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hazelfoureyes · 1 year ago

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The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 3)

I deadass wrote part one as a one shot. Is this what peer pressure is? I love it.

It would have been easy to forget you, your soul was his anyways so the real fun had already finished. But that pesky video hit most streamed in 24 hours, he couldn’t even walk to the butcher without hearing you scream his name from errant phones. Surely there was a way, even from hell, to finish what he started and get you out of his system.

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, soft Alastor, unprotected sex (duh?), creampie, edging a little, feelings, Valentino exists, Vox also exists, literally wrote this split screen with part 2 on the right side so I could line it up right like he does hehe, Alastor has a bad time

tag requested: @astraechos , @thekanrojimitsuri2 , @hoeforalbedo , @crazylazybabyk , @oddball08 , @lovingyeet , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @random-3455 , @alicehasdrowned , @des-deswain5621 , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @doctorswife221b

When Val released, ‘The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice’, it immediately went viral. The website crashed, downloads surpassed his wildest, horniest dreams.

It’s scary but also hot? ☆☆☆☆☆

Eat me Mr. Radio Demon!

I’ve never wanted to be a pussy so much in my life.

The reviews were all favorable, the comments rolling in, it was perfect.

Until Vox said it wasn’t. He had seen the video, but figured no one would care about seeing Alastor fuck anything. It wasn’t the success that got under his skin, it was the wave of positive attention it brought Alastor. Suddenly everyone was tuning in to his broadcasts, little miss princess’s hotel was busier than ever.

And it was ubiquitous. Every screen seemed to feature Alastor’s breakout role.

“I said pull it, Val!” Vox slammed his hands on Valentino’s coffee table.

“Vox, baby, you’re being really sensitive about this. I’m literally fucking piles of money right now. Actual piles of money, like, person sized piles.” Val took a drag of his cigarette, “Its good for business.”

“Would you rather fuck money, or me?” Vox’s screen glitched.

Val leaned his elbows on his knees, “That’s a really difficult question for me and I think you know that.”

“Augh! Val! Think of the big picture! That obsolete dickhead gaining attention means gaining power. And that’s bad for business.”

Val’s eyes fluttered, “What if we like, say it wasn’t him?”

Flashes of Alastor’s face fazed in and out of focus across Vox’s screen, your body flipping over, a mess of tentacles writhing.

Val took off his glasses, “Oh yeah, that’s pretty obviously him.”

“What is?” Vox’s face splintered back to the screen.

“Do you—- do you not know you’ve been like,” Val used his cigarette to gesture at Vox’s face, “just straight up playing his porno?”

Vox’s hands flew to his screen, “No! Fucking shit! What the fuck!!” He picked up a vase and threw it across the room, “Wipe it clean off the server! Delete it! Ban it’s fucking streaming! End of discussion!”

Val shrugged, he owned every bootleg distributor in the pride ring. He’d pull it and up the price threefold for illegal downloads. “Whatever you want, amorcito.”

Alastor was quite happy the video went ‘underground’ of sorts. The first month after you left, he was plagued by the sound of your voice. Everywhere he went it seemed you were screaming his name, every phone and television a conduit for you.

What really bothered him though, was the reaction others had to him. Where once sinners leapt from his path and set theirselves on fire to avoid him, now people winked and waved. It made his skin crawl. When alive, at the peak of his radio show fame, it wasn’t uncommon to have fans approach him in jazz clubs. But the decorum of 1930's jazz fans was a far cry from the brazen displays of desire from the citizens of hell.

“Perhaps I should have thought it through?” He mused.

“Ya think?” Rosie put her tea down, “Was it worth it, at least?”

He mulled the question over. Worth it? Well, he had your soul. Which is grand. But you weren’t even in hell to be called upon. What did he really get from the deal? Alastor brought his palm to his face, already feeling the blush spreading. Rosie's chuckle didn't help. He did get something. You'd been gone a month, and each day he woke up having forgot you existed. And every night he lied down to rest and imagined your eyes staring back at him. Did he want to fight you, or surrender, when he saw that look? When the silk tie had fallen from your face, slipping down your nose to reveal your intense stare...He thought his heart had stopped. For every ounce of resilience in your voice he found a pound of fury in your gaze. What poor luck Valentino had been given to receive you as an offering.

"Too soon to tell." He leaned back, finally dropping his hand.

“Well it seemed you had a good time… not that I could see much through the green glow and all that static noise. Really spoiled the climax with that move, Alastor dear."

Alastor’s eyes were saucers, “Rosie. Are you implying-,”

“What?” She drew out the word, “I thought you weren’t into those things so of course I was curious!”

He sighed, “I’m not.”

Rosie pushed the teaspoon around her cup with one finger, “Sure looked like you were.”

He crossed his arms, indignant, “You don’t have to have an appetite to enjoy a meal.”

“Message received loud and clear dear! I won’t bring up the subject again.” She cackled and changed the topic to the latest gossip around the colony.

Another night staring at the ceiling, mind ghosting over the idea of you. He felt like he his sanity was unraveling Leaving his bed, he stepped barefoot onto the grass of the swampy forest he materialized into his room when he moved in to the hotel.

With an outstretched hand, Alastor felt for your connection. He couldn’t see it, but the weight of the chain connecting your soul to him sunk into his palm. Curious, he wrapped his fingers around the invisible links and pulled.

With a soft green glow, you rose from the grass.

His breath hitched, he hadn’t expected that. “It seems our deal really did stick, didn't it?" walking towards you, Alastor dropped to his knees at your feet. You were on your side, unmoving.

His head cocked to the left, ears turned in. Alastor crawled toward you, rolling you onto your back and opening your legs. He slotted himself there, “Hellooo,” He took your face in his both of his hands, elbows resting beside your ears, “Are you… sleeping, dear?”

This is ridiculous.

Alastor inspected your face; peaceful. It was a new sight for him, he'd really only ever seen you in some kind of rage or lost in pleasure. His hand slid down your body, realizing you were in the robe still. He laughed, but realized it was for no one. "Are you really going to sleep, hmm?" He hooked his hands under your knee and brought it up around his hip.

Nothing.

"I'm starting to get offended, dear." He leaned down and whispered into the crook of your neck. "If you don't wake up-" He slid down, the robe open enough to let his breathe ghost over your stomach. He stopped. He couldn't do anything to you while you slept. It was void of any enjoyment for him. Without your reactions, it was just....pointless. While he did enjoy your performance in the studio, he was taught to show respect for those of fairer means. A sleeping partner fell into that category.

He reached beneath you and straightened your robe that had bunched there under your body. Placing your leg back down by your ankle, he began pulling the collar up and closed it snuggly.

He stood there for a second, looking over you. It worked. You're here again. His mother had taught him that the human soul was most vulnerable at night. When asleep, the soul could wander from the body and travel earth and beyond. She even said people could train themselves, and with practice, remember their journeys even after waking.

Kneeling down, Alastor pushed your hair from your face, "Don't forget. What fun is there in that?" The shadow beneath your body shimmered neon green before you were swallowed by inky darkness and Alastor was once again, alone.

After his mother died, Alastor was often alone. Most of his time, really. Well, there were people always around. But they were staff, or hangers-on, or women looking for a comfortable life. They were dancers and bootleggers and musicians. Which was fine and grand. But, they never saw him. He never let them, they never tried. He was the radio host. The great dancer. The southern gentleman. The killer. The cannibal. The deer in the woods. Not a single person ever looked at him on earth and saw him. Which was precisely what he wanted, and manufactured with his wide smile and good manners.

So when your eyes bore into him from that tacky studio set, and he felt suddenly naked in front of you, he knew you were looking at the him. You saw him.

It was worth it. Alastor was willing to admit that to himself.

Over the next couple days, he would randomly try to pull you to him. Through out the day, in different places, he would summon your soul and wait. Nothing. It confirmed his theory, your soul was only able to leave your living body while you were asleep.

In the privacy of his room, Alastor paced the space between grass and carpet. What was this feeling? Nerves? He hadn't felt nervous since he was a child.

But, what was causing him a pause, was if he summoned you and you didn't appear. Maybe it had been a fluke? Maybe for the 7th time in 3 days he would pull on that connection and be left standing there, alone.

Still.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to regain composure. Finally, he reached out for your ties to him, and pulled you into hell.

He held his breath, unconsciously.

With a glow, you appeared again before him. He was quick this time to approach you, setting beside you and leaning close to your face. Asleep.

"Is this my foreseeable future?" He asked, "Staring at you while you sleep, my doe."

Suddenly, you opened your eyes and met his. Reaching up, you grabbed him with both hands and pulled his face into yours. Your hands ran through his hair as you took him in a frenzied kiss. Alastor froze for a beat, but when your tongue licked at his bottom lip, he was brought back to the moment. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, rolling over yours and reaching as deep as he could. He felt like he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. He really could, if he wanted to.

Alastor swung his leg over your body and straddled your hips. "Mon cher, you've finally joined me." His chest was rising and falling with excited breath.

"Alastor?" You tried to feel your body, but it was nowhere near you.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. You're still alive and well. I've merely borrowed your soul for the evening." He looked down at you, and finally, for the first time in what felt like months, your eyes fell to his face.

But today, they were soft and out of focus.

"Can you see me, my dear?" He leaned down slightly, trying to read the look on your face.

"Am I dreaming?"

He chuckled, "Perhaps we both are." With an exhale he wondered if he had been holding his breath this entire time. "No, this isn't a dream."

"I don't understand...but--," You lifted your arms towards him, "Should I say thank you? It was fucked, what happened." Your voice was slow, words a little slurred, "But, I'm home safe and sound now. You did what you promised me. I don't know if I'll ever see you again so...should I thank you now?"

Your tongue felt fat in your mouth, heavy and delayed.

Alastor leaned down over you, "You don't have to say anything." He used his knees to open your legs, and settled there. "Unfortunately, you've become a little worm in my mind." His hands slid under the silk robe you hadn't stopped wearing yet, "I'm hoping if I finally have you, I can...whet my appetite, and return to my normal self." He felt along your hips, hands stopping when he realized you were naked under the thin piece of fabric.

"I keep remembering," you covered your eyes with your hands, "that big hand of yours. And I realize, you never touched me past that."

He smiled, genuinely, truly, "Exactly! You understand the problem precisely. Shall we both have our fill and be done with it?"

You moved your hands to touch his ears, waiting for him to disappear at any moment, "Please. I'm so tired of missing someone I don't even know." He removed your hands, and you held them to your chest.

"My thoughts exactly, mon cher." He adjusted his hips, letting his crotch rub against your core. This was the closest he had been to you since you'd met. It was dizzying, and it felt like his skin was vibrating everywhere it met yours.

A soft moan left your throat, causing his cock to twitch in his pants. Yes, it was you. This wasn’t his standard response to such sounds. Alastor sat up, his legs bent and knees at either side of your hips. Taking one of your hands from your chest, he placed a kiss on a digit. Then another. He kissed his way down your arm.

“So gentle. Weird.” You tried to focus on him, but your mind was still cloudy. The sensations were here but also so far away, too far away, in another lifetime all together.

“Was I not gentle before, all things considered?,” he continued his way down your arm.

You let your eyes drift to the sky, stars watching you from above, “More than him.”

His mouth went dry at the mention of Val, "I am many things more than him, darling." As his lips found your neck, he took a deep breath. "I can actually take my time now. No audience." He sucked a bruise, and released you with a pop. He presented two fingers to your lips, and without thinking about it you began to suck them. While you were slipping your tongue over and between his fingers, he moved to continue a trail of kisses and nips down your right arm.

"Get them nice and wet." He watched through half lidded eyes as you licked his long fingers. He knew he needed to remove his hips from yours, but the idea pained him. Finally, he took his fingers from you and swiped them over your entrance. Your chest jumped, so he did it again. He tried to push the fingers into you, but the resistance was more than he expected. You were wet, but tight. He let his middle finger slip inside you. So soft. So warm. His shadow tendrils allowed him some feeling but not this, this was something they kept to themselves.

"When was your last time, mon cher?"

Your mind searched for memories still left behind in your body somewhere, "In hell."

"You're in hell now."

"This doesn't feel like hell." You ground your hips onto his palm, trying to get that single digit slowly moving in you to come deeper, to become more. He replied by pushing in his pointer finger, erection becoming painful already as you let out a little moan. Bending them up, he began to make long thrusts past your g-spot. His mouth long stilled on your arm, staring at your face as you whimpered into the sky.

"Look at me."

Your eyes darted to him, half open and wet. Alastor felt his patience snap. Undoing his belt and zipper, he finally freed his cock. He ran his head between your entrance to your clit , gathering your fluids on him to ease his entry. Taking both of your legs, he held them at the ankles and set them on his left shoulder. With your hips slightly raised, he pressed into you.

With a hiss you dug your fingers into the dirt, body tensing instinctively. One of his arms hugged your legs to his chest, the other was now bruising your hips as he continued to push into you. With just his head in, he began fast and shallow thrusts. Every time making more progress into your warmth. The stretch burned, but the feeling of him forcing space into you for himself just made you wetter.

Finally, he bottomed out. He had no sense to still himself, shallow thrusts gave way to long, deep plunges. Alastor's breathing was filling the space around you, mixing with your own. Leaning back, he looked down at where you two were connected.

He withdrew slowly, nearly entirely, and pushed back in. Again. And again. It was intoxicating, how he felt himself melt into you. He'd had lovers in life, but never had he been with someone without a barrier of some sorts. Be that his well placed smile or latex. He'd never fucked anyone raw before. He almost regretted not trying earlier, as the sensation of your walls and arousal sticking to his cock and thighs was breaking him. Watching himself entirely disappear inside you, he closed his eyes. Everything was so hot, so tight, would he disappear entirely? Would he lost in the pleasure your body was so effortlessly giving? Was he the unlucky one?

Alastor pushed your knees up to your chest, using his body weight to hold them down as his paced picked up. You brought your dirtied nails to your own legs, holding on tightly. Desperately you needed something to tether you to the ground, keep you still against the twitches shaking your stomach and chest. You felt with any jolt to your nerves you'd fall off the world and drift into the night.

He felt the build up, his balls tightening and drawing in, he wanted to slow down-- he wanted to bring you there first but he couldn't stop the rutting of his hips. With a whine, Alastor's forehead came to rest on yours, hips smacking into you with a wet slap. "Look at me," He commanded again, and you obeyed. One of his hands came to your chin to hold your head still, "Don't you dare look away."

Struggling to keep your eyes open, he pushed into you with one final, deep thrust. His hands came down now to the ground around you as he pushed you into the grass. Hips stuttering, cock twitching in you. You'd never let anyone cum inside you before, the sensation of heat quickly filling your cunt made you tighten around him. "Good girl", He purred, jaw tight.

He pulled back slowly before bringing his hips down, sweat sticking to his forehead where it met yours. His pace was quickly becoming brutal, a hand finding its way to that little bud of nerves of yours. With rough pressure and hurried speed his thumb drew out your orgasm. When you came, you gasped out his name, craning your neck up to ghost your lips over his open mouth. As the pleasure surged from your center, you could feel your body again. He tried to keep his eyes on your eyes, but the overstimulation of your cunt trying to wring him dry forced him to shut them.

A light shone through his eyelids, startling them open again.

"Wait-!" He watched you get pulled away from beneath him. Before he could react, Alastor was on all fours in the forest, alone. Eyes wide, he pounded his fist against the grass. He tried to summon you back to him, to drag you to him but nothing happened.

He thought he'd gone crazy. Hands came to his head, smile pained as he tried to process what he was feeling.

No.

Not enough.

Too soon.

A growl ripped through his chest. This hadn't satiated him at all. No, he was worse off now. He was starved, he had nourishment ripped from his mouth and he as angry for it. Angry to hell, to Valentino, to the conditions of owning a living soul.

He did not even attempt to rest that night. Taking his time, he had to find composure again. Alastor managed to pull himself together after several hours of self isolation. After his heart stopped racing, after his hands stopped feeling phantom skin beneath them, he calmed his smile and went about his day.

When night returned, he couldn't help but stare into the forest domain. He wanted so badly to bring you to himself, but that want was terrifying. It was overpowering him, and he couldn't accept that.

Another night left, another day passed. Husk found Alastor's cruelty to be growing, his patience giving out at the smallest perceived slight. Angel stopped engaging entirely. Charlie found herself wanting to approach him, find out why it seemed his hair was always standing on end, his eyes sharp. But, she didn't. She couldn't. Alastor would pass through the halls like a raging specter. He wouldn't slow or acknowledge anyone.

He managed a week. Satisfied with his resolve, he waited for when night fell and he was sure you'd be deep asleep, yanked your soul from your body and into him. He felt rabid, like he his brain was catching fire. Finally when you materialized before him, he grabbed your face with his hand.

"My doe?"

Just like before, you stirred, and your hands immediately went for his hair. He pulled back, "Are you awake?"

"Am I dreaming? Alastor?" You looked drunk, mind struggling to process the change in scenery. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he hovered above you, and you pulled him into a kiss. He happily returned it, hands quick to untie the robe you had taken as your own. He wasted now time in getting himself unsheathed and lined up with you, before he could enter you reached out to him, "I wanted to say--- thank you. I don't know if I'll ever really see you again."

The realization made his blood run cold. His mother's stories flooded back to him. It takes training, and time, to remember the travels of the wandering soul.

"You don't have to say anything." Alastor thrust into you, your body tense but not as resistant as before. When he was finally enveloped in you, he could feel himself calm. He didn't feel any need to be gentle this time around. He immediately set a bruising pace, digging his nails into the soft flesh of your ass as he forced your hips to meet his with every thrust. You gasped beneath him, eyes wandering up to the sky just past his head. He'd bring you to climax, wanting to drink in your expression, and to his horror as you choked out his name you were spirited away from him again.

Everyone on the floor heard Alastor's rampage. When Angel ran to get Charlie and Vaggie, they were scared to knock. With a steadying breath Charlie rapped the door, "Al? You okay in there?"

Suddenly, silence.

The door whipped open, Alastor smiling with half lidded eyes, "Why of course. What ever made you think otherwise?"

"The fuckin' sounds of carnage, maybe?" Angel looked past Alastor. The sofa shredded, coffee table in pieces. The wallpaper had been ripped down and torn to shreds. Charlie noticed the dirt under his nails, but Alastor coolly pulled his hands behind his back.

"Can I do something for you?" His tone was cold.

"I guess not, Al...," Charlie took in the damage, "Did something happen?"

Alastor smiled wider, "No," and closed the door. No one saw him the following day, which wasn't entirely unusual but it was weighing on Charlie. When Alastor finally appeared and announced he was going to Cannibal Town, she was elated. A chat with Rosie would surely bring him back to himself.

"I don't see the problem. You've got her soul, you can summon her to you, and you get a little," She searched for the word, "relief. Why do you look so pained, old friend?"

"You know better than most I have no interest in chasing women, Rosie."

"Yet..." She cocked her brow.

"It isn't about the release. I don't particularly need that. I never have." He huffed, the conversation already exhausting him, "When I would kill someone, I was God. Their life was in my hands. I took that power from them."

Rosie clicked her tongue, "And when she's in your hands?" Alastor hunched over his black coffee before remembering himself and straightening his back. "I've never seen you like this before, hun. You've got it bad, huh?"

"Personal connections like this, Rosie, are dangerous. I lost my self restraint entirely. It's a weakness." He fought to regain his smile, never knowing who could be passing by.

She tutted him, "Oh no, that's where you're wrong. The difference between a strong man and an unstoppable man is having something to care about." Rosie leaned over and set her hand on top of his, "Imagine you walked into Val's studio right now and found her like you did a couple months ago. How would you react?"

His stomach wretched forward, if he saw you today, hanging from the ceiling? The stench of Valentino's cigarette smoke clinging to your hair, the marks where his hands had made contact with you? His hand under her's tightened, claws leaving marks into the wooden tabletop. "Do you feel weak right now, Alastor?" The hair on his ears was standing straight up, his now black eyes met hers, "You sure don't look it."

He’d remembered hearing something similar before from Vaggie. Could it be true? It was a precarious ladder. If he let himself be close to someone, then the person is in turn close to him, then that person knows him intimately, and then— they are a walking soft spot. Someone could take them and torture them for information. Or, hurt them to hurt him.

But, who would dare? A fire rose in chest at the thought. What was the point of power if he couldn’t have what he wanted? If he had to answer to others about his desires? To pursue strength and status was what he wanted but if that strength didn’t afford him freedom than what good was it, really?

"I say, not that you asked," Rosie smiled and withdrew her hand, "Could be nice to have a little company now and then. Plus, better than waiting 60 years or something for her to just die." She shrugged, "Now, eat. You look like a shit."

Rosie had a point, while your existence was fragile, it was still available to him.

For awhile, he would call you nightly. Alastor would fuck you into the grass, beneath the trees, under the stars. He learned your orgasm would wake you, and he would draw it out as long as he could. He'd edge you for hours, watching you sob for your release. Slowly, your consciousness became more and more solid during your meetings.

To his relief, his hunger for your presence calmed over time. He could handle a week or even two without sharing your company, and he noticed each time you seemed to recognize him more. You'd participate more, moan louder, scream his name and squirm from the pleasure. He relished trapping you underneath his wide shoulders, pulling you onto his lap as he fucked up into you.

He wasn't fond of the few times he summoned you and you were already wet, or smelling of cologne. He'd tease, "Lonely?" and when he'd fuck his back cum into you before helping you chase your own orgasm, he'd remind you, "You're mine, little doe. No one can replace me." And he'd feel his chest swell. Others had your body for the night, but your soul was his forever. With every meeting, he felt more like himself. And the nights you were screaming his name in the forest, and his horns were looming over you as he marked you over and over as his, he felt powerful.

Some nights, he'd call you to him to just let you rest. He'd enjoy a book, or some jazz over a meal, while you lied quietly in his bed.

The days he pulled you into hell and your hair smelled of the trees, of sweat and dirt, he would be gentler. He could feel the ache in your muscles, the tan on your cheeks, and sent you back.

One such night came, where he of course took your chains in his hand and tugged. But this time, when you arrived, your face was painted with anger. You were asleep still, and even when he whispered to you, you didn't wake. You were having a nightmare, from what he could tell. He took you to his bed, and let you settle.

You stayed there until waking up again in your bed.

And every night that week, he'd bring you to his bed and go about his tasks while you fought some demons in your head. He'd never seen you have a nightmare, and began to wonder if something was happening in the overworld.

Alastor was enjoying a deer carcass in his room, humming softly to himself, when a green light erupted on the floor.

He was well aware it wasn't night anymore, and that he hadn't brought you here. With a soft smile, he left his meal and approached the light. Slowly, your body rose from the darkness there. Not just your soul.

When you looked up at him, a smile on your lips and two small doe ears on your head, he grinned, "Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?" He offered you a hand up, "Welcome home.”

༻Masterlist༺

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macabrebatz · 21 days ago

Text

SOMETHING THERE (Caged Warcraft Orc/Reader)

Summary: Orcs have invaded your world and you're tasked with taking care of a very angry, very injured imprisoned orc. But he's not the only one that's going to be taken care of.

Author’s Note: Hello, lovelies! A little while ago I got sent an ask here about the captured orc in the movie Warcraft (you can read the post here). I love the concept so much that I just had to write about him. He's unnamed in the movie so I just refer to him as an orc throughout this. This can be read as a generic orc x human story but just know this was written specifically with this big drooling guy in mind. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, fem! reader, orc x human, canon divergent, smut with some plot, teratophillia/monsterfucking, injured character, conversation about mates, teasing, size difference (this orc is bigger than you no matter your size), let's pretend that Warcraft orcs would actually fit for a moment, fingering, standing sex, rough sex, unprotected p in v, some degradation, possessiveness, he's mean I don't know what else to tell you, choking, hair pulling, semi public sex (?), Lothar makes an appearance, no aftercare, NOT beta read

Word count: 4.7k

Your job had been straightforward for the most part. You were a handmaiden often tasked with cleaning and maintaining the kingdom's dungeons. There had never been many prisoners kept in the lower parts of the castle, not while you had been of service there at least. Most of the time the cells were empty and you were often tasked with taking care of other parts of the castle instead, places frequently overlooked by the other maids.

But all of a sudden you found yourself busier than usual when a handful of knights dragged in a nearly dead creature of the likes you had never seen before. It took multiple men to pull him down the steps of the dungeons and into a barred cell.

Lothar, a man you had become friends with, followed behind his fellow knights, watching as they hovered around the prisoner.

“What exactly is he?” you asked quietly.

You had met all types of denizens of Azeroth. Elves, dwarves, worgen….but never anyone like the large, tusked man that laid before you.

Lothar shrugged, not knowing the answer to the question.

“If I knew I would tell you. They just…showed up. I don’t know where they came from. Or how many there are. We took the other one to the king for questioning. She’s tiny compared to the rest of them,” he mumbled.

You looked down at the floor, staring at the smeared trail of blood leading from the stairs to the cell.

“He’s wounded?” you questioned, looking back at the cell.

“Yes, he was going to attack the other one we captured. Can you keep him alive?” Lothar asked.

You nodded. You had cared for injured and sick prisoners before. Some of them probably wouldn’t have lived if it wasn’t for you.

“I’ll need supplies though.”

“I’ll get you everything you need. Just be careful and try to keep your distance as much as possible. He doesn’t seem to be the friendliest,” he said.

Lothar left you with the other knights, disappearing up the stairs. After a few minutes, he returned with a box of supplies, far more than enough to heal any wounds. He ushered the other knights out and wished you luck as he sauntered away.

You had unlocked the cell and spent a considerable amount of time trying to remove the rugged bone armor and leather from the sleeping creature's chest. You then began cleaning and stitching the stab wound, silently cursing Lothar for creating such a nasty wound to begin with. Never once did the being move or wake. His breathing was weak and a part of you thought he might die right then and there from the amount of blood he had lost.

But his chest continued to rise and fall as you snipped the end of the stitches with your shears. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you sat there for a moment, watching the sleeping creature.

He was large, bigger than any human you had ever seen. He had long greying hair and an untamed beard. Although his eyes were closed you could tell that one had been previously injured, the skin around it scarred and almost red. On the opposite side of his face, a deep scar ran from his lip up the side of his face. There were pieces of metal embedded in the skin where the wound had been closed and healed over the metal.

There was a part of you, deep inside your mind that found the rugged stranger quite attractive. But you ignored that part of your mind, pushing those thoughts aside. You knew nothing about the being that laid before you and you weren’t going to let curiosity get the better of you.

You wrapped a bandage around his shoulder and chest, something that proved to be quite difficult with how large he was. But you managed to do it regardless, securing the bandage so it wouldn’t move.

You stood up and walked out of the cell, closing the door behind you.

There was still blood all over the floor and you quickly turned your attention to that, scrubbing the floors by hand, something you had done time and time again.

About an hour passed and as you found yourself on your knees, scrubbing the last bit of blood off the floor you heard shuffling. You glanced over your shoulder to see the creature waking up, slowly sitting up, reaching for his chest and grimacing in pain.

He shook his head and looked around, growling as he slowly became more conscious. His head turned, stopping when his eyes laid on you. For a moment neither of you moved, staring at each other, but then the creature lurched forward toward the bars and let out a roar. You jumped back in surprise, almost knocking over the bucket of water sitting beside you.

The roar ceased as he grabbed his chest once again, falling onto his knees in pain. Your fear was quickly replaced with worry, standing up quickly and walking closer to the cell.

“You can’t do that. You’ll make the wound open back up,” you said.

He snarled and said something in a language you had never heard before. He sat back against the wall, glaring at you.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” you said.

He didn’t say anything else. He just sat there, grumbling and holding his chest.

And that’s how almost every day had gone for weeks. He would over-exert himself out of anger, trying to break through the bars of his cell. You would scold him, telling him he needed to rest, which he would ignore. He would yell at you in his native tongue and you would ignore him, setting down food and water in front of the bars, just enough for him to reach the plate but not you.

Some days the yelling and banging on the bars would get so loud that the knights that stood guard at the entrance of the dungeon came rushing in, scared for your safety. You would shoo them away, assuring the worried knights that you were fine. They were honestly happy to leave, not wanting to be so close to the creature behind the bars.

Not all days were like that though. Sometimes he was quiet, too tired to do his usual routine of raging. On those days you would talk to him while you cleaned or while he sat and ate, filling the void of silence with your voice.

You would just talk about things on your mind, gossip from the other handmaidens, stories you had heard from the knights that would try to flirt with you and impress you with their war stories. The table and chair that had been set out for you slowly inched closer every day as you sat and talked to him during lunch.

You rarely ever had anyone to talk to throughout the day. Sometimes one of the knights would join you for lunch or Lothar would talk with you as you cleaned when he wasn’t busy, but it was a rare occasion. So now you found yourself droning on to the prisoner during your time spent cleaning and your breaks. He didn’t seem to mind but you honestly couldn’t tell. His face often had some form of a grimace on it, a snarl always daring to creep up.

You weren’t sure if he could understand you either until one day, while the two of you ate, you finally asked him a question that had been on your mind.

“What exactly are you? Lothar hasn’t answered the question yet. You’re not human…not an elf. Your teeth are kind of like a troll’s teeth. A bit smaller than theirs though,” you rambled.

You didn’t expect him to say anything. On days like this, he never said anything. After a moment, he broke the silence with one word.

“Orc.”

You looked up from where you sat, glancing through the bars of the cell. He was looking back at you, his working eye staring at you.

“An orc? That’s what you are?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“So you’ve been able to understand me this entire time?”

“Yes.”

He leaned his head back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. He didn’t say anything for the rest of the day.

A couple more weeks passed and the caged orc had seemingly calmed down. He no longer yelled and raged on, often sitting in silence.

But sometimes he would speak, occasionally answering questions you had about orcs and his culture. He was often cold, even mean when it came to replying, but you simply shook it off.

You asked him about his cloudy eye and the large scar running up his face. That seemed to perk him up. For the first time in almost a month, his cold demeanor dropped. He told you about the fights he won, boasting about how many times he had come close to death. It was the first time he had ever been talkative. Usually, he would give short responses to your questions but now he was painting vivid pictures for you as he told a story for every scar.

“And this,” he brought his hand up to the healing stab wound on his chest, “is nothing. A scratch.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You laugh, but it’s true. Your tiny knights couldn’t kill me if they tried,” he said.

“Lothar came pretty close,” you chuckled.

He frowned, a growl escaping his lips as he stood up and slowly walked towards you. You sat just out of reach from him, you had moved your table even closer to the cell over the past few days. Despite his gruff attitude he had begun to grow on you. You enjoyed talking to him and maybe even staring at him a little.

You took a sip from your water as he stepped closer, gripping his hand around one of the metal bars.

“You talk about that one a lot. Is he your mate?” he questioned, his voice low.

The question took you by surprise, causing you to choke on your water.

“No…no. He’s not. We’re not…no,” you said in between coughs.

The orc hummed, sounding almost amused by your answer and frantic coughing.

“No? One of the other knights then? Or one of those handmaidens you’re always talking about?” the orc asked.

You shook your head as you sat your glass down.

“I don’t have a…mate.” The word felt foreign to your lips. You could feel your face heat up as you frowned, averting your eyes from the orc.

There was a small moment of silence before you heard him chuckle, the sound of his voice echoing off the stone walls.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m sure you’ll find a puny little knight one of these days. Although I doubt they could keep you satisfied,” he said.

Your jaw dropped a bit, shocked by the sudden forwardness of the orc.

“I think I’ll be satisfied,” you said, scoffing.

“I highly doubt it. The men of your species seem…inadequate,” he said, sitting back down.

You couldn’t help but stare at him. Why was he talking about this? What was he getting at?

You shook your head, deciding to change the subject.

“How is your wound?” you asked.

“I told you. It’s just a scratch,” he mumbled.

“You were stabbed with a sword. You’re lucky you’re even alive,” you sighed.

He scoffed, sounding offended that you would even suggest that he could’ve died.

“May I please check it? To make sure it’s not infected?” you asked.

“I guess,” he grumbled.

You stood up, walking closer to the cell. You swore you could hear Lothar in your mind scolding you for doing exactly what he said not to do. But you couldn’t exactly keep your distance if you wanted to do your job properly.

The orc leaned towards the metal bars as your hands snaked through, untucking the bandages and slowly pulling them off of his chest. The orc grimaced at the sensation, traces of dried blood had caused the bandages to stick to his skin. You hadn’t had the opportunity to clean it. It was the first time since he had first arrived that you felt comfortable enough to get close enough to examine him.

“It looks…fine. It could use a little cleaning though. Wish I had a healing potion to give you but I don’t know any alchemists,” you said in a quiet voice.

“I don’t need any of that,” he grumbled, looking down at you.

“At least let me clean it. Surely dying from infection isn’t the way you want to go,” you joked.

“Fine,” he chuckled.

You smiled. It was odd hearing the orc laugh but you found it slightly endearing.

You turned, grabbing your supplies from the table and turning back around to the orc. You hummed to yourself as you cleaned his skin with a washcloth, wiping away all of the traces of dried blood.

“No mate,” the orc said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You looked up at him, confused.

“What?”

“You have no mate,” he said.

Really, this subject again?

“Yes, I thought we established this?” you asked.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why are you so interested in this subject?” you mumbled.

“You ask stupid questions all the time. Why can I not ask you a question?” he said.

You rolled your eyes and looked away from him, focusing your attention back on his wound.

“I don’t know. Just haven’t found the right person. Why do you care anyway? It’s not like we could be mates,” you huffed.

“And why is that?”

He was looking down at you. You felt your face heat up a bit as you averted your gaze.

“You’re too…mean. And grumpy. And I’m ninety percent sure you were going to try to kill me for the first few weeks you were here,” you said.

You turned away from him, grabbing a new roll of gauze.

“I’m not trying to kill you now,” he said.

You unrolled the gauze and started wrapping it around his chest.

“Yeah…I know. Can we please drop this subject? It’s not like I would be your type anyway.”

“Type?” he questioned, not understanding the phrase.

“Your type. It’s what you’re attracted to. Now shush and let me finish,” you said.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you. All of a sudden it was becoming very hard to think clearly. Something about being so close to the orc while he was watching your every movement was managing to make your head foggy. Sure, you found him attractive. Something about his ruggedness and size was alluring. But you never expected him to make your knees weak. And he hadn’t even done anything to you.

You did your best to ignore whatever feelings were brewing inside of you as you finished bandaging his chest.

“There,” you said, “all better.”

“Thank you,” the orc grumbled.

The rest of the day came and went quietly, all without a word about the previous conversation. You found yourself staring at him. Your stomach felt fluttery and it was becoming more and more difficult to suppress what you had felt all along.

When you went to bed that night you couldn’t help but repeat the conversation in your head, completely puzzled by the orcs’ fascination with the fact that you were ‘unmated’.

Such an odd thing to be hung up on.

What was worse was that your own fascination with the orc seemed to be getting stronger.

So much so that you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned all night, your mind racing just at the thought of the imprisoned orc.

So much so that when you finally did fall asleep, you dreamed about him. You were being held by him in your dream, the same way you had hoped to one day be held by a knight or maybe even a skillful mage. But for some odd reason, the thought of being held by the orc brought you more comfort than every silly knight fantasy you ever had.

So much so that the next day you found yourself scooting your table and chair closer to his cell. Something you had already done but now you were repeating the process every day for a week, slowly inching it closer and closer.

So much so that you started to purposely loosen the laces at the top of your dress. At this point, you weren’t sure what was overtaking your mind. You found yourself wanting to tease him, something you never thought you’d do.

So much so that you had been lingering in the dungeon well past the curfew given to the maids. You wanted to be in his presence. To say he was growing on you was an understatement.

So much so that about a week later when you bent down to pick up his plate, something you had done every day since he arrived, you didn’t walk away from the cell.

This time the orc gripped you by your hair, yanking you back hard against the bars of the cell. You yelped as the plate dropped to the floor. He let go of your hair and his hand snaked through the bars, wrapping it around your throat. His other hand rested on your stomach, holding you in place.

“Are you done teasing?” he asked as his grip tightened around your throat.

“Teasing?” you squeaked.

“Do you really think I’m clueless? Every day you get closer and closer to this cage. You’ve been staying in here late at night. And your breasts have practically been falling out of your dress. It’s almost like you’re begging me to rip it off you,” he growled.

He was absolutely right. You had been caught red-handed.

“Are you going to explain yourself, human?”

He had you pressed against him so tightly that it was almost hard to breathe. You could feel something hardening against your backside and that fluttery feeling started building in your stomach.

“I just…”

“You just what?” he said.

“I just want you to touch me,” you said just above a whisper.

“Say that again. I didn’t quite hear you.”

You couldn’t see his face but you just knew there was a smirk plastered across it.

“Touch me. I want you to touch me,” you repeated.

“Just a few days ago I was ‘too mean’ for you but now look at you. All needy. Maybe if you ask nicely. Maybe if you beg,” he hummed.

Now he was the one teasing. He didn’t move, his hands didn’t even flinch. He just held you tight, pressing you against his erection.

“Please. May you please touch me?”

You were almost whining, pushing back against him. He chuckled, finding your neediness amusing.

He let go of your throat and turned you around so you were facing him. Sticking his hand through the cell, he brought it up to your bust and gripped your dress, ripping the fabric down the front like it was a piece of parchment. You gasped as it fell to the ground, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

“I liked that dress,” you pouted.

Not to mention the fact that it was technically your work uniform. A problem you would deal with later you supposed.

“You look better without it. Now take those off unless you want them ripped as well,” he said, looking down at you.

You nodded as you slipped off your undergarments, tossing them to the side.

He pulled you closer to the bars until you were almost pressed against them, lifting up one of your legs with his hand, cupping underneath your knee. His free hand snaked down and one of his large fingers found its way to your cunt, spreading apart your folds.

“You might as well be dripping. Already so wet and I haven’t even got started yet,” he said.

The orc didn’t give you time to respond as he slowly began pushing his finger inside of you, stretching you out as your walls wrapped around his massive digit. A moan escaped your lips and it echoed throughout the room.

“Sshhh, be quiet,” he shushed you, as he began to pump his finger inside of you.

His thumb rubbed against your clit, drawing little circles around it as his other fingers thrust in and out of your pussy.

You mindlessly ground into his hand, adding to the friction and causing ripples of pleasure to shoot through your body. You had never felt this full before. The size of one of his fingers was almost triple the size of a human’s.

Soon he was adding a second finger, gathering your wetness and pushing into your entrance, curling with every thrust of his hand.

“Gotta stretch you out if you want to take me,” he mumbled, fucking his hand into you at a quicker pace.

Your legs were trembling and you could feel yourself clenching around his fingers. His thumb rolled over your clit faster, pressing down on the sensitive bud.

You did your best to stifle your moan as your orgasm hit you.

“There you go. Cum on my hand,” he said.

One of your hands gripped onto a cell bar while the other reached through, reaching up and pressing against his shoulder for support.

He didn’t give you time to recover before his fingers slipped out of you and his other hand let go of your leg. His hands unfastened his pelt, revealing his hardened cock underneath. It felt like there was a lump in your throat as you swallowed, looking down at it. You could see why he insisted on stretching you out beforehand. You were a bit worried about it fitting inside of you.

“Don’t worry, it’ll fit,” he said as if he could read your mind, “Now turn around and bend over.”

You did as he said, turning your back towards him and leaning down. His hand grazed over your ass for a moment, giving it a light squeeze before he reached forward and grabbed your arms. He held your wrists behind your back, his large hands covering them completely. His other hand held his cock, sliding it against your clit, teasing you with the head.

You groaned, wanting to push back on him, but he held you firmly in place.

He slid his cock towards your entrance and began slowly pushing into the hole. You stretched around him, the feeling felt so new to you that it sent shivers up your spine. Although his fingers had done a good job stretching you out, it was still nowhere enough to accommodate the size of the orcs’ cock.

You felt him tug ever so slightly on your wrists, pulling your entire body closer to him, sliding into you at an agonizing pace.

Another moan began to slip from your mouth, unintentionally loud. Before it could come all the way out, his hand moved from your wrists to your mouth, muffling your moan as he continued slowly pushing his cock into you. He growled, a low rumble coming from his chest.

“Shush, you don’t want your little knights to come running in here, do you? You want them to see you like this?”

You shook your head, slightly horrified at the thought of a knight walking in, especially if that knight happened to be Lothar. You hadn’t even given that possibility a thought.

“Then be quiet for once,” the orc said.

You nodded, and his hand slipped away from your mouth. This time it settled on your shoulder, his other hand slipping off his cock and gripping onto your hip.

He held onto you as he began to slowly rock into you, thrusting the rest of his length into you. Your back arched as pain and pleasure crept up inside of you.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked in a patronizing tone.

His hips were slamming against you, he was giving you no amount of time to adjust to his size. His balls slapped against your cunt with every thrust. That and the sound of you squelching around him radiated through the dungeon.

He reached forward, gripping your hair once more, pulling you all the way to the bars. You hissed as he yanked your head back.

“I asked you a question. Is this what you wanted?” he questioned.

“Yes. Ah-yes, this is what I wanted,” you said.

He let go of your hair, pushing you back down with his hand as he continued to pound into you through the cell bars.

“Look at you. Pathetic human. Taking my cock like a greedy slut,” he chuckled.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back your moans. Every thrust was unrelenting. You could feel him sliding against that spongy spot inside of you and it was slowly pushing you closer to the edge.

You were getting louder and louder, whimpering as the orc fucked you.

His thrusts suddenly halted and you whined.

“No, why’d you stop?” you asked, near tears.

“I thought I told you to be quiet?”

“You did but-“

“But what?” he said.

“Please keep fucking me. I don’t care if they hear us. I only care about you,” you pleaded.

You weren’t sure what had overcome you but it was true. In that moment all you cared about was the orc behind you.

There was a brief pause before the orcs’ hands were wrapping around you, pulling you as close as he possibly could despite the cell bars between you. It was like something snapped in him as he began rutting into you, burying his cock deep inside of you with every roll of his hips.

You moaned, not caring if anyone heard you. You were so wrapped up in the pleasure that you weren’t even sure if you cared anymore if someone walked in.

“You’re mine, do you understand? I’ve ruined you. None of those pathetic knights can have this,” the orc growled behind you.

You were at a loss for words as ecstasy washed over you, too in a daze to answer.

“You don’t want them anyway, huh? I’ve stretched you out so much that only I’ll be able to satisfy you.”

You didn’t say anything but your body answered for you, clenching around his cock as he fucked you. And he noticed, grip tightening around you almost immediately like he was afraid you’d somehow slip away.

“Oh, you like that? You like that I’ve ruined you for everyone else? You want me to make you my mate, don’t you?” he said.

You found yourself nodding your head, not even thinking about it. Maybe it was just the pleasure or maybe there was truly something else. Something there deep in the back of your mind that wanted more of him.

“All mine,” he groaned.

Your body shook as you reached your second climax, moaning as you tightened around him.

“That’s it. That’s it. Cum on my cock. Just like that,” he grunted, still thrusting into you.

You were whimpering underneath him, slowly becoming overstimulated as he chased his own high, bucking into you. His cock twitched as he moaned, cumming deep inside of you. His hands were still wrapped around you, holding you through the bars as he filled you up.

Before you could pull away there were sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs.

Your mind was too foggy to even react when you looked up, seeing the all too familiar face of Lothar stopping at the dungeon entrance.

“Oh my….what are you two…put some clothes on!”

Lothar had covered his eyes with his hand, completely in shock.

The orc chuckled, letting go of you completely. Your legs buckled underneath you and you stumbled forward, slipping off his cock and falling to the ground.

You heard the jingle of keys before they were tossed near you, sliding on the stone floor.

“I was coming to let him out. He can thank his chieftain. I’m just…I’m going to go,” Lothar said, rushing out of the room.

You laid on the floor for a moment. Too exhausted to move, too embarrassed as well. You could feel the orc’s cum leaking out of you onto the stone. You would’ve fallen asleep right there if it wasn’t for the voice of the orc pulling you back to reality.

“Are you going to lay there all day or are you going to let me out, my sweet mate?”

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asxgard · 1 month ago

Text

Companionship | pt. 10

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: You and Michael finally discuss where you stand with each other…and the feelings rooting around in your heart.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: I’m a people pleaser at heart, so here’s the next one a bit early! (you guys are great omg thank you so much!)🥹

My current outline has sixteen parts + an epilogue, so seven parts to go! Still undecided if I want to wait around for season two to see if I should pick it back up, or just end it (but I’m so attached to them lol)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: age gap, mild angst, feelings, foul language, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, finally some comfort

not beta read

You felt like you had stared at the large red ENTRANCE sign for an hour, but it was likely only a minute. Your heart was in your throat. You still had no clue what you really wanted to say to Michael; nothing felt adequate enough. How could you translate the anger, or the steadfast longing in your chest without crossing them? Without forgoing one and letting it fester?

Did you risk it all on the truth? Did you attempt to find a middle ground in just a friendship? Or would it be better to decide to cut it all off before it got worse? Your stomach rolled uneasily, your anxiety working its way through your chest.

Stepping into the emergency department waiting room, you noted how much busier it was. Frowning, you thought to just turn around and see her PCP, call Michael and apologize. Surely, he should understand.

Your eyes met the registration clerk—Lupe—and she waved you forward, stopping all the thoughts in their tracks. She smiled as you approached.

You pulled the corners of your lips up in greeting.

“I’ll let Dr. Robby know you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

You found a seat far off to the side, eyeing several of the other people warily. A good few of them looked far worse than you did, and all you needed were your stitches removed. Guilt worked its way through your system — you really should have kept your PCP appointment and just met Michael somewhere to talk.

It only took a few minutes before Michael was walking out into the waiting room, his face neutral. There was something flickering in his eyes, however, as they searched for you.

When your eyes met, they held steady — an entire ocean of things unsaid sitting between you, the last month of all the anxiety, the longing, the anger, the uncertainty, crashed into that waiting room. The room halted, and grew impossibly silent, your entire world centered on his brown eyes. It felt like meeting his gaze at the cafe all over again but with a knowing this time — just a shred of it, but it made your heart race.

Then he smiled and you finally relaxed.

You stood and walked towards him, ignoring the way several other people complained that you had only just arrived. His eyes centered you and you fought the heat crawling to your cheeks coming from his attention, overthinking each of your movements and trying to school them. You needed to hold onto some of your anger so you didn’t jump into the deep end too early.

There were still so many things you needed to talk about. So many things to figure out.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Dr. Robby.” You teased, though it came out clunkier than you had hoped and you internally cursed at yourself.

The corner of his mouth rose higher and he gestured for you to follow after him. You stepped into pace with him, side-eyeing him and trying to calm your racing heart. It was stupid that he could still have this effect on you, even when you were still a bit mad at him.

“Short notice is the name of the game in the Pitt.” He teased back.

Your nose scrunched, “The Pitt?”

He waved his hand to motion to the ER, “I call this place the Pitt. Affectionately, of course.”

You chuckled lightly, “Affectionately? Right, of course.”

He smirked, moving past the main desk and toward a room. The nurse who had helped you last time—Dana—watched curiously as you passed by. You tried to ignore the attention as several eyes glued to the side of your face.

You could see why the waiting room was so packed, there were no beds available in the back. Michael eventually gestured to an open “room”. The only privacy you would be afforded was a curtain. Heat crawled up your back, the kind of feeling where it was obvious you were being watched. You glanced back to the main desk, where several nurses had gathered, and Michael followed your gaze. When his eyes settled on everyone, they dispersed almost immediately.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you a room—”

“It’s fine. It’s not like I need to strip.” You said offhandedly, “It’s only my palm.”

His face was red by the time you looked back at him, but he adjusted it quickly and smiled softly. You sat up on the gurney. Michael tapped on the tablet for a few moments, before setting it aside.

“Alright, let me see.” He reached into the inside of his hoodie to grab glasses out of his scrubs pocket.

The black frames sat elegantly on his nose and your brain short circuited. You stared at him dumbly, barely registering his eyebrow raising.

You swallowed thickly, “You wear glasses?”

He blinked, glancing away from your face, “I know, I know. I look like such an old man—”

“No.” You said quickly. “Distinguished. Intellectual. Handsome. Poetic.” Fucking devastating in the best way, in a way that could ruin any restraint I thought I had, you thought before awkwardly clearing your throat, “Definitely not old.”

His ears got red, and his lips gave way for a gentle smile to break through. His eyes avoided you, looking down at the tray table and fussing with a few of the instruments. He moved to get latex gloves on, and you had the fleeting thought that you preferred his skin on yours.

“Thank you,” he whispered huskily as he moved closer to you. He grabbed your palm and assessed it. “It’s healing really well.”

The latex felt like the heavy conversation that needed to happen, keeping you from being skin-to-skin.

“It’s still fuckin’ itchy.” You said, a corner of your mouth quirking up.

Michael laughed, “You’ll still need to keep it covered.”

You scrunched your nose at him, “I was hoping this would be it.”

He shook his head at you, “Not quite. I’ll remove the stitches and then apply some adhesive strips, which you should keep on for another five days. Then bandages will be fine after that.”

You let out a long breath, “Trying not to stretch out my palm has been hard enough for just two weeks. It’s my dominant hand.”

“This shouldn’t hurt at all, but let me know if it does.” He said, bringing surgical scissors to your wound. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be trying to grab knives as they fall.”

You frowned, but an eyebrow raised in amusement, “I’m trying out for a juggling competition. Riskier the item, the bigger the reward.”

He smirked, “Yeah?”

“Totally, but this one guy lit his knives on fire, so I think he wins.”

Michael chuckled lightly, beginning to cut away your stitches, pulling away the pieces. He was right in the fact that it didn’t hurt, but you felt the tugging at your skin that felt odd coupled with the wound itching.

“I definitely don’t think you should be signing up for any competitions for at least a month.”

You faked a scowl, “I suppose I could, on doctor’s orders.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours. Neither of you moved for several beats of your heart.

“I don’t know if you’re busy later—”

“Do you want to—”

You stared at each other and each of your lips broke out into a grin.

Michael cleared his throat, looking back down to remove your stitches. “I don’t know if you’re busy later, but perhaps we could get together to talk? We could meet at a more neutral location this time, so you’re not uncomfortable.”

“Talking really wasn’t that great last time.” You said quietly, your stomach knotting together.

Michael frowned, a long breath of air escaping his nose, his eyebrows pulling together while he focused on the task. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

An awkward air swarmed into their space. You became painfully aware of the eyes again, and you not so subtly looked up to find Langdon hovering by a patient in the “room” to your right. A nurse was standing beside him and she avoided your eyes when you looked over at them. Averting your eyes, you tried to focus on Michael’s hands so the embarrassment wouldn’t creep in.

“I think we’re being watched.” You leaned just a bit closer to him, whispering as low as you could.

Michael looked up and then over his shoulder. He spotted the onlookers easily.

“Gossip hounds, the lot of them.” He told you, though not unkindly.

“We should probably talk elsewhere, then.” You said, “To clear the air, of course.”

“Of course.” He echoed, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips.

“Your place?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel—”

“No, I think it might be better than trying to have this conversation somewhere in public.” You told him with a small shrug.

He nodded in agreement, “Yeah, okay. I’ll text you when I leave tonight and you can meet me there.”

“Just promise me something?” You ventured, trying to look into his eyes.

He looked back at you, “Anything.”

“No more hiding. Just honesty.”

“No more hiding.”

—

Michael’s apartment seemed much more daunting than it ever had, even the first time you had been there. The last time you had been in it, you had kissed and then you had fled. What might have changed if you had stayed?

You shook off the what ifs and got into the elevator. Tapping your foot to try to get rid of your anxious energy before you walked in, fiddling with your fingernails. You knew bringing in the nerves with you would suit you ill.

There was still a lingering ache in your heart and your stomach rolled. Realistically, you should have prepped more for the worst, for the “I’m too old for you” and “you don’t want me” or even “this can’t happen”, “I don’t want you like that”. It seized the ache and made it burn — shame, embarrassment bleeding and drowning the shred of hope that was trying to grow.

Knocking on his door, you held your breath. You felt your heart pound against your ribs and you rubbed anxious circles onto your thigh.

His face did little to quell your concerns when he opened the door. He invited you in with a sheepish smile, still in his scrub bottoms but with a new shirt.

You sat awkwardly on his couch while he went to get you a glass of water, desperately trying not to bounce your leg.

Michael walked back into the living room, setting down your water onto a coaster before finally sitting beside you. The silence was crushing, the only sounds coming from your breathing and the hum of the radiators.

“Look, I really just want to apologize for what I said to you. I hurt you and I’m really sorry.” Michael told you softly, and you met his gaze, but struggled to hold it. “It was—it was unfair. More than unfair to throw that in your face. I think very highly of you, actually, and the agreement just kept getting in the way.”

“Getting in the way?” You questioned, “Of what? What you thought about me? That I was just—”

“No, no,” he sighed, “It was making me second guess my own feelings. If they were real. If it was okay. I was getting painfully insecure about it.”

You gave a nod and a pause stretched between you.

“I can’t say what I would or wouldn’t have done without the agreement, or if I ever would have approached you otherwise. We likely still would have never crossed paths, so I have to at least be thankful that we did, despite the circumstances.” You said.

“I just thought—I thought it was one sided, until you kissed me back and—” His voice grew tight, “You ran. It only made me run further from my own feelings. I felt so guilty. I felt like a creep. It wasn’t what we had agreed to and I eventually thought that you were just entertaining me. That it really didn’t mean anything. I wanted to end it to spare myself the humiliation.”

Blinking slowly at him, you digested his words. Feelings. He had feelings. For me.

“I wasn’t entertaining you. I forgot about the agreement sometimes, too. I didn’t really know how to bring it up without sounding like an idiot. Or for you to think I was just being naive. I was trying to save myself the embarrassment when I ran, of it just being a spur of the moment thing or something that didn’t actually mean anything to you. Because it meant something to me. I really wish I did stay, but I can be a coward sometimes. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t. I mean…spur of the moment, maybe, but I had thought about it before. I got scared because it meant something to me, too.” He said, voice quiet. “But the agreement made me feel weird about it—”

“Yeah.” You agreed. “It felt like that for me too. But I kept thinking about it every day after that.”

“You’re young—”

“That doesn’t negate my feelings.”

He stared at your face, absorbing your words. “You don’t need to be tied down to an old man like me.”

You shook your head at him, “With or without the agreement, I’m free to make my own choices. About what I want. About…this. About you.”

He watched you closely, eyes flickering across your face. His expression shifted, just slightly, like hope seeped in, his eyebrows raising just slightly. “My life can be a mess. And I’ll be honest in the fact that you can do so much better.”

You frowned, “I won’t beg, Michael, you don’t have to—I—my feelings for you are all out in the open now and I won’t take them back.”

“Okay,” he nodded, rubbing his hands along his pants while he looked away. “I promised I wouldn’t run anymore, so…I’m here. I want to stay. I want to figure out what this is, or could be.”

A breath of relief exited your nose, before you took another breath to steady yourself. “I want to forgive you, and I think I’ll still need some time—”

“—and that’s okay—”

“—but I like this. I want to see where it could go.”

“...you do?” He asked tentatively, eyebrows raising slightly.

You swallowed, your throat growing tight. No more running. “No more agreement. Just two adults…trying to figure it all out.”

“Frankly, I don’t know where we stand without it…the agreement, I mean.”

“We could start fresh,” you offered, sticking out her hand and introducing yourself. Like it was the first time you were meeting.

He glanced at you hand and smiled, taking hold of it with his own, “Nice to meet you. My name is Michael and I’d like to take you out to dinner sometime.”

An easy smile formed, “I’d like that.”

[ Next ]

Companionship taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @gabsgabsvaz @rosiepoise88 @calivia @holdonimwalkingmysnail @valhallavalkyrie9 @blahkateisdone @shadowhuntyi @fuckalrighty @elli3williams @yournerdmodziata @i-know-i-can @dickheadturner @dcgoddess @pittobsessed @glamorizethechaos @blueb33ry-cat @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @equallyshaw @heyysolsister @justrandomthougt @babygirlagenda

Dr. Robby taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys @happyfox43 @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @girl-obsessed-with-things @laurenkate79 @woodxtock @rosie-posie08 @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse

(50 tags have been reached with the combo of all three taglists, so unfortunately The Pitt taglist for this series will be added in a reblog right after this is posted - I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience!)

Me being Peter 3: I love you guys😭

#the pitt #michael robinavitch #dr robby #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch x female reader #companionship series #asxgard writes #give Noah that emmy already

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lifeisbutadream444 · 2 months ago

Text

Do It Scared.

Aaron Pierre x Reader

Summary: Aaron left your shared apartment in New York three months ago to film the biggest movie of his career, and every day since, the distance between you has grown. When photos surface of him looking a little too comfortable with an actress at an event, you hit your breaking point and decide to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: smut

Note: Partially inspired by a Terry fic I read on here recently. Link at the end <3

Word Count: 8.5k

The silence in your apartment feels heavier these days.

It used to be filled with his voice—his deep, warm laugh echoing through the space, his teasing remarks as he stole bites of whatever you were cooking.

But now, it’s just you. Just the quiet hum of the city outside your window, the occasional vibration of your phone lighting up with a text that never seems to be from him.

Aaron has been in L.A. for three months now, filming the biggest project of his career. A high-budget action film that is officially making him a "household name" in Hollywood according to the press.

And you? You’re still here in New York. Still in your shared apartment, still going through the motions of your life as an interior designer, still waiting for some sign that you belong in his world now.

You’ve supported him through everything—the auditions, the rejections, the near-misses. You were there when he was barely making rent, when he was working odd jobs between gigs, when he questioned if this dream was even worth it.

Now he’s finally getting everything he ever wanted.

And you’re not sure where that leaves you.

You don’t want to be that girlfriend. The one who demands answers, who needs reassurances, who can’t handle a little distance. But this feels different.

You thought he’d at least ask you to visit him by now. Thought he’d tell you he missed you so much that he couldn’t take another night apart.

Instead, he’s been busier than ever, responding to your texts hours later and giving you clipped responses during your phone calls.

You understood that he was under an immense amount of pressure, trying to carry a film on his back for the first time in his career. You tried your best to not add to his stress by not complaining about any of it.

Your phone vibrates on the kitchen counter, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Aaron.

You let it ring twice before answering, not wanting to seem like you were waiting for it. You know it’s silly this far into your relationship, but you do it anyway.

“Hey,” you say, keeping your voice light.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice rich, deep—but tired. He always sounds tired when he calls now. “What are you doing?”

You glance around the kitchen, where your laptop is still open from the project you were reviewing. “Trying to be a responsible adult. What about you?”

Aaron exhales a small laugh. “Trying to not lose my mind, memorizing all these lines.”

You smile despite yourself. “How was set today?” you ask.

“Long,” he sighs. “Good, though. Just… a lot.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t press. He never used to be like this. Before, he would tell you everything—the directors he liked, the actors who annoyed him, the lines he struggled with.

Now, it’s just good, though.

“What’s new in the life of America’s Newest Obsession?” you ask, holding up a copy of GQ with his face on it. You couldn’t resist buying it when you came across it at CVS earlier that day.

Aaron groans, covering his face with his hand. “Don’t start.”

“What? You’re the one out there in L.A. making the whole world fall in love with you.”

There’s a beat of silence, then—softer—“Only care about one person being in love with me.”

“Smooth,” you murmur, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips.

“I try.” he teases.

You shake your head. God, you miss him. But you don’t say that, either. Instead, you exhale, glancing at the time. It’s late for him, even with the three hour time difference. His call time is usually 5:00 am.

“You should get some sleep,” you murmur.

Aaron hesitates. “You trying to get rid of me?”

You chuckle. “Just trying to keep you on track as always.”

A beat. Then—“I miss you.”

Your fingers tighten around the phone. You know he means it. But missing someone and making sure they don’t feel forgotten aren’t the same thing.

“I miss you too,” you admit softly.

Another pause. This one longer.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Aaron murmurs.

You nod, secretly wishing he would ask you to stay on the phone or tell you more about his day. “Okay.”

And then, just like that, the call ends.

You set your phone down on the counter, staring at it for a long moment.

Waiting for the heaviness in your chest to pass.

It doesn’t.

--------

You knew this would happen eventually.

Aaron has always been desirable. He’s talented, charming, and now—famous. The kind of famous that has the internet scrutinizing his every move, every glance, every woman he so much as breathes near.

You’re sitting on your couch, wine glass untouched, staring at the screen.

It’s everywhere.

Aaron, seated next to Emilia Stark at an award show.

She’s beautiful. Confident in a way that commands attention. They’re leaning in close, talking, laughing, her hand resting lightly on his arm. The cameras captured it all.

The headlines are already writing the love story for them:

"Hollywood’s Next Power Couple?"

"Aaron Pierre and Emilia Stark Spark Dating Rumors at Award Show."

Your stomach twists as you scroll through the comments, knowing you shouldn’t, knowing you’re going to hate every word.

You close the app, but it doesn’t stop the thoughts from spiraling.

You’re his woman. Have been for four years. But no one knows that.

Because Aaron wanted privacy. Because you both agreed it wasn’t the world’s business. Because he didn’t want everyone scrutinizing your every move.

But now, with the world watching, you wonder if privacy was just another way to keep you out of his new life.

Aaron doesn’t call that night.

He always calls.

Even when he’s exhausted, even when he’s jet-lagged, even when he’s drunk from whatever post-event party he’s forced to attend. He always finds time for you.

But tonight? Nothing.

You stare at your phone, the screen dark, taunting.

Your stomach is in knots, your mind looping through the possibilities like a film reel stuck on repeat. Did he talk to her all night? Did he think about calling you and decide against it? Did he take her home? Did he notice the internet already crowning her his queen and think—

You squeeze your eyes shut, banishing the thought before it can finish forming.

You shouldn’t feel this way, but you do.

------

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of your phone buzzing against the nightstand.

You scramble for it, heart hammering against your ribs when you see his name on the screen.

Aaron.

You hesitate—just for a second—before answering.

“Hello?” Your voice is steady, but your fingers grip the phone tight, waiting.

He exhales, slow and groggy. “Hey, baby.”

Baby. The word should soothe you. But it only makes you feel sick.

Because he says it like nothing happened. Like the whole world didn’t spend the last twelve hours pairing him up with someone else. Like he didn’t go radio silent on you for the first time in years.

You swallow, your voice even. “Hey.”

There’s a pause, long enough for your chest to tighten.

Aaron sighs, his voice laced with exhaustion. “Didn’t mean to disappear last night. Got home late, crashed right after.”

That’s it. That’s all he says. No mention of the photos. No mention of her.

Your fingers tighten around the phone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, like it’s just another day. “You good?”

Am I good?

The words sit heavy in your throat.

You could say yes. Pretend you didn’t see. Pretend you’re not questioning every single thing. Pretend you’re not wondering if he was out all night with someone else.

But you can’t.

You sit up in bed, your free hand pressing against your temple. “I saw the pictures.”

The line goes dead silent.

And just like that, your entire body tenses.

“I figured you would.”

Your stomach drops.

That’s it? No denial, no immediate reassurance, no baby, it’s nothing.

Just I figured you would.

You exhale sharply, swinging your legs out of bed, your heart pounding against your ribs. “And you weren’t going to bring it up?”

“I—” Aaron sighs, slow and measured. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

A bitter laugh pushes past your lips before you can stop it. “Oh, it doesn’t matter?” You shake your head, pressing your palm against your temple. “Well the entire fucking internet thinks you two are Hollywood’s new power couple, and I can’t even blame them with the way you’re whispering in her ear and letting her put her hands all over you.”

Aaron groans. “Come on, it’s not like that.”

You push up from the bed, pacing the length of your bedroom. “Then what is it like, Aaron?”

“Jesus.” His voice drops lower, frustrated now. “It’s a fucking seating arrangement. She was next to me, we talked, cameras flashed. That’s all.”

You clench your jaw. “You definitely seemed to be enjoying yourself with her.”

He exhales, like he’s struggling to stay patient. “I was being polite. What was I supposed to? Just ignore her while she's trying to speak to me? It’s not that deep.”

You scoff. “Right. Gotta keep her comfortable. Wouldn’t want to be rude.”

Aaron exhales sharply. “Are you serious right now?”

Your jaw tightens. “Forget it.”

“No, really.” His voice is sharper, cutting through the phone. “You think I’m—what? Cheating on you?”

You exhale, voice light, careless. “Aaron, I said forget it. You’re a grown man, do what you want.”

Aaron exhales sharply. “Come on, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like this suddenly isn’t bothering you. I’m trying to talk to you.”

You tilt your head. “You’re right. I was annoyed. And then I realized how stupid it was to waste my energy worrying about things I can’t control.”

Aaron scoffs, his frustration bleeding through. “That’s a real poetic way to say ‘I don’t trust you.’”

You smile tightly, even though he can’t see it. “I trust you to do whatever you want to do.”

Aaron lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Wow. Got it.”

There’s a long pause.

Then, quieter, almost like a plea—“I need you to talk to me, baby.”

Your throat tightens, but you force your voice to stay light. “I am talking.”

“No, you’re shutting me out.” His voice is strained, low. “You do this every time.”

You swallow hard, keeping your expression neutral, even though there’s no one in the room to see it. “Aaron, I promise you—I’m fine. Seriously. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Another silence. This one feels heavy. Frustrated.

Then, voice tighter now—“Fine.”

“Good.”

A pause. Then—“Are we good?”

You hesitate.

Then, carefully— “We’re good. Have a great day.”

Aaron exhales, like he doesn’t believe you. Like he knows you’re just saying what you think you’re supposed to say.

You hear him shift on the other end of the line, like he wants to say more, but you don’t give him the chance.

“I’ll talk to you later,” you say, already pulling the phone from your ear.

Aaron exhales sharply, but before he can respond, you hang up.

---------

You know it’s toxic. You know.

But desperation makes you reckless.

You don’t trust words—you never have. Promises are just sounds strung together, and you learned a long time ago that actions hold all the weight. And Aaron? He hasn’t done anything to prove you’re still the woman he’d go to war for.

So tonight, you need to know.

You put on the shortest dress you own, something sleek and black that hugs every curve just right, and when you step into the club with your friends, you make sure to look happy. Carefree. Like nothing in the world is eating at you.

The second you walk in, the music vibrates through your bones. Your friends lead you to the VIP section, and within minutes, drinks are flowing, bodies are moving, and the night is alive with laughter.

You pose for group pictures with your friends and some of their male friends. Nothing explicit, nothing outright disrespectful, but just enough. Enough for someone to wonder. Enough for Aaron to see.

You don’t post them yourself. That would be too obvious.

Instead, you make sure your friends do, knowing damn well that Aaron—or someone who knows him—will find them.

And then?

You wait.

You sip your drink, lean into the music, and try to ignore the way your stomach churns with nerves. Because if this backfires, if Aaron doesn’t react at all—

That will tell you everything you need to know.

*One Hour Later*

Your phone vibrates against your thigh.

You knew it was coming.

Still, when you glance down and see Aaron’s name lighting up your screen, a sick sort of satisfaction curls through your chest.

You don’t answer.

He calls again.

Then again.

Then—

Text message after text message.

Aaron: Where the fuck are you? Aaron: Who are these fucking guys? Aaron: You think this is funny? Aaron: Answer your phone.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the keyboard. He’s pissed.

But that’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?

You: No thanks. You: Have a great night :)

You lock your phone before he can respond.

Then, you take another sip of your drink, letting the fire burn all the way down.

Your phone vibrates again. Another call.

Aaron’s name glares up at you like a warning.

You let it ring.

Your best friend, Camille, leans in, eyes flicking toward your still-ringing phone. “Are you gonna answer?”

You scoff. “Nope.”

��Seriously, though,” Camille presses. “What’s your endgame here?”

You open your mouth to respond, but your phone dings again—a text.

Aaron: Pick up the fucking phone.

Your stomach clenches.

Camille lets out a low whistle. “Damn. He’s mad mad.”

You roll your eyes, feigning nonchalance. “He’ll get over it.”

Another text comes through.

Aaron: You want my attention, sweetheart? You’ve got it.

Your breath hitches.

Then—one more.

Aaron: Let’s see how you feel when I give you a taste of your own medicine.

Your grip tightens around your phone.

Shit.

Your phone buzzes again. Aaron.

You swipe to accept the call, pressing a finger to your other ear to hear better over the pounding club music.

“You think this is funny?” His voice is low, sharp.

You blink, acting confused. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb,” he mutters. “You’re out at a club, with a bunch of guys around you, drinking, posting shit all over the internet—”

You roll your eyes. “Are you serious? I'm out with my friends for the first time in months. That’s not a crime.”

A harsh exhale. “You didn’t tell me.”

Your brows knit together. “Since when do I have to?”

Aaron lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Since I’m your boyfriend.”

You pause. Your stomach clenches at the word. He’s never been the type to throw that around like a trump card.

“So let me get this straight,” you say, voice cold now. “You can be at all these events and parties every week, surrounded by famous women in gowns, but I can’t go to a club with my friends?”

“That’s different,” he finally says.

You scoff. “How?”

“I don’t go to clubs,” he snaps. “I don’t get drunk out of my mind. I go to work events that I'm contractually obligated to attend. There’s a difference.”

You bite your lip. Because that part is true. You’ve never seen Aaron out at clubs. But who would have the energy to go clubbing after the lineup of events he attends every week?

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” you say. “Those are Camille’s friends, they’re just at the table next to ours.”

Aaron exhales sharply. “I’m sending you a car.”

Your breath catches.

“What?”

“A car,” he repeats, voice tight. “An Uber. A driver. Whatever the fuck you want. Just go home.”

You blink. “Aaron—”

“I mean it,” he says roughly. “I don’t want you there anymore.”

You feel a flicker of irritation. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

His voice is deadly quiet. “No, but I can tell you that I don’t like this. And I know you don’t either.”

You hesitate. Because he’s right. You don’t even want to be here anymore.

Aaron exhales. “Go home, baby.” His voice is softer now, more like himself. “Please.”

Your throat tightens.

You don’t say anything for a long moment.

Then, finally—

“Fine.”

A slow, relieved exhale. “Good girl.”

And with that, he hangs up.

-------

You curl into yourself under the covers, your phone screen still glowing in the dark.

Aaron: Your driver’s outside. Let me know when you’re home.

You never responded.

Now, lying in bed, staring at your ceiling, your chest feels tight, like something is pressing down on it. You hate this. Hate that you feel like you’re losing him.

You squeeze your eyes shut. You won’t cry again.

But then your phone vibrates. The screen lights up.

A FaceTime call.

Aaron. Shocker.

Your fingers hover over the screen, your heart pounding. Then, before you can second-guess yourself, you answer.

Aaron’s face fills the screen. He’s leaning against the headboard, one arm resting on his knee, his expression unreadable. But the moment he sees you, his brows pull together.

"You been crying?"

Your stomach clenches. You hate how well he reads you.

You let out a small scoff, rolling onto your side. "What? No."

Aaron exhales, tilting his head, studying you through the screen. His jaw is tight, his blue-gray eyes sharp and searching.

"You’re lying," he murmurs.

You force a small smile. "I’m just tired."

His lips part slightly, like he wants to push, but instead, he sighs.

"You didn’t text me when you got home," he says.

You shrug. "I forgot."

He doesn’t believe you. You can tell by the way his fingers twitch where they rest on his knee, the way his jaw tenses like he’s biting back a hundred things he wants to say.

Aaron licks his lips, sighing. "You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?"

You keep your face neutral. "Likewise."

Aaron chuckles softly, shaking his head. Then, after a moment—

"What’s going on with you?"

Your breath catches. "Nothing."

His voice is rough now, insistent. "I can tell when something’s wrong. So tell me."

You chew your lip, staring at the screen, at the way his eyes are burning into you. "I just—" You hesitate. "I don’t know."

"Try," he presses.

You swallow hard. "I just feel… weird lately."

Aaron exhales. "Weird how?"

You don’t know how to answer that.

Weird because he’s suddenly everywhere. Weird because for the first time in years, he feels just out of reach. Weird because maybe he was never really yours to lose, and that realization is eating you alive.

Instead, you just shake your head. "I don't know."

His voice is sharper now, more impatient. "You always make me pry everything out of you."

Your throat tightens. "I don’t—"

His voice is insistent. "You’re clearly upset. And I don’t know why. And you’re not gonna sleep tonight if you don’t say it out loud, so—say it."

You shake your head. "Aaron—"

"Say it."

You swallow, staring at him through the screen. He’s watching you carefully, waiting, giving you that look that always makes you fold.

Your chest tightens.

"I just feel like we're drifting apart."

The words slip out before you can stop them.

Aaron stills. His expression doesn’t change, but something shifts behind his eyes.

"You’re in LA," you continue, voice barely above a whisper. "You’re at these big events, with these big names, and I’m here—alone. And it just..." You exhale sharply. "It feels like you’re leaving me behind."

Aaron’s jaw tenses. His fingers twitch slightly where they rest on his knee.

Aaron exhales, rubbing his temples. "Baby..."

"I see the pictures, Aaron," you cut in. "I see how good you fit in there. And I just…" You blink rapidly, fighting the burn in your eyes. "I don’t know if I fit in your life anymore."

Aaron’s face hardens. "Don’t say that."

"But it’s true," you murmur, swallowing the lump in your throat. "And it scares me."

Aaron’s expression softens, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Then come here."

Your breath catches.

"What?"

"Come to LA," he says simply.

You stare at him through the screen, your pulse hammering in your ears.

"Aaron…"

"You don’t have to decide to stay right away," he presses, voice rough. "Just come. Let me prove to you that you belong with me, no matter where the fuck I am."

Your throat tightens. "No."

Aaron’s brows furrow. "No?"

You shake your head. "You’re only asking me because you feel bad."

Aaron’s jaw clenches. "That’s not—"

"It is," you say, voice quieter now. "If I hadn’t said anything, you wouldn’t have asked. And I—" You exhale sharply. "I don’t wanna come because you pity me, Aaron. I wanna come because you want me there."

Aaron’s eyes darken,"You think I don’t want you here?"

You don’t answer.

Aaron swallows, staring at you for a long moment. Then, voice raw—

"I fucking hate that you feel like this."

You inhale shakily.

Aaron leans in slightly, his face inches from the screen. "You think I fit in here? You think I want to be at these parties, talking to people I don’t give a fuck about?" He exhales sharply. "I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner."

Aaron studies you, his eyes scanning your face. Then, voice softer, "Just tell me what you need. from me."

You swallow hard. "I don’t know."

Aaron exhales, running a hand through his hair. "Okay."

Silence.

Then, after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper—

"I love you."

Your breath catches.

"I love you, and I’m not leaving you behind," he murmurs. "You belong with me. Always."

Your throat tightens, your vision blurring.

You bite your lip, nodding slightly. "I love you too."

Silence stretches between you as you drift off to sleep.

And for the first time in weeks—you finally feel like you’re not alone.

--------

The next day, your phone buzzes with a text while you're trying to sleep your hangover off.

You groan, blindly reaching for it, already knowing who it is.

Aaron: Check your email.

You swipe out of your messages, opening your inbox. A new email sits at the top of your screen.

You click it, eyes scanning over the subject line.

A flight itinerary.

Your stomach drops.

You scroll, scanning the details—first class, a direct flight to LA, departing tonight at 7 PM.

You barely have time to process before your phone buzzes again.

Aaron: Pack a bag.

Your pulse spikes.

You type quickly.

Me: Are you insane?

His response is immediate.

Aaron: Sometimes.

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Me: You really think this is gonna work?

Aaron: Yes.

You shake your head.

Me: What part of “I don’t want to come just because you feel bad” are you not understanding?

Aaron’s typing bubble pops up, then disappears, then pops up again.

Then, finally—

Aaron: If I wanted you here just because I felt bad, I would've just accepted your answer last night.

Your hands shake slightly as you type.

Me: This is crazy.

Aaron: So is pretending we’re fine like this.

You swallow hard.

Aaron: Baby.

Your heart stutters.

Aaron: Please.

Your throat tightens.

You don’t respond.

But you do start to pack.

You could keep fighting this. You could tell him you’re not ready, that you need time, that he needs to earn this.

But then what?

You’d go to bed alone again, your phone face-down on your nightstand, staring at the ceiling, missing him so much it feels like a physical ache in your chest.

And for what?

For pride?

For the illusion of control?

Aaron is home. And the truth is—you just want to go home, too.

-------

LAX – 11:42 PM

You step through the terminal, nerves buzzing under your skin.

Aaron told you he’d send a car. Told you to text when you landed.

But standing here, scanning the crowd—

He’s here.

No car. No driver. Just him.

Black hoodie pulled over his head, hands stuffed in his pockets, leaning against a pillar like he doesn’t have a single care in the world.

Your breath catches, heart hammering against your ribs as his gaze locks onto yours.

He pushes off the pillar, walking toward you—slow, easy, certain.

"Hey, baby," he murmurs when he reaches you, voice low and warm.

You swallow hard. "Hey."

Aaron tilts his head, eyes sweeping over you. "Missed you."

You scoff, shifting your weight. "Yeah, well. You’re annoying."

His lips twitch. "So are you."

You roll your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you.

Aaron steps closer, voice dropping. "You know what I think?"

You raise a brow. "Do I want to?"

He smirks. "I think you got on that plane because you couldn’t stand another night without me."

You cross your arms. "I think you should shut up before I get back on another plane."

Aaron chuckles, shaking his head. Then, softer—"Let’s go."

Your chest tightens, the fight in you crumbling piece by piece.

He reaches for your bag, pulling it off your shoulder before you can argue.

You should protest. You should roll your eyes and tell him to quit being so smug.

Instead, you let him take your bag.

And you let him take you home.

The ride to Aaron’s Airbnb is quiet, but the air is thick—heavy with something unspoken.

Your body is still tense, your mind still reeling. The past twenty-four hours have been a whirlwind of emotions. Aaron unlocks the door, stepping inside first, flicking on a few lights.

You hesitate.

This is his space. You’ve never been here before. The place he’s been living while you’ve been in New York, wondering if you even still fit into his life.

Aaron turns around, eyes catching yours. His brow furrows slightly, reading you instantly.

He steps forward, his voice softer now. "Come here."

You don’t move.

So he closes the space himself.

One hand reaches for your wrist, his grip firm but gentle as he pulls you inside, closing the door behind you.

And then, before you can say a single word—

His hands cup your face, his lips crashing onto yours.

Finally.

You gasp into his mouth, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he devours you, like he’s been waiting for this for months.

Aaron presses you back against the door, his body solid and warm against yours, his grip possessive as his fingers tangle in your hair.

"You have no idea," he murmurs against your lips, voice rough, needy, "how much I fucking missed you."

His mouth trails down your jaw, his breath hot, sending a violent shiver through you.

"You could’ve just asked me to come," you manage, barely above a whisper.

Aaron huffs a quiet laugh, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. "And miss the part where you tried to pretend you didn’t want to?"

You pull back just enough to glare at him. "That's not funny."

He smirks, thumb brushing over your cheek. "You still mad at me?"

You let out a breath, trying so hard to stay indignant, but he’s right here, touching you, kissing you—

And you’ve wanted this too much to stop now.

You forgot what it felt like to be with him.

To be wrapped in him, to feel like this was yours and no one else’s.

Your nails graze his scalp as you sigh against his lips. The past few months of distance, of doubt, of letting your own pride keep you from him—it all feels so stupid now. You hate how easily other women get to be around him, touching him, laughing with him, making the world believe they have a shot.

His free hand roughly palms your breast, kneading the soft flesh as his thumb circles your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra. He can feel it pebbling under his touch, betraying your body's eager response to him.

"You can't resist me, can you, love?" he purrs, nipping at your earlobe. "No matter how mad you are, your body remembers who it belongs to."

"Don't be so sure of yourself," you pant, even as your back arches, pressing your breast more firmly into his palm. "I'm still pissed."

But your words lack conviction, undermined by the breathy quality of your voice and the way your thighs tremble, opening slightly in invitation. Aaron notices, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Really?" he murmurs, low and dangerous. In one swift motion, he hikes up your skirt and pushes your panties aside, his thick fingers caressing your folds. "Then why are you so wet for me already, hmm?"

He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your hips buck. "Stop lying to yourself, love."

Two long fingers suddenly plunge knuckle-deep inside you, curling to stroke that sensitive spot. "Tell me how much you've missed this, baby."

You gasp sharply, head falling back as Aaron's fingers fill and stretch you so perfectly. "Fuck, Aaron…"

Your inner walls flutter and clench around the intrusion, drawing him deeper. "I-I've missed you so much." you admit.

He curls his fingers just right, rubbing insistently against your G-spot as his thumb flicks rapidly over your clit. "I know, baby."

You moan wantonly, grinding down onto Aaron's fingers as they work magic inside you. "Ahhh…f-fuck, just like that…"

He growls lowly as he suddenly withdraws his fingers, leaving you aching and empty right as you were approaching your release. "Not yet, love. Did you think I was gonna let you come that easily after what you pulled last night?"

In one smooth motion, he scoops you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. He carries you to his bedroom, and puts you down next to his king sized bed. "Strip for me. Nice and slow."

You slowly remove your disheveled clothing, revealing your curves inch by tantalizing inch. You keep your gaze locked with Aaron's, a defiant glint in your eyes despite the blush coloring your cheeks.

He unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans, freeing his throbbing erection. He strokes himself slowly as he watches you strip. "Fuck, look at you… so fucking sexy. You drive me crazy, you know that?"

He climbs on the bed and leans back against the headboard. Stroking his dick slowly, eyeing you with intense desire and a hint of challenge. "Come here, baby. Show me how much you missed this dick."

You straddle Aaron's lap, positioning yourself over his throbbing erection. You tease him, rubbing the tip along your slick folds. "Like this, baby?"

You sink down slowly, inch by delicious inch, until he's fully seated inside your tight heat. A low moan escapes your lips at the feeling of being so perfectly stretched and filled after so long.

He groans deeply as your tight walls engulf him, gripping his shaft like a velvet vice. "Fuck yes, just like that."

He grips your hips tightly, guiding your movements as you start to roll your hips, riding him slowly. "That's it. Show me how bad you needed this dick."

Your hands rest on his broad chest for leverage, nails lightly scraping his skin. "Mmmnh… I did need this… needed you so badly…"

He grunts and thrusts up into you, meeting you stroke for stroke. One hand moves to your ass, gripping and kneading the soft flesh as he guides your movements.

Your breasts bounce enticingly with each movement, nipples hardened into stiff peaks. You throw your head back in ecstasy, lost in the sensation of being so thoroughly filled and pleased. “Ahhh... fuck Aaron... I missed you so much...”

He groans appreciatively as he watches you lose yourself in pleasure, reveling in the sight of your body moving so beautifully above him. “That's it, baby... let go for me.”

He leans up to capture one of your bouncing nipples in his mouth, suckling and nibbling the sensitive bud as his hand snakes between your bodies to rub tight circles on your clit. “Cum for me, darling.”

You cry out sharply as Aaron's skilled fingers find your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Ahhh... fuuuck... I'm gonna cum!”

Your movements become erratic, chasing your impending release. Tears of overwhelming emotion prick at the corners of your eyes. Despite your reluctance to express your feelings, you cant help but say, “I love you. I never want to be apart from you again.”

With a final roll of your hips, your orgasm crashes over you. Your inner muscles clamp down rhythmically on Aaron's dick. “FUCKKK!”

With a few more powerful thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his own release overtaking him.

He holds you tightly against his chest as he pulses and throbs within you, filling you with his hot seed.

Panting heavily, he presses fervent kisses along your neck and jawline, each one searing with need, but also with something else—something deeper, something he’s been holding onto for too long. “God, I love you so fucking much... Never doubt that, okay?” His words are rough, filled with raw emotion, and they send a wave of warmth and longing rushing through you.

He cups your face tenderly, his fingers tracing the delicate contours of your skin, his gaze intense and unwavering. His eyes shine with adoration and lingering passion as he gazes at you, making you feel both vulnerable and cherished in the same breath. “We’re in this together, always. I promise.”

The words hit you harder than you expect, like a rush of relief flooding through your chest. His sincerity washes over you, but you can’t stop the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill out. You pull back slightly to meet his gaze, needing to look him in the eye as your own shimmer with unshed tears and raw emotion.

“I’m sorry I have such a hard time expressing my feelings, I don’t know why I’m like this,” you whisper, the words slipping from your lips before you can even think about holding them back.

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he wipes a stray tear from your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across the skin, his touch soft, yet grounding. He studies your face with that same loving gaze, his expression soft and understanding, but there’s a hint of something deeper—concern, perhaps, or even a touch of hurt.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs, his voice a whisper that feels like the calm after a storm. “I do wish you felt safe enough to tell me anything after all these years. I want to be the person you lean on when you’re struggling with your feelings.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly you’re flooded with guilt. You knew how much he cared, how deeply he loved you, but hearing him say it, hearing him speak of his own pain at the wall you’ve built between you—it hurts. You feel like you’ve let him down, like you’ve betrayed the very trust he’s shown you. He’s right. He’s always been right. And still, you kept walls up like he was the enemy, when he’s only ever reached out with open hands.

You’re horrified that he thinks he doesn’t create an emotionally safe environment for you when that’s so far from the truth. “It’s not your fault at all,” you say, your voice cracking slightly, “I’ve always been this way. I’ve always been so scared of being vulnerable, scared of needing someone too much.” You feel the weight of those words as they leave your mouth, and a part of you knows they’ve been trapped in you for so long that it’s finally time to let them out.

Aaron watches you for a long moment, his thumb still brushing softly across your cheek like he’s trying to calm something in you that’s always been just out of reach.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” he says. “You don’t even have to be ready. But you do have to let me in. That’s the only way this can work.”

You look away, jaw tightening. But he doesn’t let you escape into silence this time.

“Don’t do that,” he says gently. “Don’t shut down. Not now. Talk to me. Say what you’ve been wanting to say since I left.”

You bite your lip, your throat tight.

“I hated waking up alone every day,” you admit. “I hated not knowing if you were thinking about me, not knowing if I still mattered in a world that suddenly couldn’t get enough of you. I hated seeing your name in headlines next to someone else’s face. I hated that I couldn’t tell anyone you were mine. I hated that you didn’t seem to care.”

You pause, breath shaky.

“I used to wait for your name to pop up on my phone like it was oxygen. And when it didn’t... I’d lie to myself. I’d tell myself you were too busy. That I was being needy. That this is what I signed up for. That you already had so much on your plate.”

Aaron’s expression doesn’t waver. He doesn’t flinch or deflect or turn away.

He listens.

And then, he speaks—voice low but firm.

“You should’ve told me all of that the first night you felt it.”

“I know,” you whisper.

“I should’ve done better,” he says. “I should’ve made sure you never had to wonder if you still mattered to me.”

“I got caught up in it all,” he admits. “The press, the schedule, the pressure. I kept telling myself you understood, that you were strong, that you’d wait for me to get my shit together.” His eyes find yours, full of something honest and unguarded. “But that wasn’t fair to you."

You look down, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know how to ask for more without feeling like I was asking for too much.”

His hand lifts to your cheek, tilting your face gently back to him.

“You’re never too much,” he says, his voice soft but laced with that familiar teasing edge. “I love knowing how obsessed you are with me.”

You roll your eyes, the corners of your mouth twitching despite the weight in your chest. “You make it hard to stay mad.”

“Good,” he murmurs.

There’s a silence that settles between you then—not empty, but full. Heavy with all the things that no longer have to be said in the dark, or buried beneath pride.

“I don’t want to live in separate lives anymore,” he says after a beat.

Your heart skips.

“I want you here,” he says. “Permanently. Let’s find a place that’s ours. Start fresh. I know it’s a lot to ask—starting over, uprooting your life. But I’ll support you. If you want to work, work. If you want to take your time, do that too. I just want to know that I get to come home to you.”

You let out a slow breath, all your old defenses still rising like reflexes—but you push through them this time.

“I’m scared,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says. “Do it scared.”

You let out a breath that feels like it’s been caught in your chest for months. “We're being so fucking dramatic right now. Have you been stealing lines from your scripts again?”

He chuckles, sliding his arms around your waist again. “You say that like you didn’t just admit you waited for my texts like oxygen.”

You bury your face into his chest, groaning. “Can we not bring that up ever again?”

There’s still fear threading through your chest, still questions and doubts lingering in the corners of your mind. But for once, they’re not winning. Because he’s here, and you feel something you haven’t in months.

Home.

Not a place. Not a plan. Just him. Just you. Still choosing each other.

Even scared. Especially then.

------

A/N: Here is the story I mentioned earlier that inspired the club scene a bit: Read Here.

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre x reader #aaron pierre fanfic #aaron pierre smut #terry richmond #terry richmond fic #terry richmond smut

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httpsleclerc · 5 months ago

Text

the second date

pairings: Charles Leclerc x Single!Mom!Verstappen!Reader, Charles Leclerc x Romy Verstappen (BABY!OC)

summary: A peak into yours and Romy's second meeting with Charles

warnings: none for this part!

word count: 1.7k

a/n: I really love this little part I think its so cute! Let me know what you think by leaving a comment here or in my inbox!

series masterlist // main masterlist

The sun beamed down on Monte Carlo, an accurate symbol of how you had been feeling in the days since your first meeting with Charles. Talking to and with him, you felt like you could almost forget everything that had happened with Lukas - Almost. You were well aware that you would always have constant reminder of your ex, but that was in no way Romy's fault, you had spoken to Max and Kelly, proposing the idea to them that until or if she asked, you wouldn't tell your daughter about her father, and even then, depending on her age, you would only tell her the appropriate parts - That at some point he had been a good man, and that there came a point where you did what was best for her.

Max had laughed, saying that you were being too polite by calling Lukas a good man - Claiming that that would have been like calling Jos father of the year. Kelly had elbowed him after that, telling you that that sounded like a good plan.

You looked down, smiling at Romy as she curiously eyed all of the trees and greenery above her, giving you a gummy smile as she saw your face in her vision. You adjusted the umbrella to cover her face, protecting her sensitive skin from the harsh rays of the sun - You and Kelly had laughed as you asked Max if he could help you try and apply a layer of sunscreen onto Romy, which you two had known would be no easy feat. However, your older brother, seemingly the baby soother, had managed to apply not one, but two layers of heavy duty sunscreen onto your daughter.

"I see you, Romy," You spoke to her, fondly smiling as she babbled back to you. "Oh you're very talkative, I think you know who we're going to see." You said, scanning for the brunette Monegasque, waving over to him as you saw him sitting on a bench.

It had been Charles' idea to meet you in Romy in a more secluded park in a beautiful area of Monte Carlo, Max had told him that you would most likely need worked up to going to busier areas, especially with Romy. You had always been anxious, your older brother knew that better than anyone did, but he couldn't imagine how you would be feeling having been isolated for so long and going back into such busy environments, never mind adding the single most precious thing in your life into the mix. So, Charles had thought of the small, yet beautiful park that his parents had brought himself and his brothers to as children.

He was trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach he got when he saw you make your way over to him, smiling as he heard Romy babbling from within her stroller. He knew that it would be wrong to propose a relationship to you right now, considering the relationship you had just come out of - He understood if you just wanted to be friends for a bit, he loved both you and Romy too much to miss out on anything.

"Hello you two," He greeted you, a charming smile on his face. You had to admit, Charles was incredibly handsome, but you had always known him to be.

"Hi Charles, nice to see you again," You said cheerily, putting the brake on Romy's stroller so you could lift her out and on to your lap, settling down on the bench beside Charles. "You picked a beautiful day." You told him, smiling as you placed your daughter on your lap, letting her play with the rings on your fingers.

"I know, you know my parents used to bring me and my brothers here? I thought that maybe it could be something we could do with Romy," He said, only to stumble over his words as you looked at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "Nono, I-I didn't mean like a date or anything like that...not that I don't want something like that with you! I think you're really pretty and Romy is the most perfect little girl and-...I am making a fool of myself, aren't I?" He held his head in hands, his cheeks heating up as he realised how much he had been rambling.

You giggled, placing your free hand on Charles' back as a means to try and comfort him. He looked up at you, a blush creeping over his cheeks as he made eye contact with you.

"I'd love to do this with you as a tradition, Charles, I um...I just don't think that I'm quite ready for anything more than friends right now," You told him - Charles was at least happy that you could be honest with him, instead of dating him out of pity for his inability to shut up. "I really like being friends with you, Cha, Romy loves you too. You really make me feel listened to, in a way that Max and Kelly don't really get - they look after Romy and I but you..you're different, but in a good way." You assured him, smiling as you ran your hand up and down his back.

As if sensing his sadness, Romy started wriggling in your arms, babbling as she reached for Charles, who immediately perked up as the small girl reached out for him.

"Can I?" You nodded, you loved how he asked before taking your daughter out of your arms. You softly smiled, seeing how content both him and your daughter were with each other - You had seen Charles in interviews, talking about he had wanted 3 children, you could see him outnumbered by girls, begging their daddy to do their hair and play princesses and tea parties. It was funny, you had never imagined yourself having kids, especially not one at 22, but now that you had Romy, you couldn't imagine your life without it, it felt like her being here with you, she completed you - She was your baby and you were her mother, nothing could ever, and would ever change that. "She's so cute, and I see that she let you put her socks on her this time." He recounted, making you laugh as you remembered the day that you had first met up with Charles, more specifically you remembered the 15 minute battle you had with Romy about putting her socks on.

"Max actually got her sorted for today, you would be surprised at how good he is with babies," Charles nodded - He, more than anyone, was probably most familiar with how you and Max were raised, so hearing you talk about how great that your older brother was with your daughter, was almost a shock; Two people who he had expected to want nothing to do with children, had become in closest contact with them, with you being a mother and Max having such a close bond with Penelope. "I'm going to go get something to drink, do you want anything?" You offered him with a smile, watching as Romy, who normally screamed and cried any time you left her, remained perfectly happy in Charles' arms.

"Just a water please, cherie," He responded, gently bouncing Romy on his knee as he watched you nod and walk away, over to the small concessions stand. "Such a pretty girl, aren't you Romy? Just like your mama." Charles spoke to the baby girl on his lap, grinning as she giggled and clapped her small hands together, babbling to him. He sighed as he sat back against the bench, Romy resting against him as she settled down - Charles was thankful he hadn't made a complete fool of himself, although disappointment did weigh on the fact that you weren't looking for a relationship at the moment; However, he understood, and would continue with your friendship.

You made your way back over to the bench where Charles and your daughter sat, Romy having settled against him, almost asleep on his chest.

"Oh, she um...I think she's asleep, Charles," You said quietly, placing a hand on your daughter's small back. He looked down, noticing that Romy, had in fact, fallen asleep on him. He looked up at you, clearly never having had a baby fall asleep, judging by the almost bewildered look in his eyes. "It's okay, just relax, I'll put her in the stroller so she can sleep with the sun umbrella covering her." You told him, lifting your sleeping daughter off of his chest so he could move without fear of waking her. Making sure that she was in securely, you sat back down, handing Charles the water you had bought him.

"She's so calm, I don't think I've seen a baby sleep so much or fuss so little," You chuckled at Charles' thoughts on your daughter. "Uh oh, that tells me otherwise." He grinned, prompting you to tell him more.

"She's cute, but she uses it to her advantage. She's got her uncle Max wrapped around her little finger already, Kelly and I told him off the other day because she was being fussy because Max had a stroopwafell and she wanted some," You told him, smiling as you remembered the look on your brothers face as Kelly told him off, while you attempted to take the sweet treat out of your daughter's tight grasp. "Getting her onto solids has also been a nightmare, she's a fussy little monster sometimes."

"I bet you wouldn't change her for the world," Charles smiled fondly at you, watching as you studied your sleeping baby carefully. You shook your head, turning to look at the Monegasque once more.

"Absolutely not, I wish I could change her father, but the only plus from him was that he gave me her...my baby girl," You smiled widely, your heart beaming with nothing but adoration for the life that you created. He also smiled, watching you with the same adoration, even if you didn't share the sentiment right now, Charles was almost certain you shared the same feelings, and he would wait until you were ready.

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agustdtown1 · 1 month ago

Text

CLOSER TO YOU [TEASER]

PAIRING: nerdy!roommate!jungkook x OF!reader.

SUMMARY: After getting various comments about your poor filming skills for your OF page, you finally decided to give in and reach out to the one person that could help you with your problem. However, what started as your roommate just helping you to film your video turned into you begging him to fuck you.

How long would it take for Jungkook to finally give in? After all, all he ever wanted was to be closer to you.

WC (teaser): 615, final work is almost 10k

WARNINGS (teaser): swearing, sexual themes, allusion to masturbation, it’s not explicitly stated but reader is fully naked, reader being a little menace and jk being completely whipped for her. The rest of the warnings will be added to the final fic.

A/N: not me coming back here after almost a year of not writing anything. I don’t have any further explanation aside from the fact that my life changed a lot and I got way busier than I thought I would, I also kinda lost inspiration and motivation to write so… there’s that, hopefully with this new fic I’ll be back to writing more often and being active. n e way, enjoy your reading and lmk if u wanna be tagged for the final fic! <3

You can read part one here !!

masterlist

“Kook…” You breathed out, “I need you.”

It was so subtle, so fleeting the smugness that covered his face for a brief instant that you barely noticed. His eyes widened and his lips moved like that of a fish trying to survive out of the water, he didn’t know what to do, much less what to say.

“Me?” He whispered, completely clueless of the effect he was having on you in that moment. You nodded, fingers stilling in between your legs. “Wh-What do you mean?”

You sat up, stopping the filming once again. “Exactly what I said, I need you… I-I need your help with something else. You can say no, but… I would be forever grateful to you if you said yes.”

Jungkook was putting to use his 128 IQ score to try and understand what you were hinting at, but none the wiser, he needed the words spelled out to him to get your idea. And so, as softly as possible, you explained what your need was actually about. You noticed the way his body reacted to you and the show you were putting on for your viewers but more specifically for him; it was painfully obvious how much he desired you, and in all honesty, you weren’t any better.

Ever since you two started living together, you swore that you wouldn’t act on the small and silly crush you developed for him after meeting for the first time. It was just a silly attraction that wasn’t worth the hassle of getting involved with your roommate; his built body and big biceps drove you crazy, and you couldn’t turn a blind eye to the intricate tattoos adorning his arm, which was such a stark contrast to the type of man he made himself out to be; the lip ring shining from his mouth was so painfully enticing, and more often than not, you found yourself wondering what it would feel like against your lips while kissing the life out of him. And God bless the person that gets you started on how much you loved those black rimmed glasses that adorned his eyes almost 24/7, giving him a geeky look that would never fail to make you weak in the knees. But all of those features, as well as the lewd scenarios conquering your mind minutes before going to sleep, had made it difficult for you to stay in your lane all this time. Tonight, however, might be your one and only chance to turn your dirty dreams into reality, only and only if Jungkook agreed to your idea.

“I don’t want this to ruin our friendship.” He murmured, looking down at the floor and avoiding your hopeful eyes glaring at him. You reached out for him, your soft hands coming in contact with his covered thighs while you kneeled in front of him. “Y/n… don’t do this to me.” His whole body stiffened, fighting the urge to jump your bones and turn you into a crying mess just like he always imagined.

“You don’t want me like that, Kookie?” You so innocently asked, lashes fluttering against your cheekbones. “Is that the real problem, hm?” Your hands were sliding up and down his thighs, teasing him.

“God, no.” He answered breathlessly, “You have no fucking idea how bad I want you…”

“Then why don’t you show me? What’s stopping you, hm?” Your cheek resting on his jean-covered thigh elicited a soft gasp from your roommate. “It's just a small favor.”

“I… fuck, you’re driving me crazy right now.” He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends while letting out a frustrated groan. Jungkook took off his glasses while rubbing his eyes before looking at you again. “You have to promise… you really have to promise that it will be a one-time thing. No more favors after this, at least not of this caliber.”

You nodded eagerly, looking at him with a spark in your eyes. “I promise, just this time.”

“Okay,” Jungkook nodded, “I’ll help you with anything you need.”

#jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #bts fanfction #🥢.townsmut!#🥢town originals!#cty!jungkook #roommate!jungkook #nerdy!jungkook #[closer to you fic!]

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elleandstufff · 3 months ago

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A Gift for the Both of Us ｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

Everyone really seemed to enjoy Sugar Daddy!Thanos so here’s more of him <3

It’s Father’s Day and you couldn’t think of anything to get your husband :( Luckily, he has the perfect gift for both of you! Thanos/Choi Su-bong x fem!sugar baby/trophy wife reader

Continuation of Being Thanos’s Sugar Baby/Trophy Wife… but you can also read this as a standalone if you want!

Warnings: Sugar baby/trophy wife-sugar daddy dynamic but you actually love each other, Thanos and reader already have two kids, baby making, dom!Thanos, unprotected p in v sex, breeding kink of course, begging, teasing, possessiveness, slight brat taming, filthy!! words coming out of this man’s mouth 2k words

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ

The front door of your house clicks shut as your two daughters and mother-in-law leave for the night. It’s father's day, and all of you had just spent the entire day celebrating your husband. You made a complete spread of all his favorite foods, and you helped your daughters make cutesy little crafts for him. You wanted to do everything you could to make the day special for him, since he did so much for you and your little family.

You did everything to make the day special for him, except for getting him a gift. You thought long and hard about it for months, but you couldn’t think of anything he would want that he didn’t already have. He always makes it clear that his favorite thing to do is buy things for you or your kids. Yet, you didn’t get him a single thing.

A pair of arms wraps around you and lifts you into the air. You giggle as your husband carries you throughout the house and finally into your bedroom. He softly tosses you onto the massive bed before plopping down beside you.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Just thinking about how I had a great time today with my family, and now I’ve got a quiet house and my pretty wife sitting in my bed.” He smiles down at you.

“Your pretty wife who didn’t even get you a father’s day gift…” You pout.

“Well, you’re the greatest gift I could have asked for. Then on top of that, you’re the whole reason I’m a father in the first place.” He strokes your hair. “But… I’ve been thinking and I might have an idea for a gift for the both of us. What if we…?”

He gently places a hand on your lower stomach and strokes his thumb across the exposed skin. You realize what he means and your eyes grow wide. “Another baby? I thought we said our family was already complete?”

“Our girls are just getting a little older and busier, but they wouldn’t be too much older than the new baby. I’d love to see you with a baby propped on your hip one more time. But it’s entirely up to you, of course.” He starts to pull his hand away, but you swiftly put it back and place your hand over his.

“We have one kid in preschool, and the other is about to start in a couple months. And you have to spend so much time at the studio, and I completely understand! It’s just… I’ve been so bored and lonely lately…”

“I know, Honey, that’s why I want to give you another baby if you’ll let me.”

You smile up at him brightly. “Yes, please.”

His lips meet yours hungrily, and the two of you waste no time tearing each others’ clothes off. You pull a pillow from the head of the bed to place under your lower back. It’s your third time around, so you know the drill at this point.

“Nah, Sweetheart, not yet,” he says with a devilish grin while you look confused.

He flops himself onto the plush mattress and folds his arms underneath his head. He looks at you expectantly, and you instantly know what he means. “It is father’s day, after all.”

Your tummy flips in a mix of excitement and anxiety. Your husband is always on top and in control, except for the few special days of the year where he has you start on top. You’re not used to being in control since it rarely happens, so you never have the stamina to get yourself off.

You shakily straddle him while maintaining eye contact, just how he likes. He nods for you to continue, giving you the reassurance that you need. You take his huge length in your hand and position him at your entrance. You’re already dripping just at the thought of what is going to happen tonight, but you still prepare yourself for an overwhelming stretch.

His fat head pushing past your entrance already has you moaning and whining. You sink yourself lower inch by inch until he’s fully inside you and you can feel him nudging your cervix. You sit still for a moment to get used to the feeling of him stretching your walls. No matter how many times the two of you have fucked–thousands at this point–you still can’t get over how big he is.

“C’mon, Honey, move for me. You can do it,” he says encouragingly, but his arms don’t move from their spot underneath his head.

You start rocking your hips forward and back as best as you can, but the feeling of him in your guts makes it difficult for you to move much. After a few minutes, you feel your release building up. But every time you approach it, the feeling dissipates. Your movements get sloppy as you try to chase the high, but no matter what you do you can’t reach it. You’re so desperate you could cry.

“Aw, you struggling to get yourself off, Sweetie?” Your husband coos. He finally moves one of his hands to caress your face.

You look down in shame. “Yes.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll help you out,” he says. “But first, it still is father’s day. Remind me, how many times have you made me a father?”

“Two…” you mutter. “About to be three…”

“So it looks like I’ll be making you cum three times tonight…”

He gingerly pulls you down for a kiss before he swiftly flips you underneath him. He pulls a pillow from the head of the bed and places it under your hips. He leans down to whisper in your ear, “Do you need to stretch first?”

You can’t help but let out a laugh at his question. “No, it’s pretty much muscle memory at this point.”

“Alright…”

You’re immediately folded in half. Your leg muscles twitch for a second at first, but then you relax. It really is muscle memory.

He doesn’t waste time burying himself deep inside you. He was just in you seconds ago, but this new intrusion feels so much deeper. He doesn’t start off slow and sweet, no, he plows into you like a mad man on a mission. You were already close before, so it’s no time before you’re close again.

“I can feel you squeezing me, baby. Let’s get number one of the night out of the way.”

You obey him, though it’s not difficult to because of the fast and harsh assault on your insides. You whine as you gush around him. You feel your release dripping down you, and you’re sure it’s all over him, but he doesn’t stop.

You’re in such a fucked out bliss that you can barely focus on the filthy words coming out of his mouth or the second orgasm creeping up on you like a bullet train. Before you know it you’re gushing around him a second time. You’re a pathetic mess beneath him, and he’s above you jackhammering into your hole at record speed without breaking a sweat. Sometimes you wonder how he’s even real.

Sometime after your second release of the evening, your husband starts coaxing you into your third. “C’mon, let’s get this third one over with so I can make you a mommy again.”

“I can’t…” you whine. “Too much…”

“Oh, you will, Honey.” He peppers your face with kisses. “I give you everything. You can give me one more.”

You try your best for him and you feel your final orgasm of the night spreading throughout your body. He grunts praises in your ear as your body shudders. He stills in you for a second and strokes your hair, giving you a minute to recover.

“You ready for the grand finale?”

You’re weak, but you eagerly nod. He starts again with his brutal pace, but you can tell that he’s close by the way his arms start to shake ever so slightly.

He puts his head in the crook of your neck and he speaks to you, his voice low and raspy. “You wanna have my baby? Beg for it.”

You smile up at him, feigning innocence. “It was your idea.”

He smiles back at you, his smile cocky. “I could pull out if you’d like.”

“You wouldn’t.” He has never pulled out ever.

“Oh, but I could. I could paint that pretty face white, but you know I’d rather paint those insides.”

You continue to look up at him, stubbornly refusing to let anything slip from your mouth.

“When did my wife become such a brat, huh?” He nips at your neck. “I go one week without fucking you because we’re busy and you go and turn into brat? Can’t let that happen again.”

“Well, don’t stay at the studio so late then…” You say, refusing to let a moan slip out that’s beginning to be let free.

“Let me knock you up, and I’ll take half days every day this week.”

“No one is stopping you. You’re the one in control, right?”

He gives you a particularly rough thrust, which earns an involuntary moan from you and causes him to smile. He looks you in the eye. “You belong to me. This pretty cunt belongs to me. This womb belongs to me. If I tell you to beg to carry my babies, you’re going to beg.”

You instantly let out a filthy noise somewhere between a moan and a whine. His dominance has always been a turn on for you, and this time is no exception. “Please give me another baby. ‘Wanna have your baby, please.”

You feel him twitching inside of you. With ragged breaths, he pulls you as close as possible and releases his seed directly to your womb. You cry out as you feel him spill inside you. One of his arms involuntarily gives out so he practically lies on top of you. He stays inside long after he goes soft, trying to make sure that none of his spend is wasted. You’re exhausted, but you know he must be as well.

Eventually he pulls out and you feel empty. He slips one of his shirts over your head and kisses your forehead. “You doing okay, Mommy-to-be?”

You weakly giggle at how much of a lovable dork your husband can be. “Yes, I’m okay. Do you really think it’ll stick from just this one time?”

He slips into a pair of boxers and gets his foot caught, nearly falling face-first into the bed. “Oh, I know it stuck. But for good measure, we’re doing it again in the morning. And tomorrow night when the girls go to sleep. And the next day. And-”

Suddenly, you hear barking coming from the living room. The dog your husband randomly brought home on Christmas morning must need to go to the bathroom. “I am going to take him out to go to the bathroom and then I’ll be right back. Let’s watch something when I get back. How about you pick? You can even pick something I hate!”

You laugh. You’re definitely going to pick something he hates. “Stop in the laundry room on the way out and put on some pants! There might be paparazzi outside!” You call after him as he jogs after the dog.

As you scroll through shows and wait for him to return, you absentmindedly rub at your tummy. You’re thankful that your husband was thoughtful enough to give you a present on his special day.

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ

I promise that I’m still working on requests and the next part of my Let’s Play a Game series! This just came to me randomly and I’m so close to hitting 1k notes on my Sugar Daddy!Thanos headcanons!! I’m so excited that so many people seem to love the idea <3

Also my finals are due this week, and then I should have a few chill weeks! I have so many fics I want to put out and hopefully you will like them all <3

｡ ₊ Masterlist ₊ ｡

#thanos #thanos x reader #thanos squid game #thanos smut #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #choi su bong #choi su bong x reader #player 230 #player 230 x reader #squid game smut

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marvelstoriesepic · 30 days ago

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✿ 2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist ✿

First of all, thank you so much!! ❤︎ This goes out to every single one of you who vote on the poll, took the time to send in a prompt, shared kind words, or just showed up for this little celebration with me ❤︎ This small challenge was born out of wanting to create something special after hitting 2k followers. Your beautiful prompts, excitement, and support have made it so much more than I hoped for!! 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

This masterlist will hold all the drabbles written for this event, and I will be updating it as I post them ❤︎

⊱❊⊰ How it works ⊱❊⊰

• Drabbles are posted in the order I received the prompts

• I'll be sharing one fic a day so I can give each one proper care and love, and it will have some time in the spotlight (also, I don’t wanna overwhelm you or myself lmao)

• If your drabble isn’t up yet - it’s coming!! I will add a title to the still unnamed requests once their done.

• A few stories go a little over the original 2k words intention. Bucky just brings out the extra in me. Couldn’t help myself.

Please know: Whether your drabble ends up being short or long, the amount of thought, heart, and effort is the same. I put all my love into these and I am so grateful you trusted me with your ideas! ❤︎

Thank you for making this so special! ❤︎

Divider by @saradika-graphics !! ❤︎

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

✿ Misfire (mild angst, yearning)

✿ Powdered Sugar (angst, yearning, hurt/comfort)

✿ Beneath the Constellations (mild angst, hurt/comfort)

✿ Wear My Heart (angst, yearning)

✿ Poison of the Spotlight (mild angst, hurt/comfort)

✿ Eyes made of Starlight (mild angst, mild fluff, yearning)

✿ Your Ghost Knows Me (angst, dark themes)

✿ Where We Were When the Stars Came Out (fluff)

✿ Even When It Hurts to Hope (angst, hurt/comfort)

✿ Look at Me Like That Again (fluff, yearning)

✿ If You Asked Me Now (angst, mild fluff, yearning)

✿ I Would Let the World Burn (angst, hurt/comfort)

✿ Soft as the Sound of Healing (angst, hurt/comfort)

✿ Somewhere Between Chapters (fluff, yearning)

✿ What the Mirror Doesn’t Say (slight angst, comfort)

✿ Tattoo Me in Flowers (fluff, yearning)

✿ Train Me in Resistance (slightly suggestive, yearning)

✿ Lie Better (slight angst, enemies to lovers)

✿ Notice Me (slight angst, fluff)

✿ The Splinter and the Spark (enemies to lovers)

✿ A Home for Now (slight angst, pretend marriage)

✿ Mad for You (angst, hurt/comfort)

✿ You’re Okay (slight angst, hurt/comfort, fluff)

There are still quite a few of your lovely requests unfinished, and I apologize, but I got a little busier than I thought I would be in the last few days, so I wasn't able to sit down and write more. Still, I will manage to complete them all over time. Thank you, guys!! ❤︎

If you’d like to support me and my writing, please consider my ko-fi ♡

#2k drabble challenge #2k celebration #2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky masterlist #marvel bucky barnes #bucky barnes masterlist #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky drabble #bucky barnes drabbles #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you

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0cta9on · 20 days ago

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Golden Hour Café

Length: 1.8k words

Genre: Fluff

Nmixx Kyujin x (G)-idle Soyeon x Male Reader

(Author's Note: Wrote this for a prompt thingy hosted by @woollypoison! Thenk yew ooly, it was very fun :] Also, using a different divider cuz I had formatting issues with the other one :> Enjoy!)

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚✩࿐

The faint scent of roasted coffee beans wafts past your nostrils as you sweep the empty cafe. There’s no reason to—there hasn’t been any customers for the past couple hours—but it’s better than sitting around doing nothing, and your uncle will give you an earful if he catches you slacking off again. The summer sun casts long rays of golden light through the windows. It’s already hot enough even with the AC on blast, so you try to sweep around those areas.

Some song by The Beatles blasts through the speakers, echoing throughout the empty cafe. A favorite of your uncle’s, but not something you would ever listen to willingly. With the way Kyujin is bobbing her head as she wipes down the tables, it might become one of her favorites too.

“Don’t tell me you actually like this song,” you mutter.

Your friend shrugs. “It’s kinda catchy.”

“It’s so… old, though.”

“Maybe I’m just an old soul.”

“Old soul?” you chuckle. “But you look like a—Ow.” She slaps your arm with a wet rag.

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.” Kyujin tries to glare, but it comes off more like an angry kitten rather than anything remotely threatening.

“Whatever.” You plop into one of the booths with a long sigh, dropping the broom at your feet. “So much for an opening day.”

Kyujin sits across from you, leaning her head on the table. “It wasn’t so bad. Five customers is pretty good for the first day.”

“Four,” you point out. “One of them was only here to use the bathroom.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but sinks into the table with a dejected sigh instead. “Just trying to be optimistic,” she mutters, voice muffled.

Your uncle waltzes in from the back, whistling along to the song. “Hey kiddos, how are we…” His voice falters as he sees the two of you sitting down, disheartened and exhausted. “C’mon, it’s just opening day. We’ll get more customers eventually,” he tries to cheer you up, but the uncertainty in his voice speaks louder than his words.

“I guess…” you utter.

“Yeah…” Kyujin adds.

You feel bad, but not for lack of trying. Your uncle spent months getting this cafe up and running, even quitting his old desk job so he could focus all his efforts on his real dream. It’s commendable, to say the least. You watched him put all his blood, sweat, and tears into this place—you just wish other people saw that too.

“Um, sir?” Kyujin asks, tentatively raising her hand.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir’, Kyujin,” your uncle grins. “What’s up?”

“Do we… still get paid?” Your head shoots up at the thought of your first paycheck.

He sighs. “Yes, of course. Just not until the end of the week.”

You and Kyujin sink back into the leather cushions with a groan. You spent the entire day here, barely making a handful of drinks, and you have to do that four more times until you get paid? Working is a scam.

“Why don’t I go buy us some dinner while you two close up shop for today, huh?” your uncle offers. “What are we feeling? Pizza? Burgers? Chinese?”

Kyujin looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to choose. You stifle a smile as her wide eyes peer into yours. You almost forget to answer, too distracted by the way her eyes sparkle like the sun. “Uh, I’m fine with anything. You?” you ask her. Her lips curl into that giddy smile that never fails to make your heart flutter.

“Pizza, please!” she exclaims.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a few with some pizzas.” The door chime rings as your uncle makes his exit, leaving you two to close up shop. You run through the mental checklist in your mind, but considering you’ve done nothing but clean all day, most of the work is already done.

“Y’know, when the cafe gets busier, we’ll probably miss quiet days like these,” Kyujin comments as she stacks up the chairs.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I’d much rather make drinks than pointlessly push the broom around for hours.”

She chuckles, her cheeks puffing up like marshmallows. For a moment, you imagine what it must feel like, pinching them in between your fingers. “Hey, at least your hands aren’t all clammy from that wash rag. If anything you got the easy job,” she says.

“Aww, you worried a little rag is gonna ruin your soft baby hands?” Kyujin suddenly attacks you with a flurry of slaps against your arm, but in all her fury, it just ends up tickling. “What are you doing? Stop!”

“Stop being mean!”

“I’m not being mean—”

The door chime jingles, and the two of you freeze. A woman with long black hair and dressed in a cool denim jacket stands in the doorway, eyeing the two of you oddly.

“Uh, are you still open?” she asks, gaze bouncing back and forth between you two.

“U-um, yes we are!” You quickly take down one of the chairs just for her while Kyujin scurries behind the counter.

“What would you like to drink, ma’am?” Kyujin asks in that customer service tone the two of you practiced last night.

“Just an iced americano,” the woman answers coolly.

“Coming right up!”

You join Kyujin behind the counter, both to help and so you don’t just stand around awkwardly. She grabs a plastic cup and shovels ice into it, the cubes clattering loudly. “Americanos are just espresso and water, right?” she whispers, glancing up at you.

“Yeah,” you answer. “You remember how to pull a shot?”

“Duh, I’m not you,” she smirks, twisting the portafilter into the espresso machine. You almost slap her arm, but stop yourself, not wanting to mess her up. Kyujin presses a button on the machine, causing it to hum to life before dripping liquid gold into the tiny glass underneath.

She leans in, inspecting it closely. “Crema looks decent,” she mutters.

“Okay Gordon Ramsay, it’s not rocket science,” you tease.

“That doesn’t even make sense, he’s a chef, not a barista, stupid. Now move!” she hisses, waving you away as if she needs ample space just to pour espresso over ice cubes. She finishes it off with a splash of cold water, stirs the dark brown concoction with a spoon, and caps it off.

“One iced americano, for Miss, uh…” Kyujin blanks out.

“Soyeon. Thanks, kid,” she grins, taking the drink and bringing the straw to her lips. The two of you can’t help but watch in anticipation as she tastes the drink that the two of y— er, Kyujin made. “Not bad.”

You and Kyujin jump into each other’s arms, squealing and bouncing around in joy. Perhaps you hold onto her for a little too long or a little tightly, but if her laughter is any indication of things, she doesn’t seem to mind. After a long, boring day, it feels good to end on a win.

“Are you two dating or something?” Soyeon. chuckles, taking a seat near the counter. Kyujin suddenly scrambles off of you, her face turning pink like a sunburn.

“N-no! We’re not! Just friends!” she exclaims, waving her hands wildly in embarrassment.

“Y-yeah, just friends…” you echo, trying to mask the pain in your voice.

“Right…” Soyeon looks around the cafe, admiring the old time-y decorations that your uncle set up. “Is this place new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

“Yeah, we just opened today. My uncle owns the cafe,” you answer.

“Ooh, cool. Must be fun working with your girlfriend.”

“S-she’s not my—!”

“I know, I know, ‘just friends’,” she chuckles. “Pardon my teasing, I had a bunch of meetings and I’ve had to act serious all day.”

“I-its okay,” Kyujin assures her, still red in the face. “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do for work?”

“I’m an… artist,” Soyeon hesitates.

“Ooh, so you make music and stuff? That’s so cool!”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I’m supposed to be doing anyways.” The older woman lets out a long sigh, letting her jet black hair fall to the side. “These days, it feels like my job is to argue with old guys in suits just so I can make the music that I want to make.”

“Ah, I see…” Kyujin nods, feeling bad for accidentally dampening the mood.

“Are there any songs we might know from you?” you ask in an attempt to change the subject.

“Sorry kid, I really don’t wanna be rude, but I’d rather not talk about work right now,” Soyeon mutters.

“Ah, that rough, huh?”

“Yup.” She takes a long sip of her drink. “C’est la vie, I suppose.”

“Was that Spanish?” Kyujin whispers to you. “I barely passed Spanish.” You gently nudge her side, giving her an “I’ll tell you later” look.

“So, what about you two?” Soyeon asks. “Still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I see. There’s still hope in your eyes.”

“We’re just working here for the summer until next semester starts,” you explain.

“Ah, the sweet simplicity of youth.” Soyeon shuts her eyes, rocking back and forth to the song playing through the speakers. “No rules, no expectations, just pure freedom. How wonderful.”

Kyujin shoots you a confused look, but all you can do is shrug in response, not quite understanding what’s going on. “U-uh, yeah, it’s pretty nice, I guess,” you utter nervously.

Soyeon opens her eyes and sighs before walking up to the counter and taking out her wallet. “Let me give you a tip.”

“Oh, thank you, that’s very ki—”

“Run wild, run free, break the law, but most importantly, have fun.” Soyeon drops a fat wad of cash into the tip jar before walking off, nearly bumping into your uncle as he returns with the pizzas. “I’ll see you around, kiddos.” Without turning around, she flashes a peace sign before disappearing around the corner.

“Who was that?” your uncle asks, confusion written all over his face.

“I have no idea, but I think I wanna be her when I grow up,” Kyujin says, eyes wide as she fans through our newly acquired stack of cash. Soyeon could’ve been a witch or an escaped convict or whatever, as long as she keeps giving you tips like these, you don’t mind having her as your first ever regular.

“Do you think she’ll come back?” Kyujin asks as she finishes washing the dishes.

“Maybe,” you reply, wiping off the counters. “Seems like she liked the place. Almost like she… needed it, or something.” “Wow, how thoughtful of you,” she giggles, gently elbowing your side. You chuckle softly, charmed by the way her nose scrunches up whenever she laughs. If every day is just like this, cracking jokes in the pleasant atmosphere with Kyujin, then maybe the quiet days aren’t so bad after all.

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wosohours · 8 months ago

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commitment - leah williamson x reader

You always heard about “don’t date athletes” and “athletes are players," but of course when good advice comes your way, you ignore it.

It was a bit insane to think that you could start talking to the one girl who could not be bothered with being in a committed relationship. That gut feeling telling you “Don’t get too close”, “Don’t entertain her”, or “Don’t fall in too deep” but you once again ignored it.

Honestly, you could not help it. It was like a craving to be around Leah all the time. It almost felt like an obsession of wondering, “What is she doing?”, “Where is she?”, “Is she thinking about me?”

Constantly checking your phone to see if she messaged you. Looking at her social media every hour on the hour. You were in deep and you knew it would eventually lead to hurting yourself. Yet, being someone with the typical heart-eye delusions, the thoughts in the back of your mind kept saying, “She will change for you.”

Trying to distance yourself never worked because every time you were at a safe enough distance she kept pulling you right back in. Leah knew that she had some type of hold on you and constantly used that to her advantage.

Just last week she was barely texting and calling you back. You understood that she was not obligated to do so since you two were not officially together, but you were most definitely a little…maybe even a lot more than “just friends.” The dates, the romantic gestures, and the PDA all confirmed that but you could never understand her constant pushing and pulling.

Leah knows exactly how to make it up to you though. She texted three days ago saying how sorry she was not keeping in contact, how she misses you like crazy and how she planned a whole day for just the two of you. You were strong this time, wanting her to feel how she makes you feel by not texting back and declining her calls those three days. Yet one slip of weakness and here you are right back in her bed.

____________________

“I missed you so much you have no ideas.” Leah tells you as she feathers kisses all over your face as you both lay in bed naked.

“Oh really? I would not have guessed.” you said as you sat up from her chest and moved away from her a little. She froze looking at you with that cute frown that is usually stuck on her face and said, “Baby I told you I am truly sorry, I really mean it. I have just been a bit busier since the launch of my third book. You know this.”

Leah wraps an arm around your waist pulling you back down closer to her. “I am here now though, aren’t I?” You hesitantly relax into her and say, “I know but a simple text or any sort of reply would have been nice. I just missed you.” You can feel Leah smiling against your hairline after she lays a soft kiss there. “I missed you too babe.”

After a moment of you two just enjoying each other's company she says quietly, “How about we get up, you come shower with me, and then we can go out and get some breakfast?”

____________________

Once again the cycle repeats itself with Leah distancing herself. No longer answering calls or texts. Although it hurt, you thought it would be best to leave things the way they were to protect your peace, even pushing yourself to be petty enough to block her number. It was almost like you were putting her up to the test to see how far she would go to get your attention.

Although she did swipe up on one of your Instagram stories of you in a tight shirt with no bra saying, “I’ve seen it, now delete it,” but you ignored that as well.

____________________

Since being friends with Leah for many years you have grown closer with some of the Arsenal girls and with them loving your company, a couple of them have asked you to join them in celebrating the end of their USA tour at a local pub. People are either mingling by the bar, doing karaoke, or sitting around the reserved private table in the back.

Currently, you are at the bar getting a drink and you can feel Leah’s eyes burning into the back of your skull.

“What’s going on with you two? You have been more grumpy than usual,” Katie teases Leah as she sits in the empty seat next to her. “She's ignoring me,” Leah sighs, still looking at you.

“What have you done this time?” Alessia asks from across the table. “I’ve been kind of avoiding her again. I don’t mean to but I don’t know what I’m doing.” Leah replies.

“Have you tried talking to her about how you feel? Do you actually want to have a serious relationship with her?” Katie asks.

“No, I haven't talked to her. Every time I try to talk about us my mouth goes dry and all of a sudden I can’t think, and of course, I want something serious with her I’m just nervous,” Leah shakes her head and looks down at her fidgeting fingers.

Lia, who has been listening to the conversation from her seat next to Alessia, speaks up, “Well you might need to tell her soon because the bartender is flirting with her heavily.”

This causes Leah’s head to shoot up in your direction and sees the bartender smiling at you and reaching her hand over to rest on your forearm. “Yeah, not happening.” Leah quickly stands up from her seat and pushes past people to make her way over to you.

When she gets to you she gently wraps an arm around your waist not to startle you and pulls you back into her chest. She gives her glare that she usually saves for the pitch to the bartender, making her quickly release your arm and turn her attention to another customer waiting at the other end of the bar.

Leah smiles when you relax into her and she whispers in your ear, “You’ve been avoiding me.” You slowly turn around until you are face to face with her and say. “Hurts doesn’t it?”

“I deserve that. Why don’t we go have a chat and I will explain myself?” Leah says, moving her hand to grab yours. “Really? You want to talk now and here?” you scoff.

Leah just nods and gently pulls your hand so that you follow her out to the back patio of the pub. She sits on a bench that is a little bit away from the loud building and pulls your hand down to sit next to her.

“You know you shouldn’t just flirt with anyone, she could've just been charming you into being her next one nightstand,” she says.

“Hmm, pot meets kettle huh? You would know,” you scoff pulling your hand away from hers.

“No, I wouldn’t, because we are more than that,” she firmly replies.

“It sure doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

“I know,” she sighs, focusing on her shoes, “but I can explain.”

You look at her and slightly nod your head giving her the indication to keep talking.

“I love everything about us. I love how we are with each other. How easy it is to be around you and the connection that we have. I’m just scared of the reality of us being together because it seems too good to be true,” she confesses. “Don’t get me wrong I do want to be with you and I am serious about you but there is this nagging feeling in my head that I am going to screw it all up.”

You grab her hands gently and say, “That’s completely understandable Leah, I wish you would have communicated with me about how you felt earlier. However, you can’t make future assumptions about something you or we haven’t even tried yet. Neither of us has any idea of what could happen but it doesn’t mean push away and hide from it.”

You continue, “You are looking too far into the future when you should be focusing on right now. That self-sabotaging brain of yours is going to stall you for great things one day.” you giggle pushing her head away making her laugh too.

After the giggles die down she says, “You are completely right. If you allow me to give this…us another try I am willing to put my all into it. I just ask that you give me that reassurance.”

“I can give you that, but you have to promise to communicate with me.” you nod raising your hand to move a piece of hair out of her face.

“I promise to communicate my feelings to you,” she replies leaning into your hand.

You smile and stand up from the bench pulling her up with you to give her a hug resting your head against hers. Leah pulls back a bit to give you a few quick pecks on the lips causing you to giggle and move away.

“My girl,” she whispers, pulling you back against her and laying one last kiss on the side of your head.

____________________

Since that day Leah has kept her promise of communicating more and you have kept yours by reassuring her when she needed it. She even asked you to officially be with her a couple weeks later and it had felt as though something shifted in the air.

She was constantly texting, calling, and wanting to be attached to your hip. When you too were with each other in person she would constantly cling to you but you were okay with it since that is what you were wanting from the beginning.

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