direnightshade - Tumblr blog

direnightshade · 1 year

Text

Take a Chance on Me

Produce Guy!Ben Solo x plus size!reader

Trope: grocery store meet cute

Word Count: ~3000+

🔞CW: smut, use of gendered pet names (bad girl, pretty girl, good girl), brief dry humping, vaginal fingering, reader is lifted up onto a shelf (this is my fat girl fantasy, leave me alone about mechanics or whatever), unprotected sex with a stranger, piv, cream pie, slightly switchy reader vibes at the end

Author’s Note: My own local grocery store produce guy inspired this horny little thing, so a special thanks to him. Cheers.

It was the same every week.

You went to your local grocery store to do your shopping. The place was almost always packed full before ten am, forcing you to push your way through a throng of people just to get a box of cereal or a jug of coffee creamer. It was just overall too much for your nerves. So naturally you figured it would be worth it to wake up a little earlier on Saturday mornings to avoid the crowds and get the fresh items from the shelves before the public swarmed the place.

That’s when it began.

Early morning trips provided you with a more relaxed shopping experience, allowing you to take your time going through the aisles or carefully pick through the fruits and veggies that had yet been touched and bruised to hell. Come to find out, it was also the perfect time to check out the guy who restocks the produce. He’s there every Saturday morning to reload the bins.

Without fail, he always catches your eye.

You try to resist– to keep your eyes on your cart and only glance around to browse the shelves in search of what you need, but he’s always right there in your peripheral.

Your gaze traces over his broad back when you’re scanning the area for fresh herbs. Or when he bends over to restock the crate of green bell peppers, allowing you an eyeful of thick, squeezable ass. And again when you’re looking for the crate of green beans just to catch him lifting a box of oranges, biceps nearly bulging out of his royal blue t-shirt sleeves which revealed a tattoo on his inner arm that you never got quite close enough to make out. One time he was restocking the celery when the sprinklers came on; rained a mist down on his black ballcap to soak his raven waves, forcing the dark strands to curl at the ends and stick to the nape of his neck.

It was far more erotic than it should have been and made you question whether you were getting laid enough for such a simple thing to get you so worked up.

Then on the occasionally frequent mortifying occurrence, he would catch you checking him out. When your ogling lingered a little too long, it was almost as if he could sense your wandering eyes.

Inevitably, his own would find yours, even from a few aisles away, and his plush pink lips would curl at the corner as he held your gaze. How you wished you could tell what color his eyes are from this distance. It was always only a few seconds, but just long enough for you to return the smile and bashfully return your attention to your cart.

Now it's been a couple of months since this little song and dance began.

How sad is it that this is the interaction you most look forward to each week?

No amount of self-serviced orgasms or dating app hookups has been enough to shake Produce Guy from your thoughts, leaving you feeling edged and more desperate the longer this goes on.

So now you’re back to square one with semi-dreading doing your weekly shopping.

You wished this man would just put you out of your misery already with a disgusted scowl at your not-so-subtle staring, or that he would ignore you entirely. But no, he always has to smile and flirt from a distance, practically eye-fucking you from over the shelves of citrus. Neither of you ever acted on it further which often left you sufficiently achy and damp between the thighs by the time you pass the bananas to cross into the bread aisle.

It was tortuous.

But you certainly weren’t brave enough to approach him first or ask for his name.

So of course, you being you, make your introduction in the worst way possible. By accidentally running over his foot with your cart and immediately backing into his stock cart, knocking over a box of fruit in the process that sends apples scattering across the linoleum floor in every direction.

For a moment, you’re frozen in place, disbelieving that of all the ways you could have crossed his path, this is what the universe had deemed acceptable.

His face is one of pain followed by irritation as he takes in the mess surrounding the two of you. You don’t think he has even looked in your direction, let alone notice that you’re the one who just made his job all the harder. After this, you wouldn’t blame him if he started giving you that cold shoulder that you had been praying for just this morning.

“I am so sorry,” you rush out, finally swimming your way out of stupor.

Squatting down, you begin to grab for the apples, tossing them back into the box one by one as quickly as you can in hopes that you can make a speedy exit and never return to this store again. This mortification wasn’t worth the convenience of the store being close to your apartment building. You would just start going to the one across town.

“Its okay. Not the first time that some of the products have been dropped. If not you, it would have been some teen boys fucking around or a little old lady who forgot to wear her glasses.”

His attempt at being playful isn’t lost on you, but you still can’t bear to look up at him right now, giving him only an acknowledging hum in return. It would have been better if the kids or the old lady would have caused this accident– at least they had reasonable excuses that weren’t ‘got distracted by Produce Guy’s shirt bunching up and revealing a mouth-watering sliver of dark happy trail’.

The heat of a broad, warm body invades your left side as he squats down beside you to start tossing more apples back into the box. Still too embarrassed to look at his face, you keep your gaze cast down, only catching sight of his rather large hand. Which was apparently big enough to grab three of the apples at a time, as opposed to the one you were able to wrap a single hand around. Stifling a whimper, you both work together until all of the fruit is picked up– at least the ones that didn’t roll under the refrigeration units.

Just as you reach for the remaining apple, one of those veiny hands collides with your own, his warm palm landing atop yours. Before you have a chance to reel back, his fingers thread through yours, locking them– and you– in place until finally, you brave a glance up. You’re met with breathtakingly beautiful hazel eyes, the swirls of greens and browns dancing around the dark pupil.

His eyes crinkle at the corners, almost as if he’s relieved and grateful to have your attention. As always, the crooked smile follows and you’re sucked into the brilliant light of his playful, carefree face. Even with it only being late Spring, he already has a light tan and a dusting of freckles across the skin with the occasional mole that you can only describe as beauty marks.

If the sun were a personification, it would be him.

“Hi.”

His deep voice is a whisper, practically a caress, making that innocent word feel anything but.

“Hi,” you breathe back.

At a loss for words, you bite down on your lower lip to keep yourself from mindlessly rambling and ruining the spark of this moment.

That flirtatious smile of his only grows wider as his eyes flicker briefly to your mouth before he peeks up, taking a look at your surroundings over the rows of the chest refrigerators housing various berries and grapes. He must have found whatever he was looking for– or nothing at all, as it appeared that the two of you were alone in the produce section. But the whoosh of the automatic doors indicates that won't be the case for long as other customers begin to file in.

“Come with me.”

He doesn’t even wait for a response. His grip on your hand tightens as he rises to his feet to pull you with him, abandoning the box of apples, as well as your cart. The two of you weave through the thankfully empty aisles of the store. Maybe the universe was looking out for you after all, and was clearing a path to wherever this angel wanted to lead you.

He leads you swiftly passed the meat section and through a set of double doors at the back of the building. It was clearly a place for employees only, but that didn't seem to deter him as he pushes through the doors and a gust of air from the chilly back room sends tendrils of hair flying from your face. With a quick look first to the left, then right of the storage room, he decides to go right, continuing to pull you along as he goes through the maze of ceiling-high shelves. After rounding an abandoned fork truck, you are only pulled down a few more aisles until he's rounding the corner and pressing you up against one of the sturdy shelves.

"What are y--"

Your words are cut off as his soft lips press against yours.

He doesn't even move for a moment. Just allows your mouths to rest against one another while you breathe each other in. Your shock subsides and you sink into the kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck, and he hums out a groan when your lips start to move against his. One of his enormous hands palms the back of your head, keeping you in place as his tongue swipes between your lips.

You lose track of time, surrendering to his taste and the fresh, heady scent of whatever cologne he uses. It had to have only been a couple of minutes, but the kiss seemed to last for years, in the best way possible.

When the two of you finally part, chests panting heavily against one another, your head falls to rest against the metal shelf at your back while you try to catch your breath. You can't help the flush of heat swimming beneath your skin, completely taking over your body after being kissed dizzy.

"Holy fuck."

He grins at your breathy response, the hand on your hair falling to support your back while the other wraps around your waist to stroke your spine.

"I've wanted to do that for weeks," he admits.

"What took so long?" you quip, finally having enough confidence to poke at him now that the ice has been broken. Crushed to smithereens.

"Excuse me?" he gapes. "You could have marched your cute little ass over to me at any time but I never saw you making any moves, Produce Girl."

"I'm Produce Girl? No, no, no. I don't work here. You do. So that makes you Produce Guy."

"Whatever. I think we're getting off track here," he laughs.

He leans in for another dizzying kiss, effectively silencing any more arguments from you. It doesn't take long for things to heat back up, just a few quick swipes of his tongue against yours for that aching pulse that you've been suffering with for weeks to return. Produce Guy groans into your mouth as his arms tighten around you, pulling you flush to the front of his body where you feel his hard cock pressing into your soft belly.

"Do you feel what you've been doing to me?" he murmurs against your lips.

Whimpering against his mouth, you tug on his hair in an attempt to make him start kissing you again while you rub your body against his length. A warm vibration rattles in his chest when he chuckles in response to your eagerness, the sensation making your nipples peak. He placates you with wet kisses running from your jaw to the soft curve of your neck.

"Yeah, you know what you do, bad girl. You're a little tease and you like it, don't you? Tell me, do you have any fucking idea how difficult it is to stock food at your job when you're rocking a boner? When you come in every week, I spend all morning dodging customer questions and hiding behind a stock pallet because all I can think about is bending you over my cart and having my way with you."

As if demonstrating his point, those hands of his slide down your plush hips, taking a moment to squeeze and relish in the way they fill his hands while he rocks against your front with a soft groan. His hands continue downward, tracing the outsides of your legs until his fingers brush the hem of your dress to slide up underneath the material.

"Dreamt about squeezing these hips and parting these sweet thighs. What will I find if I do, hmm? Are you nice and wet for me, pretty girl?" One hand slides smoothly between your pillowy thighs, forcing you to adjust your stance to make room for it as his fingers seek out your hot center. The tips brush against your embarrassingly damp panties, causing his head to fall to your shoulder with a groan as he digs into clit through the material. "I fucking knew it."

With a quick motion, one of your legs is brought up to hook around his waist, his sinewy forearm bulging with a ripple of veins to grip your thigh in place while his middle finger continues its assault on you. Pulling your panties aside, his finger slips through your slick slit, teasing back and forth through your folds. The heel of his palm grinds into your clit until you're a gushing, babbling mess begging for more.

"That's a good girl," he pants, beginning to lose the grip on his own control, "Get it nice and wet for me. You want this cock so bad, don't you? Your cunt is practically drooling for it. Probably been dreaming about this for weeks, haven't you? Well, I'll tell you a secret, baby. So have I."

Just as your legs start to quiver, he sinks two thick fingers inside your hole, triggering your release with a moan that was entirely too loud for such a public place. A hand clamps down over your mouth to muffle your sounds as you tighten around him, the steady pulsing of your muscles sucking his fingers deeper inside while you ride out your orgasm against his hand.

"Fuck, baby," he hisses, looking between your bodies to watch the way you writhe on hand. Only once the tremors subside does he make quick work of his belt and zipper to pull his length out.

Produce Guy might just have the pretty cock you've ever seen, all hard and flushed with a shiny tip, sticky and coated in precum. He wastes no time swiping the head through your soaked folds, bumping against your sensitive clit a few times while he uses your fluids to coat himself.

"Want you to do that on my cock now, okay babygirl? Wanna feel you milking me with all you've got."

With a yelp of surprise, you're suddenly in the air as two strong arms wrap around your thighs and your ass is propped up on one of the sturdy steel shelves. Any other time, this would be incredibly uncomfortable, but you find it hard to care when Produce Guy's impressive pretty boy cock is sliding into your slick entrance. Thrusting up into you one easy motion. Stretching you out and making you see stars before he sets a pace that has the shelves behind you rattling with vigor. All you can do is dig your nails into the nape of his neck and just try to hang on for the ride.

"You feel so fucking good, my god," he grunts into your neck between love bites and soothing kisses, "Like you were made to ride this dick, baby."

Fuck, maybe he wasn't an angel after all. Rather the devil in disguise sent to tempt you into eating the forbidden apple, with heavenly good looks and charm that could seduce the skin off a snake.

With his stubbly mound digging into your clit with every thrust, it shouldn't be a surprise that you find yourself close to the precipice once more. Acting on instinct, your ankles lock behind his back, keeping him close while you unabashedly chase your second climax.

"That's it, babygirl. You gonna cum for me again?"

Man, this guy was a talker.

So much more than any other you'd ever been with. Most of them had only been interested in getting their load off, merely using you as a means to their own end. It had become a cycle that you grew accustomed to, learning to take care of your own needs just to take the edge off. But Produce Guy wasn't that type at all, whispering praises and encouragement while he got off to your pleasure.

Only having time for a warning nod in response, you cry out once more as the sensations wrack your body and you tremble in his hold. With a string of curses, his thrusts become less coordinated as your cunt pulses around his cock. A couple of hard pumps later, he's throwing his head back with a groan as he releases his load inside of your fluttering heat, strings of hot cum splashing around your insides.

His head falls to the crook of your neck, dark sweaty waves sticking to your skin now that his hat had been lost at some point in this process. Your arms tighten around his neck and you hold one another while your bodies float down from the high. You both stay that way for several moments, collecting yourselves while his still semi-hard cock continues to rest inside of you, neither of you making an effort to move. At least not until you feel the trickling of spunk running down your inner thigh, dripping from his balls.

"I don't wanna move," he murmurs into your skin, "Don't want this to be over yet."

"Who says it has to be?" Your fingers trail through the tendrils of hair at his nape, gripping the roots so you can pull him from the comfort of your neck to look you in the eyes while you tease him. "Were you planning to hit and quit it? One time in the storage closet at work was enough for you?"

"Fuck no," he bites, his teeth snapping playfully before he kisses your lips softly. "I'm Ben."

"Hi, Ben," you whisper against his lips.

Darting your tongue out, you teasingly flick it across his lips, forcing him to chase yours in a desperate plea for another kiss. But instead of giving him what he wants, you pull back with a smile.

"If you want my name, you're going to have to work for it. Call me, pretty boy."

#I cannot wait to read this #ben solo/you #ben solo/reader #ben solo x you #ben solo x reader #ben solo smut #plus size!reader #leatherboundbirate

24 notes · View notes