summary: when you learn your wanting is not only your own
|| smut MDNI 18+, no outbreak, idk why but I totally pictured long haired joel in this, neighbor!joel, pervy!reader, mommy issues, parentified child, nonspecific (but legal, made clear she is not a teenager) age gap, pining & yearning, dirty thoughts, tommy cameo, sarah cameo, neighborhood parties, slight voyeuristic tendencies but not in smut, f!masturbation, m!receiving oral, handjob, underwear stealing, fingers in mouth, mouth inspection, pinv, dirty talk, praise kink always, tiniest bit of degradation, little bit of pussy pronouns, joel refers to himself as daddy, daddy issues mentioned (joel is here to fix them), reader has free-use fantasies, creampie ||
references & inspired by: In My Room by Julia Wolf, Fleabag s2, All the Things She Said by t.A.T.u, Crush by Ethel Cain
a/n: if you ever watched s2e4 of fleabag and wished it was joel miller, your prayers have been answered. all my love forever and always to @pearlessance for clappin' eyes on this baby before it was ready
wc: 9k
You weren't really into these things.
Parties, that is. Neighborly ones. Where the whole street would get together and cook out, pretending they hadn't been shoving their noses in each other's business all year long. But it was supposed to be cheerful, joyous. It was Christmas in Texas, after all.
Everyone who had been home for the holidays were there. Most of the kids had off from school and those who had jobs that paid them to spend time off loitered and ate and laughed together. It all felt so… merry. Maybe it was just because you still felt so new that it felt otherworldly. You'd only moved to Austin two years ago when your mother decided LA was no longer 'artistically aligned' with her anymore, and that she swore her music career would really take off here instead. So, you'd picked up and moved with her. You felt some sort of…parentified responsibility over her. She was such a free spirit that often she needed reminding of things: appointments, bills, to eat whole meals and drink water. She was off chatting to a handsome man who was one hundred percent not her age, but old enough to know better. He had a cocky smile, freckles over his nose. You recognized him, though he didn't live in the neighborhood. A family member of one of them, you expected.
The backyard you inhabited was full of woodsmoke in the late afternoon, a hum of chattering gossipers filling your ears like bees. One of the girls, Sarah, who was younger than you, was over by her dad, talking animatedly. You thought maybe she was asking him something. For his car keys or some other. She was younger than you, but you knew she was a sweet kid. You almost wished there were more people your age, but you didn't mind today, not when you were so focused on the one person you'd come to see. Most of the people here all belonged to one another; their lives braided together through the years. You'd never been able to find your place, always on the outskirts or an afterthought. Other than your mother, but she wasn't around much, so you weren't sure that counted.
But there was one person who you'd always kept your eye on. You could say it was the one good thing about still living with your mother. Because outside your bedroom window, sometimes when you were crossing your yard to get to your car, you'd see him. If you peeked out in the morning and saw him drinking his coffee on his porch, you'd make sure to wear your tiniest shorts, your lowest top, anything to get him to look at you. Sometimes he'd shake his head at you, a gruff disappointed look. It only made you want him worse.
Joel Miller.
Today was no different, though you wore a flowing sundress instead of your usual daisy dukes. He was hosting, so you made sure to pull out your best cards. Even if it was winter in Texas, the South allowed for things like this—skimpy things—even if you'd been chilled ever since stepping outside. You could feel your nipples pebbled against the thin cotton of your bustier. You didn't care. You actually hoped he'd notice.
You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your socials, looking at them the way he might if he ever went snooping. You thought you came off sweet, approachable, all those old photos with your friends and the dogs and cats you pet-sat filling your feed, softening the ones of you partying back home in LA. Your Tinder was set all the way up to men in their sixties, though you had never seen him there. You ignored all of the other men, so many left swipes you'd developed a trigger finger. Still, just in case, you made sure a bikini photo sat right at the front, bright and impossible to miss. Just in case.
He was across the yard, beer nearly finished, Sarah having run off, and he was listening to that old cranky asshole who always yelled about dog shit in his yard. You watched as Joel nodded along politely, saying little, his hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle.
God, those hands. Thick and broad and cracked from the sunlight, you could admit you'd thought of them many times. How they'd feel running up your body or holding you down as he fucked you into the mattress or maybe how they'd feel between your legs instead of your vibrator. You would let him do it—grope you, touch you however he wanted. You might even beg him to. You wanted to feel them wrap around your thighs or push up your dress right here to get a look at you. And his arms. Banded with bulging veins, sun toughened and tanned, clearly used for work that wasn't made from inhabiting the gym. A man, through and through, tall and thick and bearded and…
You stood from your lone chair by the corner of the yard and made your way over to the cooler. Your bare feet marched along the concrete, and then into wet grass, fishing for a specific brand before walking right up beside him.
Your chest brushed the corner of his elbow.
"Mr. Miller," you purred, offering the cold unopened bottle.
He turned to look at you, suddenly surprised at your arrival. His eyes scaled down your form, taking in your little dress, your goosebumped skin, and you could've sworn they landed on your breasts for a second too long. You had to bite down a smile. Did he feel guilty for it? Or was his head filling with the same filthy thoughts you shared?
"Howdy," he said, clearing his throat, "how are ya?"
"I'm good," you smiled sweetly, exhaling. "I wanted to thank you for having us, Mr. Miller. I noticed you were out of your drink and…I thought you might want another?"
"Oh," he replied, looking down at his own empty bottle like he'd forgotten about it, "uh, thanks, darlin', that's mighty kind of you."
You handed it to him, and when your fingers brushed, it felt like swallowing the sun. His calluses passed over your soft knuckles, and they were just as rough as you'd imagined. You wished he'd put them all over you here and now. That maybe he'd pull the top of your dress down for everyone to see you weren't wearing a bra, palming at them in front of the entire neighborhood. You might beg him to do that too.
"You're welcome, Mr. Miller," you said with a brighter smile, "is there anything else you need?"
You couldn't help yourself as you looked up at him, doe eyed and innocent—hopeful, even.
He huffed a quiet laugh, looking at you a little longer, "No, no," his eyes dropped again, "I'm all good here, you ain't cold?"
You could've sworn his cheeks went a little pink. Wishful thinking.
"I'm fine," you lied, "maybe I'll step inside for a minute, use the restroom."
Turning around and heading for the house, you let your hips swish a little extra, hoping—praying—he was watching.
Inside the sliding glass door, the hush of the house made your ears buzz, overwhelming and warm against your flesh where his eyes had burned it. It was dimly lit, other than the light of the kitchen where the food sat half-eaten and the Christmas tree cast colorful rays along the walls as the sun began to sink outside. The party continued on without you, laughter and music muffled against the threshold of a closed door.
Ahead, the bathroom door was ajar, but your gaze didn't stay there very long. Instead, it landed on the staircase.
You glanced around one more time, ensuring your solitude. You were alone.
In his house.
You took your chance.
Bare feet padding silently, you were clutching the banister in seconds. Your fingers tightened hard enough to blanch your knuckles, using it to haul yourself up the stairs two at a time, heart hammering like it knew what you were about to do, screaming don't, don't don't!
The landing was quieter once you made it all the way up. It creaked underfoot as the last rays of sun lightened your path ahead. You'd imagined all of this so many times, when you'd see the faint glow of the hall light on in the night, staring across the street as if he'd maybe pass by if you willed it. He had, one time, shirtless, to your mouthwatering joy, though he'd barely been more than a silhouette, closing the blinds, allowing your eyes to soak in as much as you could before they fell and the light went off.
You swore you could smell him now, following the scent of his aftershave, something with cedar and tobacco, the smell of sun on leather as you stayed to it like a hound on a hunt into the largest bedroom on the left.
You didn't dare turn on the light. There was an intimacy of the darkening day, a secret, desecration kept quiet.
The bedroom smelled like him even more, a freshness of laundry and the musk of a man. You wanted, so badly, to roll around in his bed, made so neatly but so plainly. Like any other man, dark blue comforter and gray sheets. A dusty elliptical stood by the window, looking like it was used more as a drying rack than anything for exercise. He didn't need it, you thought. He was built by labor, body hewn from his job, lugging and hauling and building. Man man man.
You breathed in deeply, trying to log everything to memory in the shadow of the sunset that lit the room as you padded around. You smiled when you saw a pair of reading glasses sitting atop the magazine titled: Everything You Need to Know About Creating a Startup. And then, gaze landing on the flannel shirt that laid on a wooden chest, you walked over to the end of the bed, bringing it to your nose without a second thought, inhaling his scent. Musky, sweaty, warm with a faint trace of cologne. You tried to place it, something woodsy and pine with bergamot. You wondered what the brand was, already half-imagining finding it somewhere and buying it for yourself, just so you could sit in your room on lonely nights and spray your pillow like he was there with you. Good God, you really needed to stop this before it—
And as you exhaled, opening your eyes , your gaze landed on something else.
Oh, but there really was no outrunning it, was there? This, yourself, this bottomless ache you’d built a body around. It felt as if lived in you like a second spine, needy and animal, mouthwatering in its persistence as you stared at the half full laundry basket. You shouldn't…But... There was no scrubbing the thought from your tongue, no rinsing it from the back of your teeth or pretending it wasn't what you came for. What you wanted.
Your breath came short, your heartbeat rocketing against your ribs as you dropped the flannel haphazardly, drawn like moth to flame.
You began to sift through the plastic bin, already knowing your treasure lied within. Your stomach bubbled, excitement trickling between your legs so that you were pushing your knees together. Your hand reached in, grabbing onto one piece at a time, bringing them to your nose. There was a white t shirt that smelled like days old sweat, marked where his body had lived in it, the soft cotton holding a ghost of warmth. You breathed into the place his shoulder met his chest, where his skin might've pressed to it, and your throat ached.
And then, fishing in again, your fingers gripped something lighter. You drew out a pair of briefs from the heap, navy or black, you couldn't really tell by the orange light that caught the room as if it was on fire. As if it was alarming the world as to where you were, caught red handed with your finest prize.
You brought the fabric to your nose.
The scent hit you and your thighs pressed harder together, a noise escaping that you only just had realized was your own. A sort of moaning as you inhaled the musk of the fabric, open mouthed. The briefs were definitely worn, not entirely unclean, but perhaps discarded after a long day of work. He smelled like sun and earth after a heavy rain, like the hollow of a throat.
You weren't sure if you were thinking clearly anymore, something like reason in the back of your mind telling you that you were taking much too long, but you couldn't help it. You dipped your tongue out to taste the sweat there, salty, dry. It was as if you'd been starved of this all the time you'd spent watching him over two years, seven hundred days goading him and finally finding your treasure. You sucked in another deep breath again, longer this time, filling your lungs.
A noise downstairs alarmed you suddenly, making your spine nearly jump from your skin, the backdoor opening and closing. You hesitated…you could just…but no, you really shouldn't… You licked your lips, quickly glancing between the door of the bedroom and the garment in your hands, and made your decision.
Eventually you did make it to the bathroom, but you chose to stay to the one upstairs, unable to force yourself to walk down the stairs just yet. It felt a little indulgent, stepping inside just to see more of his world. You saw his tooth brush and a razor, next to the things that were reminiscent of a teenage daughter: mascara, a glittery eyeshadow pot, a friendship beaded bracelet. They barely grazed your awareness as you at on the edge of the counter. Adrenaline was still streaming into your blood, a throb of need between your thighs that hadn't settled since you walked into his room.
Facing away from the mirror, you leaned your head back against the glass, and opened your legs.
You only had a few minutes, and you shouldn't be up here.
But regardless, you lifted your dress, the skirt bunching around your waist, and pressed your feet into the cold porcelain. Finally, your hand descended to your core, already wet and needy.
Fuck, you whispered, pressing a finger over the fabric of his briefs.
Because, yes, you'd put them on.
Just over your thong, letting them press into your core where his balls might've been, where his dick was held snug in the fabric all day. Sure, they were a little big on you, the waistband rolled over twice, but you didn't care. Your dress covered enough, being flowy around the skirt and tight on top, no one would be able to tell.
You pressed your fingers to your covered center again, gently making circles around the valley where your bundle of nerves was, swollen and wanting. Your mouth fell open, jaw unhinging as you let out a quiet whimper.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, two fingers now swiping back and forth over your covered yet sensitive core. Your thighs twitched, heels dangling off the counter’s edge as you started to rub harder right through the briefs, imagining the weight of him grinding into where your hand was, thinking of the rough callouses of his palm on your throat. The bristle of his beard against your jaw as he calls you a bad girl, asking what kind of pervert steals a man’s underwear, what kind of little minx touches herself in his bathroom?
The sensation built until you were being yanked over the edge of your orgasm, silently clenching your teeth around the knuckles of your opposite hand, body seizing through your climax.
Heaving in heavy breaths, your chest rose and fell, your breasts still piqued from the amount of dopamine coursing through your body as you come down from your high.
A little embarrassed, you washed up quickly, and headed downstairs.
Of course, in the kitchen, was Joel.
You were a little surprised to see him alone, and you glanced out the sliding door to see just your mom and the man from before, giggling around a small fire pit in the yard. How long had you been gone?
"Hey!" you said a little too breathy, gleeful almost, hooking your thumb over your shoulder, "Sorry, the downstairs bathroom was taken when I came in, so I hope it's okay—"
Joel shrugged. “Yeah, s'no problem.” Then his eyes settled on you again, longer this time. “You okay?”
“What?” you laughed, stepping toward the food, trying to stay easy and pleasant. “Totally. Party’s great. Honestly, ten outta ten.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I dunno. Sarah just left for the movies, everyone’s kinda trickled out now. Feels like the tail end.” He nudged the rack of meats, only a few left over. “But those ribs Frank brought over—”
“Insane,” you agreed, nodding, and plucked a strawberry from another tray. “But really— you’ve done a great job, Mr. Miller. Especially for your first year hosting.”
He paused with the beer halfway to his mouth, leaning back against the counter and his brows lifted in surprise. “That obvious it's my first?”
You grinned around the strawberry, lips pursed as you bite off the end, the slightly sour juice blooming over your tongue. You couldn't help but drink him in, oxytocin still flowing in your bloodstream from your secret escape to his upstairs, a sort of high for wearing his briefs in his kitchen, unbeknownst to anyone but you. He looked so good in that flannel, the way it was pushed to his elbows to show you his forearms. God, what you wouldn't do to have him bend you over the counter right then and there, to see your crimes, to rip off of the evidence of what you'd done and—
"What?" he said, a chuffing sort of breath escaping him.
“You bought enough food to feed a town." you said, shrugging, though you were smirking as you went on: "That’s rookie behavior, Mr. Miller.”
“Fuck you,” he said, so quiet you nearly missed it, blasphemy on his tongue. He raised his beer to his lips as if to hide the smile pulling across his face. “Callin’ me Mr. Miller like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it.”
Your mouth fell open, the strawberry forgotten between your fingers, waiting on your tongue to be swallowed.
Your brain was a scramble, trying to make sense of the words, if you'd even heard him right. You felt it lagging behind your body, which was already reacting: throat tight, pulse surging, blood scorching up your neck. Could he see you? Could he see what you really were? An obsessive, perverted little thing that was so full of hunger and ripened want, still wet from what you'd done upstairs, wearing the proof of it beneath your sundress. Maybe he could read your mind. The thought was horrific as it passed through you. But then, if he could, he would've run for the hills by now, scared of you. The feelings you had scared you, too.
Joel tipped his head back, lips catching the opening of his beer bottle, and you watched him watching you, his throat flexing around another swallow of liquid. You could've sworn there was a certain glint in his eyes as he stared back. It made your stomach fumble and twist, the berry in your hand suddenly stupid and heavy.
You closed your mouth, then opened it again, dry as anything, unable to form words, when a disturbance rented the room. Turning toward it too quickly, you were grateful for the noise, for anything that could offer an exit from whatever trap you'd gotten caught in.
"Honey! There you are. I think I'm gonna—well, we—" your mother was smiling brightly at the man beside her, "Tommy here said he wanted to show me this great place downtown," she said, her red painted fingernails gripping the man's bicep beneath his Henley, "Apparently it has a great open mic night tonight."
"Okay," you said, clearing your throat, unable to look at anyone now, embarrassed, humiliated in your want, as if everyone could see it.
"Great hang, brother," Tommy called over his shoulder as the two of them walked through the room and out the front door.
"I'll be home late, hon!" your mother added as it closed behind them.
A hush fell over the house again.
Joel was not looking at you now, his gaze dropped, lashes dark against his cheekbones. Outside, the last of the daylight had bled away, leaving only the Christmas lights to paint the room in soft, uneven color, reds and golds slipping over his face and hands. The low underlights that drenched the counters in amber came on, igniting the intimate quiet. It wasn't until you'd heard the engine of the truck outside roar to life and drive away that either of you spoke.
“Can I get you a drink?” Joel asked at last.
You nodded.
“Don’t move.”
You didn’t. You weren't sure you could, your body feeling like it was caught in a bear trap, unwilling to move or else risk a hurt you couldn't repair.
He turned toward the counter, the clink of glass loud in the quiet as he reached up over the fridge for a bottle, poured a few fingers of whiskey into two liquor tumblers. When he held one out to you, you found yourself stepping forward anyway, your body moving before your mind caught up.
Something felt off, and you weren't sure if it was wrong, but like…change. Things were different. You tried to remember a time you felt like this, suddenly small and nervous in front of him. It was so easy to pretend like all your flirting was just fun, just a game you played. To not think of him as a player in it, only something you were trying to attain, the prize you'd win in the end if you were lucky. But seeing him like this, so close, so himself, it felt.... It felt like standing on the edge of something deep and loud and crashing, knowing you could step back, knowing you could fall in, and that neither option felt as simple as before. Turning your back was no longer an option you wanted, the escape you always planned when it became real. And now…alone…in his house. You felt a bit naughty about it all.
It felt like that thing—Schrödinger’s cat— the terrible not knowing of it all. When had you been so obvious? Had you been all along? Didn't you want to be? You wondered whether something was waiting on the other side of this moment at all, or whether it would stay suspended like this forever, neither alive nor dead until someone dared to peer inside.
"I'm…" you swallowed dryly, "I'm sorry, If I…"
He lifted his glass towards you, "To peace,"
You lifted your glass instinctively, your tongue suddenly parched, aching for the golden liquid within. Aching to know. You had to see, you had to know.
"And those who get in the way of it." he finished.
You took the smallest sip, only enough to coat your tongue. And you realized you were shaking.
This was a threshold, you realized. The thing before something. How thresholds change, the more you get accustomed to things. Maybe that's what you had been doing, being accustomed to him never giving in, never saying anything, so you pushed and pushed him. Wearing less and less, even as temperatures dropped in this southern town. This was the threshold of it all.
"Tell me something." you whispered.
Hm? he murmured, a brow raising, his pretty hazel eyes soaked in the amber lighting as they looked at you.
"Anything." you said, even quieter. You would not admit to anything until he said so. You only wanted…if he wanted. And you wanted so, so badly.
He drew in a breath that sounded like it hurt. “If I did what I wanted to do,” he said slowly, “I wouldn’t… my whole life would be fucked—”
You held onto your drink with two hands, fingers clammy against the glass.
“—My daughter is the one thing that matters to me.”
“I understand,” you said softly.
“No,” he replied, almost sharp, but then he softened, gentler, like he was trying not to scare you. “I don’t think you do.”
You watched him. Every small movement felt enormous as he set his glass down, the sound of it touching the counter too loud. His hands spread behind him, hanging onto the edge as if looking over a cliff, his eyes on the floor below. Jump, you thought, jump in with me.
“If you and I… we can’t,” he said, exhaling, his head shaking. “This can’t be anythin'. You understand me? You need to stop.”
“We’re not anything, Mr. Miller,” you said, too quickly, trying to keep your voice steady.
“But fuck me, I want—"
He didn’t finish his sentence, letting out another sore breath.
Your heart felt traitorous in your chest, wishing death upon you, to take this moment from you. It stopped, skipping over beats, your head going dizzy as he confessed his sins.
“I want…I’m tired of pretendin' that—that I don’t notice you. That I don’t think about how your ass looks when you walk across the yard in those stupid little shorts, or the way you look at me like you’re waitin' for somethin'. I know I shouldn't…but god damn, you… you make' it hard to be a good man. And if I give into you, I'll never be able to stop.”
You set down your glass.
“Tell me what to do,” you whispered, because you were empty without it, because you needed him to fill the space with something that would let you breathe again.
He shook his head, eyes squeezed shut for a second before he shook his head again. “I—” He swallowed, lifting his drink and holding it against his chest like a shield, stepping away from the edge of that cliff, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please."
A long moment stretched between you, the two of you just staring. He was so pretty. His hair had grown out this year, thick and dark, threaded through with gray, streaked with winter and age, and you found yourself wondering how it would feel under your hands. His beard was thicker now too, rougher, fuller.
You hadn't noticed how long you'd been standing there, frozen in time, that paradox of waiting, not knowing. Dead or alive. Nothing or everything. It felt alive now. You felt alive, more seen than you ever had in all the seven hundred days you had lived here, seven hundred days of watching your neighbor, wanting him, imagining slipping into his world on the nights his daughter was away.
"Kneel."
You felt your heart drop into your stomach. "I—what?"
He only nodded, drinking the dregs of his whiskey before setting down the empty glass again.
You moved toward the center of the kitchen and stopped in front of him. The shadows cut him into contrast, gold along his skin, thick beard dark against it, his eyes unreadable as they swallowed the dark room. You were so close you could smell the whiskey, the musk of him, that cologne he wore.
You knelt before him, as if in prayer at your altar.
Joel sighed above you, a long, held breath, like his lungs were finally giving over every last bit of air they had been hoarding. You felt a little silly, a little wicked. A girl come to confess her sins to God. That she had been perverse, tainted with the sin of want, of lust, of need and desire.
His hand, oh god, his hand, it reached out, touching you, only barely. Thick, rough fingertips ghosting along the side of your face, the highest point of your cheekbone, you didn't dare close your eyes, even when he traced along your brow and down the bridge of your nose. His thumb pressed ever so slightly against the bow of your lips, brushing, testing, then opening them only to let your lip bounce back.
And then he was leaning over, two hands on you then, cupping your face, fingers at the nape of your neck, cradling your skull in his two, big, steady hands. Just as rough as you pictured. He so much bigger than you, dwarfing you, it was overwhelming. And he was leaning forward, oh fuck, he was—he was—
He stepped off the cliff and fell into the crashing water below.
You felt his mustache tickling your nose before his lips pressed against yours, and you couldn't help how you'd frozen in place, eyes widening, inhaling him again, so close. You wanted to taste him, to know if his mouth carried the whiskey you could smell on his breath, if his lips held it too, that forbidden sweetness of Eve’s apple, dangerous and delicious.
He pulled away after only a brushing of his lips on yours.
"Kiss me back," he murmured, brows pulled together.
"Tell me it's not just this one time," you whispered, "promise me."
You weren't sure where the words were coming from, hell, this is all you'd wanted for so long, why were you attaching strings? All you'd ever wanted was to crawl to him, give to him, let him have, for him to take you and use your body to his own depraved needs. But now…now… you didn't know if you could go on, knowing this might be the only time.
His eyes were watching you, the eyes of god, one you'd prayed to for seven hundred days. They flicked between yours, trying to read you.
“I don’t think I can stay away from you anymore,” he said quietly, and you felt the breath of every word against your face. His hand tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear while the other still cupped your cheek.
"Then don't," you said, and this time, you leaned in, catching his mouth on yours, suckling gently on his upper lip, the prickling of his beard scratching where your skin brushed his. Yes, you could taste the whiskey now, the sweet warm flesh of his mouth, You let your hands explore, reaching up, threading your fingers into his hair, and he let out a broken groan. His hands gripped your face harder, though he was really so gentle. You tugged at the length of his hair, long enough now to tickle the back of his neck, and he answered with the same urgency, fingers sliding to the nape of your own, pulling just enough to make you gasp and open to him.
Instead of what you had been greedily hoping for, he pulled back, his mouth mirroring yours, parted and breathless, like he was stopping himself at the very last second.
He held his one hand at the back of your neck, scruffing you, as if you'd been naughty and needed to be contained. Your eyes were dizzy as you realized they'd closed in the heat of the moment, opening them to take him in. His other hand released your cheek, to grip your jaw now, opening you up more.
"Lemme see," he murmured, "I've wanted to see, for so long—open your mouth baby,"
You did as you were bid.
He exhaled, a growling reverberation from his chest, still leaning over you. And then, you tasted something salty and thick. He was sticking two fingers into your mouth, flat to your tongue where your muscle reacted, licking him, wanting, so badly, to close your mouth and suck on them, to show you how good you could be. But you knew better.
"What a good girl," he praised, kneeling in front of you now, eye level, and your thighs pushed together at the sound of the words on his lips, "show me your tongue now, yeah, that's it,"
Your tongue stuck out, resting over your bottom lip, and he pressed his fingers there, just enough to make your breath catch, enough to make your eyes burn with it. Then he loosened his grip on your hair, his palm sliding up to your cheek, holding you there as his fingers continued their slow exploration.
He shifted them slightly, pressing into the softness of your cheek, feeling the warmth of your mouth around them, his other hand still bracketing your face, feeling where his fingers probed against the wet wall of your mouth. A sound slipped from him at the sensation.
This was heaven. You wondered if you'd died today, maybe the house had caught on fire or lightning had struck in a freak storm, because this couldn't be real. Maybe you were asleep, and this was all just a dream, and you'd wake up to slick between your legs again. Because Joel Miller was moaning at the feeling of his own fingers in your mouth, phallic and warm and greedy.
"Always wondered what my cock would feel like in this sweet little mouth," he said, his voice so low and breathy it nearly slipped into a growl, "but you ain't really that sweet, are ya, baby? You play at bein' a good girl, Mr. Miller this, and Mr. Miller that, all the while showing me how pretty your tits look in this dress today, scamperin' around my neighborhood wearin' nothin' for any jackass to see."
The last words were said through gritted teeth, his fingers pushing harder against the side of your mouth, and you felt the heat of shame rise to your cheeks, your eyes watering with the stretch of skin. He soothed you, pulling his fingers out, only to lick them himself before crashing back to your lips, tongues and teeth and hunger and shared sounds of ecstasy.
His tongue, oh, his tongue. It was delicious, a thick, insistent muscle that seemed to know exactly what it wanted from you, plunging past your lips to take and take and take, like it was trying to learn the shape of your mouth by heart. He was eating at you, all heat and breath and urgency, and you could barely tell where one sensation ended and another began. Your hands kept finding him, clutching at fabric, at warmth, at something solid enough to keep you here, even as your thoughts slipped loose, floating somewhere just above the room.
"I wanna see you," you gasped as his mouth descended to your jaw, kissing and licking your fevered skin there. Your voice was thin and rushed and all breath: "Please, I wanna see everything."
"Go on then," he murmured as his hand cupped your face as he dipped your head back to open your neck, baring more to himself so he could bruise your skin with his teeth.
You could hardly focus, eyes threatening to roll back or close, but you couldn't, you needed to see him, needed to see it all. You were trembling, fingers clumsy, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break from your ribs and pour out onto the floor. Finally, finally, you were pushing the fabric from his broad shoulders and letting it descend.
You looked at him then, and he looked at you. And for a moment, everything was reduced to as it was: two people, a small miracle of being seen. His chest heaved in lungfuls of breath, hypnotic in the rise and fall of it. There was thick hair wirey like storm clouds across his chest. A dark line of hair trailed down his stomach, coarser, darker, disappearing where your eyes could not follow, and the sight of it made something in you ache with a sharp, humiliating want.
Your eyes flicked up again to find his. They were a little wild, a little unmoored, black pupils swallowing all that pretty color you liked, his lips kiss bitten and mustache pearled with some of your spit where you'd licked him.
You stared at each other like that for a long, suspended second, caught in the sight of one another, before both of you broke into the same breathless, crooked smile and moved toward each other all at once.
He picked you up easily, his hands locking around the back of your thighs, letting your knees hike over his hips as he carried you up to the counter. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he groaned softly, setting you down and stood between your knees. His mouth, so soft and wet with want, found yours again, licking deep into you like he'd missed it already, suckling at your bottom lip before biting it gently and pulling back just to watch the look on your face. You realized, then, that he kept his eyes open when he kissed you too, wanting to see, wanting to watch, to memorize just like you.
His hands reached for the straps of your dress then, tugging them down with a kind of surged urgency. His mouth followed, open and wet, kissing along your collarbone, your shoulder, anywhere his hands were, his mouth found next. When he finally pulled the bustier down, baring your chest to the cool air and his hot mouth, he set back just to look, to take you in.
"Knew it," he smiled, and looked at you again, his hands wrapped around your waist so he could be close, so close. You felt so warm despite the goosebumps of arousal pebbling your skin, making your nipples tighten.
"Knew you didn't have a damn thing on under this today," he said, voice thicker and rough, as he nuzzled the underside of your breast with his nose. You whimpered, barely able to stay upright with one hand braced behind you on the counter, the other tangled in his hair again. All you wanted to do was touch, to anchor yourself to the here and now. It made you jealous, envious suddenly. That anyone else had been here before, touching him like this, having what was rightfully yours. What you'd dreamed about for seven hundred days.
His lips finally wrapped around your nipple, and you were unable to contain the noise that escaped your throat, a choked whimper, back archinig into him as his hands lay flat against your spine, pulling you in closer. You were completely wrapped around one another, bodies mirrors of one another, yours bowed to him like an offering as he took and took.
He kissed and moaned and licked into the valley of your breasts, then up again, gently suckling and then not so gentle as he bit down, making you gasp. Your body bent to an entirely new angle, hips rolling against the cool porcelain beneath.
And then, you felt his hands leave your spine and push up your dress, and you remembered.
"Wait!" you gasped, pushing his chest back.
He paused, eyes widening, chest red and heaving still. His hands stayed on you as he looked up at you.
"I wanna—let me—please—" you were scrambling now, looking pitifully half dressed as you slid from the counter, closer now, looking up at him, and turning the both of you as your hands laid gently on his bare arms. You turned him so his back was to the counter again, and slid down to your knees once again.
"Oh, baby, you don't gotta—" he said, voice hoarse as honey on grit, but your hands were already unbuckling his belt.
"It's all I've ever wanted," you said, kissing the denim of his fly before unzipping it.
Your eyes found his, and he looked wrecked. Like he was holding himself together by sheer will. There was a line between his brows, a frown on his face.
Oh, fuck, you heard him whisper when you finally pulled his cock free. No briefs.
"You're just like me, Mr. Miller," you smiled up at him as your hand wrapped around his length. Your fingers couldn't even touch.
He didn't laugh or smile, his hands were blanched as he gripped the counter beside him.
“What, Mr. Miller,” you said sweetly, slowly stroking him, the velvet soft skin of the head, the thickly veined shaft, it was absolutely dreamy in your hand, “are you nervous?”
He shook his head, letting out his long breath as your mouth closed around the head of his cock, "Not nervous, baby, just…don't know—fuck, yeah, little more tongue, angel—not sure if I'm gonna last too long with you like this."
His head tipped back as you took him deeper, your lips stretched wide, his size overwhelming. You couldn’t even graze the thick hair at the base, but you fisted the rest of him with your hand where your mouth couldn’t reach, starting to work him in rhythm.
“Watch me, Mr. Miller,” you whispered when you pulled back, slick on your lips as you used both hands now, your mouth suckling just on the tip. His eyes found you, and there it was: he was going insane now, that unglued look, the desperation, the disbelief. Just like you’d imagined it. You, on your knees, ruining him for anyone else.
"You make me so wet, Mr. Miller." you said, emobolded by it all now.
"Joel—" he choked, "please, it's—oh fuckkk,"
"You have no idea how many times I've wanted to do this, Joel," you said, flattening your tongue to the underside of his cock, licking up to give yourself more slick to slide against with your hands. He tasted like a man, musk and sweat and irish spring. You'd swallow poison if it tasted like him.
Confidence bloomed fully now with him in your grip.
"Today, outside, watching you, all I wanted was to blow you there in front of everyone," you purred, lips wrapping around the head of his cock again, letting your teeth graze him before releasing with a wet pop, your hands still working, fondling his balls a little, "I would've let you take off my dress and fuck me in front of everyone, show them who I belong to, make me scream your name so they'd—"
His fist snapped into your hair, wrenching your head back before your mouth could find him again.
“Yeah?” he growled, and then he was lifting you off the ground like you weighed nothing, turning you sharply and bending you over the counter. “Wanted me to fuck you in front of your own family, that it? My little free-use slut so needy she couldn’t wait, huh? That why you had your legs spread while you sat in your chair every time I looked over? That why you were pushing your tits into me while I was talkin’ to fuckin’ Jerry?”
You could barely breath, let alone think as the air felt pushed out of you.
“Yes,” you managed, voice small, dizzy, but your hands were shaking now. The heat of nervousness again, your eyes wet and wide.
And as his thick hands groped your hips, making you whimper, he pushed your dress over your hips—
—and paused.
Everything was suddenly very still. You couldn't look, couldn't force yourself to take in the way his brain must have been cataloging your underthings. Those briefs. What a reckless, humiliating thing to do. To wear them, to steal them. To slide them over your thong like a secret. Your thoughts were collapsing into themselves now, a black void where language failed, and you felt stripped bare in a way you hadn’t prepared for.
This, again, was a threshold. Where the story splits. Every fantasy you'd had about him, every private, humiliating thing you'd done in his name, all of it suddenly feeling like it was standing here between the two of you.
You felt his hands move to the folded over waistband, inspecting the fabric.
"Whose are these?" he finally asked, quiet. He wasn't angry, you could tell. Maybe a little incredulous, a little…but no, you didn't know for sure.
You dropped your head between your arms, forehead resting against your fists braced on the counter, as if you could disappear into the laminate. Your face burned. Your chest ached with the force of your heartbeat, slamming against your ribs like it wanted out. You couldn't answer.
He leaned over you, his hand going to your face. It was gentle, almost reverent as it slid across your jaw, to take your cheek in his palm. But once he had a hold of your face, his grip tightened as he forced you to look at him over your shoulder. He was so close you could see every line of age, his body so warm as it bent over you, itchy where the hair on his chest pushed into your back.
"Are these mine?" he said, his gaze landing on your lips when he asked.
He squeezed your cheeks, forcing your mouth into a pucker, and he jostled you a bit, making you gasp, your knees buckling.
"Tell me." he growled, "was this what you were doin' upstairs today, you little freak?"
Your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. You couldn't tell if he was disgusted or fascinated or something worse, something that made your stomach twist with a kind of awful hope.
“Tell me,” he snarled again, closer now, his mouth nearly brushing yours, his breath hot against your skin. His teeth were bared, voice stripped of patience, demanding your answer.
You squeezed your eyes shut, tears welling there, and he reached down to kiss the corner of your eye where the salty drop began to fall. His lips caught it, before kissing your puckered mouth too.
"Ain't gonna be mad," he whispered right there, against your ear, soothing reassurance. He ground himself behind you, and your eyes flew open at how hard he still was. You cursed yourself, if only you hadn't put the briefs on you'd be able to feel him, really feel him, skin to skin, just as you wanted.
"Yes," you choked out, "Yes, I'm sorr—"
But he was kissing you again, relaxing his grip on your face, letting his tongue find yours again, and you kissed him back desperately, furiously, wanting to taste and know.
"Fuck," he whispered between breaths, kissing you more and more, harder and harder, tongues and teeth and a need you'd never felt before from anyone, "you're a sick little thing, twisted in the head, ain't ya?"
"Yes," you said again, prayer, chant, a hymn, "for you, only for you, please, I'm sorry,"
You were pushing back into him, moaning as you felt his cock jump against your dampened core.
“You’re drenched,” he said. His hand came down to cup you through the fabric, thumb dragging upward along your slit. The friction made you whine. “Did you—?”
"Touched myself in them, earlier, before—I couldn't help myself. You make me insane, Joel," you said kissing against his mouth, slopping and insatiable. Your fingers tangled up to his hair to drag him closer, as if he was the confessional, and you were telling him everything your depraved mind needed to get out before you could be whole again, "and—and blowing you, fuck, just kissing you—it just made me want you worse, makes me so wet to think about you, just fucking thinking about you—"
"Christ, woman," he said, shaking his head, palming your center, making you moan until he was too ravenous, wrenching them down your legs, your thong following, only to your thighs, to gain him access. He was groping you so hard, your hips, the flesh of your ass, "if you'd just—if I'd known, I would've—Jesus,"
"Tell me," you said against his gasping lips, your open mouth inhaling every breath he exhaled, and he inhaled yours as his cock notched against your entrance. It slid easily through your folds, the wet schlick of it making him moan as he lightly kissed your open mouth again.
His forehead pressed against yours as he pushed in, and your eyes began to roll back.
“Look at me,” he growled, forehead pressed to yours. “Look at me. Jesus—this what I was missin’? This wet little pussy, fuckin’ soaked for me?” he exhaled, grinding his forehead against you as you kept your hand fisted tighter in his hair as he stretched you open. You moaned again as he pushed in another inch.
You tried, tried so hard to keep your eyes open. Joel, you moaned, already full and trembling.
"If I'd have known you were upstairs touchin' yourself," he chuckled, a kind of manic, breathless smile on his face, "I would've followed you upstairs, made you do it in front of me," he kissed you on the lips before adjusting his stance, changing his angle so he could begin thrusting in and out, making you cry out. Your hand fell from his hair to cling to the corner of the counter, keeping yourself upright.
“If I’d caught you takin' my clothes,” he went on, “I’d have bent you over and spanked your little thief ass red.”
“Yes,” you sobbed. “Yes, please—”
His thrusts picked up into a hard, ruthless pace. Each one pushed you into the counter’s edge, bruises blooming beneath his fingers where he held you too tightly. But you wanted it, wanted the ache, wanted the shape of him imprinted into your skin.
“Little thief,” he spat. “Touchin’ things that don’t belong to you. Rubbin’ this messy little cunt to the thought of me, weren’t you?”
“I'm sorry!” you shrieked, voice shattering as he fucked you harder, the sound of it echoing loud and obscene through the kitchen.
“Only bad girls steal their daddy’s things,” he rasped, voice thick with lust.
You turned your head, wide eyed and lips parted.
"Oh," he purred, "yeah, that's right, all you needed was a daddy to show you what's right and wrong huh?"
Your chin quivered, a sob crawling up your throat. His body folded over yours tighter, his chest to your back, mouth hot at your ear.
“I know,” he said, thrusting deep and slow. “I know. Don’t worry. I’ll teach you how to be my good girl. Oh—right there, huh? She loves that. Look at me, fuck, yeah, she loves that.”
You nodded your head, but your breath felt frantic, your heart climbing up your throat. The breath of him against you, his closeness, it was overwhelming, everything you wanted. Your legs began to shake, your stomach tumbling towards that cliff edge, it would be too quick, too soon, you didn't want it without him.
"Joel—" you cried out as he kept up his unrelenting thrusts.
“Yeah, baby?” he panted.
“Wanna come with you. Please. Please, Joel—”
“Oh, but you were bad today,” he breathed. “Came without my permission. What makes you think you get to come again, huh?”
"I didn't knowwww," you mewled, squeezing your eyes shut. Your stomach was tightening, hips sezing up.
“Okay,” he soothed, voice gentle again, kissing the side of your neck. “Okay, baby. You wanna come on daddy’s cock now, huh? Go on. Let go. Daddy’s right here.”
“Inside,” you begged. “Please, I’m—I'm on—I have an IUD—I just wanna feel you, wanna feel it leaking out of—"
“Shut up, shutupshutup” he hissed, squeezing his eyes closed. “Don’t say shit like that.”
"Pleaseeee," you moaned as his cock began to swell and twitch inside of you.
But his body was giving in. His forehead slammed into your shoulder, his hand coming up over your mouth as your walls clenched tight around him. You were too far gone to care if he was trying to silence you or just survive the sound of your moaning.
"God, you're—you're squeezin' my cock like a god damn vice. Best pussy I've ever had, baby, so good, you're such a good girl, takin' it so good, okay, alright—fuck I'm gonna—"
You shoved back into him just as your orgasm hit. Your vision sparked, your knees gave out, and you screamed into his palm. It tore through you, sharp and staggering, a sob caught in your throat.
Joel's groans drowned out the sound of your cries as he pushed into you one last time, his entire body seizing, hands gripping your flesh until you thought he might rip you in half. His mouth stayed unhinged against your neck, panting hot breath, cursing and praising filthy nothings in your ear.
He stayed inside of you for a long moment, chest slick with sweat against your back. His hand fell from your mouth to wrap around you as he held you tight against him. You felt every rise and fall of his chest, your breath keeping in time with his, breathing in together, breathing out together. The air was thick and quiet with heat and salt and the musk of him and sex clinging to your skin like smoke after a fire. Neither of you moved.
Inhale.
Exhale.
"Where have you been? All this time." he sighed, pushing his forehead against the crest of your shoulder.
Your throat tightened, eyes falling shut as you smiled—remembering how many afternoons you'd watched him from your window, how often you'd worn your prettiest thong on the off chance a random Tuesday might be the day he gave in. Just in case he decided after doing yard work, or after waving politely across the street. Just in case.
You turned your face, the coarse damp strands of his hair ticklish against your lips.
"I've been here, all along," you whispered, kissing his hairline, "waiting for you."
His eyes found yours, sweat glinting at his brow, the lines of age carved deeper as he lifted his gaze. Hazel again—warm in the amber light, searching and soft. He pressed his mouth to yours like promise, holding it there, inhaling, like finally reaching the shoreline after jumping from the cliff before saying:
I just want to stop by and say I absolutely love your fics, you capture Daryl so well😍. I was wondering if you could write something where Norman stops by his restaurant in Senoia for a quick meeting and sees the hot new waitress working there and it's lust at first sight🥵😈 .. He has to have her.. They meet up after her shift takes her back to his home and c o m p l e t e l y ruins her 🥴🫠: Blowjob & swallow, NORMAN WHIMPERING 😩🤌🏽 as reader sucks him off, deep fingering, face sitting & squirt, eating out tongue fuck!ng, ROUGH doggie style with a sloppy creampie breeding kink ending 😮💨 WHEW LAWD😶🌫️🫣, I hope this isn't too off the rails for you 🙃 Below is an aesthetic of what I want female reader and Norman to look like
"The New Girl"
Please and thank you 🙏🏾 🤭
GIRL. OMFG. THE WAY YOU DID NOT HOLD BACK AT ALL?? LITERALLY CURLING MY TOES PULLING MY HAIR KNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE
I’m actually really scared because this is gonna be my first time ever writing for Norman, or an actor in general, and I’m just nervous for this to come out like super corny or I write him super out of character and it’s like your average fangirl fanfic but tbh we’re just gonna close our eyes, spin around in circles and god willing nothing bad happens
The reader is black, obvs, but it’s written in a way where everyone can still enjoy and squeeze their thighs together, you’ll just be one of us in this story 🎀
Also how did I not know Norman had a restaurant… three actually…
This definitely has a word count of atleast 4k my phone actually started to slow down everytime I opened this
@blackvelveteen1339 I hope I did you justice cause holy fucking hell this was the hottest request EVER ❤️❤️
THE NEW GIRL
“Are ya' impressed yet?”
Everyone knows that moving to another place will always be the hardest feature in life, let alone moving to a whole new city in a whole different state.
Senoia was absolutely stunning, with breathtaking views and beach perfect weather. It was totally everything that you had hoped it would be, and so was your little studio apartment, which wasn’t bad at all considering the cozy size, not to mention there were quite a few stores around, also well as the infamous main street.
You sighed, a twinge of sadness. At almost twenty-seven, this would be your first time ever living alone, having lived with your parents for a huge chunk of your life. You were still young and wanted to go out into the big world on your own, and for the longest Georgia had been calling out your name.
Some of your friends and family had discouraged you from going, claiming that it was ridiculous to move so far away from home so carelessly. For a minute, you had even thought so yourself, repeating it over and over again in your head that it wasn’t worth it, or that it was just a dumb dream, and you didn’t even have a path in mind. It was a reckless thing to do, to go into a whole new state with no clue on what you wanted to do with yourself, let alone who you wanted to be.
Yet, here you sat in your new apartment, with nothing but a suitcase, duffel bag and mattress to your name, yes, happier than you’ve ever been but lonely as well. You check your phone, swiping through your notifications before unlocking it, and opening your Instagram.
You had always been a quiet and reserved person with a bit of a wild side, which you kept hidden very well under wraps. Your feed consisted of hair tips, food, traveling, and a little heat. You followed a couple of influencers, mostly your favorite music artists, and actors. There were lots of concerts happening in Atlanta, which you found wasn't far away from Senoia at all. You'd always wanted to see some of your faves in person, but none of them had ever come out to where you used to live. Not to mention, it was expensive. Speaking of expensive, you realized that you would need to start looking for a job sooner or later if you wanted to keep your studio.
Luckily you had enough to pay rent for at least the next few months, however, groceries were quite pricey these days. You huffed and glanced over to your suitcase to where it remained unpacked in the corner, clothes spilling out of it from where you had been carelessly digging through it. You had only been in Georgia for a few weeks, and hadn't really left to go anywhere. By the looks from what you could see out the window, it was an undeniably nice day, and job opportunities were always fluttering around. You decided that it was finally time to get your shit together and show Senoia what kind of girl you really were.
Swinging off your makeshift bed, you rose to your feet, grimacing slightly and groaning softly as you stretched and walked over towards the bathroom, frowning at the tangled mess that was your hair once you stood in front of the mirror. There were also a few stains on your shirt. Yeah, a shower was definitely needed. You twisted the handle to the middle and allowed the water to heat up, padding over to your messy suitcase.
There were a couple of hangers in the closet but that was about it. Luckily there were also shelves built in which would have to do for now. You were probably going to need a small list of things, hangers being priority number one.
Going through the suitcase, you had your everyday clothes, some old work clothes, and few clubbing clothes. Your duffel bag contained your personable items, as well as a couple of important documents and paperwork for the apartment. You had already moved all your hygienic stuff into the bathroom, and decided to stress about putting away your clothes later, focusing on what you would actually wear out.
You wanted it to be a mix between comfortable yet classy, classy yet also sexy. A simple and lowcut long-sleeve matched with a pair of bootcut jeans that you could easily jazz up with some jewelry and a cute hairstyle. Draping the outfit over your bed, you began to rid yourself of your clothes, fishing a towel as well as a bra and pair of panties out of your duffel bag, and stacking them together on the bathroom counter. You played music off your phone out loud and made a mental note to also buy a speaker, letting out a satisfied groan as you stepped under the hot spray from the shower head.
The water ran down the length of your body from where it soaked in your curly hair, eyes fluttering shut as droplets began rolling down your face. It felt incredible to have days worth of bedrotting be finally washed down the drain. You wiped the water out your eyes and wringed it out your hair, reaching for the shampoo bottle and twisting the cap off, dumping a handful of the liquid into your palm. You smeared it from the top of your head, carrying it down to your ends, beginning to thoroughly scrub your way back up to your scalp, where you worked the soap into the strands.
Once your hair was completely coated and covered in suds, you rinsed the excess from your hands and grabbed your body wash to start cleaning yourself up as you let the shampoo soak into your hair. You drizzled a generous amount onto the sponge amd ran it under the hot water, rubbing it together in your hands to create the foamy bubbles. You began to work your way up one arm, scrubbing the skin as you went over your shoulder and underneath your arm, moving over across your collarbone to the other arm, eventually working down the length of your chest, as well as legs.
You squeezed the remaining soap out from the sponge, hanging it back in its spot as you started to rinse off your body, leaned your head back and wringing the sudsy water out your hair, hands working to wash all the shampoo out the coily strands. Not that you were in a rush, but it did take a little time, an ache beginning to form in your arms by the time you were done. Pumping a generous amount of conditioner into your hand, you worked it into your scalp with the tips of your fingers and rubbed it into the rest of the strands, clipping it back once there was no more left in your hands.
This time you shaved your legs, cause lord knows it’s been a minute since you’ve done that. In the process of shaving them, you noticed that your bikini area could also use some razor work.
It had been a little while since you had needed any reason to shave down there, but now that you were in a new environment with new faces, you never knew what you might stumble across. The men back in your hometown were okay, but you held your hopes up high that Senoia would toss something totally unexpected your way.
Once you were bare and smooth, you washed away the hair caught in your razor and unclipped your curly hair, rinsing off the clip before your hair, humming at how soft the strands felt under the stream of water. You squeezed and wrung out the conditioner, hearing the days of neglect run down the drain. When it was all out, you gave your body one last thorough scrub, properly washing off your skin from head to toe before shutting off the water and grabbing your towel.
You sighed as you patted your face dry, moving down your neck and chest. As you dried your hair, you stood in front of the mirror, lazily singing along to the current song playing and striking a few poses in your nude form. Although you did have a few insecurities, ones that sprouted from your late teen years and hadn't really left in your adult years, you preferred to just focus on the parts of yourself that you really liked.
It was still fairly early as you rechecked your phone, dropping the towel down on the ground and slipping on your panties, clasping your bra on shortly after. You grabbed your toothbrush and squeezed almost a little too much paste onto the bristles, giving it some water before scrubbing your teeth, mindlessly walking around your apartment as you did. The main street below your window was still bustling with cars and filled with people spilling out of shops, and music thumping from the lively restaurants. There was a nearby park that was full of squealing children, as well as other people from the community and neighboring apartment complexes. All of it was much different than what you had grown accustomed to back home, but it was such a nice change of scenery all at the same time, and you couldn't wait to throw yourself out onto Senoia's street.
Back in your little bathroom, you flicked the sink faucet on and spit the gathered foam out, filling your mouth with water and swishing it around for a little, spitting it out as well. You also brushed your tongue before taking in another mouthful of water, washing out the remaining toothpaste from your brush before dropping it back in its cup, shutting the sink off, and wiping your mouth dry. Taking a deep, but quick grounding breath, you moved to put your clothes on, hiking your fairly tight jeans up before slipping on your top. Even though it was plain black, it had a cute set of flared sleeves.
You dug through your bag for your box of jewelry as well as your makeup, setting both down heavily on the counter as you stared at your hair in the mirror, huffing in annoyance as you started to wonder if you needed to style it. Maybe a half-up half-down look? No, a full ponytail would be better. But a high bun would also be cute... or maybe a half-bun. Maybe bald. Bald would be best.
You mentally kick yourself as you flip the lid to your makeup box open to distract yourself from your hairstyle dilemma. You reassured yourself that you'd figure out something by the time you were fully ready, sighing as you prepped your face. The only times you ever really used makeup was when you were going out with intent, and wanted to make sure that your face stood out to any potential victims. It didn't take long to do as you pointedly and skillfully brushed sharp and soft lines over your honey skin, keeping your hand as steady as your body would allow you.
A few swipes of liner and mascara later, glossy lips, and the front of your hair parted to the side, you were clipping on a silver necklace paired with a bracelet, and a dangly pair of earrings. It was a bit simple, so you decided to layer another necklace on top of the other, smiling at yourself in the mirror before flipping the lights off, padding out into the bedroom, and fishing around for your purse, placing it on the bed next to you as you slid on a pair of wedged sandals. Hopefully, the foot pain later would be worth it.
You slipped your phone into your back pocket, and threw your purse onto your shoulder, tossing in a small bottle of perfume just in case. You shut the doors inside and flicked off the main room light, creaking your front door open and securely shutting it behind you, locking it with your keys before tossing them into your purse, striding down the hallway of your complex with intention hot in your steps.
When you pushed the door of your building open, the warm and inviting air of Senoia almost immediately filling your lungs, you felt a strong sense of anticipation surge through you as you walked out onto the sidewalk, the sounds of conversations now real and more animated than ever, the thumping of music now bumped through your feet and right in your chest.
As you casually strolled down the sidewalk, taking in all the different buildings and things to do, a furniture store caught your eye. While you didn't have any money, it never hurt to look around, and maybe get some information from some of the locals.
The furniture store was filled with pieces on the much older side and vintage lamps that only old ladies would be interested in, but you continued to walk around anyway. As you were browsing a wall of intricate paintings and sculptures, a kind-looking woman approached you.
"Welcome to Hollberg's! Our newer, more modern stuff is upstairs if that's more your style" She smiled, and you gave a polite one in return. "I'm just browsing for now. Just moved here about a week ago and I don't have a job yet" You lightly laughed.
The woman gave you an excited expression, clasping her hands together. "How nice! Where are you from originally?"
"Louisiana, Chalmette. I lived there for most of my life so I just needed a fresh start somewhere totally new." You sigh, still kindly smiling at her.
"I get that, and Senoia is perfect for that, Georgia overall. Atlanta is also quite close, and there's lots of job opportunities out there."
You frown, "Unfortunately I don't have a car, and you can't Uber without money" Shaking your head at your obviously very sticky situation.
The woman seemed to think for a moment, walking quickly away to fetch something from behind a desk and coming back over, holding out a few pieces of paper. "We aren't hiring now, but here are some flyers for restaurants in this strip. Not sure how lucky you'll get, but I do wish you luck. There's a cafe right across the way" You took the flyers from her, smiling at her one last. "Thanks girl. Hopefully, next time we talk it's about furniture" She let out a small laugh, watching as you spun on your heels and walked out of the store.
On your way out, you almost immediately spotted the cafe and wasted no time walking over to it, quickly crossing the street while throwing a few quick glances to the left and right as you did. Before you entered, you slipped the restaurant flyers into your purse and swung the door open, the smell of coffee strong and a bit overwhelming. The cafe was quite large inside, and there was a small line at the registers at near front, nothing you weren't willing to stand in.
Once you reached the front, you were greeted by a young woman, smiling brightly at you. "Hi! Welcome to Senoia's Coffee and Cafe, what can I get started for you?"
"Sorry, I'm not looking to buy anything, I'm actually looking for work. I just moved here about a week ago" She made a small look of surprise, furrowing her brows as she mouthed 'one moment' and disappeared behind a wall, returning mere seconds later with a sheepish look replacing her previous one. "We, unfortunately, aren't hiring right now. I think my boss is in a bad mood, but I heard the restaurant down the street is hiring! Uh, just can't think of the name"
You fish out the flyers, "Any of these?" Holding them out to her. She tilts her head, humming quietly before tapping her finger against one. "This place! They need waitresses, especially around this time. You'd be a great fit there too" She smiled, and you smiled back, giving her a "Thanks" before walking back out of the shop, and down the sidewalk, eyeing a few of the other buildings before stopping in front of dark gray one, reading the sign before pulling the door open.
The inside of the restaurant was absolutely stunning, with clean floors, and light walls mixed with brick that complemented the expensive chandlers hanging from the ceiling, highlighted against the polished wooden furniture. There was casual jazz playing in back, loud enough to hear but loud enough to still be able to talk normally.
The restaurant was fairly small, a highly stocked bar on one side and the dining room on the other, bathrooms at the back. You weren't quite sure where to stand, awkwardly off to the side as you scanned the room for someone, feeling relieved when a woman spotted you and called that she would be right there. You watched as she cleaned a finished table, quickly walking the dirty dishes into the kitchen before coming back out, huffing when she reappeared.
"It's a lot of work, huh?" You asked kindly, and she sighed.
"Hell yes. I jus' wish I had one more set of hands" She laughed airily, tapping at something on her register. "Table fer one?"
You shook your head, "No, I'm actually here to work. Just moved here a week ago" Smiling softly at her.
She gave you a look of surprise, "Really? Where ya comin' from?"
"Chalmette in Louisiana. I just needed a different change of scenery, somewhere new where I can figure my shit out" She nodded her head at your words. "I hear that. Good fer ya' girl! Like I said, I need one more set of hands. Got any experience?"
"I worked in a sports bar for a good while back home, there wasn't really much to work with" You sighed. "I've never served tables but I was a host for a little bit"
She seemed pretty satisfied, nodding as you spoke with a smile tugging her lips. "Well, I'd say yer gonna make a pretty good damn waitress. How soon can ya' start?"
"I'd start today if you let me" You laugh lightly, and she makes a face. "I mean if you can bring me the papers I need within the hour I can get you a shift tonight"
You blinked at her, raising a brow. "Seriously?"
"I'll give ya' the uniform straight after, m'serious" She smiled, holding out her hand.
You took hers in yours with little hesitation, shaking it firmly. “I’ll be right back” Was all you said before walking out the restaurant, quickly and eagerly striding back over to your apartment building. It was maybe a five minute walk, which was not bad at all. As you entered, walking through the lobby and up the stairs, you dug in your purse for the keys to your studio, swinging them around your finger as you walked down the hallway on your floor.
Unlocking the door, you stepped inside and shut it, placing your purse on the counter and taking out the flyers, rushing over to your suit case and flipping it open, rummaging through. You grumbled as you began pulling stuff out, zipping open pockets and shaking the bag, about to freak out when the blue folder fell out. “Aha!”
You cracked it open, smiling when you confirmed the important papers such as your W2 as well as birth certificate. You rose to your feet and it in your purse, finish out your wallet to make sure you had your I.D as well as social security, tossing it back into the bag and sliding it back over your shoulder, setting out your house once again to go get your new job.
You felt a small amount of anxiety boiling in your stomach as the sun started to set, the main street of Senoia, only get louder and louder, even through your shut window. Your eyes flickered down to your pressed uniform, sharply exhaling as you checked the time on your phone and unlocked it, rereading the schedule over and over again. It was about five-thirty, and you needed to be there at six.
Hooking your phone up to get some more charge as you stripped out your regular clothed and into your work ones, humming pleasantly as you looked the mirror. The shirt was tight but loose fit, and the pants covered your ankles. It was an all black uniform, ‘Nic & Norman’s’ in the left corner embroidered in white.
To keep your hair out the way, but still stylish, you tied it back into two high and curly space buns. You decided to go for a simple cat eye liner look, sticking on a pair of lashes instead of mascara this time. A few quick swipes of a rose pink gloss, and a couple spritz’s of your most expensive perfume, you were done and ready to go.
As you slipped a pair of black tennis shoes on, you still had a lingering feeling of nerves in your tummy. This wasn’t your first job obviously, but this was you first waitress job. The woman you had spoken too, who’s name you learned was Tyler, reassured you that you were a perfect fit.
Standing in the mirror one last time, you gave yourself a good look over to make sure you looked professional and presentable, hopefully also tippable.
You tossed your purse over your shoulder, and draped a sweater over yourself, flipping off all the lights and shutting the front door behind you, locking it and stuffing your keys inside.
Just as you expected, the air was brisk and much cooler than it had been when the sun was still high in the sky, night falling over the streets and Senoia’s street lighting itself up, restaurants now more alive than ever. As you walked with a small crowd, you observed how almost everyone was now dressed in more proper attire, nicely ironed suits paired to modestly short dresses.
The outside seating of Nic & Norman’s was already packed full when you arrived, swinging the door open to find the inside seats equally as stuffed. You felt your nerves soaring this time, and tried not to awkwardly duck your head down as you walked into the kitchen, feeling like a foreigner.
“Y/n! Thank fuck!” Tyler gasped from behind you, making you jump slightly. “I’ve got salads and burgers wedged so far up m’fuckin’ ass” She grumbled, grabbing you by thw wrist and pulling you quickly through the clamoring kitchen into a back office.
She dropped down onto a seat, sighing heavily. “Is it like this every night?” You asked, a little more scared then you should be.
“Sometimes. If m’not mistaken, one of the owners should be coming tomorrow. Boy do I sure hope it’s Norman” Tyler sighed, dreamily at the end. She stared off into space with a small smile, and you looked around the room, looking at the overflowing cubbies. “Shit sucks. Ya’ can stick yer stuff with mine” She spoke, snapped out her trance and pointing at a pile a good distance away from the rest. “It’s okay. People know not ta’ fuck with m’shit” Tyler added when she saw the wary look on your face.
“So, who exactly is ‘Nic and Norman’?” You question, and Tyler’s mouth drops.
“You don’t know who Greg Nicotero and Norman Reedus are?” You shook your head, brows furrowed in pure confusion. Maybe you did know them, you just never were very big on putting faces to names.
Tyler whipped out her phone, but frowned. “Shit girl, forgot we had a job ta’ be doin’. Don’ even stress. Ya’ look real good. Shirt fits ya’ good too. Yer gon be loaded up with tips, ‘nd m’sure ya’ can handle tha’ creeps” She rose to her feet, checking her own makeup in the camera lense of her phone before pocketing it. “And don’ try ta’ be fuckin’ superman and carry thirty plates at a time. Pro-tip, learn some Tetris” Tyler swiped a new layer of gloss on her lips, and tossed it into her pocket, pulling you back through the busy kitchen.
“Luckily they print tha’ table number tha’ food is fer on tha’ ticket, so tha’ chef’s started ta’ put tickets with plates, so when ya come here, just find yer table” She explained quickly yet simply, each word she spoke going in one ear and echoing in the other, turning themselves on loop.
Tyler poked her head out the kitchen, looking around before she beckoned someone over. A young man came jogging over, and she pulled him inside by his shirt. Damn if she didn’t play around.
“This is Javi, one of our hosts tonigh’.” Tyler gestured to his with her hands, and he waved politely. “Javi is gon’ show ya’ yer table section. From this point on, m’gon be nothin’ but a blur ta’ ya” She placed a hand on your shoulder, smiling at you before turning and picking up the plates from earlier, easily balancing them on her arms and kicking open the kitchen door, out onto the floor.
A awkward moment of silence passed between you and the young man, not really quiet, but there were no words spoken as he swiped through something on an iPad, brows slightly furrowed. “You’re um, you’re y/n right?” He mumbled, and you nodded.
Javi motioned for you to follow him with his head, and he led you out into the loud dining area, bringing you over towards the bar. “See those four tables there?” He pointed, and you had to follow his finger, nodding when you spotted the four booths he was pointing to. “All yours. They can hold up to like ten people, so good luck.” You grimaced at that, feeling your stomach do flips.
“Here. Can’t be a waitress without your notepad. Or a pen” Javi joked, and you smiled kindly at him, thanking him. As you did, a new wave of people entered, prompting Javi to go over and get them situated. You watched as he seated the new guests, and pulled a group waiting from the lobby, grabbing their menus and leading them over to your section.
He came back over, mouthing ‘all yours’ before disappearing into the kitchen.
You took a few, shaky and deep breaths, before putting on your friendliest face and approaching the table.
Luckily, it was just a simple family, mom and dad with their two kids who seemed to be well over the age of ten. You greeted them with a kind smile, “Welcome to Nic & Norman’s, my name is Y/n and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you started on any drinks?” You clicked your pen, pressing it into the pad of paper.
The mother smiled back at you, “You guys sure are busy! I bet it’s always exciting when they come to town, huh?” She glanced back at her menu, acting as if she hadn’t left you totally clueless.
“Yeah. It’s only my first day here so I’m a little nervous” You confess, brushing off her earlier statement. “Gosh! Well, guess we’re testing you now!” She laughed, and you laughed as well, only a tad unnerved. “I think I’ll just do a simple cocktail” You nodded, writing down at the top of the pad. Her son ordered a strawberry lemonade, her daughter a soda, and her dad a beer.
“I’ll have those right out for you guys” You clicked your pen once again, and quickly walked away, retreating back into the kitchen.
You pushed the doors open, but frowned at the loud clamoring and multiple orders being shuffled out. No way in hell would your drinks be done in a reasonable time. You exited out the kitchen, glancing around when you had a lightbulb moment.
“Psst, hey muscle man” You called to the bartender, leaning against the counter. “Think you could make these real fast?” You held out the drink ticket, wiggling it as you flirtatiously smiled and batted your lashes.
He stammered for a second, “muscle man?” glancing down at himself and feeling a heat rise to his cheeks. What could you say? You knew a strong man when you saw one.
You kept your hand outstretched, motioning for him to take it.
“Do I even know you?” He raised a brow, and you shook your head. “Nope. But you should do it anyways” You smile, and he frowns, taking the paper from your hand. You spot Javi leaving your section, throwing you a glance and a thumbs up, and you tap the bartop. “I’m counting on you, Hercules”
You approach your second table, and feel a hint of annoyance surge through you as you discover it’s a group of men. Very loud ones at that. You put on your best fakest smile, clicking your pen against your leg as you spoke. “Welcome to Nic & Norman’s, my name is Y/n and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get a round of drinks going for you gentlemen?”
One of the men whistled, “Well ain’t you just somethin’ pretty to look at” letting out a very country laugh.
A few of the other men let out laughs, and you simply smiled, more of ‘I wish I was off the clock so I could rock you’ smile, but still a smile. “Yeah. I’m also here to get you guys something to drink” You joked, knowing men tipped more when you gave into their antics.
"Let the woman do her job, Bill" Another man said to him, nudging him with his arm and he swatted them away. You tapped your pen against the paper, trying not to hurt one of them. Thankfully they made things easy and agreed to order a round of beer. You murmured that you'd be back, quickly walking out of the section to the bar.
When you walked over, you could see the family's drinks sitting on top of the counter and swapped out the drink tickets when you stopped before them. It was a little awkward trying to carry four drinks at once, struggling as you kept picking up and putting the cups downs.
“See? Wha' did I say?” Tyler spoke as she suddenly appeared next to you, placing a hand on her hip. “Tryin’ be some kind of fuckin’ avenger when yer jus’ makin’ yerself look goofy” She scoffed and held out her dish tray, watching as you placed the drinks down on it.
You took it from her with a sheepish look. "Thanks, Just a bit on edge" You told her, and she placed both her hands on your shoulders, smiling softly at you. "Don' be. Yer a natural. Jus' keep doin' wha' yer doin'" She gave you a salute and was gone as quickly as she had come.
Sighing sharply, you walk the tray of drinks over to the family with a smile and hand them, listening to the mother awe over the colors of her cocktail. "How pretty! I think we're all ready to order, right?" She glanced at her family for their confirmation, and you pulled your notepad out, tucking your tray under your arm. The mother ordered a margarita flatbread, her husband ordering a whiskey salmon, and her kids both ordering a classic hamburger. "I'll have those out for you guys shortly" You smiled once you had their order scribbled down, collecting their menus and leaving them be.
You walked past the men's table, briefly letting them know you were coming back with their beers, and dropped the menus off to the front where Javi was standing, getting the next group of people seated. "Y/n, I'm gonna stick these folks in your section. Hand me those" He said as he turned to you, taking the menus from your hand and leading them to your third table. You weren't doing too bad if you did say so yourself.
Thanks to the help of the tray, loading up the round of beers for the men wasn't much of a hassle at all. When they saw you approaching with the mugs filled to the bim, they whooped and hollered, prompting you to shush them as they began to collect eyes nearby. Instead of handing out the drinks like you did with the last table, you simply let them take their respective mug off the tray, knocking their glasses together. "I'm guessing you fellas are ready to order huh?" You give them your best show, even jutting your hip out a little. Don't get mad at a girl for using her resources.
"You bet'cha sweet ass we are, and this big boy wants a steak" The one they call Bill piped up once again, drumming on his belly as he spoke. A few laughs erupted from the table, and you felt your eye twitching. "How would you like that cooked?" You mumbled, smile just barely clinging to your face. "Medium-rare. I like mines to be pink on the inside" He laughed gravelly, and you tried to act like he wasn't comparing a steak to someone's vagina.
The same man nudged Bill, this time a little harder and more serious than last time. "Sorry 'bout him. I'll do the medallions" You nodded at him as you wrote down his order, murmuring how it was alright. The other men just started to throw their orders out there, placing their menus down in the middle once you had their request scribbled down. You gathered all the menus and dropped them off to the front, exhaling as you made your way to the kitchen in order to get your tables food started.
As you pushed the door open, you groaned when you saw how chaotically busy it was getting, loud chattering and banging filling the space. Orders were lined up and quickly being pushed out, some of the other waiters brushing past with their own trays of food in hand. Glancing around for someone, you awkwardly handed off the papers to the nearest chef. Getting ready to exit out the kitchen, feeling as though you were in the way the sound of applause rang out from the front, and all movement around seem to freeze for split second. You all looked around at each other, mirroring faces of confusion before Tyler came barreling through the doors.
"Norman fucking Reedus just fucking walked in and I swear on everythin' I love I'm gon’ go absloutely mad" She rambled, bouncing with energy.
“I thought he wasn’t supposed to come til tomorrow?” The head chef spoke, rising a brow from where he was manning a large grill.
Tyler rolled her eyes, charging towards rhe back office. “Who cares? He’s here now ‘nd I need ta’ make sure I look good!” She got about halfway, before turning back around grabbing you by the wrist, resuming her mission to the office.
Inside, she shuffled over to hee stuff, digging through a backpack and pulling out a makeup bag, plopping down in a seat and pulling up the lens of her phone. “So what’s the big deal?”
“Wha’s tha’ big deal?” Her eyes almost bulged out of her head, staring at you in shock and a bit of horror. “Oh, nothin’, jus’ tha’ he’s tha’ sexiest guy in Hollywood”
You scoffed at her, “Sexy ain’t nothing if he’s shit in the sheets” shaking your head.
Tyler groaned, curling her lashes carefully. “Ya’ don’ even know wha’ yer talkin’ ‘bout. He’s a munch, certifiable”
“Psh. I’ll believe that when I see it.” You say, turning to walk out the office and get a look at this guy for yourself.
“Wait!” Tyler held out her hand, rising to her feet. “Yer not leavin’ without a little touchup. One of us is gettin’ lucky tonight and it’s gon’ be me. If ya’ fuck him, I want all them details” She spoke as she maneuvered you to sit in the chair, tilting your your head up and insecpting your face.
“If I do fuck him it’ll just be so I can get ahold of his wallet” You murmur, closing your eyes as she dusted the lids of them with glitter, brushing some down the bridge of your nose. “Well ya’ better share some with me” She pinched your nose, and you swatted playfully at her, smirking. “I’ll think about it”
She swipes a glossy layer of gloss over your lips, before her own, tossing the contents of her makeup back into the bag and the bag back into her backpack. The kitchen has returned to loud clamoring and pots and pans being banged together, servers dashing in and out with their orders.
Nearby by, the food for your first table was waiting patiently for you, and you gasped softly. “Oh wow this stuff actually looks really good!”
Tyler held out the dish tray for you, again, holding it with both hands and verbally helping you to cram all four dishes on there, the flatbread being a long and awkward dish. “The salmon is super good. I probably done’ forced the kitchen ta’ make it fer m’bout a hundred times now” She laughed as she spoke, gingerly handing off the the tray to you. “Don’ drop nothin’”
“Now why would you even say that?” You roll your eyes at her, and lightly kick her shin, turning on your heel quickly to walk out the kitchen when she frowned your actions.
You pushed the door open with your hip and walked back out into the busy dining area, a smile on your face as you approached the family with their food, placing the tray down on the table so you could hand out their plates easily. The mother helped by taking her flatbread off, humming as she made sure it was exactly what she had wanted. “Could I get anything else for you folks tonight?” You politely asked, sliding the tray off the table and back under your arm. “Nope! Thank you, you’ve been so kind and helpful” The woman smiled back at you, and you slightly bowed your head before leaving them to their meal.
“I should be back with you guys food as well. Another round while we wait?” You stopped by the mens table, observing their almost empty mugs and giving a thumbs up at their rowdy agreement. “And my apologies for the wait. At least you had plenty of menu looking time right?” You joked lightly as you finally approached your third table for the night, a small group of friends who seemed like easy people to deal with.
“Ahaha, not much. We were pretty hung up on drinks. I think we’re all gonna try the Bloody Nicotero” One of the women spoke, glancing around the table for her friends confirmations. They all nodded in agreement, and another girl requested for a cup of water. “Would you like table water? For all of you!” They nodded, and you scribbled down the few drinks. “I’ll be right back with those” You smile at them, and as soon as you walk out the section it totally drops.
“Hey, muscle man!” You called out to him, leaning over the bartop. He eyed you from the side, finishing the drink he was currently pouring before moving over to you, a brow raised. “I have a name y’know” He pointed to the tag, but you ignored him, raising your own finger and pointing to the group’s order. “What the hell is a bloody Nekot… Nickote- Tar?-“
“Nicotero. And it really packs a punch” A man spoke suddenly from behind you, making you instinctively jump with your hands raised. “My God! Didn’t your momma teach you not to walk up behind people?” You huffed and put a hand over your thumping heart, turning back to the bartender to promptly ignore the asshole behind you.
“So like I was saying- What? Why’re you looking like that?” You glance at his stun face, and turn back to the man behind you, a curious smile tugging his lips. “Are you Nicotero?” You quirk a brow, and the bartender sputters.
The man lets out a light chuckle, shaking his head which made his wavy curls bounce. His hair was fair dark and stopped at his shoulders, his bangs attractively pushed back by a pair of sunglasses. He was pretty tall, and very well built, eyes lingering on his musclar arms longer than they should’ve. Your eyes flickered down to the skull inked on his hand, and then back up to his face.
“Nope. Nicotero is the other guy. I’m just Norman” His voice was smooth and rich, but not quite deep. It had a light and airy feel to it, very gentle on the ears.
Norman. Norman… “Reedus?” He nodded. Oh, well, shit. “Don’ know if you were aware of this pretty girl but I own this place” He spoke casually and easily.
“I wasn’t actually. I’ve only lived here for a week” You told him, watching as the bartender busied himself with your group’s drinks, as well as the men’s beers. “And this is my first day working here, and right now you, Norman, are being a distraction”
He raised a bow, smile only growing across his lips as he spoke. “That’s just what I do best darling”
You placed the tray down on the bartop and assist the man in fitting both the bloodies and waters onto the platter, slowly and very carefully picking it up.
Norman stepped out your way, and as you shuffled past him you stopped to whisper in his ear. “I feel like there’s a lot else you do best” You murmured, flirtatiously winking and walking into your section, greeting the friend group with a smile.
“Got your drinks here folks, heard these things knock your socks off so good luck” You joke as you hand out straws, clicking your pen and flipping through your notepad. “Is everyone ready to order?” You press the tip of the pen into the paper, writing down the first order shouted out and going down the line. There was a simple mix of burgers and salads, a few people had special requests on how they wanted their food to be which you wrote underneath, small but big at the same time.
You collected their menus, letting them know you'd have their food out shortly and whisking away, dropping the menus off at the front and walking quickly to the kitchen, glancing at Javi who seemed to be conversing with Norman. You pushed the door open and huffed a sigh of relief when the men's food was sitting there waiting. Placing the tray down, you loaded the plates on the best you could, having to carry two of them out with your other hand, balancing one on your forearm.
Another waitress saw you as she entered the kitchen, and she politely held the door open for you, nodding as you thanked her on your way out.
"Not gonna drop that are you?" Javi questioned when you walked back past, causing Norman to turn and glance at you.
You continue walking away, a smirk pulling your lips. "Not if you stop talking" The feeling of eyes lingering on your back makes a chill run up your spine, and part of you swears that you can feel butterflies in your stomach.
The men see you approaching their table, and at first, they start cheering but quiet down when they realize you were balancing heavy plates, resuming their celebration once the food is safely placed on the table. You call out the names of dishes to find their rightful owner, watching the men grab their plates and eagerly start eating, satisfied groans sounding from the table. With that, you left them to eat and returned back to the family, who was chatting amongst themselves and seemed finished with their food, most of it half eaten.
"Would you guys like some to-go boxes?" You smile, and the mother nods, "Yes please, and you can bring the tab as well," mirroring the kind smile you gave her.
You informed her you'd be right back with that, quickly walking out of the section and to the kitchen, glancing around. "Where's Tyler?" You asked a nearby chef, and he furrowed his brows, tilting his head in confusion. You repeated your question, a little louder this time, and he made an 'O' face, pointing to the office. You thanked him, and made your way back there, knocking before creaking the door open.
"What are you doing?" You stare at her, sitting in the chair with a tall cup and her phone in her hand. "Wha'? I needed my coffee" She shrugged, a smile playing on her lips. "Talk to my beloved husband yet?" You rolled your eyes at that, stepping inside the office, but catching yourself. "Wait! Uh, my first table is ready to pay"
"Oh!" Tyler kicked herself off the chair, stretching and taking another sip of her caffeine. "C'mere, lemme show ya'" She said as she ushered you out. She led you through the kitchen, bringing you to a section behind the door you hadn't even noticed was there.
There was a computer with a list of waiters and waitresses on them, table numbers as well as totals on it. You spotted your name, and read the first tables total, which actually wasn't a bad price at all. "Jus' click tha', and then the huge print button" Tyler pointed, tapping the screen as she explained. The machine behind the computer whizzed to life, printing out a receipt. "They want boxes?" She questioned and you nodded, watching as she reached her hand down and pulled four to-go boxes out. You took them from her silently, blinking as if she had just performed a magic trick.
Tyler tore the receipt out of the machine, clicking her pen and scribbling something down. As she did, the machine began to print once again, and Tyler pulled out a slim booklet from underneath. "It prints twice 'cause tha' second receipt is tha' one tha' customer signs" She said as she took the paper out the machine, sticking it into the booklet, and handing it to you.
You took it from her with a smile. "Thanks. I did talk to Norman, and he's alright. Nothing too special" She gawked at your words, and started to playfully smack you with her hands. "Ugh! Ya' don' know wha' yer yappin' 'bout! Tha' man will change yer life" She harped, voice fading as you walked out the kitchen, lips stuck in a smile as you brought over your first tab of the night.
The rest of your shift went by with a breeze, the number of people coming in was now lessening and coming in pairs of two and four. It wasn't as busy anymore, and the air around seemed to be less tense.
You only had about one more hour left before you were done, and had about two tables still waiting for their food. You were ecstatic that your first night had gone by without any mishaps or complaints, having received generous tips from all your tables throughout.
On your way back to the kitchen to check on your last few orders, you spotted Norman sitting alone at the bar with a small drink in hand as he seemed to do something on his phone. You aren't sure what came over you, but you found yourself quietly approaching from behind.
"Shouldn't you be riding away in a limo back to your mansion?" He jumped slightly at the sudden sound of your voice, turning towards you with a small smile. "Maybe, but I didn't wanna leave without getting to know you better" You raised a brow at that. "Seriously? I'm just a waitress. Shouldn't you be like screwing around with models?"
Norman laughed at that, shaking his head a little. "Who's to say you aren't a model?"
"Well, aren't you just a real charmer" You giggled, feeling a heat rising to your cheeks. "What? You wanna take me home or something?" You said jokingly, standing more off to his side now.
You observed the look on his face, soft, interested, yet so dark. His piercing blue eyes shamelessly raked over your figure, tongue darting out over his lips. "Yeah. I really do" He whispered, eyes landing on yours. "Can I?"
"Not very celeb-like taking home staff don't you think?" You hummed, taking his drink and downing the rest, a mix between whiskey and coke. "It would be quite unprofessional for you to take me to your house when I get off in thirty minutes, very unprofessional indeed" You sensually mumbled, tossing him a final cheeky glance before disappearing into the kitchen, almost sprinting to the back office to go find Tyler, giddy smile tugging your lips.
Staring at his now empty glass, head resting in his hand, Norman couldn't help the way his stomach flipped, excitement and anticipation building up as your words rang out in his head.
Thirty minutes had felt like a whole other hour, and you heaved a sigh of relief when you finally clocked out, purse slung over your shoulder and your sweater draped over yourself in a puny attempt to shield yourself from the cold.
Tyler had almost flipped the table over when you told her, jumping off the walls and excitedly shaking you, squealing as she rambled about all the things she thought were gonna happen, yelling that you needed to tell her every detail afterward. She even downright begged for you to get some pictures.
She had already left in her car to go home, slamming the digits of her number into your phone and pulling you into a tight hug, telling you to be safe and text her as soon as you got to your next destination, threatening to send out a search squad.
You stood outside, mindlessly rolling a rock under your foot and swiping through Insta, starting to wonder if a literal A-list celeb had just totally played in your face. Minutes went by and you started to feel a little offended, rightfully so, deciding to start making your way back home instead of waiting around like an idiot. As you were walking, you texted Tyler that you were leaving, that he had just left instead. Cars passed by and obviously none seemed to belong to someone who would own a restaurant. You scoffed, annoyed but not surprised.
As you rounded the corner to the street of your apartment building, you just so happened to crash into somebody smoking a cigarette, of coursing falling onto your ass like a dumbfuck.
"Damn, tryna run away from me gorgeous?" Norman's light voice sounded, and you blinked your eyes into focus. "Been looking for you" You grumbled as he easily lifted you off the ground, taking a drag from the cigarette. "Sorry. I get bored sitting still for too long" He shrugged, smiling cheekily at you. "Ready to go?"
"Go where? My house is right there" You shook your head, gesturing towards the building.
Norman waved his hand, dismissing you. "Nah. Gonna take you for a little ride. C'mon," He took a final pull, stubbing his cig out on the wall and motioning for you to follow him.
He led you back down the sidewalk and a little distance from the restaurant, making easy and light conversation. It felt like you had known him forever with the way he casually joked around with you, your heart fluttering a little each time he laughed.
He walked you over to a sleek and shiny motorcycle, standing on the other side of it with his hand held out, offering you some help with climbing onto the back of his bike. "A romantic bike ride? And here I thought you had ghosted me" You laughed when he himself straddled the bike, the engine roaring to life.
"Ghosted? Someone like you? Never doll" Norman chuckled over the rumble of his bike, kicking the stand out and rolling out the parking lot, glancing both ways for any passing cars.
You wrapped your arms around his middle when he started to pick up speed, turning off Senoia's main road and revving the engine, motorcycle quickly shooting forward. "Not so fast!" You gasp, tightening your hold. He laughed, patting one of your hands with his. You put your head on his shoulder to get a better view of the road, catching a strong whiff of his very expensive-smelling cologne, an exotic herbal smell that attracted you to him more, a heat shooting down to your core.
Norman caught a glimpse of your lust-filling eyes in his side mirror, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he knew he was in for a treat tonight, almost instinctively revving his engine again to speed up, but obeyed your request to not go too fast. He drove with the flow of traffic, listening to you awe over the lights and buildings. "Ever been to Atlanta?"
"Atlanta? Wh-why are we going there?" You stammered, taken aback since well, that was bit of a distance.
"Oh no doll, we aren't going. Yer just back there 'oh'ing and 'awe'ing I figured not" Norman chuckled, laughing when you smacked his shoulder. "Hold on, we're almost there" This time he revved his engine again, weaving between cars.
It made you feel like a teenager again, getting whisked away at night to some random guys house for an hour or two of fun, just to be dropped off somewhere unknown but close to home. It brought you back to your early twenties also, the years having been filled with nothing but hungover days and drunken nights, latching onto some poor guy who was willing to buy you every shot you down, likely in hopes of getting laid.
Sitting on the back of Norman’s bike however, something your gut told you this would be a little more than just a plain hook-up. Tyler’s words rang out in your head, and you couldn’t help but start to wonder if this really would change your life.
The traffic on the road dispersed as he drove further out, eventually turning down a quiet and dirt road.
“Whoa, I ain’t about to get murdered am I?” You joked, but you were really asking.
Norman chuckled, squeezing your hand and even looping his fingers through. “Nah. I’d take you out somewhere pretty”
“You wanna take me out or take me to bed?” You wiggled your fingers in his hold as a mock wiggle of the brows.
“Maybe I wanna do both”
Jesus, this man was something else.
The dirt road continued out for a couple of miles out, gravel and rocks crunching under the spinning tires of his bike. The road seemed to be hidden by a tall grassy field and towering trees, the only sound interrupting the peace being the rumble of Norman’s engine.
He made another turn, the tall field of grass seeming endlessly as he drove until you could barely make out what looked like houses at the top of a field. Shit, maybe he really was gonna murder you?
Norman revved the engine and the motorcycle picked up speeds, whipping the cool country air into your face and probably messing up your tied hair. The large houses came closer into view, huge properties with cars in driveways and lights on. The houses were scattered, your next-door neighbor being about five normal houses away.
Norman rolled down the street at a slower speed as to not disturb his neighbors, approaching a dark and gated house. The gates opened after the man pressed a few buttons on his phone, the outside lights of the home fading on and making it look more welcoming.
The gates closed behind the two of you when he rumbled onto the large driveway, lazily parking his bike right where he was.
This time you didn’t need any help, swinging yourself off the motorcycle and immediately tossing your arms up to stretch as you stared at the literal mansion you were about to walk into.
“C’mon. Did you get a chance to eat?” Norman placed a hand on your hip and led you to the front door, some fancy thumbprint technology letting him in.
“Not yet,” You smile softly as you enter the home, standing in the boxed-off foyer. “I got whisked away before I could escape back home”
“Well, I surely didn’t bring you here to starve you. Take your shoes off, I’ll mix something up” Norman said as he took his own shoes off, socked feet quiet against his wooden floors.
You toed off your own shoes next to his and followed, staring in awe at the midsized entrance. Two staircases descended on either side, leading to an equally large-looking upstairs with a small balcony.
Straight ahead, there was an opening that led out to the spacious main area, tall industrial windows covered the walls in the living room, paired with ceiling-to-floor navy blue curtains tied back so as to probably let in the earlier sunlight. The kitchen was big as well, with dark and wooden cabinets matched to grey ash-colored granite counters with specs of black obsidian throughout.
You had never seen such a gorgeous home, marveling at how clean it was. It had a luxurious feel while still being homely at the same time, a few paintings and sculptures hung up on the walls, sitting on table tops.
“This place is beautiful,” You said after taking a minute to fully appreciate the decor, resting your hip against the counter. “Do you live here?” You placed your purse down.
Norman laughed from somewhere, rounding a corner with an expensive-looking bottle of whiskey. “For the moment. I’m usually out in New York, but I have to be here for some work” You watched as he poured two glasses, handing you one a small smile.
You clinked the glasses together and both threw them back, the liquid burning your throat as well as your chest. “What do you do for work?” You said as you cleared your throat.
“Well right now we’re shooting,” Norman said casually, turning and opening the large fridge.
“A movie?” You question, pulling at the collar of your shirt.
The man chuckled slightly, “Do you have any ideaa who I am?” turning to you with a playful smile tugging his lips.
You scoffed, cheeks heating up a little bit because, well, “No, not really. My co-worker seemed to be a fan though”
“Oh really now? What’d she tell you?” Norman quipped, chopping and tossing the ingredients for what you could see was a really stuffed chicken salad.
“That you were the sexiest guy in Hollywood” He laughed at that, and you couldn’t help but stare at his broad shoulders from behind, watching his back muscles as he fixed the food.
“Well?” He said after a minute, and you realized you had zoned out. “What?”
Norman glanced at you, a dark look in his blue eyes. “Do you agree with her?”
You stared at him for a moment, before slowly approaching, stopping only a few centimeters short from him.
“Make me agree with her” You whispered, batting your lashes as you ran your finger up his arm.
Norman halted his movements, staring at you before his eyes flickered down to your lips, not hesitating to lean down and kiss them.
“Ya’ ain’t got no clue what you’re askin’ for, doll” He rasped, disregarding the half-made salad as he gripped your waist, lifting you off your feet and onto the island top, slotting himself between your legs as he moved to capture your lips in another kiss, this one way more eager and heated.
You moaned softly into his mouth as his hands caressed and fondled your waist, sliding down to your hips and pulling you closer against him, pressed his bulge into your clothed cunt.
He kissed you calculated yet sloppily, tongue swirling around in your mouth as his fingers slipped under your uniform. You hooked an arm around the back of his neck and bit down on his bottom lip, hard enough to where he groaned painfully. “Come on, impress me already”
“Whadd’ya want from me?” Norman started to kiss and lick your neck, but you yanked his head back by his hair, for starters yanking the pokey sunglasses off. “I wanna see what you’ve got, maybe like,” You trailed a hand down his chest, pushing him hard so he stumbled into the counter behind him. “What you’ve got in your pants?”
You kicked yourself off the island, pulling the hair ties out your hair and fluffing it out, dropping down to crawl over to Norman, evil smile taking over your lips as you scratched your nails down his denim jeans, mouthing and placing open mouth kisses over his straining cock.
Norman groaned above you, “Think ya can handle it?” a hand coming down and tangling into your hair.
“Can you handle it?” You retort, taking the zipper of his jeans between your teeth and unzipping them, popping the button open.
You tugged his boxers down, very unexpectedly getting smacked in the face by his cock, a good thick eight inches. His tip was red and leaky, the veins running along his shaft pulsating. You had been with your fair share of big guys, but Norman was quite impressive, your fingers stretching when you wrapped them around him.
You gave him a few experimental strokes, playfully looking up at him through your lashes as you run your tongue from his balls, all the way up to the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it and taking it into your mouth, sucking the salty pre-cum off.
Norman’s hips jerked slightly, a mumble of curses falling from his lips as he tightened his grip on your hair. “M’not gonna be very nice to ya’ if you keep it up” He grunted, his face a little flushed.
“Didn’t want you to be nice in the place” You mused as you licked down the sides of his throbbing dick, smearing spit from your tongue as you went along. “Such a big cock but do you even know how to use it?”
Norman scoffed slightly, “Ya’ really don’t know who I am” rolling his hips when you took only his tip past your lips.
“Gonna show me?” You wiggled your butt a little, a surge of excitement coursing through you when rough hands gathered all your hair in one. “Yup, gon’ make you remember it too. Open that little bratty ass mouth wide” He tugged your head back, and you moaned, stretching open your lips as well curling your tongue inside your mouth.
Norman slowly slid himself inside, grunting at the warm wetness engulfing him as he leisurely rocked his hips, thrusting half his cock past your lips. There was an uncomfortable stretch the more he pushed in, a slight burning sensation as he worked himself in.
“I know this pretty throat can take a lot more, c’mon girl” Norman rasped, tilting your head further back and holding himself at his base, pushing in until his tip hit the back of your throat.
You relaxed your gag muscles, staring up at him innocently as you started to slide the head of his cock down, Norman letting out a thick hum as his grip in your hair tightened and his eyes fluttered, his hips jerking forward. He snapped the rest of his length suddenly down into your throat, a harsh grunt coming from him when your moan vibrated through him.
He pulled his hips back and sent them forward again, going smoothly back down in one thrust, repeating this action a few times. Norman watched how all his cock disappeared past your plush lips, nose nuzzled in his well-trimmed pubes before he pulls his hips back, leaving only the tip in before fully sliding right back down.
You squeezed your thighs together each time he plunged his cock into your mouth, eyes rolling shut as he started to increase his pace, only pulling himself out halfway now.
“Takin’ me so well gorgeous,” Norman said in a low, husky drawl. “S’like ya’ were made for this”
He was practically humping your face at this point, his own a bright shade of red as pants, and small gasps came from him, flat-out fucking your mouth. Each little noise that came from him made your cunt throb.
Speaking of throbbing, you could feel the way Norman’s cock was pulsating in your throat, deep and shaky grunts starting to come from him. His hips sped up, the sound of his balls slapping against your chin slightly echoing in the spaciousness, the soft gagging of his cock abusing your throat only heard between the two of you, followed soon by Norman’s heavy whimpers, grip on your hair impossibly tight.
His hips stuttered, cock twitching and spasming as he spilled deep inside your throat, trying your best to swallow but you sputtered around him, cum dribbling from the sides of your mouth.
Norman pulled himself out from your mouth, groaning softly at the cool air hitting his sloppy dick as it rested still painfully hard against your equally messy lips, gasping as you stared up at him.
“Impressed yet?” He raised a brow, out of breath himself.
You ran your tongue over your top lip, tasting his bitter release with a smile. “I thought you weren’t gonna be nice? I think you’re being quite boring if you ask me” You teasingly spoke.
Norman smirked, “Who said I was done? By the time m’done with ya’, your body will remember the shape of my cock” He said, snapping himself all the way back down into your throat, not wasting any time before he was fucking into it. He was still a little sensitive from his first orgasm, each bump of his tip pulling a husky whine from him.
It didn’t take long at all before he was already starting to get weak in the knees, each thrust feeling better than the last. He increased his pace, breathing picking up as small whimpers and gasps fell from his lips, a few final strokes before he was cumming down your throat, holding you flush against his navel as you swallowed the best you could.
He pulled out, leaving only the head of his cock on your tongue as he rutted against it, drawing out his orgasm until he was spent, cock softening when he pulled completely out.
You swallowed his load while staring right into his eyes, fluttering your lashes with your bottom lip caught between your teeth.
“Salad can wait. I wanna see wha’s hidin’ under this uniform” Norman said as he suddenly leaned down, scooping you up and tossing you over a sturdy shoulder, strong arm keeping you secure by your middle.
You let out a high yelp at the change in position, bouncing slightly as he trudged out of the kitchen, tugging at your pants as he climbed the stairs. He tossed them somewhere for you to hunt down in the morning, letting out a satisfied chuckle at your round backside, smacking a bubbly cheek. You giggled around a moan, especially when he firmly squeezed that cheek and spread it, helping himself to the view of your soaked panties, a dark red with black lace.
He pushed open a door to a huge and luxurious bedroom, the bed he dropped you on feeling like a cloud pulled straight out of the sky. Norman tore his shirt off, you doing the same as he dipped down, dragging his lips and teeth across your dark skin, sucking and biting as he explored your exposed collarbone.
You groaned and shamelessly wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him down to feel his already-hardening cock against your wet heat. Norman seemed to have something different in mind.
“Wanna sit on my face, sweet girl?” He murmured into your ear, brushing curly hair out your face. “Did so well fer me, gotta return the favor”
“You don’t gotta ask me twice,” You said in a honeyed voice, using your legs to flip your positions.
Norman landed with a small sound, looking up at you as you rolled your hips down on where you had his cock trapped between your two bodies. His hands traveled up to your waist, caressing and fondling the deep skin.
You looked like a goddess straddling him, curly hair flowing everywhere and framing your upper half, Norman’s eyes flickering down to your black bra where your tits were practically spilling out. You crawled towards his face, dragging your core heat up his abs and pressing it on his chest, towering angelically above him.
“I hope you don’t disappoint me” You tease, lifting yourself up onto your knees as you stuff your panties to the side, heart racing a little.
Norman licked his lips, hands squeezing your hips as he watched you toy with your clit. “Wouldn’t be able to forgive myself” He whispered, tugging you towards him.
You lowered yourself down, Norman more so pulling you down onto his waiting tongue, licking a warm stripe up your aching cunt, a pleased moan coming from you as you gripped the headboard, rolling your hips.
He started at your clit, flattening his tongue and giving the puffy bundle of nerves multiple hard licks, waves of electricity shooting through all your limbs, down to your tightly curled toes. He took the small bud into his mouth, sucking hard and rubbing the tip of his tongue against the raw nerves, making you gasp and rut down onto him.
Norman seemed to be enjoying himself, soft groans of his own coming from him as he started to slide his tongue between your folds, teasing your entrance before swirling around your clit, repeating the action a few more times. He used his grip on your hips to steadily rock you back and forth in time with his deep licks.
Eventually, he slid his tongue all the way inside your hole, curling it as well as thrusting it in and out. “Mmm, fuck yes, keep using that fucking tongue in me” You were almost bouncing on his face at this point, passionately moaning as he curled the wet muscle into you, harshly licking as his nose bumped against your clitoris.
His hands encouraged your movements, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass as he plunged his tongue as deep into you as he could. His cock twitched and needily ached, hips slightly jerking upward into the air. You ground your clit down on the tip of his nose, body rolling as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.
Norman could feel you clenching around his tongue, deciding to speed up your nearing orgasm by suddenly slipping out you, replacing his nose on your clit for his tongue, and filling your back up with two thick fingers, blissfully curling right into your sweet spot. You moaned loudly as one of your hands tangled in his hair, gripping roughly. Your body trembled as he fingered you in time with his tongue, bone-crushing weight washing over you as your hole spasmed around his wiggling digits, grinding down on his tongue until you just couldn’t take it anymore, groaning as you could feel your used cunt leaking juices all over his hand and face.
You were both gasping for air when you lifted yourself onto wobbly knees, Norman’s fingers slipping out as you kept yourself steady by gripping the headboard with both hands.
“Are ya’ impressed now?” He asked, audibly out of breath as he licked your slick from his glistening lips.
You scoff, smiling down at him. “A little, but I’d like to get to the main course now,” You said, swinging a leg and crawling off from above him. “No more side dishes”
Norman watched as you discarded the drenched pair of panties somewhere in the room, landing on the wooden floor with a small slap. You yanked your socks up, taking a needed second to ball them together before tossing them as well, starting to grab at Norman’s unbuttoned pants.
He helped kick them off, murmuring to you as he tugged his own socks off. “Forgot ta’ take yer bra doll”
“That’s your job, mister famous” You chuckle as he comes up behind you, hands exploring your bare melanin skin as they run up your sides, climbing and cupping your breast, circling to your back to unclasp the bra hooks. He threw the final piece of garment onto the floor, pulling you flush against his front.
He started sucking on your neck, one of his hands fondling your tit while the other snaked down to toy with your puffy clit. He rubbed his cock between your cheek, biting and licking his way to your shoulder. He pinched and rolled your nipple with his fingers, trailing his lips up the side of your neck and nibbling on your pulse.
You moaned softly when his hand dropped your tit, coming up to brush your hair out the way, gathering it in a tight but gentle grip as he tugged your head back onto his shoulder, dragging his tongue across your newly exposed throat, up the underside of your jaw till he reached your lips, capturing them in his.
Norman’s cock twitched against you when your hand joined the one still fingering your clit, scratching his skin with your nails gingerly as he slowly kissed you, deep and lustful. You blindly reached your hand behind yourself and felt around for his dick, a small grunt coming from him when your fingers grazed his tip. “Ya’ ready fer me?” He murmured against your lips.
“Been ready since I got here” You sass, dropping down onto your elbows with round hips in the air. “You better fuck me like you mean it”
A hand landed on your ass, Norman’s other still holding up your hair, grip a little tighter now as he burned the image of your arch into his head, the hand he spanked you with spreading your cheek, thumbing your pussy as he pressed his tip to your entrance, greedily sucking him in.
He was big, but you were so wet and dripping to the point he just completely slid in, unrestrained groan coming out his chest as his entire cock was swallowed up and wrapped in your squishy walls, almost immediately starting to find a rhythm with his hips.
Norman’s fingers curled into the fat flesh of your ass, “Takin’ all of m’so goddamn well baby girl, could fuck this pussy for fuckin’ days” spreading you apart so he could watch the way his cock was sliding into you and blissfully stretching you open.
“Pound me already, I thought you were gonna be a meanie tonight” You drawl as you roll your head from side to side, pushing back needily against him.
He gripped your hair at the roots suddenly, yanking it roughly to pull you up onto your arms, almost pulling himself all the way out before slamming right into a sensitive bundle of nerves, mewl of pleasure racking your body as he started to relentlessly and mercilessly thrust into your body, so deep that you thought he was actually in your stomach for a moment.
You gasped and sputtered as he pulled you back by your hair in time with his harsh hips, huffing as he started to fuck you with all his strength. Each slam of his hips sent his cock flying into your cervix, each one leaving you more breathless than the last. “Got real quiet all of a sudden girl. This wha’ ya’ want?”
Norman’s fingers were fisted in your hair, the sound of skin slapping against skin reverberated in the large room, bed quietly squeaking as he railed you, watching how each forward thrust of his hips made your ass bounce, a wet sound coming from where his balls slapped against your clit.
“Yes, Oh fuck yes,” You mewl, eyes rolling back as your toes curled. “Harder, I know you can fuck me so much harder” Norman groans at your words, yanking you back onto your knees flush against his front and wrapping a hand around your throat, dropping his grip in curly hair to tightly grip your hip, jamming the entirety of his cock into your body, poking spots you didn’t even know were there.
He quickly resumed his unforgiving pace, pounding into you so deep and so rough, you choked out small sobs with each hit of his tip, gasping as you started to lose air. It was everything Tyler told you it would be and more, dots starting to cloud your vision and prickle under your skin, clenching as you could feel each thrust send you further and further to the edge.
You can tell Norman can feel it too, resting his sweaty forehead against your shoulder as he starts to lose rhythm slightly, pace not faltering as his cock twitches inside you, so tight and hot, your cunt squeezing his full dick like never before. It made Norman’s head fuzzy and a little dizzy, fueling the buzz he had from the earlier alcohol, though he only had about maybe three drinks total tonight. He was purely drunk off your body, letting out a soft whimper as he throbbed, on the verge of his orgasm.
“Feels so good, don’ wanna pull out of ya’…” Norman mumbled as he rocked himself into you, grunting when his tip nudged against your cervix. “Might just hafta’ stuff ya’ beautiful”
You rolled your head back onto his shoulder, his grip around your throat loosening as you cheekily smiled. “Yes please, let’s make a mess” Norman mirrored your expression before reaching down and capturing your lips in a deep kiss, swirling his tongue around yours.
He pulled his hips back, leaving only the tip in before sliding all the way back inside, hungrily groaning into your mouth as he repeated the action, downright stroking his cock using your cunt. "Jus' gonna let me to fill this pretty pussy? Pump you full of all my cum?" Norman groaned, increasing his pace as his hot mouth landed on your neck, his teeth and beard scraping the skin as he continued his deep strokes, still pounding blissfully into you.
"God yes, give it all to me" You moan, rough fingers coming back up to your hair. Norman forcefully pinned your upper half down into the fluffy sheets, his other hand firmly gripping your ass as he fucked into you like an animal, shoving his whole dick into your cunt from tip to base. You let out a high keen with every unforgiving thrust, each one sending you a little closer to the edge.
Norman huskily panted, whimpering a little as he sped up, this time pulling you back onto his cock to meet his hips as he started to really fuck you, now railing into you with all his strength. Uncontrolled whines came from you, eyes rolling as his hand tightly gripped your scalp, each loud slap of his pelvis against your backside sent you lurching forward, only to be yanked back by the fistful of curly hair.
Your walls were practically milking his cock, so warm and wet around him, greedily sucking him in with every thrust, squeezing the entirety of his length as he increased his pace even more, letting out unrestrained gasps and grunts as his hips begin to stutter in their rhythm. “Fuck m’gonna fuckin’ cum” Norman chokes out, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he groaned with each hot drag of your cunt, cock twitching and throbbing inside you as he fucked himself closer and closer over the edge. “Jus’ keep fuckin’ takin’ me doll, takin’ me so damn well”
His words made you tighten up around him, and it was all he need to fly off the handle, tossing his head back as his hips sputtered, cock slipping out of your stretched hole with an audible pop, Norman softly groaning as he came all over your twitching pussy, suddenly pushing himself inside and letting out a loud, shaky whimper, fingers curling in your hair as he started to fuck into you again, followed by the filthy squleching of Norman’s cock sliding into your ruined cunt, his cum becoming a creamy mess were it was being pushed in and out, dribbling down your folds to your clit where his balls slapped lewdly against.
“So fucking good for me, ya’ve got such a perfect pussy ‘could fuck you all day” Norman purred, dipping his head down to latch onto the skin of your already marked shoulder, sinking his teeth into the flesh and shuddering when he seemed to slip impossibly deeper into you. His hand fell from your hair, both palms falling firmly on either side of your head. "Feels like a goddamn dream" He snapped forward, breathing hot in your ear and gently nibbling on it. One of your hands wrapped around his wrist, helpless gasps falling from you with each drag of his cock, feeling the throbbing veins which each thrust.
Your nails curled into his skin, eyes fluttering shut as your second orgasm built rapidly in your gut, whines of pleasure spilling past your lips. You couldn't even speak, each hard snap of his hips knocking the words straight out your chest. Norman roughly groaned in your ear, hotly kissing and licking at your bare shoulder. You were both so close, it only fueled his animalistic pace as he sped up.
Norman fisted the comforter in his hands, the skin tingling and raw from where you dug into it, little half-crescents decorating the back of his hand, and puffy lines sprouting blood on his arm, sweet sobs coming from you with every jab of his cock. Norman buried his sweaty face into the crook of your neck, sucking and biting the skin, his beard scratchy as he trailed his lips up to your pounding pulse. A breathy, shaky whimper came from him as he stuttered in his movements, pressing himself deep as he spilled into you for the second time, capturing your kiss in a greedy and heated kiss, moaning into each other's mouth as he drew out your shared orgasm.
When he pulled out with a slick pop, softly humming as the cold air hit his cock, you were both thoroughly fucked and completely worn out, panting heavily with Norman still halfway on top of you.
“Are ya' impressed yet?” He huffed out, a smirk forming on his face as he tugged your head back.
With a deep exhale and a small smile playing on your lips, you looked over at him with heavy, satisfied eyes. "I guess I am"
｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ
Okay, I absolutely LOVED writing this request. It practically consumed my life lol. I would definitely be open to more reqs like this where there’s a little bit of a plot, even though I already have so many that are unanswered 🥲🥲🥲
I was really nervous about posting this because I’m just not a fan of the ending but at this point all I can do is hope for the best
THAT BEING SAID If people are also interested in sending in more Norman requests… 🥶🧏🏾♀️ y’know where to hmu babe
ALSO SHOUTOUT TO MY FAV POOKIE TYLER WHO DIDNT EVEN KNOW I WAS USING HER AS A WAITRESS I LOOVE YOOU BABYGIRL MY OLDER SISSY FR 😝
i’m not even a leon kennedy lover so idk how your fic got onto my feed not complaining tho bc my god it was SOOO GOOOODDD and when i finished and saw it was named “hard copy” i giggled like that’s just funnnnn ugh loved it great work five stars
omg! thank you so much, you have no idea how much it means! i’m sobbing <3
content: dad's best friend | age gap (49 - 22) | rough sex | male dom | oral sex (f! receiving , m! receiving) | overstimulation
summary: leon kennedy is your dad’s best friend, someone you’ve known since you were a little girl. But you’re not a kid anymore. It’s been years since you last saw him, and when you finally come back to town, something between you feels… different. What starts as harmless teasing and lingering looks slowly turns into something harder to ignore, until one day it’s not flirting anymore.
word count: 2258 words
You had always known Leon as your dad's best friend, he was the guy who showed up every weekend for barbecues, beers, and bad jokes with your father. At 49, Leon was tall and strong, with wide shoulders that filled out his faded t-shirts, short dirty blond hair that he kept neat, and those blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. He had a quiet confidence, the kind that came from years of hard work and a smile that made your stomach flip even when you were a kid. But now, at 22, you weren't a kid anymore. You had curves that filled out your shorts and tank tops just right, long hair that fell over your shoulders, and a body that turned heads. And in the last months, whenever Leon came over, his eyes lingered a little too long on you.
It was a hot august Saturday, the kind where the air stuck to your skin like a second layer. Your dad had fired up the grill in the backyard, the smell of burgers and ribs mixing with the chlorine from the pool. Leon pulled up in his black Porsche right on time, hopping out with a six pack in one hand and a cooler in the other.
"Hey, man," he called to your dad, clapping him on the back, your dad pulled him into a hug. You watched from the kitchen window, your heart racing as Leon glanced your way. You’d always thought he was handsome, the kind of quiet beauty people noticed without trying. But ever since you came back at the beginning of summer, something had shifted. Your thoughts lingered on him longer than they should, drifting into places they’d never gone before, until somewhere along the way “nice” stopped being the word you used for him. Now, when you looked at him, all you could think was that he was sexy. Hot, in a way that made your chest feel strangely warm. He wore jeans that hugged his thick thighs and a gray t-shirt that showed off the muscles in his arms. God, he looked good for his age, fit like he could still bench press twice his weight without breaking a sweat.
You grabbed some lemonade and stepped outside, your flip-flops slapping against the patio stones.
"Hey, Leon," you said, smiling as you poured him a glass. He took it from you, his rough fingers brushing yours for just a second too long. "Hey, sweetheart," he replied, his voice low and rough, that nickname sending a warm rush between your legs. He had called you that forever, but now it felt different, like he meant it in a different way and that made your cheeks heat up. Your dad didn't notice, he was busy flipping meat and yelling about the game on TV.
The afternoon dragged on slow and lazy. You all ate at the picnic table, laughing at your dad's stories while Leon nodded along, his eyes flicking to you every few minutes. You caught him staring at your legs when you crossed them, at the way your tank top dipped low enough to show your breasts. Each time, he looked away quick, but you stil caught him every single time, the way his jaw tightened nad his hands stretched. Mid afternoon, your dad got a call from work, some emergency he had to handle downtown. "Won't be long," he said, grabbing his keys. "Leon, keep an eye on things here. And you," he pointed at you, "don't burn the place down."
As soon as his truck rumbled away, the air shifted. You and Leon were alone by the pool, the sun beating down, water sparkling invitingly. You kicked off your flip-flops and entered, sighing at the cool relief.
"Hot out here," you said, glancing back at him. He leaned against the patio table, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that intense gaze. "Yeah, it is," he agreed, his voice a little rougher. "You look like you're melting, kid."
"I'm not a kid anymore, Leon," you shot back, playful but bold, turning to face him fully laying your face on your arms on the edge of the pool. Your top clung to your skin, nipples hardening against the thin fabric from the chill of the pool air. His eyes droppedon your breast for a beat, then back up. He chuckled low, pushing off the table and walking closer. He sqats down inf front of you "No, you're not," he said simply, stopping just inches away. Up close, he smelled like clean soap and faint cologne. Your pulse raced. This was your dad's best friend. The man who had bounced you on his knee as a girl. But right now, all you could think about was how his hands would feel on your body, inside of it.
He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb gentle on your cheek. "You've grown up nice," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as he entered the pool. You swallowed hard, stepping closer so your chest brushed his arm. "You think so?" Your voice came out breathy, needy. His hand lingered, sliding down to your jaw, tilting your face up. "I know so." Then he kissed you. Slow at first, his lips firm and sure against yours, tasting like lemonade and beer. You melted into it, hands fisting his wet shirt, pulling him closer. His tongue slipped in, exploring your mouth with a hunger that made your knees weak. One big hand cupped the back of your neck, the other sliding to your waist, fingers digging into your hip.
You broke apart gasping, eyes locked. "Leon, we shouldn't-" you started, but he cut you off with another kiss, deeper this time, his body pressing you back against the pool. His erection was hard against your belly, thick and insistent through his jeans. "Tell me to stop," he growled against your lips, "and I will." But you didn't. You grabbed his hand and pulled it under your top, guiding it to your breast. He groaned, palming the soft flesh, thumb circling your stiff nipple. "Fuck, you're perfect," he whispered, pinching just hard enough to make you whimper.
He grips your thighs and lifts you effortlessly onto the edge of the pool, water dripping down your skin. Before you can even catch your breath, his hands move to your bikini, and with one quick pull he tears the top away leaving your breast exposed. He then bent down to take your nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirled hot and wet around the peak, teeth grazing as he sucked hard. You arched into him, fingers in his hair, moaning loud enough that the neighbors might hear. The sun beat on your bare skin, but his mouth was hotter, sending sparks straight to your pussy. You were already soaked, your pants sticking to your pussy. "Leon, please," you begged.
He pulled back, eyes dark with lust, lips shiny from your skin. "Inside," he said, voice commanding. He scooped you up like you weighed nothing, carrying you into the pool house. It was dim and cool, smelling of chlorine and sunscreen. He kicked the door shut and laid you on the big lounger cushion, stripping off his shirt in one smooth move. His chest was broad, dusted with hair that trailed down to his abs, still ripped for 49, veins standing out on his forearms. You reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle, desperate to feel him.
"Easy, baby," he chuckled, helping you, shoving his jeans and boxers down. His cock sprang free, thick, long, veined, with a fat head already leaking pre-cum. It swung heavily between his thighs, bigger than anything you'd seen. Your mouth watered. "Like what you see?" he teased, stroking himself slow, watching your face. You nodded, biting your lip, and he stepped closer, rubbing the tip over your lips. "Suck it."
You opened your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out to taste the salty drop at the slit. He hissed, threading fingers in your hair, guiding you forward. You took as much as you could, lips stretching around his girth, cheeks hollowing as you moved up and down on his lenght. He was so thick your jaw ached already, but the weight of him on your tongue, the musky scent filling your nose, it was intoxicating.
"That's it, good girl," he praised, thrusting shallowly. "Fuck, your mouth is heaven." Spit dripped down your chin as you worked him, hand pumping what you couldn't swallow, tongue tracing the underside vein. He groaned deep, hips flexing, but pulled out before he lost it. "Not yet. Want to taste you first."
He shoved your panties down in one go, spreading your thighs wide. Your pussy was bare, lips swollen and pink. "So wet for me," he murmured, blowing cool air over your clit. You shivered arching your hips. Then his mouth was on you. Hot, flat tongue licking from hole to clit in one long stroke. You cried out, hands clutching the cushion. He ate you like a starving man, lips sucking your clit, tongue dipping inside to fuck your entrance. His beard scraped your inner thighs deliciously, stubble rough against your smooth skin. Fingers joined in, two thick ones pushing into your tight heat, curling to hit that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.
"Leon! Oh god!" you moaned, thighs clamping his head. He growled into your pussy, the vibration making you clench. He pumped his fingers faster, sucking harder, nose bumping your clit. The wet sounds filled the small space, slurps and smacks, your juices coating his chin. Your orgasm built fast. "Come for me, sweetheart," he ordered, teeth nipping your clit. You shattered, back arching, pussy gushing around his fingers as waves crashed over you. He licked it all up, not stopping until you twitched and whined from oversensitivity.
Panting, you pulled him up for a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. "Fuck me, please" you whispered, beggingfor him against his mouth. "I need your cock inside me." His eyes flashed, and he positioned himself between your legs, rubbing the fat head through your slick folds. "You sure baby? Gonna stretch this little pussy." You nodded frantically, wrapping legs around his waist. "Please, Leon."
He pushed in slow, inch by inch, your walls fluttering around his thickness. It burned so good, splitting you open, fuller than you'd ever felt. "Fuck, so tight," he grunted and moved first slowly than long, deep thrusts dragged his cock over every nerve. The lounger creaked under you, skin slapping skin. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you steady as he pounded.
You clawed his back, nails digging in, moaning with every snap of his hips. "Harder, Leon! Oh god, yes, fuck me!" dirty words spilled from you, turning him feral. He hooked your legs over his elbows, folding you in half, going deeper. His cock hit your cervix with each thrust, the pressure building another orgasm fast. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your tits, mixing with the slick between your bodies. "Take it, baby. This pussy's mine now," he growled, thumb finding your clit, rubbing circles.
You came again, screaming his name, he fucked you through it, grunting, but pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your stomach. "Ass up," he commanded, slapping your cheek lightly. You obeyed, knees spread, pussy dripping onto the cushion. He mounted you from behind, slamming back in, hands on your ass, spreading you wide. The new angle let him go deeper. "Look at that," he groaned, watching himself disappear into you. "You're taking my dick so well."
You pushed back, meeting his thrusts, the wet squelch echoing. One hand snaked around to pinch your nipples, the other rubbing your back soothingly, rough and tender all at once. "Gonna fill you up, sweetheart. Let me." The words sent you over, third orgasm ripping through you, vision blurring. He growled, cock pulsing as he came, hot jets flooding your pussy, so much it leaked out around him.
He collapsed over you, both panting, his weight grounding you. After a minute, he pulled out slow, cum dripping down your thighs. He grabbed a towel, cleaning you gentle, kissing your shoulder. "You okay?" he murmured, voice soft now. You nodded, turning to kiss him lazy. "More than okay."
But you weren't done. The heat between you didn't fade. You pushed him onto his back, straddling his hips, and he let you, watching you with a grin on his face. His cock was half-hard already, slick with your mixed juices. You ground down, coating him again. "My turn," you whispered, taking him reverse cowgirl. He filled you perfectly, hands gripping your ass as you rode slow. You rolled your hips, clit grinding his base, tits bouncing. He sat up halfway, one hand between your legs to rub your clit, the other squeezing your breast.
"Fuck, baby, you're killing me," he groaned, thrusting up to meet you. You picked up speed, ass slapping his thighs, pussy clenching rhythmic. The lounger rocked dangerously. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you faster. "Come on my cock again." You did, grinding hard through the spasms, and he followed, pumping more cum into you.
You rode the aftershocks, then collapsed beside him, bodies tangled, sticky and spent. The sun dipped low outside, casting orange light through the window. Your dad's truck would be back soon, but for now, it was just you and Leon.
Thank you for readings! Hope you liked it, feedback is always welcome <3
i love writing, reading, always have; probably not even good at it but i really enjoy sharing some fanfic and hopefully receive a feedback <3
anyway this is a very casual blog, i'm here to practise a bit more with my writing feel free to help, voice any critique or comments! english is not my first language so please keep that in mind when you read some of my fanfic <3
i hope this blog will be a happy place for many of you that share my same interest, please be kind towards everyone.
for any request, feel free to contact me <3
(i might consider writing about other characters too, but only if i know them. i just feel more comfortable writing something personal about characters i’m familiar with)
⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
i have a full time job, so my writing schedule is a little unpredictable. Some weeks i might post 2–3 fics (that’s probably my max), and other weeks i might not post at all. It really just depends on my mood and whatever responsibilities i have that week, i like keeping writing as something fun and personal <3
for the same reasons i will, unfortunately, not be able to write a fanfic with chapters ۶ৎ
pairing: leon s. kennedy [re9] x young fem! reader
content: +18 | Smut | Boyfriend's Dad | Age Gap | Slow Burn | Oral Sex (f! receiving, m! receiving) | Rough-ish sex | Soft Dom | Emotional Conflict
summary: After yet another canceled date, you find yourself stuck at your boyfriend Chris’s house, waiting with a glass of whiskey and the uncomfortable realization that he might never show up. Instead, the person keeping you company is his father, Leon Kennedy. What starts as quiet conversation in a dim living room slowly becomes something far more dangerous.
word count: 3890
A/N: Leon in this story has nothing to do with RE, hopefully there's no grammatic error, i wrote it pretty quickly, if so, let me know | hope you'll like it <3
You sit right on the edge of Leon's beat up old leather couch, the kind that's got that worn in creak every time you shift your weight, legs crossed super tight under your short denim skirt because you're trying not to fidget too much like some nervous kid. The living room lamp throws this soft yellow glow, making the shadows stretch long and kinda intimate, way too close for comfort in a house that's not even yours. Your phone buzzes one more time on the coffee table, lighting up with Chris's name: -Work emergency hit again, babe. Tomorrow for sure? Sorry.- and you just swallow hard feeling that familiar heat spreading up your cheeks feeling exhausted 'cause this is the third fucking time this week he dumped you like you're some optional side quest. The whiskey Leon poured for you when you showed up announced waiting for Chris, sits warm and heavy in your hand, that sharp burn sliding slow down your throat as you take a tiny sip, wondering why the hell you're even staying her after Chris stood you up
Leon's leaned back in the armchair right across from you, his long legs spread out all casual like he owns the damn world, which, in this house, he kinda does, those piercing blue eyes staring you down without even blinking. His hair falling messy over his forehead from where he's been running his fingers through it, and that faded black tee clings just right to his broad chest and those thick arms, built solid from all those years on the force, faint scars peeking out from under the rolled-up sleeves if you look close enough, which you do. He makes your stomach flip, like Chris never did.
"Rough night, huh?" he rasps, his voice all low and scratchy, kind of like a warm blanket but with a bit of a bite to it. He doesn't look away for a second, just watches you over his glass while he takes a slow sip, never breaking the eye contact.
You nod quickly at first, then shake your head slightly as the words catch in your throat, a shy heat flooding your face as you stare at the amber liquid swirling in your glass instead of meeting his gaze.
"Yeah, it's just, Chris keeps bailing on everything, you know? Makes me feel like I'm totally invisible unless he needs something quick and easy." Your mind flashes quick to last time you hooked up, dark room, lights off like always, him climbing on top for that boring missionary sex that lasted maybe two minutes tops, grunting mechanically before he rolls off and starts snoring, leaving you empty and aching, but fuck if you say that out loud, especially not to his dad, because that's way too embarrassing, your cheeks burning just thinking about having a sex conversation with him.
Leon watches you like that for what it feels an eternity , his jaw twiching slightly under that light beard, something dark flickering in those blue eyes before he sets his glass on the coffee table. He stands up slowly, all that height unfolding easy, and crosses the room without a rush, dropping down to sit right next to you on the couch, close enough that your knees brush his thigh, heat seeping right through the denim of his jeans into your bare skin. Your pulse kicks up hard, pine cologne hitting you full force mixed with that faint of whiskey and coffee on his breath, making you blush slightly.
"You're not invisible, not even close," he murmurs soft, his voice dropping even lower as those intense blue eyes lock onto yours, holding you there like he can't look away. His hand lands light on your knee his thumb brushes slow circle on the skin making you breathless. You don't pull away, thighs clenching tight against the sudden spark low in your belly, panties already feeling a bit wet because god, it's wrong but his touch feels so fucking good.
You both just sit there like that for what feels like forever, silence stretching thick and heavy between you, his thumb moving again in another lazy stroke up your thigh, the fabric of your skirt bunching just a little under his fingers as they inch higher toward your inner thigh. "Leon" you whisper, your voice small and unsure, your eyes lowering to look at his hand before returning to his face, where that dark hunger now flashes stronger, possessive and raw, his pupils blown wide like he's fighting every instinct to hold back.
He doesn't push, doesn't say shit, just keeps that thumb tracing slow patterns, eyes dropping to your lips for a second, then back to your thighs peeking out from under the skirt, chest rising a bit faster under that tee. Finally, he lifts his free hand slow, hesitating in the air near your cheek like he's scared he'll break something fragile, then lets it drop back to his lap with a low exhale. Stands up sudden, breaking the touch like it burns him, and mutters,
"You should get some rest, kid, and don't you dare drive, just use Chris's room" his voice husky and strained, saing his son's name firmly and rough as he heads toward the kitchen, leaving you sitting there breathless, your pussy tingling and wet, guilt stabbing sharp because of Chris's necklace still heavy around your throat, but Leon's eyes burned into your brain, the way he looked at you like he wanted to devour you whole but held back for your sake.
The next day drags on forever, slow and frustrating, Chris texts some half assed sorry with a promise for date night, he didn't even come home for the night, not that you really care. You felt bad touching yourself in you're boyfriend's room thinking about his father who was in the room across the hallway, but somehow it felt so liberatory. Hopefully Leon didn't hear you moan at 1am.
Two days pass like torture, the tension rising every time you think of Leon's house, those blue eyes haunting you. You swing by their place for a charger you left behind, telling yourself it's no big deal, but Chris is out with his buddies as usual. Leon answers the door in a greasy tshirt, sleeves rolled up to show those veined forearms, the hood of the truck open in the garage behind him.
"Hey, sweetheart," he says nonchalant with a slow smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes, but his gaze wanders hungrily over the curves of your sundress, lingering on the way the fabric hugs your hips and thighs before leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, completely blocking your entrance as if he wants you to stay there.
"I know Chris isn't here, just grabbing my charger real quick," you mumble shy, forcing a smile as you step past him, your arm brushing his chest accidental, on purpose, sending electric sparks straight to your spine. He follows you into the garage without a word, watches silent as you grab the first charger that you see, without even thincking if it's yours, probably not. You feel his eyes burning into you, following the curve of your ass as you lean up your bare legs, that desire pouring from him so intense you could touch it, his breathing getting a little heavier now.
"You look real good today," he says finally, voice rough and low, stepping closer behind you until his heat radiates against your back, close enough you smell his pine scent. His hand stays in the air near your hip for a long second, fingers twitching like he aches to grab, but he drops it with a frustrated exhale, clenching into a fist. "Found it?" Heart pounding shy, you straighten up slow and turn to face him, so close now his chest nearly brushes yours, those blue eyes burning with pure desire, pupils dark and wide, his chest heaving slightly under his shirt.
"Yeah, got it." you whisper, but you don't step back, caught in that stare. He lifts his hand slow this time, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing the side of your neck voluntarily, sending shivers down your spine all the way to your wet panties. "Be careful out there, alright?" he whispers husky, his voice tortured like it's killing him to pull back, like he'd give anything to pin you against that workbench. You nod shaky, grab the charger, and bolt before you do something stupid, thighs slick as you drive home, his touch printed on your skin like a mark.
The week blurs into this agonizing slow dance of stolen glances, every interaction increasing the tension. Chris bails on movie night, so you end up at Leon's kitchen again, standing at the counter while he pours you a coffee slow, positioning himself too near, his knee pressing deliberate against your thigh under the counter. His thumb brushes the back of your hand when he hands over the mug, rough against your skin, eyes searching yours with that pained jealous edge. "Chris treating you right lately?" he asks low, fist gripping the counter edge white knuckled as his gaze drops to your chest peeking out from your tank, breathing heavily. You nod hesitantly, he catches that you’re unsure so he arched and eyebrow. You shake your head shy, mumbling "Not really” you see his jaw tick hard "Idiot doesn't know what he's got," he growls, stepping back.
Nights alone turn into your dirty secret, you touch yourself slow under the covers, fingers circling your clit lazy to memories of his thumb on your thigh, imagining his beard scratching your skin, guilt twisting with thrill, he's your boyfriend's dad. Chris's sex just worsens, quicker and rougher, selfish thrusts leaving accidental bruises on your hips with zero aftercare, you pulling away more each time, faking it harder while craving Leon's gentle intensity.
Family barbecue rolls around that weekend, backyard full of smoke and laughter, Chris pounding beers by the pool and ignoring you completely while you relax in your swimsuit. Leon is at the grill across the yard, flipping burgers with those strong hands, but his eyes find yours, yearning in every glance, tracing the water droplets on your thighs, the curve of your breast under the wet fabric, forcing tight smiles for his friends while his jaw tightens every time Chris slings an arm around you casual. He catches you alone in the kitchen refilling drinks, corners you against the counter, bodies inches apart, his heat pressing close. "Having fun out there?" he breathes hot against your neck, hand brushing your waist "accidental," fingers digging in firm for that one long second, cock hardening in his jeans enough to nudge your hip subtle. Shiver down your spine. "Yeah," you lie breathy, heartbeat racing. He growls low tortured, "Liar," his eyes darkened with need before pulling away pained, leaving you throbbing and soaked under your bikini.
That night, Chris passes out drunk upstairs snoring like a chainsaw, and you sneak downstairs for water, heart pounding when you spot Leon in the kitchen shirtless in gray sweatpants, pouring whiskey. His eyes light up dark hunger when he turns, tracking your every move as you fill a glass. "Can't sleep?" he asks rough, sitting at the table and patting the chair next to him. You slide in, knee touching his under the table on purpose now. His hand covers yours sudden on the table, "You fucking glow, kid. Deserve someone who worships every inch of you," he whispers, your chest rising fast, his hand twitching like it wants to pull you closer. You lean in shy, faces inches apart, noses brushing electric, lips slightly touching but he pulls back both breathless with a tortured rasp, "Goodnight sweetheart” he gets up abruptly leaving you there, stunned, feeling the lack of his touch.
A week later, when Chris bails on your date for the thousandth time with some bullshit work excuse. You text him -fuck off- furious and horny, tires screeching as you drive straight to Leon's, pounding the door with your fist. He opens it pretty quickly, reads the fire in your eyes, pulls you inside silent and locks it, leading you to the couch where he pours whiskey double shots. You sit close, spilling it all shy at first: how lonely you feel, how Chris's touches are boring and quick, leaving you empty every time. He listens jaw tight, storm in those blue eyes, fist white on his glass. "He's blind as shit," he finally growls, hand slowly brushed against your tight, you melt into his touch. He moves his hand up under your skirt edge, fingers almost touching your wet panties. A light moan escapes shy as his thumb presses light over your clit through cotton, circling torturous. "Leon" you breathe, hips bucking tiny.
Eyes locked on yours. "Say stop if you want," he rasps raw. "But fuck, I've wanted you so bad it hurts." His lips crash soft at first, testing, then deepen hungry with tongue claiming every corner of your mouth, beard scratching your chin perfect rough. Your hand grab he’s shirt, pulling him closer as you moan needy into the kiss. He groans deep from his chest, take you onto his lap, you feel that hard protuberance through the fabric of his jeans, thick and promising as you ride him with no shame, feeling every inch throb against your soaked core.
Kiss breaks ragged breaths mingling. "We really can't do this," he mutters tortured, but he guided you to the couch on the living room while he said it and moved his hands peeling your shirt up slow inch by inch, revealing pink lace bra, eyes worshiping the way your breast full and heavy moves from your hard breathing.
"Fuck, you're perfect, sweetheart." he frantically unhooks your bra, your nipples are hard in the cool air. His mouth moves from yours to your hard nipples wrapping warm around one, tongue swirling circles that send sparks shooting straight to your throbbing pussy. You arch back moaning, fingers threading into his hair. He switches sides slow, sucking deeper with teeth, his thumb brushing against the other one.
Pleasure simmers low and steady, the heat building slowly. Your breathy gasps fill the quiet living room while his hand moves between your thighs, kneading and pinching, his mouth working with wet, obscene sounds. Then the zipper of your skirt slides down, agonizingly slow. His fingers hook into the fabric, guiding it down your legs along with your panties until you’re bare, trembling. Your thighs part instinctively. He lowers himself to his knees between them, graceful despite his size. Your knees rest over his elbows as he spreads you open without hesitation. For a long moment he just looks at you, breathing heavy and uneven. Staring at your pussy, your lips are swollen, pink and he stays there, watching, as if committing the sight of you to memory.
"Goddamn gorgeous little cunt, all wet and begging” his kisses move slowly up your inner thighs, light and gentle. Now and then he nips softly with his teeth, making you gasp. The slow teasing only makes the ache between your legs grow stronger, the feeling building with every touch.
His nose brushes your clit, inhaling deep your sweet scent like a drug, making you lifting your hips begging for him. His tongue presses flat as he licks slowly from your entrance up to your clit, taking his time, tasting every drop of you. A quiet cry slips from your lips as your back arches off the couch. He keeps going, tracing slow circles around your clit, unhurried, making the tension in your stomach tighten more and more. His fingers gently spread you open so he can make you feel better, his mouth closing around your clit in a soft pull. One of his thick fingers moves down to your entrance, teasing the edge slowly before slipping inside you. You feel your body tighten around him as he pushes deeper. He begins to move his finger in slow, steady strokes while his thumb presses firm circles on your clit at the same time, the two rhythms working together.
Your moans rise louder, filling the room as your eyes lock his. Second finger joins thick stretch, scissoring lazy before curling perfect against your spot. Stars burst behind your eyelids. He slides his third finger in nice and slow, making that sweet burn as it stretches your pussy totally full. It thrusts steady and deep, syncing up perfect with his tongue right on your clit, and the sloppy wet sucking pops that sound so fucking dirty. His other hand just pins your hip down easy with that thick forearm, muscles flexing hard and unyielding to keep you right there when you start squirming wild. That tiny bit of restraint hits you with this hot thrill pulsing everywhere, leaving you feeling so helpless and owned under him.
Sweat's slicking up your skin all shiny now, that nasty wet squelch from his fingers pumping deep in your pussy mixing right in with your whiny moans as he drags out, one slow wave after another stacking up higher and higher.
"Cum for me, baby girl," he growls low and rough straight against your soaked folds, the vibration buzzing deep through your core. He sucks your clit hard into his hot mouth then, humming that deep rumble in his throat, and your orgasm just shatters you slow, pussy squeezing his fingers in tight little spasms, squirting a hot mess all over his chin and hand while he laps it up greedy.
Leon doesn't stop. His tongue laps slower now, dragging through the slick mess you've made, savoring every drop like it's the sweetest fucking nectar. Your thighs around his shoulders, pussy still fluttering from the aftershocks, clit throbbing raw under his gentle sucks. He hums low, the vibration sending fresh sparks up your spine, and you whimper, oversensitive, hips twitching away on instinct. But his forearm stays locked on your hip, that light pin holding you open, owned, making your core clench empty now that his fingers have slipped free.
"Fuck, baby girl," he rasps, pulling back just enough to let you see his chin glistening with your cum, blue eyes dark and feral. "Taste so goddamn good. Soaked my whole face." He rises slow, knees popping faintly, and crashes his mouth to yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, his beard scraping your skin raw as he devours you. Your hands claw at his shirt, sliding it up and over his head, finally free to roam the hard ridges of his chest, the salt of his sweat on your palms.
His cock strains against his jeans, thick bulge grinding into your thigh as he settles between your legs again. You reach down, fumbling the button open, zipper rasping loud in the quiet room. He groans into your mouth when you shove his pants down, boxers following, and his cock springs free, heavy, veined, the head already leaking precum in a shiny bead. It's bigger than Chris's ever dreamed of being, curving up thick toward his abs, balls heavy and drawn tight.
"Leon, I need you" you breathe, voice wrecked, wrapping your fingers around the base. Hot velvet over steel, pulsing in your grip. He hisses sharp, his hips moving once, he grabs your wrist gently and firmly, controlling it without hurting you.
"Slow, sweetheart. Wanna feel every second." He guides your hand up the length, thumb smearing that precum over the slit, making him twitch hard. You slide off the couch to your knees now, the carpet rough under your skin, mirroring his position from before. His hand tangles in your hair, not pulling, thumb stroking your scalp as you lean in.
The musky scent hits you first, all man and excitement, making your mouth water. You lick flat from balls to tip, tasting the salt, then swirl your tongue around the head, sucking hard. Leon's breath stutters, abs flexing tight. "Shit… yeah, just like that. Suck my cock, swetheart." You take him deeper, lips stretching wide around the girth, cheeks hollowing as you bob slow. Saliva drips down your chin, pooling messy on his balls as you work him.
His grip tightens in your hair, guiding your pace now, fucking your mouth shallow at first. "Look at you… takin' your man's dick so pretty. Fuckin' made for this." The dirty words hit like fire, your pussy clenching empty, fresh wetness trickling down your thigh. You gag a little when he pushes deeper, nose brushing his pubes, but you relax, breathing through it, eyes watering up at him. He pulls back, strings of spit connecting you, then thrusts again, claiming.
You moan with his dick in your mouth, and suck even harder he yanks you off, cock shiny and red, twitching angry. "Not yet. Gonna fill that pretty cunt first." In one fluid move, he hauls you up, flipping you onto the couch on your back. Your legs hook his waist automatic as he pet his cock at your entrance, huge head kissing your swollen lips. He teases, sliding it up and down your slit, bumping your clit till you're whining, hips chasing.
"Please Leon, fuck me," you beg, nails raking his back. He locks eyes.
"Been dreamin' of this pussy since I first saw you." One hard thrust, and he's splitting you open, inch by thick inch, stretching your walls around his girth. You cry out, he bottoms out, pubic bone grinding your clit, and holds, lets you adjust, forehead pressed to yours, breaths panting hot.
"So fuckin' tight, i'm gonna cum me already." He pulls back slow, the drag pulling your lips out, then slams home, deep, punishing. The couch creaks under you, skin slapping skin loud and nasty. Each thrust punches the air from your lungs, his cock hitting that spot relentless now, no mercy. Sweat slicks your bodies, tits bouncing wild as he folds you near in half, knees by your ears.
"Fuck Leon" You claw his ass, urging deeper. He snarls, one hand pinning both wrists above your head, inescapable, that restraint making you drip around him. His free hand slaps your thigh light, sting blooming hot, then rubs it rough.
"Take it, sweetheart. This pussy's mine now." Your second orgasm builds fast, making every nerve scream. Clit throbs raw against his pelvis, walls spasming erratic.
He feels it, shifts angle perfect, thumb dropping to your clit rubbing tight circles brutal. "Cum on my cock, sweetheart. Squeeze me dry." The command shatters you. Pleasure rips vicious, pussy clamping tight, gushing hot around him in messy squirts. You scream his name, vision whiting, body convulsing under him.
He doesn't stop, fucks through it, prolonging the waves till you're sobbing, oversensitive tears streaking. "Good girl, fuck, yes." His rhythm falters, cock swelling huge as he unloads, hot ropes flooding your pussy, pulsing thick. His hot cum fills you up. It pushes you over the edge one more time. A small orgasm hits. Your pussy squeezes his cock tight. It milks out every thick drop.
He drops half onto you, heavy and warm. His cock softens slow inside your pussy, holding his cum deep. He pulls you close, lips brushing your forehead soft. "Mine now. All fuckin' mine."
Thank you for readings! Hope you liked it, feedback is always welcome <3
| inspired by the book “birthday girl” - penelope douglas |
pairing: leon s. kennedy [re9] x young fem! reader
content: +18 | Smut | Forced Proximity | Age Gap | Oral Sex (f! receiving) | Soft Dom | Praise | Overstimulation | Rough-ish Sex | No Way Out.
summary: retrieving a mission file from the basement archives was supposed to be a boring, two-person job. But when a system glitch locks the heavy security doors, the silence of the room becomes deafening. Trapped between towering shelves of forgotten secrets, the professional mask Leon Kennedy has worn for decades finally slips. He doesn't just want to find the file; he wants to find out exactly how much noise you’ll make when there’s no one else around to hear you.
word count: 3635 (mostly dialogue)
The archive room smelled like paper, dust, and the quiet kind of neglect that built up over decades. Metal shelves stretched in narrow rows from floor to ceiling, filled with boxes labeled in fading ink. Old mission reports. Intelligence briefings. Half-forgotten operations that had once been important enough to file but not important enough to remember.
You crouched in front of a lower shelf, flipping through a box of folders.
“Operation Black Tern… Black Tile… Black something,” you muttered.
Behind you, Leon Kennedy leaned against the opposite shelf, tall frame half-shadowed by the dim fluorescent light. One boot rested against the metal support beam while he skimmed through another stack of files like he’d done this a thousand times before. Which he probably had.
“Black Tide,” he said after a moment. “1998.”
You looked up. “You didn’t even check the index.”
Leon didn’t look at you. He flipped a page. “Didn’t need to.” Of course he didn’t.
You sighed and stood, brushing dust from your jeans. The assignment had sounded simple on paper: retrieve a physical mission file from the archive because the digital version had been partially corrupted during a server migration. Apparently some operations were old enough that the originals only existed here. On paper. In boxes. In a basement archive room that looked like it had last been organized during the Clinton administration. And for reasons that still escaped you, they had assigned you to assist Leon Kennedy.
You crossed the narrow aisle between shelves.
“Here,” you said, holding up a folder. Leon finally looked up. His blue eyes flicked to the label.
Then back to the folder. Then back to you.
He pushed himself off the shelf and walked over. Close. Too close for such a narrow aisle. You stepped slightly to the side as he took the folder from your hand, though your fingers brushed briefly against his. His hand was warm. Calloused. He opened the folder and skimmed the contents.
“Yeah,” he said. “This is it.”
You tried not to feel overly pleased about that. Tried and failed.
“Well,” you said. “Good thing they sent someone who knows how to read labels."
Leon snorted quietly. “Careful.”
You tilted your head. “Or what?”
He closed the folder and slid it under his arm. “Or I’ll start assigning you the heavy boxes.”
You glanced around at the towering shelves. “You mean the ones that look like they could collapse if someone sneezed too hard?”
He gave the shelf beside him a light knock with his knuckle. The metal rattled. You both watched the boxes wobble slightly. Then Leon said flatly, “Yeah. Those.”
You laughed. And he almost smiled. Almost.
You moved deeper into the archive room to double-check the catalog. Technically, retrieving the file wasn’t the only task. Your job was data verification. Cross referencing physical records with the digitized database. Making sure nothing had been misfiled, lost, or mislabeled during the archive transition.
It was boring. Painfully boring. But someone had to do it. Leon watched you climb a small step ladder to reach a higher shelf.
“You’re going to fall,” he said.
“I’m not.”
“You’re leaning.”
“I’m not leaning.
“You are.”
You grabbed the box and pulled it down. Dust puffed into the air. You coughed. Leon’s voice came from directly behind you.
“See?” You turned to step down and nearly collided with him.
Leon had moved closer without you noticing. You froze.
He stopped just as abruptly, one hand lifting automatically to the shelf beside your shoulder to keep from bumping into you. For a moment neither of you moved. You were suddenly very aware of how little space there was between you. Of the faint scent of leather and gun oil from his jacket. Of the way his gaze flicked briefly down to make sure you had your balance before lifting back to your face.
“Careful,” he said again. His voice was lower this time. You stepped off the ladder.
“I had it under control.”
“Didn’t say you didn’t.”
“You implied it.”
He shrugged slightly. “Experience.”
“Oh?”
Leon’s mouth tilted faintly. “People fall off ladders more than you’d think.”
“You saying I look like someone who falls off ladders?”
“I’m saying, you look like someone who doesn’t listen when someone tells them they’re leaning.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You’re very charming.”
“So I’ve been told.”
You carried the new box to the small worktable near the back wall. A single desk lamp illuminated the surface. You opened the box and started flipping through folders while Leon leaned against the table edge.
“So,” you said after a minute. “You’ve done this before?”
“Archive retrieval?”
“Yeah.”
He folded his arms. “Couple times.”
“You don’t seem thrilled.”
“It’s paperwork.”
“That’s literally my job.”
He looked at you. “Then you must love it.”
“I tolerate it.”
“That’s the spirit.”
You slid one folder aside. Another. Then another.
“You know,” you said, “most people would say thank you when someone helps them.”
Leon raised an eyebrow. “Did you help?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I found the file.”
“I already knew where it was.”
“You didn’t grab it.”
“You grabbed it.”
You pointed at him. “Exactly.”
Leon studied you for a moment. Then he said quietly, “Thank you.”
It was sincere enough to catch you off guard.
You looked back at the folders quickly. “you’re welcome.”
You had just finished noting the last reference when the overhead light flickered. Then the door at the far end of the archive room made a quiet metallic sound. Click. Neither of you paid much attention to it. Until you tried to leave. Leon reached the door first. He turned the handle.
Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing.
You frowned. “Locked?”
Leon pulled harder. The door didn’t budge. He leaned closer to inspect the handle, then straightened slowly.
“Well,” he muttered. “That’s not great.”
You crossed the room. “Maybe it’s just stuck.” You tried the handle yourself. It refused to move. You knocked on the door.
“Hello?” Silence.
Leon pulled his phone out and checked the screen. “No signal.”
You did the same. Nothing. You looked at him.
“So.”
He slipped the phone back into his pocket. “So.”
You leaned your shoulder against the door. “How long do you think until someone notices we’re gone?”
Leon considered that. “depends.”
“On?”
“How important the thing we were supposed to bring back was.”
You blinked. “You’re kidding.”
He didn’t answer.
You stared at him. “You’re kidding.”
Leon rubbed the back of his neck. “…probably a couple hours.”
“A couple” You stopped yourself. “Okay.”
He watched you. “You gonna panic?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I’m going to be annoyed.”
“Also fair.”
Eventually you both ended up sitting on the floor near the table. The archive room was warm and quiet. Leon leaned back against the metal shelving with his arms resting loosely on his knees. You sat across from him with a stack of folders beside you.
“You really think it’ll take hours?” you asked.
“Maybe less.”
“Comforting.”
“You’ll survive.”
You studied him. “Do you ever try to be less grumpy?”
Leon tilted his head slightly. “Do you ever try to be less argumentative?”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Feels similar.”
You picked up a random folder and opened it.
“What were you doing before this job?” he asked after a moment.
You looked up. “Why?”
“Conversation.”
“You started it?”
“Yeah.”
You hesitated. “Data analysis,” you said. “Mostly intelligence pattern work.”
Leon nodded slowly. “That explains it.”
“What does?”
“You noticing things.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Maybe.”
You leaned back slightly. “And you?”
He gave you a look. “You know what I do.”
“I know the official description.”
“And the unofficial one?”
“You shoot things.”
Leon huffed a quiet laugh. “Sometimes.”
You turned another page.
The paper edge caught your finger.
“Ah”
Leon was already moving. “Let me see.”
“It’s nothing.”
He ignored that and took your hand anyway. His grip was careful. Firm but gentle as he examined the tiny cut along your finger.
“You really do manage to hurt yourself with paperwork,” he said.
You rolled your eyes. “Relax, it's just a paper cut.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small strip of medical tape.
“You carry tape?”
“Habit.”
He wrapped it around your finger with practiced ease. His hands were warm and he’s so close,your heart skip a bit and you look at him while he’s so concentrating on your finger. You can almost hear his heart which it sounds like it’s beating very fast, probably you just imagine it.
When he finished, he didn’t let go immediately. His eyes lifted from your hand to your face, he caught you still staring at him. You stepped back and so did he. For a moment neither of you spoke.
Then he cleared his throat and released your hand.
“You’ll live.”
“Tragic.” You reply.
Time passed slowly after that. Conversation drifted between small topics. Work. Training. Random stories from past assignments. You learned Leon preferred bad coffee to no coffee. He learned you had a habit of talking when you were bored. At one point you nudged a box with your foot.
“You know,” you said, “for someone who complains about paperwork, you’re pretty calm about being stuck in a room full of it.”
“I’ve been stuck in worse places.”
“Such as?”
Leon looked up at the ceiling. “…don’t ask.”
You grinned. “Now I definitely want to.”
He shook his head. “You’re persistent.”
“Someone has to be.”
He studied you again. Quietly. Like he was trying to figure something out.
“You’re younger than most agents they send down here,” he said eventually, randomly.
You shrugged. “They trust me.”
“I can see that.”
“Can you?”
“Yeah.”
You waited. "why?”
He gave a small shrug. “You pay attention.”
Your stomach did a strange little flip at that. “Do I?”
A metallic clank echoed outside the door. Both of you looked up. Footsteps. Then the handle turned. The door opened. A maintenance worker blinked at you.
“Oh, sorry! The locking mechanism jammed earlier.”
Leon pushed himself to his feet. “Yeah. We noticed.”
You stood as well. The worker apologized again before leaving the door open behind him open. Leon goes first, as you walked a few steps ahead, his voice came from behind you.
“Next time,” he said casually, “remind me not to get locked in a room with you.”
“What? Why?”
Leon stood a few feet away, one hand resting against the wall beside the doorway. The same thoughtful look from earlier had settled on his face again. He moved closer to you, causing you to step back into the archive room.
“Careful,” he said quietly, his voice lower than before.
“I’m fine,” you replied, though your heartbeat betrayed you.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing whether to step closer again. The space between you shrank, not enough to touch, but close enough to make every second feel heavy.
“You’re quiet now,” he said.
“You told me I talk too much.”
“That was before.”
You folded your arms lightly. “Before what?”
Leon studied you for another second. Then he stepped closer. Not aggressively. Not quickly. Just that slow, deliberate stride that made it impossible not to notice how much space he took up when he moved.
“You always this stubborn?” he asked.
“You always this grumpy?”
“Yeah.”
That earned a small laugh from you. But the laugh faded a little when he stopped in front of you closing the door of the archive room behind him with his foot, never stopping looking at me directly into my eyes. (this time he made sure you we're not stuck inside it). He's dangerously close and suddenly the archive room felt a lot narrower than before.
“You were arguing with me the whole time we were in here,” Leon said.
“You started it.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
His mouth twitched. “That’s not how I remember it.”
You tilted your head. “Oh yeah? How do you remember it?”
Leon’s gaze dropped briefly to your bandaged finger before returning to your face. “I remember you not listening.”
“That’s rich coming from someone who doesn’t listen either.”
“I listen.”
“You barely even”
Your sentence cut off when he moved even closer. Not touching.
Just enough that the space between you shrank to something that made your heartbeat noticeably less cooperative. Leon noticed. Of course he noticed. His eyes flicked down again, then back up.
“You’re nervous now, kid.” he said quietly.
“I’m not.” you didn’t have the strength to scold him about the ‘kid’.
“You were arguing a lot more confidently five minutes ago.”
“That was before you started crowding me.”
“I’m not crowding you.”
“You are.”
You shifted slightly backward without thinking. Your shoulder brushed the shelfs. Leon’s eyes followed the movement. Then he leaned one hand against the shelf beside you, trapping the space without actually touching you. Not intentional, maybe. But it felt intentional.
“You’re the one who walked back here, kid” he said.
“The room is normal width.”
“Feels narrow now.”
Your breath caught for half a second before you recovered. “That’s your fault.”
“Probably.”
His voice was lower again. Quieter. The kind of quiet that filled the space instead of leaving it empty.
You tried to focus on literally anything else. The light above you. The scuffed floor. The edge of Leon’s jacket. Unfortunately your brain kept noticing things like: how close he was, how warm he felt even without touching, how it would feel to actually touch him, how his eyes kept drifting back to your face like he was trying not to stare and failing slightly.
“You’re doing that thing again,” you said.
“What thing?”
“Looking like you’re about to say something and then not saying it.”
Leon considered that. Then one corner of his mouth lifted faintly. “Maybe I’m deciding if it’s a good idea.”
“If it’s a good idea what?” you asked even though you definitely knew what he meant.
Silence settled between you. Not awkward. Just heavy.
Your gaze dropped briefly to the collar of his jacket. Bad idea. When you looked back up again, Leon was already watching you, staring at you. You felt your face warm slightly. He noticed that too.
“You do that a lot,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Look away when you realize I’m looking at you.”
You opened your mouth. Closed it again. Then you said defensively, “Maybe you stare too much.”
Leon tilted his head. “Maybe.”
Neither of you moved. Your shoulder was still against the wall. His hand still rested beside it. And the distance between you had somehow become very, very small. Leon’s gaze drifted briefly to your mouth. Then back to your eyes. The shift was subtle. But impossible to miss. Your heart skipped a beat.
For a second you both just stood there then Leon leaned towards you a bit more and he finally found your lips. You melted into the kiss, his hand was on the waist pulling you closer, while the other was gently tilting your head towards him until the kiss wasn’t gentle anymore.
His lips crashed harder against yours, the gentleness from before quickly evaporated. You tasted coffee on his tongue as it shoved past your teeth, demanding entry,claming your mouth with a hunger that made your knees buckle. One hand grabbed tighter on your waist, fingers digging into your soft skin through your shirt. His erection pressed insistent against your lower belly thick, pulsing through his pants.
You gasped into the kiss, and he swallowed the sound, his other hand sliding from your jaw to your hair, gripping a fistful angling your head just how he wanted it. His light beard scraped your chin raw, a burn that sent sparks straight to your clit, making it throb under your panties. Your body betrayed you instantly, pussy clenching on nothing, soaking the cotton of your underwear.
"Fuck me" Leon growled against your mouth, breaking just enough to bite your bottom lip.
"Knew you'd taste like this. Sweet and stubborn." His voice was low, rough and wrecked, vibrating through his chest into yours. He pushed his hips forward once, pressing that hard cock against you deliberately, the friction rubbing over your mound through layers of fabric. You moaned involuntary, and his eyes darkened.
Your hands gripped the front of his jacket, frantically tugging at the zipper until it gave way exposing the tight black shirt tight to his body. You slipped your hands under it, feeling the ridges of his abs contract under your touch and gently touching the scars on his torso, raised and rough under your fingertips, you traced one down his side, loving the way he hissed when your nails scraped.
"Not so mouthy now, huh?" He muttered, free hand dropping from your hair to your ass, squeezing a cheek hard enough to bruise. He pulled you up, your feet leaving the floor for a split second as he pinned you back against the shelf. Metal rattled behind you, old files falling all over the floor spreading dust. All you coul focus on though, was how wt you were between your thighs, your pussy lips swelling, aching for pressure.
You hooked a leg around his thigh, rubbing yourself shamelessly.
"Please" You moan into his neck.
"Say it and i will be very happy to please you" he answered you, sqeezing your ass. "Please Leon, please fuck me" you shot back, voice breathy but provocative, biting his jaw. The rough sewing of his pants rubbed your inner thigh, denim biting into skin.
"Fuck," he breath heavily "not gonna let you repeat it twice"
Leon's hand on your ass slid lower, lifting slowly your skirt enough for him to find your wet pussy through you panties
"You're soaked already? Jesus, kid." He drag them down your hips in one rough pull along with your skirt. You kicked them off clumsily, exposed now from the waist down, dripping just from his touch.
He dropped to his knees without warning forcing your thighs apart. You stared down, as he puts one of your legs over his shoulder. His eyes are locked on your cunt, like he's starving.
"Look at this pretty little pussy. Dripping for me." Without esitation he slid his tongue from your entrance to clit, licking up your juices with a groan that vibrated straight through you. You could hear the wet slurp as he devoured you, nose bumping your clit while his tongue speared inside, fucking your hole shallow and filthy.
"Oh God " Your head fall back against the shelf, your fingers twisting in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him grunt. He didn't stop.
"It's Leon, kid, say it." He whispered on your clit, tilting his head up enough to meet your eyes.
"Oh-Leon-God-Leon"
He chuckeled satisfied and he sucked your clit, used his teeth just enough to make you gasp, electricity shooting up your spine. Two fingers replaced his tongue. You clenched greedily,
He ate you like a possessed men, fingers scissoring wider to stretch you open, your thighs trembled, muscles burning as you rode his face.
"Gonna come? Already? Fuckin' soak my tongue then."
His words muffled against your cunt, beard abrasive on your sensitive skin. Pressure built deep inside you,your pussy spasming, clit pulsing under his mouth. You cum with a choked cry, orgasm ripping through you violent, your walls wetting his fingers as you squirted onto his palm, down his chin. He licks it all, humming approval, not stopping until you surrender boneless.
But he wasn't done. Gently lifting himself up, he grabbed your thighs, spinning you to face the shelf.
"Hands on the shelf. Ass out."
Command rough, no room for argument. You obeyed, palms slapping dusty metal, arching your back to expose your dripping pussy. You hear his zipper, then pants dropping, his cock free, heavy and leaking, the thick head smearing pre-cum on your ass crack as he slid it between your cheeks. You felt every vein, the wideness that promised to split you wide.
"Been thinkin' how this tight hole would feel around my cock,"
He teased your entrance, dipping the tip in just enough for you to feel his massive dick. Then he thrust brutally, your pussy stretched around him, burning sweetly, every inch forcing your walls to welcome him.
"Fuck, so goddamn tight. Like you were made for my cock."
He fucked you hard, slapping your clit with wet slaps, his hips moving relentlessly. The shelf shook, the files fell to the floor, but neither of you cared. He felt so good inside you, filling you completely. You moaned desperately, his cock thrusting deep, hitting you exactly where you needed to be. Sweat beaded your back, you felt it mingling with your sex, you felt his chest hair scraping your spine, an arm wrapping around your waist, a hand dipping between your legs to pinch your clit.
"Leon, god you feel so good, cum inside me pleas- god" you screamed.
"Oh kid it feels amazing inside your pussy too."
His free hand mauling your breast under your shirt, his thumb gently brushing your hard nipple through the lace of your bra. You clenched deliberate, inner muscles contracting, and he cursed. Your second orgasm built fast, his fingers rubbed your clit, his cock filling you while you screamed his name, your pussy twiching, dripping wet. Leon followed with a guttural roar,his cock swelling impossibly thicker. Hot ropes of cum erupted inside you, painting your walls white, so much it leaked out around his base, running down your thighs. You both collapsed on the floor, both panting ragged.
For a long minute, only heavy breaths filled the room than he gently rolled you over, kissing you deeply before pulling himself away with a smirk.
"Next time," he murmured against your lips, "we should do it at my place and maybe we lock the door first."
Thank you for readings! Hope you liked it, feedback is always welcome <3
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