed messages and finding none.

The silence from Sean is the answer to a question you didn’t know you were asking.

You leave your room, crossing the hall to knock on Joel’s door. The man answers a moment later, already changed into a t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks, opening the door wider.

“Left my key in the room,” you reply. “You mind if I stay with you for a bit?”

You can see the struggle flash across Joel’s brown eyes, but it’s just as quickly swallowed by a shade of lust that makes your breath hitch.

“Sure, darlin’,” he finally says, stepping back and making room for you to cross the threshold.

You turn to face him when the door shuts. You can’t tell who makes the first move, only that one moment you’re staring at each other and the next your body is being pulled against his, thick fingers digging into your hair and pulling your mouth to his in a bruising kiss.

He turns your bodies, your back hitting the door as his mouth continues to explore, his tongue dipping between your lips to tangle with yours. He tastes like whiskey and feels like sin, his broad body pressing against yours. Your arms wind around his shoulders, pulling him towards you desperately like he’s the air you need to breathe.

“Fuck,” Joel groans against your mouth. “Been wantin’ to touch you so goddamn bad, you have no fuckin’ idea.”

His hands drag up your hips and over your waist, fabric of your dress bunching in his fists. He looks down between your bodies, watching as he slides a thick thigh between your legs, the sudden pressure against your sensitive core making you gasp. You rock against the hard muscle, unable to fight back a whimper at how good it feels.

“That feel good, baby?” Joel asks, lips close to your ear. “Come on, darlin’ move a little faster for me, that’s it.”

His hands grip your hips, urging your movements over his thigh. Your head tips back against the door with a thud as you gasp. His lips trail hot kisses across your jaw and neck, his teeth nipping at the skin just over your pulse point. One of his hands drags the strap of your dress down, exposing your breast to the cool air of the room, your nipples going tight with equal parts chill and anticipation.

Joel rubs a thumb across the tight bud, almost reverently, before bringing his mouth to it, pulling it between his lips and swirling it with his tongue. The sensation makes your hips move faster over his thigh and you can feel how slick you are in your panties with each thrust.

“You have any idea,” Joel groans, other hand leaving your hip and ripping the opposite strap down so that he can give your nipple the same attention, “how fuckin’ hard it is, huh? To keep my fuckin’ head on straight when you walk around lookin’ like an angel that a devil like me don’t deserve?”

“Joel,” you moan, your chest heaving with strained breaths as just this man’s thigh brings you closer to relief than your boyfriend ever has. “Joel, please!”

“Please what, sweetheart? I’m already in this deep, you gotta know I’d give ya anythin’,” he says. “You wanna cum, baby? Wanna soak my thigh for me, get these pants all messy so that I can’t think of anythin’ but you when I gotta wear them for another three days?”

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, your orgasm cresting unexpectedly. Your legs clamp tight around his thigh, the aftershocks coursing through you with surprising ferocity. When your grip on him loosens, the man drops to his knees, looking up at you with a wicked gleam in his dark brown eyes.

“How’d that feel, baby?” He asks, running his hands up the outside of your legs until his fingertips find the elastic of your panties, easing the fabric down your thighs while he waits for a response.

“G-good,” you mumble, feeling a bit self-conscious in the aftermath. You’d just come from nothing but grinding against this man’s thigh for crying out loud. You reach up to fix your dress straps, but a pinch to your inner thigh has you yelping in surprise.

“Nuh uh, wanna see those gorgeous tits when I look up at you,” Joel admonishes. You can feel your cheeks heating, blood rushing to your face from just his words.

He lifts your leg, draping it over his shoulder. The position leaves you a little off kilter, your hands landing on his head for balance.

“I’m gonna eat this pretty little pussy now, okay?” He says, rather than asks. He gives you no time to respond, leaning in to lick through your folds with a deep, satisfied groan. You cry out from the overstimulation to your sensitive clit, your fingers pulling against his hair. He hums, the vibrations pulsing through your bundle of nerves and making you damn near sob at the sensation.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” is all you can manage to say, a slur of his name as his tongue circles your clit and dips inside your entrance, messy slides of it through your folds as he drinks you up. You look down briefly, only to find him staring right back at you, his heated stare making your blood boil.

“Gimme one more, baby, and then I need to get you on my cock,” he groans before doubling his efforts, licking and sucking and nipping at your flesh until you’re sobbing out his name as you come for a second time. “Fuck, that’s it. Good fuckin’ girl,” he growls.

He stands, shoving his pajama pants down his thighs, his cock bobbing free. The thick length of it makes your mouth practically water as you watch him give it a few rough tugs. He smirks at you, reaching down to lift one of your legs, holding it up with the crook of his elbow at the back of your knee. The position leaves you spread wide for him as he takes his cock in his other hand, positioning the thick head at your soaked entrance.

“Tell me you want this,” he demands, the tip barely pushing inside of you.

“I want this,” you repeat dutifully. He shakes his head.

“No, sweetheart. Wanna hear you say you want my cock.”

You whine, the sound damn near pitiful to your ears. “Please, Joel, I want your cock.”

“There’s my good girl,” he says with a smile, finally easing into you with a burning stretch that makes you gasp. “Christ, you’re so fuckin’ tight.”

You moan as he bottoms out, hips pressing to yours. He kisses whatever skin he can reach as he gives you a moment to adjust before pulling out nearly all the way and thrusting sharply back inside, punching the air from your lungs as his cock drags against your g-spot with each thrust.

There’s a pounding at your back and a shout of your name, followed by, “Dad! Where the fuck is everyone?”

Your eyes go wide and Joel’s hips slow but to your shock, they don’t stop. He brings a hand to your jaw, fingers pressing to your cheek as he slips his thumb between your lips and shushes you.

“Haven’t seen her,” Joel shouts back, even as his eyes never leave yours. Your walls flutter around his cock as he continues to thrust, sharp but controlled so as not to make a lot of noise that can be heard on the other side of the door. “You should check the hotel bar. Said she might get some drinks there if you weren’t back when we finished dinner.”

“You guys went to dinner without me? That’s fuckin’ bullshit,” Sean whines. “Fine, whatever, I didn’t even want to see her anyways. Found me a blonde that I can bring back to the room instead.”

Joel’s eyes flash with rage and you shake your head gently. When Sean’s footsteps indicate he’s left, Joel’s hips resume a more punishing rhythm. He withdraws his thumb from your mouth as his hand slides lower, circling your throat possessively instead. You gasp, moaning loudly as your body relents to a third orgasm that leaves your vision fuzzy at the edges.

Joel’s own movements stutter before he’s pulling out, his cum splashing against your tummy as he grinds his cock against your hip, finishing with a gasp of your name.

You lean against him as you catch your breath, enjoying the feel of his hands smoothing over your hair.

“You okay?” He asks.

You grin at him. “Never been better, Mr. Miller.”

Sean may have found a blonde, but you’ve found your way into bed with his dad.

Karma’s funny like that.

Joel Miller taglist:

@huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123 @bean-is-reading @darlingpedro @silkiers @pascals-catt @bbyanarchist @therealcap @pedrosgrogu @Sadbloatedegg @dimitra300 @thesolarangell @pedrotonin @ievutebebee @peterrthree @worhols @lonesomecowboah @taraiel

Want more Joel Miller? Check out the master list.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #boyfriend’s dad!joel miller #alternate universe

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theoutcastrogue · 6 months

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Cartoon depictions of the homeless increasingly reflect the hostility of today’s political leaders toward people on the streets. We’ve gone from images of charming hobos with bindles to zombies taking over cities. If you consume any news at all, you’ve probably noticed that the United States is pathologically cruel to its homeless citizens. This May, the brutal killing of Jordan Neely—who was strangled to death, at the age of 30, simply because he was unhoused and shouting on the Manhattan subway—captured the national spotlight, but it was just one of many such cases of unprovoked violence. In January, two cops reportedly kidnapped a homeless man in Hialeah, Florida, drove him to an “isolated and dark location,” and beat him unconscious. That same month, art dealer Shannon Collier Gwin faced battery charges after he sprayed a homeless woman with a hose outside his San Francisco gallery, barking “Move! Move!” at her. (Predictably, Gwin got a lenient plea deal of just 35 hours of community service.) Elsewhere in the city, homeless San Franciscans have been attacked with chemical bear spray on at least eight occasions. Other assaults have been more impersonal but no less vicious. On July 14, the city of Houston abruptly closed its only public cooling center in the downtown area, potentially condemning anyone without shelter to suffer heatstroke in 90-degree weather. Among the property-owning class, the phenomenon of hostile architecture—sidewalks with spikes that stab anyone who tries to sleep, benches with iron bars, and the like—has become de rigueur. The widespread callousness and lack of compassion are both infuriating and hard to comprehend. How on Earth, we might ask, did things get this bad? [...]

Looking back at older cartoons, one of the things that stands out immediately is the absence of negative attitudes toward the homeless. In fact, during the Golden Age of animation, creators seemed to have had a real affinity for the poor and unhoused, often placing their most iconic characters in that role. There’s a wonderful 1948 Warner Bros. short called “Riff Raffy Daffy,” in which Daffy Duck is looking for a place to sleep—first on a park bench, then a trash can, and finally a furniture display in a shop window—and has to dodge the harassment of the police, as represented by Porky Pig in a little blue uniform. (Literally, the cop is a pig!) Or, in the 1950 cartoon “Homeless Hare,” Bugs Bunny’s rabbit hole is destroyed by a new construction project, leading him to unleash his usual slapstick mayhem against the developers until they put it back. In these cartoons, homelessness is something inflicted on people by outside forces—gentrification and the real estate business, in Bugs’ case—and something which can be successfully resisted. Even Disney cast a homeless dog as a romantic lead in 1955’s Lady and the Tramp, contrasting Lady’s sheltered naivety with Tramp’s superior knowledge of the world. The title invokes the memory of Charlie Chaplin’s “Tramp” films, which similarly brought dignity and humanity to the role of a homeless man. (Bugs Bunny, too, takes inspiration from Chaplin, and multiple Warner animators have drawn him as the Tramp.) In 1961, Hanna-Barbera’s profoundly underrated Top Cat followed the adventures of a gang of wisecracking Manhattan alley cats, who, like Daffy, are always outwitting a meddling policeman. At worst, classic cartoons may trivialize the suffering and danger associated with homelessness—there’s a certain recurring image of the carefree hobo carrying a bindle, which paints the whole subject in a romanticized light—but the homeless themselves are rarely disparaged or made the butt of the joke. Quite the opposite.

It took a few years, but cartoons caught up to the Reaganite turn. In episodes from the ’90s and early 2000s, there’s a palpable shift in the way homeless characters appear compared to earlier decades. The perspective is different: we’re now seeing them through the eyes of comfortably housed characters, rather than their own. Often they don’t even get proper names. [...] This trajectory leads us, perhaps inevitably, to SpongeBob SquarePants. [..] Squidward gets accused of stealing a dime by his comically greedy boss, Mr. Krabs, and quits his job in a fit of outrage. We then flash forward to see Squidward, now bedraggled and unshaven, living in a cardboard box on the street and begging for change. [...] Mercifully, the ever-cheerful SpongeBob gives Squidward a place to stay—but the moment he’s safely off the street, Squidward turns from a sympathetic victim of circumstance into a lazy, entitled freeloader, straight out of a Reagan speech. He makes no effort to find work and loafs around SpongeBob’s house for ages. [...] Eventually, an exasperated SpongeBob writes “GET A JOB” in his alphabet soup, before shoving him (bed and all) back to work at the Krusty Krab. [...] Worst of all, though, the episode suggests that homelessness can be solved on an individual basis if the people in question simply stop being lazy and “GET A JOB.” This is the biggest myth of all. In 2021, a statistical analysis by the University of Chicago found that 53 percent of people in homeless shelters, and 40.4 percent of unsheltered people, do have jobs. The problem is that their wages are too low, and rents are too high. According to statistics from the same year, it’s impossible for someone working a full-time, minimum-wage job to afford a single-bedroom apartment in 93 percent of U.S. counties, and there are no states in which someone can rent a two-bedroom space on the current federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour. In other words, homelessness has little or nothing to do with personal responsibility, or lack thereof. It’s a consequence of large-scale economic decisions made by landlords and bosses. [...]

— Alex Skopic

#Alex Skopic #theory #the ramblin' rover

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 13 days

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1968 [Chapter 2: Hera, Goddess Of Childbirth]

A/N: Enjoy Chapter 2 a little early! See you on Sunday for Chapter 3 🥰

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 5.4k

Tagging: @arcielee @huramuna @glasscandlegrenades @gemmagirlss1 @humanpurposes @mariahossain @marvelescvpe @darkenchantress @aemondssapphirebussy @haslysl @bearwithegg @beautifulsweetschaos @travelingmypassion @althea-tavalas @chucklefak @serving-targaryen-realness @chaoticallywriting @moonfllowerr @rafeism @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @herfantasyworldd @mangosmootji

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

You are buzzed at a private party in the Rainbow Room of Rockefeller Center, Midtown, February 1966, chandeliers and candlelight, pink and red hearts made of paper hanging from shimmering strings and littering the floor. Your roommate Barbara Nassau Astor—yes those Astors, Astor Avenue in the Bronx, Astoria in Queens, “the landlords of New York”—brought you along tonight, and the chance to be swept up into her glittering existence is precisely why your father sent you to a school like Manhattanville College of the Sacred Heart. Barb knows people who know people who know other people and every single individual in that grand design is wealthy and worldly and could possibly lead you into the generous arms of your future husband. You are from Tarpon Springs, Florida, heiress to a sea sponge fortune, and your father nurses powerful ambitions of intermingling his blood with the Northeastern elite.

You scan the selection as you sip your Pink Squirrel. You could marry a doctor and sit in the living room waiting for him to come home at 9 or 10 or 11 p.m., fix him a Whiskey Sour or a Sazerac, listen to him bemoan the complexities of nerves and veins before accompanying him to bed and repeating the whole process the next day. You could marry a lawyer or an advertising executive, and your fate would be much the same. Your own parents are partners in life and business, but you have seen enough to know how rare this is. These men of the Rainbow Room, 65 floors above icy streets radiant with headlights, want a wife whose hands will stay manicured and idle: nannies will tend to the children, maids will clean the house, mistresses will massage the knots out of the muscles of his back. And you—a relative upstart, new money among ancient bloodlines—will have no right to demand otherwise.

A man interrupts your reverie. He wants to know about the pendant you wear around your neck. You sigh before you turn to him; you resist the instinct to roll your eyes. And then you see him. Tall, blonde, blue-eyed, with a curious intensity and a teasing little smirk, an Old Fashioned in his grasp like molten gold. You don’t know it yet, but he is a senator from New Jersey, very recently elected, victorious yet still hungry. He steals the oxygen out of your lungs. He drowns you in the amber-musk warmth of his cologne.

“It’s Athena,” you say, touching your fingertips to the silver medallion self-consciously; and you are rarely self-conscious. The black polish has been scrubbed from your nails and replaced with a soft, shimmering champagne. You spent two hours this afternoon having your hair painfully teased and arranged into a Brigitte Bardot-inspired updo.

“Goddess of wisdom.”

“And war and peace. And math.”

“Math?” He is intrigued.

“That’s what I’m studying at school. Math.”

“And yet you are not disinterested in the humanities. You know Greek mythology.”

“Well, Tarpon Springs has a lot of Greeks, and that’s where I’m from, so.”

“Studies math. From Tarpon Springs, Florida. I’m learning everything about you.” He smiles, this magnetic stranger who has captured you like a moon lured into a planet’s gravity. He swallows a mouthful of his Old Fashioned, moisture glistening on his lips. “Do you like Greek food?”

You can’t seem to follow his words. Blood is rushing into your face, hot and dizzying. “What?”

“Greek food. Have you tried it? Hummus, tzatziki, gyros, spanakopita, horiatiki, baklava.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve had it. It’s great.”

“My family owns a house on Long Beach Island,” he says casually. “We eat a lot of Greek food there. You should join us for dinner sometime soon.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Very soon. Maybe this weekend. Are you free?”

No, you’re not; but you’ll cancel plans until you are. “Um, okay. Sure. And who…sorry, I might have missed it, but…who are you…?”

“Aemond Targaryen.” And he shakes your hand like you’re someone who matters. “I’m a senator. I’m trying to end the war.”

With him, you could be a part of something magnificent. With him, you could help save the world.

~~~~~~~~~~

Asteria is the goddess of falling stars, but the home of rising ones. On the north end of Long Beach Island, New Jersey—only 100 miles south of the sleek bladelike skyscrapers of Manhattan—lies the sprawling Targaryen estate. The nine-acre property features one main house and another three for guests, a swimming pool, a tennis court, a ten-car garage, a boathouse, a pier, and an ample stretch of beach that abuts the Atlantic Ocean, open water with nothing interrupting the infinite, miles-deep blue from the East Coast to the Iberian Peninsula. It is the first week of July, 1968, and your 23rd birthday. You are lazing in a lounge chair on the emerald green lawn and eating your third slice of melopita, a cheesecake-like dessert made with honey and ricotta. It originates from the Greek island of Sifnos.

“You two can’t murder each other while I’m gone,” Aemond says. He’s sitting between you and Aegon. His stitches have healed, the worst of his pain has subsided, his poll numbers have only improved since the assassination attempt. He has a glass eye that he can insert for public appearances, but he dislikes it; at home he wears a leather eyepatch that still unnerves the children. Tomorrow, Aemond is flying to Tacoma to campaign ahead of the Washington State Convention on the 13th. Most of the family will be joining him, with only three Targaryens remaining at Asteria: ailing Viserys, useless Aegon, and you, officially too pregnant to travel by plane. You are wearing a floral, flowing, two-piece swimsuit. The sun is blazing in a clear sky. The record player is piping out Time Of The Season by the Zombies.

Aegon waves a hand flippantly, then adjusts his preposterously large blue-tinted plastic sunglasses; he is shirtless, flabby, very sunburned. “I’ll barely be here.”

Aemond looks over at him, amused. “Oh yeah? And what pressing engagements do you have to attend to? I’d love to know.”

You take a bite of your melopita and scatter crumbs across the swell of your belly: seven and a half months along. “I’m sure the prostitutes miss him.”

“They do,” Aegon snaps. “I’m their favorite customer.”

“Well you’re a reprieve for them. It’s always over so quickly.”

Aemond is snickering. Aegon says to him: “23, huh? A 13-year age difference. She could almost be your daughter.”

“And 17 years younger than you. She could definitely be yours.”

“That’s how Aegon likes his girls,” you say. “Too inexperienced to recognize end-stage degeneracy. Still stumbling their way through Shakespeare for English class.”

“Why can’t she stay at the brownstone?” Aegon asks irritably. Aemond owns a historic townhouse in Georgetown for when Congress is in session, though he’s rarely been there since he announced that he was running for president.

“Because Doxie is here to make sure she’s taken care of,” Aemond replies. Eudoxia has been the head housekeeper of Asteria for decades, a formidable battleaxe of a woman who speaks very little English and has a seemingly endless supply of patterned scarves to wrap around her ink black dyed hair. There currently aren’t any permanent staff stationed at the brownstone, and Aemond does not trust strangers. “And because my future first lady is hosting a tea party on the 10th.”

“A tea party!” Aegon gasps, mocking you. “Surely that will patch the wounds of our troubled nation. She’s an inspiration. She’s motherfucking Gloria Steinem.”

“She’s Aphrodite,” Aemond says, beaming with pride, his remaining eye fixed on your belly. He’s lost one piece of himself, but in a month and a half he’ll gain another. “Goddess of love.”

“There must be a more appropriate mythological character. Medusa, perhaps. Lyssa was the goddess of rabies, Epiales was the goddess of nightmares.”

“Aegon, I had no idea you were so…” You search for the right word. “Literate.”

“Io was turned into a cow.” He grins at you, toothy, malicious.

“She’s also one of Jupiter’s moons,” Aemond muses. He draws invisible orbits in the air with his long, graceful fingers. “Beautiful, celestial, pristine…”

“A satellite,” Aegon says. “Mindless. Aimless. Going wherever she’s told.”

Aemond insists as he twists the bracelet around your right wrist, a delicate gold chain he bought during your honeymoon in Hawaii: “Aphrodite.”

“Didn’t she fuck around with, like, everyone?”

“Maybe you should be Aphrodite,” you tell Aegon.

Mimi appears, tottering across the lawn with the straps of her sundress sliding off her shoulders and her Gimlet sloshing precariously in its glass. The children are playing in the surf with the nannies and Fosco, who is entertaining them by diving for seashells and delivering his treasures into their tiny, grasping palms. Criston is supervising from the sand, though he steals frequent glimpses of Alicent as she feeds a wheelchair-bound Viserys—much diminished after a number of strokes—his own slice of melopita, one careful, patient spoonful at a time. “Can we…” Mimi bursts out laughing and almost falls over. She claws her way upright again using the back of Aegon’s chair. “Um…I was thinking…”

“What?” Aegon asks, annoyed, avoidant. If they’ve ever been happy, it was a transient epoch that came and went long before you joined the family. It was before the asteroid killed the dinosaurs.

“We should go back to Mykonos. We had such a nice time in Mykonos. Didn’t we? Didn’t we just adore Mykonos?”

Aegon sighs, glowering out over the ocean. “Yeah, we sure did. Ten years ago.”

“Exactly!” Mimi gushes, oblivious. “When can we go? Next week? Let’s go next week.”

“Mimi, you and the kids will be in Washington, remember?” Aemond says. Alicent will have to be her handler; usually it’s your job to make sure Mimi is ready for photos, eats enough to stay conscious, doesn’t trip over her own feet, doesn’t talk too much to the press.

“Washington?” Like she’s never heard of it.

“The state. Not the city. For the convention.”

“Oh right. Right.” She gulps her Gimlet. You could set your watch by Mimi’s drinking. Tipsy by lunch, drunk at dinner, crawling on the floor chasing the dogs around by 8 p.m. The Targaryens keep a drove of Alopekis, small and white and foxlike. “Well…maybe some other time.”

“After the election,” Aemond says with an abiding, encouraging smile. He tolerates Mimi because he needs her: happy wholesome family, American Dream. Down at the water’s edge, the nannies are giving towels to Fosco and the children as they scamper out of the frothing waves, Mimi’s five and Helaena’s three: Daphne, Neaera—no one can ever seem to spell her name correctly, least of all the six-year-old girl herself—and Evangelos.

Mimi departs, on the hunt for a fresh Gimlet. Aegon reaches into the pocket of his swim trunks—Hawaiian print, royal blue—and pulls out a joint and a Zippo. He sticks the joint between his teeth and goes to light it.

“No,” Aemond says immediately, yanking the joint out of Aegon’s mouth and stomping it into the earth. Then he points down the beach towards the sand dunes. “You know journalists will sneak around trying to get photos. You know we’re never truly alone out here.”

“They can’t tell what I’m smoking!”

“Don’t argue with me.”

“You know there are teenagers getting their limbs blown off in Vietnam right now? I think society has bigger problems than me smoking grass.”

“And yet to solve those bigger problems, I have to win in November. And the suburban housewives will not vote for me if they think I support legalizing marijuana. Trust me, I know. I’ve met them.”

“I wouldn’t want those people’s votes,” Aegon says derisively.

“You’d rather Nixon get them?”

Aegon doesn’t have a speedy rebuttal this time. He contemplates the Atlantic Ocean, the wind tearing at his hair.

“It’s hot as hell,” Aemond says to you, gathering up the newspapers he’s been leafing through, never not thinking about the election, never not strategizing. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”

As you accompany Aemond towards the main house—and of course you follow him, always, anywhere—Alicent waves you over to where she and Viserys are sitting to wish you a happy birthday again. From this vantage point, you can just barely spot Otto and Helaena strolling through her garden, a jungle of butterfly bushes and herbs. The stricken Targaryen patriarch beams at the swell of your belly. Viserys likes you, you are his favorite daughter-in-law, though perhaps this is not so lofty an achievement. Moreover, he likes that you are carrying the child of his decent son. Aemond has already decided on the baby’s name: Aristos Apollo. If it is in fact a boy, you suppose you’ll call him Ari, but he doesn’t feel real to you yet. He belongs to Aemond, to the Targaryens, to the nation, but not quite to you. He is more myth than flesh.

“Nothing is more precious than children,” Viserys tells Aemond, raspy and frail. “I would have had at least five more if I could.” Alicent bows her head, an acknowledgement of her failure in this regard. Viserys expects it. You and Aemond politely avert your gazes.

“Thank God for this baby,” Alicent says. “After the year we’ve had? That the whole world has had? We all need something to be grateful for.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees, smiling. It must be the promise of a son that has made his maiming go down smoother, and maybe it is his soaring poll numbers too, and maybe it is gratitude that he escaped with his life, and maybe it is even the fact that he has you.

But long after dusk when you’re getting ready for bed—slathering yourself in Jergens, stepping into your chiffon nightgown—as you pass through the sliver of light pouring out of the bathroom, you catch a glimpse of something that stops you. Aemond is standing in front of the mirror with his hands on the rim of the sink, his eyepatch slung over the towel rack, his voided eye socket exposed and gory and irreparably wounded. There’s something in his scarred face that you can’t recall ever seeing before. There is a seething, secret, animal rage. There is fury for everyone who has ever denied him anything.

You remember who you were before you met Aemond at the Rainbow Room in Manhattan at a party you were almost not illustrious enough to attend. You wore your hair long and loose, you downed shots, you smoked, you swore, you slept through class almost every Monday; and then you packed all of this away in your allegorical attic and became someone who could stand beside a senator, and then a candidate, and then a president, someone who could tip the scales of fate.

And you think as you lurk unnoticed in the doorway: Maybe he’s been hiding parts of himself too.

~~~~~~~~~~

July 10th, 10 a.m. He’s snoring on a couch in the living room, the one patterned with sailboats. He’s hugging his acoustic guitar like a child clinging to a teddy bear. Sometimes he plays it for the kids: Get Rhythm, Twist And Shout, Stand By Me, You Can’t Hurry Love. That’s about the extent of his involvement in their lives. He has a law degree from Columbia that his father bought for him. Aside from a brief and disastrous stint as the mayor of Trenton, he has never been gainfully employed. You pour the cupful of ice cubes you collected from the freezer all over his bare chest.

“What the fuck!” Aegon screams as he startles awake. “What is wrong with you?!”

“The guests are arriving in two hours. And you’re going to help me host.”

“I’m not slobbering at the feet of those manicured elitists.”

“It’s easy to say ‘vive la révolution’ from your family’s mansion that you reside in as a professional failure.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m so worthless. If only I spent more time hosting tea parties.”

“I can’t small talk with governors and congressmen, so I have to charm their wives instead. That’s how it works, you idiot.”

Aegon rolls off the couch and rubs his forehead, wincing, hungover. In the dining room, Eudoxia is readying cups and plates, polishing silverware, folding napkins. The caterers will be here soon, and there are also three dishes that you made yourself: stafidopsomo, a bread with raisins and cinnamon; rizogalo, Greek-style rice pudding; and baklava you spent hours chopping walnuts for. At least one show of domestic prowess is an expectation, two is impressive, three is above and beyond, something for the other political wives to chatter about. You know the importance of making a good impression on them. They are as much a part of their husbands’ careers as the speech writers, communication directors, fundraisers. “I need a Bloody Mary,” Aegon groans.

“You need to pull your goddamn weight. Everyone else is working to get Aemond elected. Your five-year-old kid is out on the campaign trail and you can’t walk around with a tray of hummus and mini spanakopitas? Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious,” he says, standing with some difficulty and then shoving by you. “Fuck off, Miss America.”

“Aegon!”

But he’s padding off towards the kitchen with his bare feet, tiki print boxer shorts, bedraggled hair. You follow after him in your spotless white heels and sundress patterned with common blue violets. Your earrings are pearls. You’ve wrangled your hair into a tidy French twist. Aegon is getting a pitcher of tomato juice out of the refrigerator, a bottle of vodka from a cardboard Apple Jacks box. He keeps booze and pills hidden everywhere; you’re always stumbling across his caches.

You open your mouth to unleash something hurtful, something hateful, but then you feel the cold flare of liquid on your thighs as the ocean breeze gusts in through the windows. My dress, you think, alarmed. What did I spill on it? One of the ice cubes you threw at Aegon must have caught on the skirt somehow and melted. That’s your first guess, and it is welcome; water doesn’t stain, and you aren’t sure if you have another outfit that is both formal enough and will still fit you. But when you reach down to touch your leg—now the liquid reaches your knees—your hand comes away red.

You look up at Aegon. He’s staring back at you, thunderstruck, horrified. His Bloody Mary ingredients are now forgotten on the countertop. He shouts for the housekeeper: “Doxie?!”

There is indistinct, cantankerous Greek grumbling in return.

“Doxie! Call an ambulance!”

“I don’t understand,” you say to Aegon, bright clotless blood dyeing the whirls of your fingerprints. I ruined my dress, you think nonsensically. “It doesn’t hurt. Shouldn’t it hurt?”

“Don’t move, don’t do anything, just wait for the paramedics.”

But the edges of your vision are going dark and hazy, and the room spins like a flipped coin. Your knees and ankles fold, bones turned to paper. As you drop, Aegon dives for you. You clutch at him, but there’s nothing to grab onto, no suit jacket, no tie, only skin that glows with sunburn. “If I don’t wake up, tell Aemond—”

“You’re not dying, bitch. My luck’s not that good.”

But his eyes are panicked; and they are the last thing you see before you black out.

~~~~~~~~~~

Arteries of cement, bones like lead, heavy eyelids opening to reveal strange white walls.

Am I dead?

But no: you hurt all over. Heaven isn’t supposed to hurt. There are needles pierced through the backs of your hands, a splitting rawness in your throat.

Was I intubated? Did I have surgery…?

You try to sit up. The pain is blinding; the severed and sutured latticework of your abdominal muscles is a pit of glass. You gasp, moan plaintively, fumble for the nurse call button on the wooden nightstand.

“Will you stop moving?” Aegon says as he walks into the room. He’s slurping on a straw that pokes out from a Dairy Queen cup. The fluid inside is clumpy and red. Instantly, you think of blood, and a wave of nausea punches through the shredded gore that was once your belly. Aegon flops down into the salmon pink armchair beside the bed and props his combat boots up on the ottoman. “They sliced you up like the Black Dahlia. You’re gonna rip your stitches.”

“They did a c-section…?”

“Yeah, you had some kind of uterus…thing. I don’t remember.”

The baby?? Is the baby alright?? “An abruption?”

More slurping. “No…I think it started with a P.”

“Previa?”

“Yeah, that one.”

You remember waking up a few times: on the kitchen floor as men were lifting you, in an ambulance as the siren shrieked. Someone said you were being taken to Mount Sinai in Manhattan. And that makes sense, that would have been Criston’s plan. Mount Sinai is one of the best hospitals in the country. You look around the room for a bassinet or a crib. Instead you see a wheelchair and a myriad of flower bouquets; word has already gotten out, and so the customary well wishes are pouring in. Lady Bird Johnson sent bluebonnets, the state flower of Texas; Abigail McCarthy sent lilies of the valley; Muriel Humphrey sent roses, traditional, safe, uninspiring; Pat Nixon sent blood orange gladioli. Mrs. Wallace, newly deceased, neglected to call a florist. “Where’s the baby?”

“He’s fine. He’s downstairs in an incubator.”

Ari, you think, though he still doesn’t seem real yet. “What…?”

“His lungs are underdeveloped. But the doctors think he’ll be alright. You want a Mr. Misty? There’s a Dairy Queen like two blocks from here.”

“No, I don’t want a Mr. Misty,” you say, incredulous. “I want to see the baby.”

“Well they can’t move him and they can’t move you, so you’ll have to wait.”

“I’m going to see him—” You swing your feet off the bed and feel daggers, fire, a splintering like someone has taken a hammer to your bones. You almost scream; it takes everything in you to choke it down and only gasp as your flesh becomes an inferno. I want a joint, you think randomly, an urge you’d believed you had exorcised from yourself, an archaic relic of a past life.

“Told you,” Aegon says smugly.

You lie panting, helpless, glancing at the phone on the nightstand. “Aemond knows?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve called everyone. He knows.”

“Good. So he’ll be here soon.”

“Sure,” Aegon says, perhaps a tad noncommittally.

“Okay.” You’re still trying to catch your breath. Tacoma is a six hour flight away. Even if Aemond doesn’t leave until morning, he’ll be here by sundown tomorrow. “You can go now.”

“Go?!” Aegon exclaims, then laughs, one of his reckless, taunting cackles. “Oh no. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You definitely are.”

“No, I’m not,” he insists, grinning. “For once in my life, I’m the person who’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. I’m the honorable one. The sacred heir of the favorite son has just been born, and the blessed mother has been sawed in half like Saint Simon the Zealot, and where is Aemond? Where is literally everyone else? Across the continent shaking hands and forcing smiles to win him the great state of Washington. I’m not going home. I’m collecting every second I spend here like coins from a slot machine. I won the jackpot, babe. No one is ever going to be able to call me the family fuckup after this.”

The pain is horrible, insurmountable; you can’t think through it. You close your eyes and try not to sob, to wail, to split yourself open in body and soul. I can’t let him see me break down.

“What’s up?” Aegon asks. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I want a Mr. Misty. Go get me a Mr. Misty.”

“Okay,” Aegon says doubtfully. “What flavor?”

“I don’t care. Not red.”

“They have orange, lemon-lime, grape—”

“Just pick one!” you shout, tears brimming in your eyes. Get out, get out, get out.

“Calm down, psycho!” he yells back, heading for the door.

As soon as he crosses the threshold, you snatch the call button off the nightstand and press it frantically until a nurse arrives. You get more morphine and sink into a stillness like deep water, down, down, down.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s dark outside, stars and a crescent moon. On the television is grainy footage from the Battle of Khe Sanh. American soldiers younger than you are dragging their wounded brethren to a Chinook helicopter for evacuation: bandages, burns, missing limbs and faces. Aegon had dozed off in his chair—assisted by an ample amount of Vicodin, surely—but is stirring awake now. He blinks groggily at the screen.

“It’s so fucking awful,” you say, and Aegon’s eyebrows shoot up; it’s the first time you’ve ever sworn in front of him. You trained yourself to stop when you met Aemond. “30,000 Americans dead, God knows how many Vietnamese peasants, Buddhist monks setting themselves on fire, and for what? So we can say we did everything we could to stop communism? So we can humiliate the Russians? There is no liberation of Vietnam. All we’re doing is making those people hate us. And we’re destroying ourselves too.”

“I didn’t know you cared about the war.”

You look at him, mystified. “Everything I do is about the war.”

“But you never really talk about it.” Aegon yawns and stretches, reaching up towards the ceiling. “You talk about Chanel dresses and tea parties.”

“Well yeah, because it’s…it’s unseemly, I guess. For me to speak on the war. Me specifically.”

He snorts. “Because you’re a woman? Who told you that? Aemond?”

You hesitate, watching the television again. Now there are napalm bombs incinerating villages and rice paddies. “I had a boyfriend before Aemond, you know.”

“What, in kindergarten? Chasing each other around the playground? Illicit snuggles beneath the slide?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “A real boyfriend.”

“No way. You did not.”

“I did,” you insist, smiling a little. “We met at a party my freshman year of college. He was at NYU studying…oh, I always forgot, that was one of our jokes. It was either archaeology or anthropology. I actually thought I was going to marry him for a minute there.”

“Scandalous.” Aegon is gazing at you with his murky blue eyes, grinning, playful. “What happened?”

“He had a moral crisis about poor kids getting shipped off to Vietnam to be slaughtered while he was tucked safely away in his ivory tower. So he enlisted, and honestly it was shocking how quickly I started to forget about him. We exchanged a few letters, it didn’t last long, I think he was forgetting about me too. But he ended up getting killed in action in October, 1965. His old roommate told me.”

Now Aegon is thoughtful. His crooked grin dies. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s his parents I feel bad for. He was an only child. I heard his father drank himself to death.”

“You’ve been carrying a story like that around with you and you never used it? Not in an interview or an article, not at one of your asinine little tea parties?”

“I can’t,” you confess. “Aemond doesn’t want me to. He doesn’t like to be reminded about…you know. That there was someone else before.”

Aegon throws his head back and cackles, combing his fingers through his disheveled blonde hair. “As if Aemond was a virgin when you met him.”

But it’s not the same. It isn’t to Aemond, and it wouldn’t be to the rest of the world either. It is your eternal disgrace. It is something you will be expected to atone for until you’re in the grave. “Give me a joint.”

Aegon is amazed. “What?”

“I know you have some, you always do. I want one. Give it to me.”

“You smoke grass?”

“I used to. Then I gave it up. But I’m making an exception.”

He gawks at you for a while, then slips a joint out of one of the front pockets of his green army jacket. He places it between his lips, lights it with his little chrome Zippo, and inhales deep and slow. Then he offers it to you.

“I don’t want herpes.”

Aegon laughs. “I don’t have herpes. I swear.”

“Not yet, maybe. Give it time.”

“Are you gonna smoke or not?”

You take the joint and fill your lungs with earth, floral notes, a tinge of spice. It’s been years, but it comes rushing back in an instant as the high hits your bloodstream: calm quiet weightlessness, a sense of wellbeing that fills the honeycomb hollows of your bones. “I need to see the baby.”

Aegon stalls. “The doctors were really insistent that you stay here.”

“And all the sudden you care about rules.”

He considers this, drumming his palms on his thighs. His jeans are ripped; he’s biting his lower lip. Then abruptly, he stands. “Alright.” He grabs the wheelchair and pushes it up against the bed. “Let’s go.”

You take another drag and then discard the joint in your empty Dairy Queen cup. You throw off your blanket and try to touch your bare feet to the cool linoleum floor. It hurts, it feels like razor blades, but you keep going. Then you remember you still have one IV in the back of your left hand. “Wait, how am I going to…?”

“You’re in luck. I am well-versed in needles.” Aegon holds out a palm. Nervously, you give him your hand. He peels off the medical tape, takes a moment to examine the vein, then slides out the needle so smoothly you don’t feel it at all; it barely even bleeds. He balls up a Kleenex from the box on your nightstand and secures it to the wound with the same strip of tape. “You’re welcome.”

“Junkie.” You try to lower yourself into the wheelchair and a yelp rips from your throat.

“Oh, this is pathetic,” Aegon says, but not quite unkindly. “Here.” He leans down in front of you. Too desperate to be prideful, you link your arms around the back of his neck. Aegon’s shaggy blonde hair tickles your cheek; his hands skim gingerly to settle on your waist, steadying you without too much pressure. He helps you into the wheelchair, where you collapse gasping and sweating bullets.

“If you ever mention this again, I will guillotine you.”

He winks. “Relax, little Io. I never kiss and tell.”

“I’d assume you’re usually too plastered to remember the details.”

“Be nice. I could roll you down a staircase.” But he doesn’t; he rolls you into the hallway instead.

The lights in the corridor are dim for night, for dreams. You see a few nurses shuttling in and out of other rooms from a distance, but none seem to notice you and Aegon. He steers the wheelchair into the elevator and you ride it down two floors, then cross another hallway and pass through a set of doors. There must be a dozen incubators, half of them occupied. The nurse on duty—currently cradling a tiny infant in her arms, a girl judging by the pink hat, and feeding her from a bottle of formula—gapes at you.

“Ma’am? You aren’t supposed to be—”

“Shut up,” Aegon tells her, and the nurse doesn’t say another word.

Aegon pushes the wheelchair down the line of incubators until you reach the one with a name card labelled Targaryen, Aristos Apollo. And there he is: unmistakably fragile, impossibly small, blue veins like a roadmap beneath translucent skin, tangled in tubes and wires. In his sleeping face you don’t see Aemond or even yourself, but rather an inexplicable familiarity. You feel like you’ve met him before. You feel like you’ve known him all your life.

You press your hand to the clear, domed wall of the incubator; shadows in the shape of your outstretched fingers fall over Ari’s face. “He’s real.”

“Of course he is.” Aegon is watching you; you can see him on the periphery of your vision, a blur of blonde hair and high cheekbones. When you turn to him, he immediately looks away.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing.” But his voice is distracted, bewildered, like someone fumbling for a light switch in a dark room.

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fredwkong · 8 months

Text

Virgo Season: Shane

Today, Virgo is associated most with the astrological sign. Virgos are rigid, conscientious, prudish, stubborn. It is often forgotten that Virgo is the sign of the harvest, when inedible grass turns to edible wheat in a yearly miracle. This plenty inspired the ancients to name innumerable mother goddesses for the harvest, to remind all people that, with patience and care, even the most stubborn ground can be tilled to bear fruit.

When Virgo rules the heavens, it is a time for things that have been growing to ripen and let loose. This is especially true at the Astra, a hotel and conference centre somewhere in central Florida. The cornerstone houses an ancient, mysterious artifact that resonates with the desires of the hotel’s guests, bringing out the things they have been hiding deep within. It is especially powerful in Virgo season.

At 3:32 AM on August 23, 1 hour and 30 minutes before the Sun entered Virgo, Shane Blanco walked out of the elevator and across the lobby, nodding to the dozing receptionist. He tried to act normal, but every few seconds he smoothed back his short blond hair or dried his hands on his conservative black slacks as he stood waiting by the automatic door, belying his nervousness.

Shane and his father, the famous evangelical pastor Adam Blanco, had arrived at the hotel yesterday afternoon. Pastor Blanco was the guest of honour at a month-long conference for his reactionary evangelical organisation, which was to host a parade of noteworthy men from the far right over the next month, including media personalities, politicians, and other evangelical speakers like Pastor Blanco.

His throat dry, Shane checked his Tinder messages again. Nothing yet. Shane was here… well, Shane was here because all of his brothers and sisters had said “not it” faster. He was meant to be the perfect young Republican, his father’s “success story.” It showed in his fresh blond Ivy League cut, his well-tailored suits, his handsome face, and his white, perfect smile. Shane was going to have an aneurysm.

Even entering his twenties, Shane was still terribly repressed. He’d kissed a boy once, under the bleachers during a school football game, and immediately had a panic attack. This trip was the farthest that he had travelled from his little midwestern hometown, and it wasn’t like Pastor Blanco was keeping close track of what he did. If Shane wanted to get the taste of gay life he was desperately craving, now was the time.

He had matched with Rodrigo while sitting in the back seat of the rented SUV Shane and his father had ridden in to the Astra. He was a Latino hunk, his Tinder pictures showing a tantalising carpet of chest hair on his thick chest. There were pictures of him bearing rainbow flags at pride parades, hanging out with other equally undressed guys of all shapes, sizes, and colours, and one where, just at the bottom of the frame, Shane had seen the top few inches of a pair of leather pants. They had been messaging all night.

Rodrigo was at some other nighttime event in town, but he had begged off early and had texted that he was on his way to the Astra. Shane shifted from foot to loafered foot, trying to pretend he didn’t have cold sweat dripping down his back. What if he got stood up? What if Rodrigo was actually working for his father, waiting to catch Shane in an act of temptation? What if Rodrigo had decided that he actually didn’t want to have a hookup with an inexperienced, repressed white prep?

Just as Shane was about to scurry back upstairs, the front door opened and a man in a long leather jacket stepped inside. Rodrigo looked even bigger in person, and even more out of place, a burly, bearded, tan hunk in big combat boots standing in the opulent foyer of the Astra. Shane hurried to his side, trying to look like something other than a gangling prep.

“Hey man.” Rodrigo took Shane firmly by the wrist and walked deeper into the hotel. “Good to see you again. It was a total bitch to find parking around here.” He sounded so natural, like it was perfectly normal for two people as different as them to meet in a hotel lobby at 4 in the morning. He held Shane tight, forcing him to walk briskly, but not urgently. Shane felt leather at his back, and the smell of cigarettes tickled his nose, emanating from the jacket. Rodrigo took a turn into the richly carpeted hallway leading past the conference hall. “You know where we’re going?” he murmured in Shane’s ear. He had to lean down to get close enough, a sensation which made Shane shudder with lust.

“Y-yes,” Shane breathed. While Pastor Blanco had organised the conference hall to his exacting needs, Shane had scouted the whole first floor, and he’d found a mysterious, unlocked door that opened to a set of stairs. He directed Rodrigo there, and the two men stumbled down the dark steps into the sub-basement of the Astra.

Using his phone flashlight, Rodrigo found a light switch. They were in a disused storage room with unfinished cinderblock walls, some of which had some kind of strange carving on them. Shane assumed that they must have been leftovers from the ornate facade on the Astra’s front. There were sinuous patterns, some twisted together to form some kind of indiscernible script.

Grabbing Shane by the shoulders, Rodrigo spun him around, and Shane found himself pressed against the concrete, surrounded by leather and man. “Can I kiss you, cutie?” Rodrigo asked.

Shane nodded desperately, and Rodrigo surged forward, catching Shane’s mouth.

Shane could barely think about anything but the feeling of Rodrigo’s moustache and beard against his face, and the electric sensation of firm, confident lips on his. Then Rodrigo’s tongue was in his mouth, and Shane could taste his saliva, made a little smokey by the cigarette he must have smoked in the car. Shane could feel his cock straining against his briefs as Rodrigo flattened his body against the wall.

“Hold on.” Suddenly, Rodrigo was gone. Shane opened his eyes to see him efficiently stripping off his leather jacket. Underneath, shockingly, was not a shirt, but a leather harness.

Rodrigo caught Shane’s shocked stare. “Sorry,” he said, looking less than confident for the first time. “The other event I was at was a, uh, kink night at a local club. Didn’t have time to change. I know it’s not a lot of people’s, you know, thing…”

Shane swallowed. Marshalled his thoughts with an effort. “I’m just surprised,” he said. “I think I, uh, like it.”

Rodrigo’s gaze followed Shane’s down to the visible bulge in Shane’s slacks. Rodrigo suddenly grinned. “Wow, you are repressed.”

Shane nodded. “Can I touch it?”

Still grinning, Rodrigo stepped forward, back in range of Shane’s hand.

With shaking fingers, Shane reached out and stroked the supple leather. “God,” he said, “I wish—”

What he was about to say was lost as Rodrigo crowded back against him and kissed him, but he had already said more than enough. A spark arced from the heel of his spare hand, pressed against the wall, into the magical channels carved into the cinderblocks. Shane’s mind suddenly let loose the desires he had repressed for all twenty-two years of his life, half-formed thoughts of leather, rubber, and lycra gear filling his mind as he tugged on the harness’s handle. Newer ideas of hair, dark skin, and the masculine scents of sweat and smoke flowed in too as Rodrigo gently slid Shane’s feet out of his loafers.

The magical artifact responded, and a soft orange glow filled the room, unnoticed by Shane or Rodrigo as Rodrigo’s slick fingers entered Shane’s virgin hole. Shane’s offering, of a mind grown and strengthened by repression suddenly ripened, harvested by sexual experience, unleashed an unexpected magical effect.

Shane lay on his back on Rodrigo’s leather jacket, his polo shirt rucked up under his shoulders as he continued to maintain his grip on Rodrigo’s harness. He moaned as Rodrigo’s fat Latino cock entered him, his own cock rock hard against his belly.

Along with Rodrigo’s dripping cock came some of the power building in the air. Rather than pain or pressure, Shane experienced only blinding pleasure as his hole relaxed, and Rodrigo easily bottomed out. With each thrust, Shane’s skin started to smooth out and darken, first around his hole and across his ass, and then up his belly and down his legs.

When Rodrigo grabbed Shane’s cock, a foreskin suddenly grew from the shaft, and Shane’s eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation of Rodrigo’s firm hand on his newly sensitive cockhead. Shane’s darkening balls tensed, then relaxed lower, growing slightly to match a slightly larger, darker cock. The thatch of sparse blond hair around his cock and balls shrank away, as if shaved with an experienced hand.

Shane’s slight belly dissolved, revealing a toned, but not huge, set of abs, and his pecs became flat and firm, wrapped tight on his toned chest. The blond hair in his armpits vanished like the rest of Shane’s body hair, leaving sparse black stubble. The polo shirt shrank and hardened into a black leather harness.

At the same time, the transformation reached both Shane’s darkening feet and his long, lithe fingers. Only partly aware, Shane watched as his fingers darkened and his feet, up on Rodrigo’s shoulders, flexed just a little larger, with mobile, sensual toes. The nails of both darkened with black nail polish. That was bad, Shane thought, trying to organise his mind through the blinding pleasure of Rodrigo's fucking combined with the magic coursing through his changing body. His… His someone would be upset.

With a thrust that brought Rodrigo’s cock straight home on Shane’s now extra-sensitive prostate, Shane threw back his head and the magic followed. All his thoughts dissolved. His jaw sharpened and his lips filled out as they darkened, matching both the nipples he was using one hand to twist and the cockhead peeking out of Rodrigo’s big, callused hand. His eyes darkened, his brow lowering to give him a hooded, seductive gaze.

Finally, the magic entered Shane’s hair follicles. Beginning from the roots, blond became black, and the strands tore free of the gel Shane had carefully combed in yesterday morning. Tousled curls fell across Shane’s forehead.

Like a flick switched in his mind, Shane suddenly looked up at Rodrigo with a cocky, lustful gaze. “That’s it, you big bear,” he said in a deeper, slightly smokey voice, pulling harder on Rodrigo’s harness to make him gasp. “Fill my slutty boyhole. Take this virgin hole.”

Rodrigo gasped as he was pulled closer to Shane’s torso, the fucking becoming somehow more intense. He suddenly felt close to the edge. “Gonna… cum,” he gasped, trying to pull out. No way this virgin bottom was gonna outlast an experienced guy like him.

Shane pulled harder. “Cum in me,” he growled, dragging a ragged sob from Rodrigo’s throat. “C’mon, I need your load in me.”

At Shane’s command, Rodrigo let go, filling Shane up with his load. He knew he’d put on a condom, but somehow he found himself bare, painting Shane’s insides with cum. At precisely 5:02 AM, as the Sun entered Virgo behind the bulk of the earth, Shane let loose too, painting his lean new torso with a huge, runny load of cum.

Both men made the most powerful offering a living being can make at the exact moment that Virgo entered its greatest power. The power slammed into the magic filling the air, and the unformed wish Shane had inadvertently made was recast into a powerful spell.

I wish… a rush of images and words… cock, leather, sweat, gay, mask, Slut, Rubber, Daddy Latin Fag Stink Gear African Ass Cum MuskSexArabFagJockSlutLeatherAsianCockCockCockCockCOCK.

Shane had ripened, what had been repressed now ready for harvest as he worked his ass to milk Rodrigo’s cock. In a burst of warmth and unseen light, the magic of the Virgo artifact, confined for decades to the small sub-basement room, surged to encompass the Astra hotel.

As Rodrigo pulled out, still gasping, Shane dragged his fingers through the rivulets of cum coating his torso and started to lick it up. He remembered who he had been an hour ago, but that Shane felt like a distant dream. Why bother being so stressed, bound up in what other people thought he should be? The new Shane was a creature of sensuality, totally free to do whatever he desired.

“That was… Were you always…” Rodrigo struggled to articulate himself as he tugged his jeans back on.

“May as well have been.” Shane rolled off Rodrigo’s jacket and grabbed his slacks. The instant he touched them, the cotton flexed and morphed, becoming supple black leather. Shane loved the feeling as his new pants slipped up his hairless legs. “Want to go get breakfast?”

“But your… dad, right?”

Shane didn’t fully understand what had just happened, but the magic was in him, filling him up and reassuring him that his will would be done. “My father’s not a problem,” he said. “I’ll come back to pick him up on September 22. He’ll be fine here.” Shane's fingers were itching. "Lend me a cig. I'll pay you back."

Pastor Blanco and all his far right guests would be more than fine. Shane only had twenty years of repression to fuel his transformation, the youngest of the attendees. Some of the men coming to the hotel, like Pastor Blanco himself, had spent at least fifty years in denial of their basest urges. With the help of the magic permeating the Astra, they would soon be letting it all loose.

This concept was inspired by @octuscle.

Welcome to Virgo Season! Every three days until September 22, 2023, I will tell the story of another of Pastor Blanco's guests at the Astra Hotel being transformed into a slutty gay kinkster.

This series is my way of celebrating my birthday. If you feel inspired, feel free to write a story set in the Astra Hotel this Virgo Season. Post it @ me and I’ll reblog it.

#male transformation #mental change #muscle tf #reality change #race change #male tf #virgo season #leather tf #smoking tf #uncut tf #all fwkong

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caramelcleopatraa · 4 months

Text

i. SUIT & TIE

word count: 1,700~

x: this fic idea won in the polls :) this series was inspired by kayjayxchar on wattpad ( she's A1 ) and then while writing, I decided to make this into sort of a series. no smut in this part ( I know I know, its such a tragedy! ) but don't underestimate what I got in the works :p not proofread... yet

content: Mafia!Roman Reigns x Designer!Reader, fluff, suggestive themes ( gets a lil steamy ;) )

Your fingers type away at your computer, responding to emails from your clients. Your employees are setting up the shop, preparing for another busy day. You were one of the top rated designers in the state of Florida. You’ve been able to travel around the country teaching classes, working your magic for top notch celebrities, and make public appearances. To cut it short, you were living your best life, truly. You got to do what you were passionate about and go against the standard of your families’ traditions and values. You were proud of yourself that you are successful as you are. The chime of your door interrupts your thoughts as a group of people walk into your shop before opening time.

“Wassup biiiiiittch!” One of your closest friends, Trinity, was the first to make herself known. She throws herself on you, and you welcome her sudden embrace. She often visited you at your shop to check on you in her free time, and you always welcomed her company, especially on busy days. Today however, she was coming to you as a client. Because she was your friend and today was one of your busiest days, you told her to come an hour and a half early before you opened. That gave you plenty of time to fit your friends, clean up, and open on time. You scan the group that entered through the door with her. You saw Trinity, her husband Jimmy, his twin Jey and his wife Talia. Your eyes shifted to the larger frame that stood behind them, that was accompanied by a shorter, voluptuous woman. It was someone you knew too well. Anyone that lived in Florida had to know his name. Roman Reigns. standing next to him, was what looked like a model, which you would later know to be De’arra. The group of six admired your shop, casually walking around and scouting different designs that were displayed on the walls.

Men’s Side

Women’s Side

“No matter how many times I come in here, I'm always shocked. Is this new?” Jey says, pointing to the gray suits on your model displays. “Yeah, new in stock. Ya like it?” You sing shakily as Trinity rocked you to death. “Can I take this off ya hands?” “You can after i fit you” You chuckled at his eagerness.

“Annyways..” Talia says, pushing her way through Jimmy and Jey. “This is Roman. I told him that I know a really good designer that can whip up an amazing suit. So he’s here to get fitted as well as the rest of us.” Talia explains to you, while you finish typing up your last email. You look up to find him staring at you. You notice his chocolate brown eyes and brown skin that complimented each other. You try your best to not let that distract you as you reach your hand towards him. You didn’t think he would’ve actually shaken your hand due to how cold people described him to be. You contentedly grinned when his warm hand engulfed yours. “Nice to meet you, beautiful” “Nice to meet you too, handsome.” ‘oh my god he’s so damn fine. how am i supposed to stay professional around this man!??’

Your poker face stayed true as you continued to engage with your client. De’arra, stayed close to him, latched on at the arm. She pulled on his arm to get his attention, but he simply dismissed her by saying “Wait over there for me sweets”, and she happily obliged.

“So how does this whole thing work?” He says, tugging at his black tee. “You’ve never gotten fitted here before and my place runs a little differently than most. We have our scheduled appointments set up so that we can fit our clients, try on potential outfits for you, and send you home with them hours later. There’s a huge inventory that I have attached to this store so as soon as I get done recording your requests, we can get your order started as soon as possible. Any questions?” Roman smiles smugly and looks at Talia “She’s good.” Talia retaliates with “I told you so.” You blushed at their nice comments. To you, it didn’t seem like much. You were simply explaining how your company works so that your client has a basic rundown of how things work. Trinity nudged your shoulder as soon as she noticed your flustered state. You covered your face and did a quick spin, a little habit that formed when you get flustered. The group laughed at your small action. You snapped back into business mode and called your assistant to help you distribute the party of five.

“Aahkilah, can you help me with this party of five?”

“Coming!” She galloped out to the main area with a work outfit that was damn near cutting dress code, but you didn’t have time to deal with that shit right now. “You can take the couples since they have been fitted before. Be flexible enough to make changes on the spot if our presets don’t fit like they’re supposed to. I’ll take Roman and do the whole process since he’ll be new information in the system.” She was fairly new, and you didn’t trust her just yet with doing an entire fitting appointment on a new client. Plus, you could tell everything that you were saying was going over her head as she basically eye-fucked your client. “But that’s not fairrrruuh! why can’t I take him?” she says, almost mimicking a complaining child. Your eyes close slowly as you sigh and respond “Because you’re not ready to give a full fitting appointment yet.”

You wanted to put a nail in this conversation so you could do your job. But, this woman had a damn mission. “You just wanna get him in your private fitting room and fuck him!! You’re not slic-" “ He came here for a fitting! A fitting done by me girl! It was his request. Please don’t make me have to deal with a child right now.” You were starting to get loud, so you didn’t go back and forth with her like you usually would to whip that bitch into shape. The twins were barely succeeding at hiding their laughter as well as Talia. Roman and Trinity wore smirks on their faces as you reprimanded your employee. She finally buckled down and made sure that the room was ready for the couples. You called in another employee, Gio, to help you with your workload online while you fit your client.

“Oh my god who is that-“ You hit her and stop her sentence and she looks at you like you're crazy. “What!? He’s fine as fuck!” You mentally facepalm as she tries to whisper to you, that ends up more like a whisper scream. “Mhm” You said, as you went behind your desk and pulled up some work for her to do. “Oh don’t tell me you don’t think he’s fine! isn’t he right up your alley? Tall? muscular? deep voice? beard? The whole nine?” You took pride in the fact that you took time to know your employees on a personal level. You did not think she was going to air out all of the information you told her however. You gave Gio a look that screamed ‘shut the FUCK up’ and she responded to your look by playfully rolling her eyes. You turn the computer towards her. “You’re here to get a bag, not play matchmaker” She groans in response and says “Whatever.” to your dismissive comment. ‘she did not have to embarrass me like that. OMG WHAAT THE FU-‘

“The whole nine huh?” You hear a deep voice mirror your employee’s statement. You turn around to face Roman, the corner of his lips still curled into that mind melting smirk. He motioned up and down his body, trying to fluster you. Your eyes drift over his muscular body. “Little ole me?” ‘LITTLE?’

“Little?” Your face contorted into a confused expression, that earns a laugh out of the tall samoan. He starts to walk towards you, decreasing the amount of space between you too. Your momma ain’t raise no bitch so you stood your ground… well, you tried. You could clearly distinguish the height difference between you and him, and your head raised as your eyes met his. Your hand rested on your hip and your head tilted, slightly sizing him up. “Sir, I will let you know that this is a professional business.” You said, ending off your sentence with a smirk. Just as you expected, he challenged you back, “Well I'm not invading your personal space, am I?” He said, as the corner of his lips tugged to form another smirk. Anyone in the room would have felt the tension and both of you were desperately waiting on someone to make a move. “Nah, i just don't want a wannabe gangsta playboy fucking up my reputation.” His eyes fluttered closed as he laughed at your statement. You had amused him and peaked his interest. He closed the gap between you two. His breath ghosted over your lips as he said, “So you must know i’m good at fucking something else up, huh?” His eyes glazed over your soft lips, coated with lip gloss. You took a moment to gather yourself before prompting another response. ”Well I wouldn't know cause it’s just rumors.” You shrugged your shoulders looking off to the side.

“You know how those be.”

“Mhm” He licked his lips. From how close you guys were, you were surprised that his tongue didn't make contact with your bottom lip. “What they been saying about me ma?”

“That apparently you’re good in bed” You raised your pointer and middle fingers bent to imitate quotation marks.

“Mhm, keep going”

“Boy ion know, I really don't be concerned with you.” Your hand returned to your hip. Your attitude started to shine through.

“Maybe it’s because I haven't taken care of you yet sweetheart” He leans down to whisper the sentence in your ear. You feel his lips lightly touch your ear and your entire body froze.

You huffed, and said “You say that like you're so sure of yourself.” You challenged his boldness, but nothing could prepare you for what he said to you next.

“Maybe when we hit this fitting room, I can show you how sure I am”

deeeefinitely meant to post this last week but finals and grades got me one more time. I'm on break for the rest of the month so I can try my hand at being consistent. let me know if you want to be added to my taglist and how you guys like part 1!

~ your hippie author

🏷️ tags :) @harmshake

#roman reigns x reader #roman reigns #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x chubby reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x you #carmenreigns #[ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✧･ﾟ: * the bankk ✧･ﾟ:* ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ]

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velvrei · 6 months

Note

getting into a heated argument w chad (perhaps about another girl trying to make a move on chad, but he’s a bit dumb and didn’t notice), so the reader is yelling, and it’s quite hot. eventually, chad stops replying and just stands there w his mouth open, and it ends w smut 🫶🏽 (sub! chad pls)

omg this is my favorite request so far. my apologies for the extremely long wait, school & sports have been keeping me extremely busy!

…

my cowboy

pairing : chad meeks martin x reader

summary : at the party, girls are flirting with chad & he’s so naive he doesn’t realize that he does it back. you point that out to him, and teach him a very aggressive lesson.

warnings : REALLY sub!chad, smut, little angst, reader handcuffs and blindfolds chad 🫣 use of mommy, mentions of slapping, finger sucking, chad has a degradation kink, argument scene, chad worshipping reader, dumb chad tbh, unprotected sex (wrap ur willy dawg), slight pda

word count : 6k+

authors note : lowercase intended, inspired by the scene of kirsten durst choking and domming her man in the show “on becoming a god in central florida”. (it was so hot so i had to write a fic inspired by it)

nsfw under the cut

the weekly parties at blackmore university were one of the wonderful benefits of being a college freshman. you weren’t new to parties, but as a freshman you were newly introduced and instantly gained interest.

loud music was playing, and you could smell alcohol and perspiration in the air. normally, you would have felt repulsed by it and cringed. but you were preoccupied with seeing what was happening in front of you.

chad, your boyfriend, was talking to one of the girls that cheered for his football team. the girl seemed to be getting a little touchy, her hand on his bicep.

“easy there, tiger.” mindy from your right spoke, watching your anger remain the same as you paid no attention to her. “your spilling your drink over there.” anika added, taking the drink from your hand and pouring it out into the sink near you, “she’s not even listening to me.” she mumbled. warning a cackle from mindy.

you watched as chad smiled and looked around. you, being petty, turned your head toward mindy so he couldn’t find you. if he wanted to flirt with other girls, he can’t just come find you as a backup after. you knew that wasn’t actually how he was thinking, he was probably unaware and searching for you, but you didn’t care.

mindy rolled her eyes at you and threw away your smashed drinking cup, turning to you and looking you directly in the eye. she waved a hand over your face, “earth to y/n.”

you finally snapped out of your angry trance and looked at her, slightly. “what?” anika laughed and wrapped her arm around mindy, who’s as slightly tipsy. “why are you about to start rage crying?”

you shook your head, trying to forget all the hateful feelings you'd just gotten toward the cheerleader who obviously knew you and chad were together. you and chad literally had matching costumes, for god sake. however, his was just a little sluttier than yours. part of you wanted to be petty and change that. a deftones song started playing, you took that as your sign to go cause some chaos.

you turned to the two girls, giving them a small thank you. they both shared a confused laugh and watched you run away and out of the room.

you quickly went to your dorm, which was only down the hallway, and looked through your closet. you smiled when you found the top your roommate, tara had given you.

you smiled and took off your tank top that once fully covered your body, now replacing it with the skimpy top from tara.

chad hadn’t seen your costume on you yet, let alone you. you showed him the costume itself, but not on you, so he was in for a little surprise after your change due to your pettiness.

your skimpy top from tara consisted of cloth the length of your bra, practically a bikini top, as it tied around your back and purposefully showed your cleavage. you decided to keep your tiny midi skirt on, cuffing it up a bit and looking at yourself in the mirror.

you smiled at yourself before taking a mirror selfie, grabbing your phone and exiting the room, feeling much more confident than you did before. it was fun being petty.

you made your way down the hall and back into the party room, feeling in your element as you saw a table with multiple alcohol bottles. you grabbed two full, unopened bottles of liquor and brought them to where your friends were.

around you was tara, mindy, anika, wes, ethan, quinn, and some other people you didn't know the names of. chad was no where to be seen.

you tried not to let that bother you, as you approached, earning loud whistles and howls from your group of friends.

"oh my god, who are you?" tara asked with a huge smile, covering her mouth, pretending to be in shock. you shrugged and smiled, hearing the music and starting to dance, moving your hips from side to side.

you set both of the bottles down onto the table and looked at your friends, using your finger to decided which friend you wanted. you started swaying and looked at all of them, "someone get the fuck up and come dance with me!"

tara was the first to stand up, her bandana on her head slightly falling, making anika and mindy giggle to each other.

mindy mumbled to anika, "watch, when chad comes back he's gonna see them twerking on the dance floor." she said, jokingly as she watched the two girls start swaying their hips and grinding on each other to waka flocka flame.

anika turned to her girlfriend, "ten bucks they have angry sex tonight." holding her hand out, she watched as mindy's expression changed to sour.

mindy's eyes widened and she turned to to anika, "ew, anika, i don't wanna think about my twin brother angrily banging his girlfriend!" mindy stopped and rolled her eyes, putting her hand to anika's, "deal."

meanwhile, you and tara were grinding on each other on the dance floor, not taking notice of anybody around you, until tara spotted a certain cowboy from the corner of her eye.

she stopped, and tapped your shoulder, music too loud to hear her words so she brought her hand and lips to your ear, “chad’s eyeing you, on your right.” she whispered somewhat discreetly, and you waited a second and caught a glimpse of your right.

you noticed chad’s usually happy, handsome expression, but watching as it fell, and his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed his spit. his gulp was hard to miss and you continued watching his eyes as they skimmed down your body. his eye twitched, almost making you giggle. he was basically eye-fucking you.

he didn’t even notice your gaze until he snapped out of his trance, looking at you with wide eyes. however, you did nothing about it. just smiled and blew him a kiss. you didn’t even see what he did after that because you went back for dancing with tara.

but, boy, did you have a hold on him.

the rest of the hour you didn’t even bat an eye at chad, no matter how many countless times he tried getting your attention, you ignored it.

now, you were sat on a couch, surrounded by your friend group discussing what ever the hell came to mind.

chad, on the other hand, was no where to be seen. you obviously cared for him, but in that moment you let your petty wife take over and would figure out where he went, later.

“this party is kinda boring, let’s amp it up a little bit. tara, truth or dare, girl?” mindy, who was half drunk, spoke, her words slurring together as anika laughed at her side.

tara placed her head in her hands, pretending to think for a minute before answering, “dare, duh.”

mindy and anima turned to each other and discussed for a second, as if they didn’t already have a dare in mind.

“i,” mindy started, but anika interrupted, “not her, we,” mindy rolled her eyes and corrected herself, purposely over exaggerating it, “WE, dare you to make out with ethan.”

you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched the brunette boy’s eyes widen, like a deer in headlights who was just taken aback. ethan swallowed hard, looking at tara, who was eyeing him like a snack she wanted to devour.

the situation made you laugh, as tara stood up and walked over to ethan. mindy and anika shared looks, as tara bent down to whisper into ethan’s ear. everyone watched carefully, and with a nod of ethan’s head, tara smashed her lips onto his and straddled him.

mindy gasped, watching the two horny teens brawl it out with their tongues, “holy shit! i was not expecting that!”

everyone howled and cheered, laughing along. you couldn’t help but cheer and laugh too, your best friend was making out with your boyfriends best friend.

speaking of your boyfriend, where was he?

you removed your eyes from the two horny teens and searched around the room, looking for the gorgeous man you call yours, but he was no where to be seen. you checked your phone, no text messages from him either.

you tried to think nothing of it, but your mind kept slipping every little while as the truth or dare game continued.

after a painful two minutes of tara and ethan’s kiss, tara hopped off of him, wiping her mouth. you giggled when you saw ethan’s mouth area smeared with shiny, sparkly lip gloss.

tara sat back in her seat next to you like nothing happened. she turned to anika, “anika, truth or dare.”

anika laughed, “after seeing all that i’m saying truth.”

mindy gasped, placing her hand on her heart, pretending to be offended. “you don’t wanna aggressively make out with me as a dare?” she spoke quickly.

she looked at her girlfriend as if she had betrayed her. anika couldn’t help but laugh even more, “we can do that any other time, my love.”

tara cleared her throat before questioning the couple. “kiss marry kill, this group right here, plus chad, not including mindy.” your lips pursed at the mentions of chad, watching as anika’s shot you a look and her face changed.

“not my twin!” mindy whined. anika rolled her eyes and thought for a moment.

“well, i’ll start off with y/n,” mindy’s mouth fell open as if she wasn’t expecting that, anika began explaining herself, “she knows how to deal with a meeks-martin twin and that takes some serious commitment, so, i’d marry her.”

mindy rolled her eyes as anika continued speaking, “kiss wes,” as soon as those words left anika’s mouth mindy gasped. “what?!”

anika giggled and continued, “i’ve seen how wes treats his girlfriend, very gentlemanly. i respect that.” anika’s words made wes smile shyly from the corner.

“aaaand, i’d kill ethan. no reasoning really i just know him the least out of everybody, no hard feelings, kid.” ethan shrugged.

ethan had no clue what anika had just said but he still nodded. poor boy was still replaying his kiss with tara in his tipsy mind.

anika smiled and started looking at her potential candidates for the question she was about to ask, but then noticed an absence. “where’s chad?”

anika looked at you, which you shrugged. “i haven’t really talked to him sense i came back, matter of fact i haven’t really spoke to him at all, tonight.”

anika’s eyebrows raised, but she stopped and her face changed, from a confused frown to a sneaky smirk. “i see what’s going on here.”

you, had no idea what the fuck she was talking about. “what are you talking about, anika?”anika and mindy shared a sneaky look as anika continued her words.

“you saw chad talking to a girl and got jealous, then went and changed into something,” anika used to her hand to gesture to your new outfit, “obviously sexier, chad saw you, and now he’s is no where to be seen? i know what’s going on, here, missy.” anika spoke like a fourty year old mother.

you were still confused as ever, so mindy rolled her eyes and stepped in, literally, she almost fell over.

“chad’s probably either off trying to make you jealous, or he thought you looked to hot in that costume and couldn’t contain his sexual urges.”

mindy gagged at her own sentence, “i’m never speaking about my brother like that again.” she mumbled under her breath, earning a slap in the shoulder from anika, to which mindy whined at.

your mouth fell open and you laughed, “i-“ you went to speak but didn’t really know what you wanted to say.

“i- i don’t know?” you said with a laugh, watching anika and mindy as they smirked at each other, “i should probably go find him, though, i’m worried, he’s not answering my texts.”

they nodded as you stood, slipping your phone back into your purse. the group blew you kisses goodbye and you left the living room in search of your boyfriend.

you went into the kitchen, looking for chad but finding some juice boxes in mindy and anika’s fridge instead and snatching one for yourself.

you struggled to punch the straw through the hole, and heard a laugh from behind you.

your turned and saw this guy from your econ class, dressed as what looked like a witch, walking up to you and putting his hands out. “ do you need help with that?”

his british accent was faint, you didn’t remember him having one, let alone him in general, but you asked no further questions. “sure, thank you.”

the guy opened the juice box using the straw with ease, and smiled down at you as he handed it back.

“i’m foster, by the way,” he spoke, smiling.

it was almost as if his teeth had that toothpaste commercial shine and you couldn’t help but notice how white and perfect his teeth were.

he put out his hand, and after a few seconds of debating you shook it, giving him an awkward smiling before looking around you.

“foster it was nice speaking to you, but i really need to find my boyfriend,” you said, emphasizing the word boyfriend and watching as his face changed.

he threw his hands up as a defensive, “oh, i’m sorry, please resume whatever you were doing, my lady,” he noticed the weird look you gave him and went to explain himself.

“sorry if i’m coming strong, i’m like really gay, and kind of drunk.”

tou laughed at that and tapped his shoulder when you spotted a certain buff cowboy over his shoulder across the room. “no problem foster, it was nice speaking to you, i’ll see you in class, tomorrow.”

and with that you said no other words to the witch, walking over to your boyfriend.

however, you stopped about halfway, noticing a drink in his hand, and a short, pretty blonde girl in front of him.

she was laughing at something he said. you rolled your eyes, knowing damn well your boyfriend wasn’t that funny.

you set your juice box down on the counter and walked over to the two. your boyfriend noticed as you got closer but the girl purposely paid no attention to you.

chad saw you and his face lit up, "hi y/n!" he spoke lightly, almost innocently, as if he had no clue in the world what that girl wanted from him.

you grabbed his hand and turned to the blonde cheerleader in front of him, shooting her the dirtiest look you could gather, "if you excuse me, sweetie, my boyfriend and i are gonna go have sex, now, so," you spat.

you watched as her face changed to a disgusted, but annoyed look. you shooed her along before dragging chad up the stairs.

chad started questioning you as you practically yanked him.

"baby, what's wrong?"

"hello?"

"y/n, are you okay?"

"where are you taking me?"

"why were you so mean to her?"

that last question really bursted your little bubble of anger, as you brought him inside a clean, empty room and slammed the door behind the both of you. you turned to him, jaw clenched, and your eyes heavy. not from tiredness, but from anger. you didn't even know that was possible.

“you’re really going to ask that right now?”

your words sent chad into a regretful trance, trying desperately to figure out what could be so wrong with him talking to another girl, let alone a stereotypical beauty queen.

there was no way he was that naive to not know how bad that girl wanted him, how badly she craved to be in your spot. but she couldn’t, you would never let that happen. and until today you always thought chad would fight the girls off. he was either extremely stupid, or just wanted a good rise out of you.

“i guess?” chad’s tone broke due to his obvious voice crack. however, he cleared his throat and repeated himself more confidently. “i guess.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, the frustration building up in your body as your mind replayed the scene over and over again. she was touching his arm, laughing at all his stupid, unfunny jokes. looking at him the same way you did when he first dropped to his knees for you.

“you guess? what the fuck does that even mean?” chad’s eyes widened and his face filled with anger, matching your expression.

“it means that i didn’t know what the hell she wanted! not every girl has bad intentions! maybe she just wanted a friend!”

you watched as he spoke, his eyes changing, his hands flailing as a shivered from his own words. chad could’ve spotted your anger from a mile away if he really chose to focus on it, but he didn’t. and that was the problem.

he wasn’t as naive and stupid as you claimed for him to be, he just didn’t take the time to realize what was wrong and how it could’ve affected you.

but he still was a little dumb, especially when it came to other girls.

“she wanted you the same way i do, chad, you’re fucking stupid if you can’t see that!”

it wasn’t your intention to get so vile with your words, practically shouting them in his face, while all he could do was watch.

chad’s jaw clenched, and he swallowed thickly. “i am not stupid.” he spat through his teeth, his words slightly muffled.

your heavy breathing started to slow down as you closed your eyes and turned around, placing two of your hands on your head in attempt to control your anger. you swallowed, your pants now simple breaths.

to him, your eyes felt like newly sharpened daggers, his eyes watched your movements carefully, trying not to get cut.

he didn’t move a muscle, eyes tracing you as you slowly, turned back around, eyes meeting his and he could see the real amount of anger displayed on your usual timid face.

“if you’re not stupid,” you started, speaking slower than before but with the same amount of anger. “how couldn’t you tell that girl wanted you?”

before you continued, you laughed a little.

it wasn’t a joyful one, it was a feeling or betrayal. overall the situation wasn’t that serious, but you felt as if he was disobeying you, disrespecting you, in any way he could just to get into your pants.

chad kept up with his defense from before, “she doesn’t want me, y/n.” his words were firm, possible to send the feeling of daggers straight through your heart.

you sighed, a frustrated smile appearing on your face. you began laughing, not too much, but slightly. chad watched as your maniac behavior continued, his eyes following your limp body as you almost curled into a ball, wanting for him to just understand but he was to naive to be able.

“whatever, chad.”

was all you said. he felt his heart hurt a little. he wish he could’ve went back and tried to be more understanding, but what was said was already out and processed, so he could do nothing but try to fix it. you sat down onto the empty bed, head in your hands as you took deep breaths to try and contain your anger from bursting out.

he cleared his throat. “don’t whatever, me.” was all he said. his voice still babbling with anger; he hadn’t taken the time to contain it like you were attempting.

he watched as you stayed there, not moving, so he spoke again. “i said,” he spoke, louder than last time. “don’t whatever, me.” in any other moment you would’ve been laughing at his stupid use of grammar, but at this moment, you were more focused on his tone, and how he was talking to you.

you stood up quickly and walked toward him, standing up for yourself as you were only a foot away from him.

“chad, i’ll whatever whoever the hell i want! apparently it doesn’t matter to you, what if i was out there flirting with some white boy? wouldn’t make you feel the best would it?” the shouting apparently wasn’t over, you shouted that whole statement. chad’s jaw clenched once more.

“no, i guess i wouldn’t but i wouldn’t be mad at you cause of it! it wouldn’t be your fault!” he yelled, defending himself.

your eyes practically rolled themselves, “yes it would be! because i would be letting him think that he has a chance! if i really loved you, i would walk the fuck away, and try to find you! that’s exactly what i would do! and i did!”

chad’s face was angry until the last part of your sentence. his face filled with jealous, he asked, “what?!”

you sighed, and threw your hands up, “this guy was talking to me! i showed no interest in him and walked. the fuck. away. it’s not that difficult if you’re really invested in someone else, chad!”

his jaw clenched even tighter, blowing aggressive air out of his nostrils as he just stared you down. he watched, debating what to say, as if he was trying to hold himself back from saying something he’d regret.

“you don’t always have to be such a bitch.”

those words sent you over the edge, you lunged forward and slapped his face, hard. it was unintentional, the slap just kind of happened. you realized what you did after and your eyes widened, but then remembered what he said, and anger and guilt washed over your gorgeous face.

chad’s cowboy hat fell off of his head and to his back, the tiny string holding on to his neck as chad traced the slightly red finger prints with his fingers.

chad blew out some air, through his nose and his clenched teeth, as he watched you again, thinking of what to say next.

“that cheerleader wouldn’t have slapped me.”

you examined his face carefully, looking deep into his eyes, seeing lust now overtaking his anger. you swallowed and slapped his face again, this time, lighter but still firmly, and on the other side.

you watched a rush of excitement rush through his eyes, he almost smiled after you slapped him. his mouth fell open and he rubbed his red cheek, he was almost in awe. he didn’t even have to say more, you lightly tapped his cheek again.

chad sucked in a quick breath. you couldn’t help but smile, watching as his face looked desperate as ever.

chad went to speak again but you grabbed him by his throat, bringing him closer to you, and making him crouch down so his head was now slightly below yours.

his eyes looked up at you submissively, longing for more of your touch and you couldn’t help but watch, and almost laugh at how pathetic and cute he looked at the same time. chad swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing, tickling your hand.

the way your eyes shot down at him almost made him cum right there. you looked gorgeous, especially when your mind filled with thoughts of dominating him until he can’t take it anymore.

he almost whimpered, as you brought him to his knees, and he immediately broke when you let go of his neck.

“please,” he spoke, quietly, as if he was embarrassed of the position he was in. you lightly stroked his hair before yanking it back, so he looked up at you.

you cleared your throat, “please, what? speak louder.”

your mean tone turned him on even more, he felt his stomach flutter full with butterflies. chad whined once more. you let free of your grip on his hair and his body collapsed to the ground. his hands on the floor, as if he was praising you, he avoided eye contact and started rambling little words.

“please, m- mommy, i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry, for everything i said, how can i- how can i make it up to you? i- i’ll do anything, please,”

you listened to his words carefully, hearing his voice cracks that made it more pathetic, making it more genuine.

you swallowed hard, it was kind of difficult to stay composed when your big, buff, 6’3, boyfriend was on his knees begging for your forgiveness. he was so submissive when he wanted to be, and you loved it.

“come on, baby, on the bed, i’ll help you out.”

his pulse skipped a beat when your hands touched his chest, and he immediately stood up after hearing your words. he sat on the bed as you drew nearer to him, his eyes following you. he exhaled deeply as you passionately kissed his soft lips.

after looking in chad's eyes for any signs of pain as you withdrew, to which you found none, you placed your lips against his once more.

chad sighed into the kiss, his ferocious cravings finally sated, and he felt himself growing more and more horny by the second just from the sensation of your lips on his.

he wanted you, bad.

he couldn’t help but whimper as your hands continually roamed down his muscular frame, fingernails trailing his abs making him squirm, and moan into your mouth, your lips disconnected and he sweared under his breath, trying not to loose it at the thought of you pleasing him.

“sense you said some mean things to mommy, mommy’s not gonna be nice tonight,” you spoke, watching his eyes widen as he slowly nodded.

your eyes darted to his, watching his face comfort into pure pleasure as your hands smoothly roamed down his body.

his mouth remained closed as he moaned, the comfortable sensation of your body warming his, he bit his lip and his head fell back onto the bed. you lifted your hips, noticing the small wet spot on his jeans, his belt rubbing against your clit and your body collapsed onto his.

“look who can’t handle themselves, now,” chad spat in between his moans, earning a hard slap to his face.

chad moaned loudly, digging the back of his head into the comforter, as you kept moving your hips across his. “that feel good, honey, yeah?” you purred, lowering your body heat to mix with his.

chad whimpered, roaming his hands along your body, to which you flinched. “nuh-uh-uh.” you said, grabbing his hands and pinning them above his head.

your hips started to slow, back arching as his belt “you’ve been a bad boy, chad, tonight, i’m punishing you.” you carefully grabbed his shirt, and yanked him closer to you, “that means, no touching me, no seeing me, no complaining. you got yourself into this.” you let go of his shirt and shoved him back on the bed.

you got off of his lap, walking over to the nightstand in the spare bedroom, chad’s eyes widened as you pulled out a pair blue fuzzy handcuffs, and a black handkerchief.

chad could practically imagine the thought, and he almost came there as you began to tie his hands to the bed.

“listen mommy, i’m so sorry-” he spoke, looking up at you, as you shut him up by shoving your pointer and middle fingers down his throat. “i don’t care if you’re sorry. what’s done is done, now stop complaining or it’ll just get worse for you, my love.”

you finished tying his hands to the bed, and slowly straddled his body again, slowly and purposefully reaching past him so your hips rubbed against his, chad moaned once again, bucking his hips as he became a mess underneath you.

“oh, fuck,” chad whispered as you blocked his vision and tied the cloth around his eyes. chad was a moaning and whimpering mess, he couldn’t form words as the thought of you having full control over him and his pleasure.

he flinched when he felt your cold hands trail down his chest, slowly roaming closer to his lower half as you stopped right before and fiddled with his belt.

you easily took it off, and tossed it across the room. your nails lightly trailed along his chest, sending shivers down his spine. you slowly unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down in a teasingly slow manner.

“mommy, please,” he whined, bucking his hips. you pushed his hips right back down. “shut it, slut. you’re under my control tonight.”

chad moaned loudly and squirmed, “yes- yes i am. i’m sorry mommy, your touch just makes me so hard, i can’t handle it.”

you watched as his body trembled, drops of precum leaking through his boxers. he moaned and whined, unable to handle your teasing no matter how much he tried.

your nails grazed along his clothed dick, specifically the tip, watching as his mouth fall open as gasps and profanities spilled out.

he was so whiny.

“mmm, mommy, mommy, please. i’ll do anything for you to touch me, anything,” his words progressively got louder as you grabbed his dick, and squeezed.

“oh, fuck!” he shouted aggressively. you quickly smacked your hand over his mouth with your free hand.

on his end, it felt like time froze because he spilled a small loud into his boxers, moaning and panting into your hand, while the other was now pulsating his throbbing dick, drips of cum running down your finger.

“you must be desperate, huh?” you spoke, watching as he fell apart under your touch. he nodded, his worlds muffled. you

picked out a yes and gripped his dick harder.

his hips bucked and he whined, "oh yeah? oh yeah? you want it, chad? you want my hands pumping you?" chad physically trembled, nodding and continuing to moan louder in your hands.

you brought your hand from his mouth, eager to hear what he had to say.

“yes, mommy, i want it so bad!" you noticed his eyebrows furrowing, and you couldn't even see his eyes but you knew he had that desperate look under that cloth.

you slowly pulled down his boxers, letting them fall to his ankles before you got up and tossed them across the room. he was now fully naked, compared to you, who still had your tiny amount of clothing on.

you left his lap, and sat as his side watching as he trembled in his own from the loss of your touch on his soft skin. you watched his hips buck, he was non-verbally asking you to touch him.

you slowly trailed his thigh, watching his chest rise up and down, his pants turned to whines as he was unable to control himself anymore.

chad felt his eyes flutter shut when you grabbed his bare dick, squeezing it and giving no time before you began stroking him. he whimpered as you hand moved.

chad’s lower body went numb, the feeling of your hands on him after a long day of meaningful teasing he was still rock hard and had already came once.

chad soaked up every ounce of pleasure you gave him, and showed you love by the beautiful sounds he was making. you brought your lips to his ear, your left hand stroking him as your right grasped at the back of his neck.

“you’re doing so good, baby,” you whispered, to which he replied with an pornographic moan.

chad’s head fell against the backboard of the bed, squirming and feeling his hands squirm and flinch against the handcuffs.

the loss of his vision really turned him on, his sense were tingling, your whispers made it hard for him to last longer, and you took that to your advantage.

your left hand continued to stroke him up and down, his moans slowly going from deep toned to high pitched. his hands gnawed at the bedsheets, getting sent into a pre-orgasm trance as he started to see white in his vision.

“fuck, angel,” he moaned, his tone higher than normal, “keep doing that and i’m gonna cum so fucking hard.” he said, aggression on his profanity.

“mmm, yea? yea? you gonna cum? just for mommy? you gonna come right in mommy’s hand, make a big mess for me?” you taunted in his ear, kissing and nipping at his neck.

you knew exactly where his sweet spot was, you trailed a finger over it before going in and sucking it like you were a vampire thirsty for skin and blood.

chad began moving and moaning, his hips bucking as your speed around his throbbing cock quickened, his mouth fell open and he couldn’t help but squirm inside the handcuffs.

chad was about to speak but stopped and just moaned, over and over again, progressively getting louder.

the fire inside of him was burning and he was ready to let go, but he didn’t want to disobey his mommy again so he brought up the courage to form words for you.

“mommy momma mommas please, please let me cum. please, i’ll be so good, i’ve been so good, i’m so sorry, ill never speak to that girl again, momma please. i need it, i need you.” he rambled, and you just laughed at him.

“you’re fucking pathetic. you’ve been such a bad boy today, so be a good boy and cum for me, cum for me now or you’re not coming at all tonight.” your aggression in your words made chad almost scream, bucking his hips as his load spilled all over his chest, legs, and basically drenched your hand.

“atta boy,” you mumbled in his ear, earning a high pitched whimper. when he came down from his high, you removed your hand from his dick, and brought one of your fingers to his mouth. “open.”

chad’s eagerly opened his mouth and you shoved your fingers down his throat, his soft lips wrapped around them and he moaned as you spoke once more.

“you taste good, huh, honey?” you said, shoving your fingers to the back of his throat then removing them and wrapped them around his dick once more.

you continued to pump him up and down, watching as he physically became overstimulated and couldn’t function right or form any words to stop you. he could take it.

“yeah, come on angel, give me one more. i know you have it in you, do it for mommy.” you whispered in his ear.

you nibbled at his earlobe and watching as he let out one long, extremely loud moan as he spilled out the last of his cum, his mind went dumb and all he wanted was to grasp onto you for comfort.

he trembled and the last drops spilt out, and once he gained his consciousness of what just happened he quickly answered.

“oh my fucking god, thank you so much mommy. thank you so much,” he continued to thank you as you shimmied the cloth off his face, and let it hang at his neck.

you bit your lip and stared at him before taking off the cuffs. you straddled him and took off both sets of handcuffs, throwing those across the room too.

“you’re so pretty baby,” you said with a smile, cupping his face and feeling his white substance stick on your thighs. chad rolled his eyes, “don’t do that again, it hurts from being hard all day.” he spoke, making you both laugh.

you both smiled and you kissed all over and around his face. “as much as i loved seeing you fully under my control, i missed watching your handsome face. let’s get you a bath, baby.”

#chad meeks martin x fem!reader #chad meeks martin smut #sub!chad #velvrei smut #velvrei #chad meeks smut #chad martin smut #sub chad martin #sub chad meeks martin #sub chad meeks #sub character #smut imagine #smut #trending #writing #chad meeks martin #chad meeks martin x reader #chad meeks martin x you #scream 6 smut

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love-islike-abomb · 21 days

Text

The perfect drug

Roman reigns x Jade (OC)

I stole the pic from @foreverlyjay so thanks to her for the inspiration for this fic!

Enjoy!

Warnings: smut, exhibitionism, Errors I may have missed

Tag list: @reignsangel444 @acknowledge-reigns @mzv11 @pittieprincess22 @romanreignshairdresser @mandeelemons @herwickedlittlesins @helensanders92 @haloexile @jstarr86 @rrsexybeast @tribalauthor @undisputedjf @weirdgirl16355

_____

She looked out the huge windows overlooking the beach from their condo. The view was amazing! The heat from the Florida sun was only matched by the heat pooling between her thighs, seeing her massive man of a husband sitting in a chair that seemed almost to tiny for him. All she could think about was riding him in that chair. His massive hands caressing her skin, his lips attached to her's as she moaned into his mouth.

"baby?" He said snapping her out of her thoughts "what's on that mind of yours?"

She bit her lip, making him smirk knowing it was something naughty "seeing you sitting in that chair" she smiled, walking towards him "has me thinking about riding you in it"

He let out a low groan "we might be able to make that happen" he smirked. The a&e crew had left already so it was just him and her in the condo. He pinned her against the window, his massive frame almost engulfing her. He lifted his shirt over his head, revealing the intricately detailed tattoo on his chest. She reached for his belt, unbuckling it, letting his pants fall to his feet.

Her maxi dress and his boxers were all that stood in the way of them being one. He grabbed the first loop of her dress, letting it fall, revealing her curvy frame beneath. She skin was flawless and soft as velvet. One of many things that he found attractive about her. He reached for the other loop, pulling it slowly away from her, revealing her perky pierced nipples. In his eyes she was the most beautiful woman on earth!

She reached for his boxers, the last thing standing in the way of her fantasy being reality. Kneeling before him, she pulled his boxers down his thick thighs, taking him in her mouth. Her eyes locked with his as she took his full length in her mouth, his head falling back at the feeling of her warm mouth. He reached for her hair, taking a handful, and using it to move her head up and down his length. "Fuck baby!" He groaned before pulling her off him with a pop.

Lifting her up, he wrapped her legs around his waist, walking to the window, pressing her against it. Neither of them cared if anyone saw and he was even more turned on by thinking about someone seeing him fuck his wife. He rubbed himwelf between her folds, teasing her already aching core.

"Roman please!" She groaned, aching for him to fill her up, like no one else could. Hearing her beg was music to his ears. He slowly slid himself inside her, both of them letting out groans "fuck! Its so big!" She groaned.

"so fucking wet!" He groaned, grabbing her thick ass and using it as leverage to pound into her "oh fuck!" She groaned.

"that's it baby girl! Let the whole complex know how good I fuck you! Let them know how good your tribal chief pounds this pussy!" He growled. His words sent her spiralling into ecstasy. "Uhn! Yes baby girl! Milk my cock! Make me fill that pussy to the brim!" His own orgasm following hers mere seconds later. A deep, primal growl escaping his lips. A few last eratic thrusts and he stilled inside her, giving her a sloppy yet tender kiss. "You're incredible!" She whispered, still trying to catch her breath.

He smiled, leaning his forehead against hers "I love you baby girl!"

#Spotify #roman reigns #big daddy uce #wwe smackdown #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns smut #wwe smut #wwe x oc #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns oneshot

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hippolotamus · 2 months

Text

Eddie’s thumb hovers over the location dropdown in the weather app, just like every day. And just like all those other days he allows himself to click it. The list unfolds as he huffs a humorless chuckle at how much it’s grown.

When he got his first cell, the only place he ever needed was current location. Technically, it’s still the only one he needs. Regardless he’s continued adding to it through the years. Hershey, Virginia Beach, a couple random towns in the Carolinas, Georgia and Florida. Fucking Sundance, Wyoming. All because he gave up pretending he doesn’t need to know.

It’s sunny, mid-50s today. A nice break for the time of year. Eddie scrolls through the upcoming week, noting a heavy snowstorm hitting in a few days. His nose wrinkles and he begins to worry his bottom lip between his teeth. Another thing born out of pure habit.

Not for the first time he types out a few messages before deleting them again. Eddie doesn’t even know if he’s got the right number. It’s been nearly three years since they exchanged anything at all. Not since Eddie could have manned up and told Shannon he could be a father, but not a husband. Not her husband, anyway.

He could have just been honest and said what he wanted when she finally decided to show up in her second trimester. He and Evan could have continued building a life together. But Eddie’s never claimed to be smart. Especially when it comes to all the bullshit his own dad drilled into his head about responsibility and honor and god knows what the fuck else. In the end it was too sticky to let go, trapping him like a spider web.

He can’t even say it was worth it because she loves him and they’re making it work for the sake of Christopher. Because why would that have happened? Instead all he got was a tour in Afghanistan, divorce papers (not that he’s surprised or blames her at all) and coming back to an empty house. Well, not totally empty. He’s got a son he’s still getting to know outside of a screen and shitty internet connection. A son he could have been raising with the love of his life this whole time.

Hope your coat’s warm enough, cowboy he types.

“Daddy!” Chris babbles from the floor, using Eddie’s pant leg to pull himself to standing. His toothy smile is on full display while he looks up at Eddie like he hung the goddamn moon and stars.

“Hey there little man.” Eddie tosses his phone to the side in favor of picking up his son and arranging him on his lap. Chris snatches up the yellow car from the next couch cushion, choosing to run it in a small loop over Eddie’s forearm, shoulder and chest. “Where are you off to today? Big race?”

Chris shakes his head vigorously. “Outer space,” he says as though that should have been obvious.

Eddie chuckles to himself. “Of course. How long until liftoff?”

There’s no answer as plastic wheels continue zooming along until Chris decides he’d rather be on the floor again. Eddie loosely assists as his son climbs back down. Some days are more difficult than others, but he tries to follow the physical therapist’s advice to let Chris do as much as he can by himself. She says it won’t do either of them any good in the long run. Eddie can certainly see the wisdom in that even if he’s constantly itching to roll Chris in layers of bubble wrap.

He blindly grabs for his phone, buzzing from the coffee table. “Hello?”

At first there’s complete silence and he winces thinking it’s yet another telemarketer. Before he can check he hears rustling, like someone’s covering the mouthpiece.

“Hello?” He asks again, more insistent this time.

“Uh, sorry. Didn’t think you’d actually pick up.”

Eddie thinks he might drop the phone. Or throw up. Maybe both? Probably both.

“Evan?”

tagged by the lovely and talented @monsterrae1 @spotsandsocks for Inspiration Saturday (go check their posts, I’m very excited) Instead of working on anything current, I wrote this instead. Not sure I have any actual plans to expand it, I just had to get it out of my system, y’know? So, bon appetit or whatever 💖

no pressure tagging (lmk if you want added or removed) @stereopticons @this-is-bwr @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @wikiangela @tizniz @theotherbuckley @elvensorceress @apothecarose @barbiediaz @buckaroosheart @buddierights @chaosandwolves @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @eowon @fortheloveofbuddie @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck @indestructibleheart @jesuisici33 @ladydorian05 @lemonzestywrites @loserdiaz @spaceprincessem @statueinthestone @steadfastsaturnsrings @the-likesofus @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @thewolvesof1998 @vanillahigh00 @watchyourbuck @weewootruck @wildlife4life @your-catfish-friend @epicbuddieficrecs

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #alternate timeline #eddie is a great dad #hippo writes #buddie wip #maybe????#buddie ficlet #possibly???#idk #inspiration saturday #fic: you can plan for a change in the weather and time #divorced eddie diaz

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lovelybucky1 · 7 months

Note

Neil trying to be cool to get the attention of a client (disinterested in him) being totally cringe and geeky with his movie recommendations

im a filmbro just like neil so i really resonate with this

my inbox is open for requests!

warnings: one mention of sexual content, mild mentions of violence, neil being a geek with zero rizz

masterlist

It’s not often hot people walk into Gumshoe Video. There’s the regulars, the families, the loser film bros who are there at least four times a week, the teens who try to rent pornos, and old people looking for the classics.

When you walked in, Neil almost dropped his fast food cup filled with Dr. Pepper. You’re exactly his type, and he pushed the other employees out of the way so he could be the one to help you.

“Hi, I’m Neil. How can I be of service?” he greets you, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. You look down at his name tag and note that it says owner underneath his name.

“I don’t need any help, thanks,” you smile politely and continue walking. You aren’t trying to be rude, but you had a long day at work and this puppy dog of an employee is only going to get on your nerves.

“Are you looking for anything specific?” he asks, following you down the aisle.

You sigh. “No, just something to watch.”

“We have a huge selection. What’s your favorite genre?”

You resign yourself to the fact that this man is going to be up your ass until you leave the store.

“I don’t know. Action? Comedy?”

“Well, right over here we have Fast and Furious.” You wrinkle your nose. “We also have The Dark Knight.”

“Uh, no thanks. The villains in those movies are always so cheesy.”

Neil hums and scans the shelves, looking at the collection of videos for rent. “If you want a comedy we have Daddy Daycare, Superbad, American Pie…”

“I think I’ll just look around myself-”

“Or if you want something classic, we have Citizen Kane, Casablaca, The Godfather, Apocalypse Now-”

“Look, Neil,” you sigh. “I appreciate the suggestions but I really don’t need any help.”

Feeling rejected but not letting it show, Neil nods and steps away. “If you need anything, I’ll be behind the counter.”

You nod and watch him walk away before turning to browse the movie selection by yourself. It takes you a while to find anything that you were interested in, but you settled on Friday the 13th. It’s not what you’d usually go for, but your life needs a little excitement here and there.

From across the store, you could hear the other employees ridiculing Neil for “striking out”, though you’d have to argue that he never even got up to bat.

When you walk up to the counter to rent the movie, no one is to be found. You look around and find a bell on the counter labeled ring for assistance. You hit the button and the bell rings, and immediately following the chime is a thud and a curse. You peak over the counter to see Neil crouched underneath it, rubbing the top of his head.

He stands up and looks at you, putting on a charming smile like he didn’t just embarrass himself.

“All set?” he asks.

“Yep,” you reply shortly, handing him the box.

“Friday the 13th,” he reads. “That’s a good one. You didn’t tell me you’re into horror.”

“I’m not really. Just wanted a change,” you reply, figuring if you engage in his small talk, he’ll let you off the hook sooner.

“Did you know this was filmed at a real summer camp in New Jersey?” You shake your head. “It’s still operational, actually. The only set piece they had to build was the bathroom; everything else was already there.”

“That’s really interesting,” you smile, lying.

Unfortunately that was the wrong thing to say, because it made him perk up. “If you think that’s interesting, wait until you hear this…” He ducks under the counter again and comes back up with another movie in hand. “Scream was based on a series of real murders in the 90s. Ghostface was based of the Gainesville Ripper who killed five students in Florida. He wore a black ski mask, which was the inspiration for the movie.”

Neil must have noticed your concerned face and stopped.

“Uh, sorry. I guess giving a stranger facts about a serial killer is kind of weird,” he chuckles.

He scans your movie, swipes your card and prints out your receipt. Before he handed it to you, he scribbled something at the bottom.

“Thank you for renting from Gumshoe Video. Have a nice day,” he smiles.

You give him a polite smile back and on the way out of the door, you look down at the paper in your hand. He wrote what looks to be a phone number, but his handwriting is too messy for you to make out the digits.

#neil lewis #neil lewis x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #watching the detectives

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empressdede · 8 months

Text

Remember the time

This is my first time writing something and publicly publishing it. This is based off the Remember the time by Michael Jackson. Pleaseee show some love lol. I do want to say that the OC is a black character but anyone can read. I was inspired to write this because of @raya-hunter01 & @whatdoeseverybodywant Let me know what you guys think!

Pairing: Kiyah (OC) x Jimmy uso. (Theres not enough Jimmy Uso fics on here. I did it for my man.)

Warnings: cursing, smut, smoking, long read.

Bold italics are thoughts, italics are both dialogue during a smut scene and when anything is referenced. Red bold italics are the song lyrics

Word count: 9,581.

Summary: Jimmy comes back to New York after Money In The Bank and Remembers the time he had with Kiyah.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

An uneasy feeling settled in Jimmy’s stomach ever since he found out that New York was the next arena after Money In The Bank. Being in the city was as the ghost of her was going to trailing over him. It’s been three months since he’s last seen her and he wasn’t healed but it was easier to be away from here. Being here reminded him of everything he used to love to do… with who he loved to do it with.

Do you remember, when we first met girl?

When Covid hit and the whole world was forced to stay quarantined at home, due to being in a really depressive state, Kiyah really isolated herself from everyone. She was in a funk that she desperately wanted to get rid of, and in late 2020 when her favorite cousin Bianca, called her to inform that she was going to be in Tampa, FL for work until further notice, Bianca invited Kiyah to stay with her and Tez. Kiyah packed her bags and caught the first available flight to Florida, leaving her life behind in New York. She attended all the smackdown shows with Bianca, watching how she was really dominating in the women division as a newbie.

Backstage if she wasn’t hanging out with Bianca, she was hanging out with Dawkins and Tez. The wrestlers were actually pretty funny to be around, the girls were nicer than she thought they would be - Well, except for a couple who didn’t really matter - and the guys were funny to be around. She would walk around the halls aimlessly when it became too much to be around and one day, she found herself bumping into Jimmy…. literally.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” Kiyah quickly apologized to the person, her eyes slitting up to fixate her gaze on the man she bumped into. His smile took her breath away, damn who was he?

“You good, it was my fault I wasn’t looking where I was going. You okay?” He asked.

Kiyah nodded her head, not trusting her voice at the moment. She knew she would embarrass herself if she stayed in this man’s presence any longer. Clearing her throat, she tries to excuse herself. “Well, I’ll be on my way.”

“Wait…. Are you a new hire? I’ve never seen you before?” Jimmy asked before she could walk away.

“No, I’m Bianca’s cousin. Just here to give my support while I can.” Kiyah replied and Jimmy nodded his head understanding.

“That’s lit. Well, I hope you’re feeling welcomed. I know being around a whole bunch of athletes can be intimidating.”

She let out a small huff of laughter. “Please. You guys eat more junk food than anyone I know. Wings and Pizza every other Wednesday… Really?” She asked teasingly which caused Jimmy to laugh.

“Aye, we work hard. Gotta enjoy ourselves somehow.”

“I bet.”

Jimmy flashed another smile to her, who was this girl? “I never caught your name?” He asked.

“I never gave it. Seeing as you bumped into me, I think it’s only right you introduce yourself first.” Kiyah suggested.

“Could’ve sworn we bumped into each other.”

Kiyah shrugged her shoulders playfully, a small smile eased its way into her face. “I never denied that but enlighten me anyways.”

Jimmy chuckled, raising his hand out to her, “My name is Jimmy, and you are?”

Kiyah reached her hand out to clasp their hands together and shook it. “Kiyah. Kiyah Blair.” She introduced.

Do you remember when we fell in love?

“How long is it going to take you to come over here?” Kiyah asked over the FaceTime call as she continued to clean her room, folding the laundry on her bed. Her best friend Jimmy glanced at the screen to watch her for a quick second before turning his attention back to the road.

“It won’t take me too long, I just gotta make a stop somewhere before I come. Make sure you leave that door unlocked for me; you know I don’t like to wait.” Jimmy instructed.

Kiyah smacked her teeth, dropping the shirt she was folding on the bed and turned to face the screen. “Boy, how you gone tell me what to do with my own shit? Imagine trynna run my house.”

“Imagine playing with my face like you not finna leave the door unlocked for me anyways, know who to play with Kiyah.” Jimmy retorted back to her, not even turning to look at the screen.

And maybe she shouldn’t have thought it but as she continued to stare at her who she considered her best friend drive, she focused on the featured on his face and bit her lip because why did he have to be so damn fine?

After realizing a couple seconds of seconds of silence filled the air, Kiyah smacked her teeth again. “Okay Jimmy whatever. Just hurry up, it’s your turn to cook and I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Lemme go make this quick stop and Imma be over there.” He stated before he quickly hung up the phone.

Kiyah let out a small huff and let herself scan the room before her eyes caught the mirror. Should I change? She thought about it but opted against it, he’d already seen her outfit over FaceTime, so there was no point. Deciding to distract herself from overthinking, she picked up the shirt she had dropped and started folding again to clear her bed. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jimmy walked into the house with his hands full of treats, dropping them on the table. Kiyah walked out the kitchen and her eyes immediately met his, locking eyes with him.

“You just gonna stand there or you gone tell me wassup?” He asked, raising his eyebrow at her with a small grin on his face. Kiyah rolled her eyes before walking to him and they took each other into a strong embrace, rocking back and forth.

“Does that mean you’re not mad at me anymore?” She asked teasingly

“You know I can’t stay mad at you Ma.”

Kiyah’s heart seized at his words, pulling back from the hug, the bags on the table catching her attention making a smile etch its way on her face.

“No way you went to India’s Grill halfway across town, aren’t you on a diet right now? Jey’s gonna have that ass if he finds out you cheating again.”

Jimmy let his head fall as a dramatic groan slipped through his lips. “Jey not gonna know shit if you don’t tell ‘em nothing.”

Jimmy walked passed her to make his way to her living room, walking around as if he paid the bills to her home. He sat down on her couch, placing his feet on her coffee table and one hand behind his head. “You gone snitch on me Ma? After everything we been through?”

Kiyah shook her head as if she was disagreeing but in reality, she was trying to get herself together. Here was Jimmy: in an all black hoodie, no shirt underneath, cuban link peeking through the part that was unzipped, black joggers and all white forces. Fuuucckk, who told him to look this good.

“Now you know I don’t be telling nobody yo damn business” she finally replied as she walked to the door to lock it. Jimmy took that time to roam over the outfit Kiyah seemed to have on.

Itty bitty tight ass spaghetti strap crop top with matching booty shorts to go with it.

“You was expecting someone else to come before me?” He asked, catching her gaze.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I know you ain’t wearing that for David lame ass.”

Kiyah rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time. Jimmy never liked anyone she called herself entertaining, always calling them lame, but she couldn’t be too mad… she kept that same energy with all his other bitches too.

“Please be so serious right now. I wore this for myself.” Kiyah stated, walking to the couch to take her seat next to him. Jimmy let his feet fall from the coffee table, opting to be in his most comfortable position, man spreading. He cut his eyes at her as he rubbed his beard.

“Hmm, for yourself huh?”

“Yes, for myself.”

Licking his lips, he slowly nodded his head in amusement. He pulls a blunt of his pocket and pats his other side for a lighter. “Can you light me up? I think I forgot my lighter in the car.”

Kiyah reached forward for the ashtray that was right next to him on the couch, grabbing the lighter that was settled there from the last time they smoked together. Jimmy raised his arms, wrapping it tight around her body and moved her so that her legs was over his lap making her straddle him.

From that action alone, she knew he was already high. She watched as he placed the blunt in-between his lips and looked up at her waiting for her to light him up. Kiyah squeezed her legs against his and felt her heart clench at the eye contact. She bit her lip, flickering the lighter and leaning back slightly to avoid the smoke to get in her face when she lit him up.

A small smirk formed on his face when he felt her squeeze him, but he said nothing, taking a hit of his blunt instead. “Whatchu nervous for?” He asked, voice low now, blowing the white cloud of smoke towards her teasingly.

“Jimmy…. please stop playing with me.”

“Who said I was playing?” He asked raising an eyebrow, waiting for her response and when she stayed silent, he just chuckled. “Closed mouths don’t get fed you know?”

Kiyah ignored him, taking the blunt from his mouth and placing it in hers; inhaling the strong substance for the courage that she was going to need for this conversation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jimmy let his hands start to caress her legs, rubbing them up and down. His brown orbs roaming over her outfit once again, his eyes catching her hardening nipple through her thin ass shirt. “Don’t wear this shit for nobody else, you hear me?”

“Jimmy-” She starts to protest but he cut her off.

“You hear me Kiyah? Don’t wear this shit for nobody else. I’m not playing with you.”

You could cut the tension with a knife, but she didn’t understand how they got here so fast. His hands trailed up, gripping on her ass to push her closer to him making her pussy press against his dick. Kiyah takes a small sharp breath in, one of her hands moving to rest on his shoulders as she locked eyes with him.

A small smirk took over her face now, “who said I was playing?” she replied, placing the blunt back in her mouth to take one last pull. When she leaned back to blow the smoke away from him, his right hand swiftly cupped her jaw, bringing her closer to him parting his lips to inhale the smoke she needed to exhale.

Kiyah’s felt her skin heat up as she shotgun her last hit to him. Her heart felt as if it were to beat out of her chest. Jimmy and her played the game of push and pull. They flirted with each other and got super touchy but that was all that ever happened. They’ve kissed once at a Christmas party, a year ago and they were both drunk off their asses. And even then, nothing compared to the feeling that tonight gave them.

“Jimmy.” Kiyah whispered and Jimmy let his gaze flicker from her lips to her eyes.

“Say it.” Jimmy demanded in a low tone. The octave of his voice dropped so low; Kiyah felt goosebumps form on her skin from just his voice alone. Say it. He said as if he knew what was going through her head.

“Say what?”

“Say it Kiyah…. We both grown. Just say it.”

A million things ran through her mind. Surely, he wasn’t saying what she thought he was saying. Because they’re just friends; always have been… right?

“Jimmy… I-“ she started but was stuck. She tried to push herself from him, she needed space. She couldn’t think being so close to him. Not with his hands on her, or his smell overwhelming her. But his hands held her in place.

“Jimmy, we’re friends-“ she was cut off.

“We ain’t no fuckin’ friends and we haven’t been just friends for a while now.”

“Jimmy that’s not funny” she whispered shaking her head. This has to be a joke, and I’m not laughing. “Whatever joke you’re playing at- “

“I like you Kiyah. No jokes, no pranks no tests. Sober or high it’s all the same. I like you.” Jimmy stated wrapping both arms around her body to lock her in an embrace, he shifted to get comfortable and that caused him to grind against her making a small whimper leave her mouth.

“Say it.” He whispered this time, but she refused. Instead, she leaned forward pushing their lips together to lock their lips in a kiss.

Do you remember, back in the fall. We’d be together all day long.

The phone buzzing consistently was the only thing Kiyah could hear from her sleep. She lets out an annoyed groan. who the hell is calling at this time? She raised from the bed to grab her phone, and answered it without looking at the caller I.D.

“What.” She answered.

“Damn Ma, that’s how you greet me after 3 days of phone tag?” Jimmy’s voice was heard through the phone. And even though it caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach, she was tired.

“Baby… I’m tired. I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately.” Kiyah admitted.

“That’s cause you swear you can’t sleep unless it's on top of me.” He jokingly replies and she lets out a small laugh.

“You’re so warm and cuddly, I feel safe enough with you to go to sleep.” She shyly confesses. “I can’t wait to see you next week.”

“Girl when you see me next week, ain’t finna be no sleeping.”

“Aht Aht, Lemme sleep baby. You know I be sleepy.”

“Well take yo sleepy ass to the door. I had Roman deliver something expensive and I just got the message that it’s outside.”

Kiyah smacked her teeth. “What I tell you about buying me expensive gifts? I just be wanting your love.”

“You my princess, you know I gotta spoil you. Now go open the door and tell Daddy you love him for the gift."

Kiyah slides off the bed to trudge towards the front door. Jimmy has gotten into the habit of buying Kiyah gifts once she starts feeling lonely because he’s unable to be there for work. Last month he had bought her tickets to see her favorite singer, Justin Bieber. She always told him the gifts were unnecessary, but he was stubborn, swore he just wanted to drown her in gifts just to see her smile.

Kiyah slowly opens the door, to be met with Jimmy and his contagious smile which caused her to yell and jump on him. Wrapping her arms around his neck and legs around his waist and she let the tears that she didn’t know were going to fall…fall. Jimmy caught her with one hand around her waist and walked into the house, kicking the door shut with his foot.

“I thought you were coming next week.” She asked tearfully, keeping her face in his neck and tightening her grip on him as if she couldn’t believe he was here.

“I know when you need me. Two nights ago you said you had a horrible night so I came running.”

Kiyah pulled her face back from his neck and placed multiple pecks on his lips. “Thank you, Papa.” She whispered and he chuckled, pecking her lips one more time.

“You know I got you.” He replied, setting down his bag on the floor and walked towards the bedroom. “Now let’s get you some sleep. I know before this you was tossing and turning.” He stated knowingly and Kiyah knew she wasn’t going to fall asleep just yet. Not when her heart was racing with him making his presence known.

“Are you hungry? I made some honey glazed chicken and rice earlier; I can get you some.” She offered, but Jimmy laid her on the mattress, kicking his shoes off and slid in right beside her.

“How bout we just relax. You know you tired, stop fighting yo sleep and lay down.” And it wasn’t a suggestion. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it blindly behind him, grabbing kiyah and pull her on top of him and wrapped one arm around her and his other hand grasping her leg to move it up so it was over his waist. “When we wake up later, it’ll be just us and you can feed me all you want.”

Kiyah presses a kiss to his chest where his heart was located. “I love you.” She whispered before settling herself on him, cheek pressed against his chest as she closed her eyes to try to fall asleep.

“I love you too Mama.” He murmured softly, rubbing the hand that was behind her back to help her fall asleep.

___________________________________________

When Kiyah woke up, it was due to the slight heavy movement on top of her. Her body felt rejuvenated from the almost 10 hours of sleep she had seemed to have gotten. Lifting her hand to rub her eyes to wipe the sleep from her eyes before she slowly opened them, looking down to see that Jimmy flipped their positions, his head positioned on top of her breasts and his arm sprawled across her stomach.

She blinked a few more times to make sure she wasn’t tripping, but sure enough the events of last night flooded her mind and it reminded her that she wasn’t just imagining the scene that took place in front of her. Kiyah absentmindedly raised her hand to rub the arm that was laying across her stomach. Even though he was here just for the night, she can smell already smell his scent overpowering her space. Dark. Earthy. Cedar wood. The heat emanating from him brought comfort to her.

I could wake up like this for the rest of my life. She thought to herself. The light coming from the Windows showed that it wasn’t too early in the morning, if she had to guess it was around 10 in the morning. Shutting her eyes, she took in the moment of him being home. There were days when she would try to self-sabotage her blessings and push Jimmy as far away from her as she could, but he always fought for her. Always. For these past three years it’s been Jimmy and Kiyah, never just Jimmy and never Just Kiyah. It made her very appreciative of him being in her life. She’s never been loved the way Jimmy loved her, and it scared her because she loved just as hard as he did… maybe even more so.

While she continued to trail her hand against his skin, Kiyah was slowly falling back asleep in this solace of her bedroom. She felt Jimmy shift from her chest to nestle his face in her neck to get more comfortable and they both drifted back to sleep.

Another hour went by before a loud ringing blared throughout the room, jolting her awake. Jimmy let out a tired groan, tightening his grip around her.

“Jimmy.” She whispered. He shook his head refusing to wake up, just to answer the phone.

He lazily moved his arm from across her to grab his phone from his back pocket and handed it to her. “Put it on silent mode and go back to sleep.”

Kiyah softly chuckled, taking his phone and placing it on silent mode. “I’m up baby. I know you’re jet lagged so I’m going to let you sleep.” Jimmy let out another groan when Kiyah tried to slide out of the bed.

“C’mon baby. Just stay for a little bit.” He begged.

“I gotta pee. I’ll be back.” She comprises and he smack his lips letting her go.

——————————————————————————

The soft tune of Nothing can come between us by Sade was heard throughout the kitchen and Kiyah bumped her head softly to the beat and sang as softly as she could while whisking the the eggs she was preparing.

“In the middle of the madness, when the time is running out and you’re left alone. All I want is you to know that… it’s strong still can’t pull us apart. Nothing can come, nothing can come, nothing can come between us.” Kiyah softly sang, moving her hips to the melody of the music.

The knock on her door was loud, making her head snap up to look towards the door. Jimmy quickly came from around the corner where her room was, heading towards it.

“Don’t move, Imma answer it.” He said unlocking and opening the door revealing Bianca. “Wassup B.” He greeted, stepping to the side to let her in.

Bianca was shocked to see Jimmy at her cousin’s house. She took notice that he had not only made himself comfortable enough to answer the door but that he was wearing the same same clothes he left the airport in. So, this was the business he had to take care of in New York? She thought to herself before flashing him a knowing smile. “Hey Jimmy – I see you’re here early.” She teased as she stepped in and walked pass him.

He just chuckled and shook his head, closing the door back and locking it. “Yeah I Had a couple things to take care of.”

Bianca watched Jimmy walk away, eyes following him until he disappeared into the room. With amusement shining in her eyes, her head snapped towards the kitchen and Kiyah was standing there smiling; looking all innocent when she was clearly guilty.

“Hey Bianca, I totally forgot we had plans today. How you doing?”

Bianca raised her eyebrow at her and a smiled etched its way on her face again. “Well good morning to you. It smells so good in this bitch. Anyways – are you gonna spill the tea or what? Cause it looks like Jimmy ‘he’s just my best friend’ Uso spent the night and now you up making him breakfast when we had plans to go to brunch.” She asked, taking a seat at the kitchen island.

Kiyah snorted and turned back around to pour the eggs in the nonstick skillet. “You’re so damn nosey.”

“I’m even nosier when I’m realizing he went to your room instead of the guest room.” Bianca replied.

Kiyah shrugged her shoulders as a response, scrambling the eggs in front of her. She thought about how these past four months has changed the dynamic between her and Jimmy after his confession in her living room. The transition from friend to lover was easier than she thought it would’ve been.

“Baby.” Jimmy called out, walking out the room with a hoodie and some shoes. “I’m finna be back real quick.” He said as he entered the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Kiyah asked, turning her head to look up at him.

“I’m out of gars so I’m finna hit up the closest gas station. Imma call Jey back since he been blowing my shit up. I know you guys haven’t seen each other in a while so I want y’all to catch up.”

“But I’m making breakfast for you.” Kiyah acknowledges, sliding the skillet off the stove top.

Jimmy chuckles, pressing his chest against her back. He places his hands on her waist as he watches over her what she made. French toast on two sets of plates on one side of the stove and the freshly scrambled eggs being served next to it.

“Make B something to eat and I’ll be back so we can eat okay.” He suggests, turning her around to wrap his arms around her waist fully, hand gripping on her ass as he leans down to softly peck her lips twice.

“Alright. Hurry back, okay?” She asks, keeping her voice low, raising her hands to caress his arms. “I don’t want your food to be cold and nasty when you eat it.”

“I’ll be right back I promise.” Jimmy pecks her lip one last time before pulling himself away from her to walk out the kitchen. “See you later B.” He calls out as exits the house.

The entire time, Bianca had sat in her seat shocked to her core. She watched the interaction closely, taking notes left and right and her tea cup was damn near full at this point. She waited for the door to fully shut before scoffing in disbelief. “Bitch since when do y’all kiss now? Since when the hell did y’all start calling each other baby? What in the world have I missed?” She yelled dramatically, throwing her hands up in the air to emphasize her point.

“Giirrrrllllluuuuhhhhh” Kiyah dragged out, chuckling. “Back in October Jimmy admitted his feelings for me.” She finally confessed, the smile on her face widening as she remembered that night.

“OCTOBER OF LAST YEAR!? BITCH ITS MARCH.” Bianca screamed; eyes so wide it would’ve fell out of her socket if it could’ve.

Kiyah shrugged her shoulder “The titles changed but nothing’s really different, that’s why I never cared to say anything. We’re still the same.”

“Yeah, except now you are getting Jimmy schlong every other night.” Bianca exclaimed.

Kiyah rolled her eyes, “Girl please, I wish. But we have kept it private but not a secret ya know? That’s my man for real and I’m so in love with him, it’s kinda sick.”

“I think it’s cute. A couple years ago you were scared to even put your heart on the line and now look at you.” Bianca really felt her heart swell with joy as she watched her cousin obviously head over heels in love with Jimmy Uso. “I’m happy for you- the both of you, truly.”

Kiyah turned the stove off and walked around the kitchen island to pull her cousin into an embrace. “Thank you B. I really appreciate it.” She stated and she meant it. There are few people who actually knew what went down between her and her ex, what she experienced and what made her so closed off after it; Bianca being one of those few people. It meant a lot to see that she was also able to see the growth when it came to her love life.

“And I love you girl, I really do but once Jimmy get back from smoking, I’m finna feed my man and spend my entire day with him. So about brunch…. Imma have to take a rain check.” She smiled at Bianca’s laugh.

“Alright bitch, I can read the room.”

———————————————————————

After Jimmy had returned from his trip, Kiyah had served breakfast. It brought a different kind of feeling watching him eat her food. In the furthest part of her mind, it made the moment more domestic, made her feel like one day -further down the line of course- that she could do this as his wife.

After breakfast, Jimmy insisted that he clean up the kitchen while she shower. What he really needed was the opportunity to distract her. Jimmy turned the volume up on Alexa, letting the sound of Neat by Q Money take over the silence in the house while he made his way to the coat closet where he had hid what he had returned to the house with.

Opening the coat closet, he pulls out a couple bags filled with what he wanted to do for the rest of day. Jimmy really wanted to treat Kiyah to a night out but he didn’t want to be out today, he just wanted to spend his day as lazily as he could where he found comfort the most. Closing the door, he took the bags and walked to the living room to get started on what he had planned; with Kiyah in the shower he knew he had a cool 45 minutes.

He unpacked everything that came in boxes: the air mattress, the LED tea light candles, the fairy lights, the fake rose petals and got to work with setting up the living room.

After setting up as fast as he could, he walked into her room, his eyes scanning the room looking for a suspiciously quiet Kiyah. “Babe.” He called out, walking towards the bathroom. He catches a glimpse of her doing her face routine, one of his old shirts engulfing her body. “Didn’t you say you never seen where this shirt went?” He asked teasingly as he walks up behind her.

“I have no idea what you talking about, this my shirt.” Kiyah replied, her lips twitched as she tried to fight the smile that wanted to imprint its way on her face.

Jimmy playfully rolled his eyes, “yeah whatever. You gone have to run me most of my shit sooner than later, unless you wanna send me back on the road with nothing to wear.”

Kiyah scoffed, keeping her eyes in the mirror when she looked at him. “Keep playing. If you wanna be outside I can be outside too. “

“You can be outside, Ian worried about shit. I can fight.” Jimmy stated, shrugging his shoulders.

“You say that now, but we all know if I’m in another nigga arms you gone be sick.” Kiyah countered back turning to face him with a small smirk, “You know you love you some me.”

Jimmy watched her with amusement in his eyes, watch her stick her tongue out at him as childishly as she could before turning back to finish applying the clay mask that was in her hands. “Girl please, you damn near passed out when you thought I was entertaining Sasha. I ain’t the only one.” He exposed, laughing when Kiyah’s jaw dropped.

He pulled off his shirt, turning to turn the shower on. “Wanna wash my hair after I’m done with my shower?”

“Can I give you a face mask if I do?” She asked with hopeful eyes when she fully turned around to face him again. Jimmy let out a small chuckle, nodding his head, agreeing with whatever made her heart content at the moment.

Kiyah didn’t want to show how much she missed being around him, but she was finding it difficult to stay away from him. And it wasn’t like he made it easier for her. Like when Jimmy started his shower, she opted to leave the bathroom to finish getting dressed but, Jimmy requested her to stay to keep him company. Sitting on the toilet waiting for her mask to dry while he showered and they both conversed brought back that feeling she was feeling earlier. Domestic.

In her mind she knew it was too early to be thinking these kinds of thoughts but, she’s had feelings for him for two years now, and she couldn’t really remember when she last felt like this. Doesn’t remember the last time anyone ever made her feel so secure.

After washing his hair and keeping his hair wrapped in a towel for it to dry, Kiyah prepared everything she needed to get started on his face. “Just sit still because if you laugh it’s gonna crack.” She warned, and Jimmy smacked his lips.

“This like yo third warning.”

“Because you play too much, I couldn’t even get you to cleanse your face without you playing with the water. Now sit.” She demanded, hands pressing against his shoulders to force him to sit on the toilet so she can apply the mask. He moved freely, letting her push him to sit.

Jimmy let himself relax, closing his eyes and let Kiyah go to work. He didn’t really care for the process of what came with what Kiyah swore was the best skin routine for both him and her. He just wanted to be close to her, the last time they seen each other was almost three weeks ago – almost a month – and he just wanted to be away from the white noise and relish in the quiet refuge that was her home.

Kiyah delicately stroked the brush filled with the clay over his skin as they both fell into a comfortable silence. Nobody else but you by Trey Songz softly playing in the background from the Alexa that was outside and Jimmy couldn’t help but find himself agreeing with the song that seemed to set the mood. He really didn’t want nothing but to be here, with her, didn’t want nobody else but Kiyah.

Jimmy pulled Kiyah closer to him, using his legs to part her legs so that both legs her on each side of his. His hand gripped her waist as he pulled her to take a on his lap. There we go, Jimmy thought once she was seated, fully wrapping his arms around her.

Kiyah continued to apply the mask, the smile she fought to keep off her face grew anyway. It was moments like this where she felt like the luckiest woman in the world. She found someone who was on her just as bad as she was on them. Before she met him, she never thought she would ever meet someone like her, someone who wanted to be around her, touch her, almost all the time. And maybe their time apart played a big role in their affection with each other but Kiyah wouldn’t trade this, wouldn’t trade him, for nothing.

Watching him fully relax under his touch made her heart swell with joy, smiling she leaned down to peck his lips which caused him to open his eyes and softly smile at her. “What you up to?” He playfully asked and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Nothing, I love you.”

“I love you too mama.” He replied without missing a beat, searching her eyes as she stared at him. He leaned up to steal another kiss from her.”How long all this gone take?”

Kiyah placed down everything in her hands on the sink beside her when she finished covering his face with the mask. “We wait 15 minutes for it to dry and then you’re done.”

Jimmy nodded his head, letting his hands start to rub against her legs. “Jey been complaining about how he never see me anymore.” He randomly stated and Kiyah chuckled.

“I don’t blame him, I bet he miss his twin. You guys hung out every time you were off.” Kiyah responded back, letting her hands rub against his chest. “You know you can go to ATL and spend the time with him down there. You know I don’t mind.”

Jimmy let out a small hum, but going to ATL to spend time with his brother wasn’t the problem. It was him wanting to take her with him so that everyone in his life could finally see who’s been taking all of his time. “Would you come with me?” He asked quietly.

“I would go anywhere with you.” She answered and she meant it. Jimmy could ask her to go anywhere and she would go, he was home to her.

Jimmy didn’t signify an answer to her response. He just let his hands trail up from her waist caressing her skin.

“Jimmy.” Her tone came off as her warning him not to start anything.

“Next weekend, He’s throwing a barbecue and our family will be there.” He said, ignoring her warning. “Will you come with me?” He asked.

Kiyah felt her heartbeat pick up. Will you come meet my family? That’s essentially what he is asking her. Yes, she’s already met his brother and yes, she already met Roman – when she spent her time at the Thunderdome arena and they wanted to get to know each other better it required her being around his family. This invite though… it really sounded like will you come meet my parents?

“You want me to meet your mom?” Kiyah asked in a whisper, leaning her body closer to him for a comfort she’s sure they both needed. “You want me to fix your plate in front of everybody to let ‘em know you my man?” She asked playfully.

It eased the nervousness out him, he chuckled and leaned forward to peck her lips. “I wanna show you off to the whole world. I know we ain’t tell nobody yet but I want to. Tell our families anyways.” He answered back to her, shrugging a little.

“I kissed you in front of Bianca on purpose. Wanna show all of ‘em I only want you to fix my plate.” He replied jokingly. His tone softened though as he spoke, his hands trailing up her shirt, rubbing up and down against her back. “I know you ain’t used to the family introductions and all that, but if we’re doing firsts – I wanna experience all of that with you.” He confessed.

Kiyah didn’t reply, she just watched him. Taking in the moment. Here they were, in each others arms, Jimmy’s hair wrapped up in a towel, Clay mask drying on his face while he confessed that he didn’t want to keep their romance a secret from the people who mattered most in their lives.

Could I be any more in love with him? “I’ll meet your parents papa, you can tell the whole world how we locked in, clocked in for the long run.” Despite telling Jimmy not to move his face as much, she couldn’t help but lean in to lock their lips together. Wrapping her arms around his neck as Jimmy deepen the kiss. Kiyah pulled away before they got too carried away.

“Hold on.” She whispered. She reached over on the counter to grab the rag she had placed on the counter. She dipped it in the bowl that had warm water in it now and moved to clean up what she started.

She cleaned his face as gently as she could, throwing the rag in the sink for now and unwrapping the towel from his head. Kiyah was killing two birds with one stone. She took pride in taking care of Jimmy, and this gave her the chance to do so but she was also trying to speed up the process of getting him in her room.

Jimmy let his hands move from her back to her stomach, trailing slowly towards her breasts before he gripped them; fingers tweaking at her nipples.

Kiyah let out a small moan, letting her head fall back from the pleasure. Jimmy leaned up started placing butterfly kisses upon her neck, locating her sweet spot immediately and closing his mouth to suck on it.

“Fucckk.” Kiyah moaned out, bucking her hips against his. Jimmy’s hands, continued to tweak and pull at her nipples before he let one hand slid down to rub against her covered clit.

“This what you was looking for right?” He asked huskily in her ear. Kiyah felt herself shiver at his tone.

Jimmy pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing it through her panties, feeling it get soaked with her essence. His other hand left her breast to wrap around her neck. “Look at me, this what you wanted right?” He repeated.

Kiyah forced herself to lock eyes with Jimmy. “Yes” she breathed out as an answer.

Jimmy pulled her in by her neck to kiss her once again. Locking their lips in a passionate kiss, Kiyah bucked her hips against his hand to cause more friction.

He pushed her panties to the side to push two fingers inside of her, groaning into her mouth at how tight and wet she felt. Kiyah let out a gasp when she felt the sudden intrusion, throwing her head back again. Jimmy’s fingers thrusted in and out of her in a slow place causing her to rock her hips against his hands.

“Look at you.” Jimmy cooed as he picked up the pace of his fingers, curling it to touch her g-spot.

“Fuck Daddy, you finna make me cum.” She cried out, eyes rolled to the back of her head. She kept clenching herself around his fingers but he was relentless… he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her.

“Look at me.” He demanded and Kiyah couldn’t bring herself to it, moans slipping out her mouth uncontrollably as she felt a tightening feeling in her stomach.

Jimmy cupped her jaw, forcing her to lift her head and lock eyes. “I want the last thing you see before you cum is me.” He told her, he wanted to watch her love faces as she reached her climax.

“Jimmy please.” She pleaded.

She watched as his darkened eyes as he felt her clench against his fingers again. “Watch me make you cum.” He whispered, picking up the pace of his fingers. “That’s it baby, cum for daddy.”

Kiyah’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and her mouth dropped open as she let out a drawn moan, body shaking as she let herself go cumming all over his fingers. Whimpering as he slowed down to help her ride out her orgasm.

Once she was able to collect herself, he slowly pulled his fingers out of her, flashing her a smile. “You so sexy.”

She just searched his eyes, did this man really have the audacity to smile innocently at her like he didn’t just snatch her up?

He stared at her while he placed both fingers in his mouth, sucking her juices off his fingers. He pulled his fingers out of his mouth and leaned down to kiss her, sliding his tongue in her mouth so she could taste herself.

When he felt her try to deepen the kiss, Jimmy pulled back. “Come outside, I got something I wanna show you.”

It took some convincing to get Kiyah to move from the bathroom to go outside. Kiyah just wanted to jump his bones but he really wanted to show her what he originally had planned for the both of them for the day. And even though it took some convincing, his efforts were not in vain because once she say the living room set up she felt her eyes water.

“Jimmy” she breathed out, her breath hitching in her throat as she took everything in. Jimmy smiled at her reaction, he knew it wasn’t much but he was glad it made her happy. She wrapped her hands around his neck to hug him. She was grateful. “Let me show you how thankful I am daddy.” She whispered in his ear.

Do you remember, those special times? They’ll just go on and on in the back of my mind

Jimmy knew ever since he arrived to ATL that this was where he was going to be. Kiyah really showed out for him, and he wanted nothing more than to push her dress up and bury his face in her pussy. She’s been giving for these past couple of days, and last night on the way to ATL he fell asleep on the flight and woke up to his dick in her throat an hour into the flight and assured him that he didn’t have to do anything in return. I just wanna please you. She had stated in a sultry whisper.

She took him out on a date this morning, insisting that she gets to spoil him as much as he spoils her. They went to waffle House for breakfast, and then went to the aquarium right after. She’s been showing the fuck out in Jimmy… He was going to show her his gratitude, no matter where they were at. After he seen her interaction with his family, how his mother fell in love with her almost immediately and how she stayed in the kitchen to help prep the food, even if she didn’t know what was being made… yeah. He knew he was going to be here.

In between her legs with his arms locked around her thighs and his tongue buried inside of her. Kiyah kept her back in a deep arch, eyes rolled to the back of her head with her mouth gaped open but no sound came from her. He had her in a guest bathroom in his brothers house, and she really didn’t want to get caught.

“Fuck, Jimmy.” Kiyah hissed, making him groan against her and wiggle his tongue inside of her, sliding it out of her to swirl it around her pussy to lap up all of her juices. He licked all the way to her clit, sucking on while grazing his tongue against it.

“Daddy” She moaned out, looking down to watch him devour her, moving her hips to grind her pussy against his tongue. Jimmy flattened his tongue against her clit when he felt her moving her hips, letting her do some of the work. His eyes moving to stare at her and winked on their eyes locked.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Daddy you finna make me cum.” And at that warning, he closed his mouth around her clit again and sucked. He let out a moan, the vibrations sending a euphoric sensation throughout her body. Jimmy tightened his grip on her thighs to keep her in place. Kiyah let out a moan, letting her head fall back as her stomach tightened. “I’m cumming.” She announced as she spilled all into his mouth, panting heavily. Her lower body shook as her orgasm washed through her and Jimmy made sure to catch every drop.

He raised to his feet, hand wrapping around her neck as he drew her in to smash their lips together to lock their lips in a slow sloppy kiss.

“Damn Papa.” She whispered against his lips as she tried to catch her breath and he smirked.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He told her, pulling his pants down so that she could free himself. Kiyah watched Jimmy stroke himself, precum leaking from the tip and she felt herself clench around nothing.

“There’s an entire party going on outside.” Kiyah whispered as if trying to get him to stop but Jimmy wasn’t hearing none of that.

“I don’t give a fuck, I’m boutta fuck you up for real.” He replied pulling her off the sink counter to face the mirror. “And you gone watch me do it.” He whispered huskily in her ear.

Kiyah barely had time to grip onto the sink counter before Jimmy pushed himself into her, curses left both of their mouths as he pushed until their was nothing to push left. Both of them to moan out at the feeling.

“Eyes on the mirror the whole time ma.” He whispered in her ear, causing Kiyah to shiver.

Jimmy stayed still for a second, being raw inside of Kiyah made him want to ruin her life, and if the circumstances were different he totally would’ve.

He placed both hands on her hips and pulling out and thrusting back inside of her, pushing just as deep as he went the first time, every time he slid back in her. Kiyah’s head flew back as moans poured from her mouth.

Jimmy watching her through the mirror, seeing how wreck she looked before he even really got started and an evil smirk spread across his face. One hand moved to grip on her breast, pulling it out of the dress and his other hand found its way to her neck. “What I tell you princess?”

“I-“ Kiyah gasped out, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as he fucked her harder and harder. Her manicured hand moved up to grip onto the wrist of the hand that was wrapped around her neck. It was as if Jimmy was fucking her like he was angry.

“Yesss baby, just like that.” She moaned out.

Watching her love faces always did something to him, he swiftly moved to the left a little to hit her g spot causing Kiyah to let out a loud moan. Jimmy dropped the breast that he was holding and raised his hand to clap it against her mouth. “You know you’re supposed to be quiet, but here you are trynna let the whole world know how much you love this dick.”

His words caused Kiyah to clench around around him tightly, squeezing her eyes shut. Jimmy chuckled deeply. “C’mon Mama, let Daddy in so I can fuck you up.”

He continued to poke at her spot over and over again, making Kiyah moan loudly into his hands. He forced her head back up to face the mirror so she could watch. Tears ran down her face at the intense feeling of him fucking the shit out of her. “You look so pretty like this.” He cooed.

He sped up and only stopped a few couple strokes to really press himself against her spot. “Open ya mouth for me Mama.” He demanded.

Kiyah immediately let her mouth drop open, he stuck two fingers in her mouth. “Suck it.”

Kiyah closed her mouth back around his fingers, humming in pleasure when she mimicked her actions from earlier. She sucked his fingers, her tongue twirling against them and sucked hard. Jimmy felt his dick twitch inside of her, he would ruin her right here and be content with that.

“Keep yo eyes on the mirror, and if they move, I’m not gone let you cum.” He warned. Kiyah felt her body shiver, keeping her eyes on his through the mirror.

Jimmy pulled his fingers out of her mouth and placed them on her clit, rubbing them quickly as he started picking his thrust back up.

The motive to be discreet flew out the window, Kiyah moaning loudly, gripping the counter until her knuckled turned white. “You finna make me cum again.” She cried out.

Jimmy let go of her neck to grip on her braids to make sure her heads positioned the way he wanted it to be. He could feel her walls clench and unclench around him. “That’s a good girl, look at you take all of it.”

“Please don’t stop, I’m right there baby. Oh my fuck.” She cried as he fucked her harder. “Don’t stop daddy, please don’t stop, you’re gonna make me cum.” She begged, watching more tears fall her eyes.

Jimmy let out a grunt, “Daddy gone make that pretty pussy cum every single time.” He affirmed, rubbing her clit in circles. “Gimme that shit baby.” And Kiyah’s upper body stilled as her lower body shook, releasing herself all over him squirting a little.

“Yesssss” She hissed out and Jimmy had to pull out as quickly as he could, nutting on ass.

Wrapping his arms around her, Jimmy let himself drop his weight on her a little.

“Fuck.” He groaned out, pressing a kiss against the back of her neck. “You keep spoiling me like that Ma and I swear Imma keep you cummin’ like that every single time.” He promised.

And Girl, No matter what was said

“Kiyah I just didn’t wanna be rude to her. You know that with my status.” Jimmy argued

“And Jimmy, all that shit was cool when we were friends. But to do that shit in front of my face? Are you fucking serious? Then the bitch gone have the audacity to laugh at me like she did something.”

“Kiyah.” He started but she cut him off.

"No. You keep giving these bitches a reason to laugh at me like I’m some goofy bitch all cause you wanna be so damn friendly." Kiyah stressed

"Being friendly comes with the job Kiyah! Damn, every time I come in this bitch, you in my ear stressing me the fuck out don’t nobody wanna hear that. Can you at least appreciate that I even come in? I don’t gotta be here Kiyah.” He snapped and she nodded her head at him.

“You know what Jimmy? Since you don’t gotta be here, just stop showing up. Since I stress you out so fucking much, forget I even said anything. I’m sick of this shit, I’m done. You definitely don’t gotta worry about me no more.” Kiyah retorted back.

It was supposed to be a good night for the two, they were both leaving the arena when they bumped into a couple fans who just wanted some pictures. It was fine until it wasn’t. What he thought was being friendly was borderline flirting to these girls, they’d take whatever he’d give them and run a mile with. It was fine until he thought it was okay to let the fan touch for way longer than what was appropriate.

“You’re too damn insecure Kiyah when the fuck you gone wake up and realize that? That’s the reason why these other dudes treated you like trash, and you got so much damn baggage that nobody wants to deal with!” Jimmy snapped but the second he said it, he regretted it.

Kiyah froze, his words ringing in her head. Baggage. She had too much baggage.

“Kiyah I didn’t mean that.” He whispered but she sent a watery smile in his direction.

“You know what? Don’t worry about it, from now on you won’t have to worry about me or my baggage.”

And she turned around and left. Jimmy felt his heart break as she walked but his stubbornness is what kept her from chasing her. Unbeknownst to him, that would be the last time he seen her.

I will never forget what we had, my baby.

All the memories of his time in New York came back to him as he drove to the garden arena. He remembered when told him her feelings drunk off her ass after the Christmas party.

He remembers, her home made cooking every time he visited or any time she visited him. He remembers taking care of her when she caught covid.

She was a crying mess when her test came back positive. She did what she did best and isolate herself away from people. Pushing Jimmy away and booked her own hotel so that she wouldn’t pass it on to Bianca and Tez. And at first Jimmy thought she only isolated from him, but when Tez came and asked if he’d heard from Kiyah, he realized she was isolating herself from everyone.

He remembers asking Bianca if she knew what hotel Kiyah had checked into and he remembers bribing the concierge to tell him what her room number was. He remembers pushing himself through the hotel door when she tried to shut the door in his face.

“Jimmy I’m sick, I have covid.” She stressed, moving away from him as fast as she could.

“Kiyah” He whispered when he took in the scene in front of him. She was hurting and she didn’t want to tell anybody.

“You have to get out!”

“Kiyah, I haven’t heard from you in damn near three weeks. What’s going on?” He asked, concern laced in his voice

“I’m sick; that’s what’s going on. Now if you could please leave, I don’t want you to get sick.”

"No. Kiyah you need to stop pushing people away because you’re scared to show people the ugly side of you.”

He remembers Kiyah crying in his arms that night because she finally felt like someone cared for her.

He remembers the first time he told her ‘I love you’. She cried, and told him she was scared to say it back because every time she did, it was for nothing. And He never rushed her to say it back.

He remembers her confessing her love back to him not even a week later because she really couldn’t hold it in. She’s been feeling him for a long time and she refused to keep her feelings to herself any longer. Jimmy remembers everything, and boy did it hurt to.

Do you remember (I bet you remember)

Jimmy let out a sigh as he sat in the bloodline locker room. Even though they were split, They requested to still share the same locker room. It’s quiet, he’s not telling any jokes and he’s getting tired of the worried look’s being shared between his brothers.

“Uce, I’m fine. It’s just one night. It won’t kill me.” Jimmy huffed out and Jey shrugged.

“I wanna believe you Uce, but you been walking around like a sad puppy ever since we landed. Why don’t you just call her?” Jey suggested and Solo nodded, agreeing with his older brother.

“She told me I wouldn’t hear from her again and she meant that shit.” Jimmy sighed. “I can’t just pop up ya know? I wanna respect her and her space.”

Before Jey could reply, a knock was heard on the door. The silence after the knock is what had them confused. Solo moved to answer the door but Jimmy raised his hand to stop him. They didn’t know who that was. The knocking happened again.

“Who is it?” Jey called out and the voice that answered back made Jimmy’s blood run cold.

“It’s me.” Kiyah’s voice was heard through the door.

Jimmy stood up slowly and walked towards the door and he held his breath as he opened the door. “Kiyah.” He breathed out and she flashed a small smile towards him.

“Hi.”

#jimmy uso #jimmy uso x reader #wwe #black reader #the bloodline #solo sikoa #jey uso

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thedroneranger · 1 year

Text

Talk You Out of It

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Précis: A last-minute change of plans has you all dressed up with no where to go.

Note: One of two entires for @roosterforme’s #love is in the air tgm love song playlist challenge! This fic is inspired by Florida Georgie Line's Talk You Out Of It. Happy Valentine's Day, ya filthy animals! 🖤

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit.

Word count: 3.0k

A deep sigh left your lips as you sunk into the car seat. The silence was interrupted by a ping. Fumbling around, you pulled out your phone. The screen illuminated with a message from Jake.

I got a bottle at your favorite place, waiting for us in a bucket on ice. Be ready for 7 p.m. Wear something nice.

You grumbled, learning that Jake had planned something that required you to get dressed and go back out. Normally, you loved getting dolled up and going out. Especially with Jake. The two of you made a great-looking pair. It was hard not to notice the double takes and whispers. It reminded you that either of you could have anyone but chose each other.

However, the first week at your new job was a grind. Going home to cuddle on the couch with Jake while you drank wine, ate takeout and watched a rom-com sounded ideal. Since that was not in the plans, you spent the drive hyping yourself to shower and get dressed to be ready when Jake got back so you could make your reservation.

The shower was a welcome reset. Putting on your upbeat shower playlist was energizing. Once you were refreshed, swathed in a towel, you padded to the study to steal a large pour of Jake’s favorite whiskey.

Your back was to most of the room as you found a glass and selected the right bottle. You nearly jumped through the roof when you heard Jake’s voice. Collecting yourself and leveling your breath, you turned to face your husband.

Jake was sitting in his chair, legs splayed with his own glass resting on the chair arm. “What’re you doing, darlin’?” He was a sight for sore eyes. Almost ready for the evening, his shirt had a few buttons undone and his tie was slung around his neck ready for you to fasten—one of your date night rituals.

“I’m torn between a few outfits, so I figured a little liquid courage would help.” You held the glass up. His signature smile appeared, and you could feel the serotonin fire in your brain.

“Take your time, darlin’. I’ll be right here.” He put his glass to his lips and watched as you returned to the bedroom. Before you headed to the closet, you queued a sexier playlist.

Hearing the change in music, Jake smiled and hummed along while he enjoyed his whiskey.

Standing in the mirror, you held dresses in front of you, switching back and forth for an hour. With each garment, you visualized your hair and makeup. Finally, a strappy silk midi with a thigh-high slit spoke to you. “That’s it,” you said aloud, affirming your choice. Once you had the dress, you were ready in no time.

One last look in the full-length mirror, you went back to the study. “Ok.” Your eyes met Jake’s and his mouth was agape. “Is…everything ok?” You stood, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, waiting for him to respond.

He walked toward you, shamelessly looking you up and down. “You look like a grown man’s dream,” he stated. Heat rushed to your cheeks. Jake's compliments always made you blush.

“Thank you.” You reached for his shirt as he approached, fastening the last couple buttons, and then knotting and adjusting his tie. Your palms slid to rest on his chest. His hands floated to your waist and pulled you so your bodies touched.

The low back on your dress allowed his fingers to skim along your bare spine. The sensation gave you goosebumps and had you biting your lower lip.

One of Jake’s eyebrows quirked as he held your gaze. “What if we stay in?” Now your mouth was agape. Was he serious? You didn’t believe what you heard.

Jake broke away from you to head to the bar to pour fresh glasses of whiskey. “It’s chilly out—why leave when we’re so toasty?” He came back and placed a glass on your upturned palm.

You watched as he sauntered back to his oversized leather chair. Your gazes stayed locked as he settled in. “Plus, it’ll probably be loud. I won’t be able to hear you tell me about your first week.” With his free hand, he patted his thigh.

Suddenly, it all clicked. You laughed—a sound Jake loved. “Definitely wouldn’t have heard that.” He smirked and settled more into his chair, splaying his legs wider, further extending his invitation.

The look in your eyes told Jake his plea was successful. That smile you fell in love with graced his face as you slid onto his lap.

One hand around his shoulders, his arm around your hips, you both sipped your drinks. After a few minutes, you looked at each other as you reached across him to set your drink on the table. Then you draped your other arm around his neck, nails skimming the buzzed hairs on the back of it. He practically purred.

“Tell me about your week,” he requested as he pressed kisses to the exposed parts of your chest. Your answer came in the form of shallow breaths and soft moans.

Jake’s fingers skimmed your thin dress straps off your shoulders. You pulled your arms through, letting them drop to your sides. Following the swells of your breasts, his fingers slid the fabric down, leaving just your nipples covered.

He kept eye contact with you as his broad tongue trailed up the valley between your breasts. In turn, your hand anchored itself in his locks and pulled him up until his lips were teasing your neck. “It’s amazing how few words it’s taking you to talk me out of this dress,” you said between sharp breaths.

“You shouldn’t have picked it if you wanted to go out,” he retorted as you separated to shift positions. Hitching up your dress, you tucked your knees on either side of Jake’s hips while you unfastened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

“Maybe I didn’t want to go out…” you trailed off. Jake’s eyebrows rose in surprise as you continued to undress him. You shrugged. “Looks a little different than I envisioned, but it’s going to end with us cuddling, so it’s a win in my book.” It was Jake’s turn to laugh—a sound you loved.

Jake was patient. He watched as you undid each button on his shirt and pulled the tails from his waistband. You even popped off his cufflinks and unbuttoned his sleeves. He leaned forward, allowing you to push the shirt off his shoulders. You guided the fabric as he pulled his arms out of the sleeves.

Once the shirt lay neatly over the chair arm, he grabbed the bunches of dress fabric around your thighs and flipped it over your head. He soaked you in. “No undergarments?” His grin rivaled the Cheshire cat.

Your shoulders floated toward your ears as you looped your arms around his neck, holding your own wrist. “I didn’t want lines. That fabric shows everything.” His mind flashed back to your nipples barely hidden behind it just moments ago.

His blunt fingertips hungrily dug into the meat of your thighs. His thumbs pressed into the creases where your hips hinged. “What was it you had in mind since we’re staying in?” He looked up at you and he slowly pressed kisses to your arm headed toward your chest.

“Well, this is much different than I had imagined,” you began. He hummed, showing his attentiveness. “I envisioned us snuggled up on the couch, sipping wine and watching a movie…”

Jake’s head jerked up. “Oh, darlin’, we can absolutely watch a movie. Something inspirational…” he trailed off, leaving you to wonder what he had in mind. While he commanded your home assistant, you shimmied into his too-big-for-you shirt, leaving it open.

Unceremoniously, Jake stood, forcing you off his lap. You huffed but lost the attitude as he led you to the couch. He dropped his pants, leaving him in just his black boxer briefs, before settling into the couch. Jake left his legs wide enough for you to sit between, so you obliged him, pressing your back to his chest. He nosed the shell of your ear as he pressed a couple kisses to the top of your jaw.

The screen slid from the ceiling pocket and the projector came to life. You waited as Jake’s camera roll appeared. Your eyes widened as his hidden album popped up and your face appeared in several of the thumbnails.

He tapped one you knew was his favorite. “Let’s watch this. Maybe we can reenact it. Hmmm?” A little gasp escaped your lips as Jake’s hand slid between your legs, his middle and ring fingers curling into you. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he added, pumping slowly.

You watched the screen, your brain taking you back to the day the video was recorded. You moved soundlessly across the screen. Jake loved giving voice over and didn’t want to miss a single sound in real-time.

On screen, Jake’s thumb was pulling on the straps of your thong, letting them snap against you. Then he was palming your ass, swatting it once in a while. The entire time your head bobbed in and out of frame. Occasionally stopping to look at Jake through the camera lens.

“This one I like to watch when I’m on the carrier. In bed, imagining your lips wrapped around my cock instead of my hand.”

Your lip rolled between your teeth as you pressed harder against Jake. His thumb drew figure eights and frenzied circles on your swollen clit. The calloused pads of his fingers kept hitting that spongy spot, making your breath hitch each time.

“Do you enjoy watching yourself?” Jake asked as he kissed your shoulder. Afraid to verbally answer because it might push you over the edge, you nodded slowly. “Use your words, darlin’.”

“Yes.” Your answer was breathy. A tell-tale sign you were close.

“How about a little audio to add to the experience.” Jake bumped up the volume to a soft decibel.

The recorded version of you throating Jake made you feel warm all over. You rolled your hips into Jake’s hand at a similar cadence to the sounds on screen. All while Jake sang praises into your ear.

Thanks to Jake’s coaxing, you reached climax at the same time as Video Jake. “Fuck, yes,” Jake hissed, still stimulating your G spot as you contracted around his fingers. You grabbed his wrist to push him away because the sensation had you seeing stars, but he refused to pull back. “Color?” His voice was gruff.

“Green,” you whined. He kissed your shoulder again and kept his fingers deep inside you as you began to wind down. As Jake removed his fingers from you, you caught his palm and guided the digits to your lips.

First, you kissed them and then pressed your tongue against the palm side, licking from the base to tips. You pushed his slickened fingers past your lips, swirling your tongue around them as they entered your mouth.

Jake watched you, his pupils nearly eclipsing his irises. His cock twitched against your back, which had you pressing further into him. He groaned and pushed toward you. His free hand came up to cup your neck just under your jaw.

You hummed as he applied light pressure to the sides. Your body rocked to the same rhythm as his fingers going in and out of your mouth. Eventually, you released them with a popping sound.

Softly, you removed Jake’s hand from your neck and slipped off the couch, twisting so you were facing him on your knees between his. Looking up at him through your lashes, you hooked your fingers behind his knees to bring him closer to the edge of the sofa.

Standing to your fullest height on your knees, you palmed Jake through his underwear. He was hard as a rock. At the same time, you pushed your lips to his. He kept you close with a hand at the base of your skull. Hungrily, his tongue played with yours.

While he dominated your kiss, your hand dipped past his waistband. Your thumb swiped the precum from his angry tip and rubbed it along his length. He growled into your kiss, enjoying the sensation. Involuntarily, he kept shifting his body toward you for more contact.

Finally, you broke the kiss to focus on his throbbing cock. “I think we should make a sequel.” He twitched in your hand, which made you smile. “You could use some new content.” You winked as you settled lower to the floor and pulled his underwear off as he lifted his hips.

Thankfully, Jake’s phone was just a couch cushion away. He snagged it, opening the camera and framing you how he wanted. He gave a slight nod as he hit record.

Jake held his breath, anticipating the first touch of your lips. Instead, your tongue poked out and swiped his head. He nearly jumped off the couch—it was such a subtle start. You smiled at the lens, twisting your hand along his shaft.

Resting your thumb on his frenulum, you took the tip in your mouth. Then your hand slid further down, allowing more of him into your mouth. Soon, he was hitting the back of your throat. You could feel tears forming in your waterlines and spit gathering at the corners of your mouth.

Popping Jake out of your mouth, you took a deep breath, continuing to glide your hand along his length, using your thumb for extra pressure on the underside. You moved him so you had better access to his balls, pressing a kiss to each before taking one in your mouth. You felt Jake’s breath stutter as you whirled your tongue around it, before trading it for the other. You repeated the action a few times until you felt him contract.

Not ready for him to finish, you sat back up and returned to bobbing up and down on his shaft. Each time your nose touched his pelvis, you let your tongue lay flat against his ballsack.

Pulling Jake out and running his tip along the outline of your lips, you looked at him through the camera lens. “Are you cumming on my face?” You punctuated your question with a kiss to his tip. You gently squeezed his head with your teeth when he was slow to answer.

“G’yes,” he hissed, struggling to keep it together.

Expertly, you eased him back into your mouth, taking him all the way to hilt. Then, you slowly pulled him back out, hollowing your cheeks and zigzagging your tongue along his underside. Jake’s low, guttural “fuck” was music to your ears as you felt him begin to convulse.

Keeping pressure on his underside, you massaged him and closed your eyes, waiting. Finally, warm streams patterned your face. You feel them on your brow, eyelids, cheeks and nose. As you felt cum drip into the crease of your lips, you parted them so it seeped between. You swiped your tongue along the inside edge, catching the salty nectar.

“Not so fast, darlin’.” Jake’s drawl was more prominent than usual. His fingertips gingerly pressed into your jaw. He tilted your head and ran his tongue along the viscous ropes marking your face. Gently, he licked your eyelids, allowing you to open your eyes. You were met with his brooding eyes and glossy lips. There was the smallest drop of cum at the corner of his mouth.

Your knees still butterflied on the floor, Jake loomed over you, perched on the couch edge. You opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue, as Jake softly guided your head back. Together, you watched as he let his mixed fluids drip into your mouth. They pooled on the flat of your broad tongue before rolling down your throat.

Jake’s hand slid from your jaw to the front of your throat as his mouth closed over yours, enjoying the taste of your mixed saliva and his cum. He moaned into your mouth, and pushed you over until he was straddling you on the floor.

Arms thrown over your head, hair strewn everywhere, puffy lips and his shirt haphazardly covering parts of you, you were the hottest thing Jake had ever seen. Quickly, he jumped up to grab his phone. “Smile for me, darlin’.”

A genuine smile washed over your features as you tried to roll over and cover yourself. “Don’t get shy on me now!” Jake dropped back to his knees, again straddling you as you laid on your back underneath him.

He watched you through the phone screen until you stilled and looked at him with the sweetest smile. He ditched his phone and settled so his body covered yours, a knee between your legs, as he held himself up on his forearms, hovering so you were face to face. “Glad we stayed in?” you asked, looking between and trailing your finger along his diastasis.

“Very glad,” he responded. You glanced back up to find him staring at you. “Let’s get cleaned up,” he added, giving you a peck on the lips before he pushed himself to his feet. On the way up, he snagged your hand to pull you up. While you stood in front of him, he pulled his shirt closed around your body and then pulled you against his chest. He kissed the top of your head as his hands wrapped around you and came to rest on your backside.

You popped your head up to look at him. He looked down at you, waiting. “After we shower, let’s lay in bed and watch our sequel.” His signature grin appeared, waiting for you to continue. “We might have to do reshoots.”

“Fuck, I love you,” he laughed, engulfing you in a tight hug. You looped your arms around his neck and hopped so he could catch your legs as they locked around his waist. You gave him another searing kiss as he carried you to your ensuite bathroom.

“Maybe we should film while we’re in the shower?” he suggested.

“The talent needs some rest between feature length films,” you replied.

“I’ll show you feature length.” He buried his face in your neck, and you squealed as he kicked the bedroom door shut.

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