#first week of my first lawyer job done

[wittyno]

I’m like a lawyer with the way I’m trying to… wait no, I’m actually a lawyer.

[gutsby]

Wants and Needs

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Joel x Reader

Summary: Bills are high; your dad’s boss wants to help. How you pay him stays between you and him—for now.

Warnings: 18+. Protected piv. Explicit power imbalance in an exchange of sex for money, so dubcon, technically. Soft dom!Joel. Sex toys. Squirting. Oral (f!receiving). Overstimulation. Daddy kink. Age gap. Praise kink.

Note: Bohanan’s is a steakhouse in San Antonio, TX.

Word count: 8.4k

You wanted a car. Joel needed to cum.

It wasn’t the arrangement a girl your age should’ve made, but what could you do? Your dad drank half of your college funds away, and your mom was long gone.

The next best thing was Mr. Miller, your father’s boss. He’d understood better than anyone what money could buy. What it might do. For him, it was pleasure. For you, it was a future—or what little remained after bills and loans and exorbitantly-priced car repairs bled you dry.

You took the job at the firm on a whim. You didn’t want to be a lawyer anymore, though your dad and Joel were. You didn’t want to be done with law school, though 3L had already long since ended, and that dreaded so-called ‘minimum competency’ test was drawing close on the horizon. In short, you couldn’t afford to pay for bar prep.

With Joel, you could.

It was true that tax law paid pretty well, but a part-time job would never really be enough when your family was treading water at all times. Your dad liked to gamble and drink, and your brothers got all of their brains from him.

You got the short end of the stick, plus the receiving end of another. Lucky for you, Joel’s felt pretty good going in.

Today you were somewhere south of Austin. Your truck wouldn’t start last week, so you’d agreed to come along on this business trip knowing full well what you planned on asking your boss as soon as you had a moment alone.

“CDP hearing at…9:45.” You checked the itinerary twice.

“Alright.” Joel nodded.

“Lunch with Javier, Ezra, and Dave at twelve.”

“Mhmm.”

“Phone call with Revenue Officer Acacius at 3:30.”

“For the…?”

“Martells.”

“Okay.”

“I finished Lucien Flores’ Form 433-F for your review and left notes—” You stopped to tap your finger on a short white pile of papers between you and Joel on the desk, “—in the margins. Still need bank statements from him.”

“Lovely.”

Joel eyed the stack at first, but his gaze strayed a little.

“You should probably plan to talk strategy with my dad before Mayor Garcia’s audit tomorrow, too. Looks like a couple non-cash contributions are being disputed now.”

For a second, your eyes flitted up to him, too. It was brief.

“Sure. When’s your daddy free?” he said.

You blinked, then scanned the schedule.

“Looks like five…or six, maybe. He’s got a consult with—”

“I wasn’t talking about your father.”

You looked back up. Joel was smirking, of course. His hand had drifted a comfortable, innocent distance past the papers and across the table, to you. The pair of you happened to be in one of the glass-paneled conference rooms nearest the hotel lobby, so he had to be discreet.

He never let his fingers stray too long on yours in public. Presently, his thumb grazed your knuckles extra slow.

Posing a question, maybe.

You didn’t have the time to be tactful now, unfortunately.

“I need $2,700.”

Joel, your boss, your daddy, whatever, had to pause at that. He didn’t move his hand immediately, but he did stare harder. Longer. He searched your face for the joke.

“$2,700?” he repeated.

“Yes sir,” you answered out of habit, wincing only a little, “My truck stopped running last week, and it’s just…a lot.”

The cost. For Joel, it wasn’t even a drop in the bucket, but in your world, it was a make-or-break, fuck-your-whole-budget-for-the-next-six-months kind of bad. Suddenly, your cheeks felt warmer than they did before, and you forced yourself to look away. Peering out across the wide and gently rolling terrain of San Antonio and trying to pretend there was something thrilling to see. You’d almost forgotten how much you hated asking this.

“I can make the deposit tonight—” Joel started.

“No,” you interrupted. You wanted to turn but couldn’t. You just shook your head and kept staring out there, “Not now, I mean…I need to earn it over time, I just…”

You stumbled over the words. It was like your lips, your tongue, and your teeth were all suffering from the same sort of embarrassment pervading the brain, and you couldn’t bring your mouth to form the sentences right.

I’m not asking for a handout. I need to earn the money.

However ‘earning’ may have been grossly misconstrued in the context, it was a labor all the same. You didn’t love it, but you didn’t hate him, either. Joel was nice, albeit old enough to be your father, and it didn’t seem that he was nearly as predatory or perverse as he could’ve been. You’d been working for him for two months now, and the idea had been your own when the cash had gotten tight.

Back in April, you’d explained to him, calmly, that you couldn’t take the bar exam unless you got some extra money quick. That you wouldn’t accept his charity, but you’d pay him back in other ways. Joel had been against it at first—you were the daughter of his best friend, after all—but eventually, his carnal needs won out over his sense, as every other man would’ve done, you guessed.

At first, you’d started slow, but that hadn’t lasted very long. You fucked him regularly now, though never had you asked for an amount of cash this big out of nowhere.

Joel blinked and put a hand on his hip, like he always did when he wasn’t sure what to say. The silver in his soft, dark locks shone more in this light. He’d lost the smirk.

“You’ve done…plenty.” Now sounding sheepish.

You tried to protest again; Joel stopped you.

“I mean it. Hey, look at me,” he said next.

You did, hesitatingly. You turned from the window, and out of instinct, folded your arms over your chest. Joel paced closer to you and then he was watching. Pausing.

Brushing your arm with his and glancing once over your shoulder to make sure no one else was around to see.

He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your temple.

When he pulled away, your skin was practically ablaze.

“Mr. Miller—”

“Joel,” he corrected, quiet, “And you’ve done enough. Let me cover the car just this once, okay? Sweetheart?”

You didn’t realize you were pivoting again. That your gut was doing somersaults and your heart was ready to climb up and out of your throat. Your neck was burning.

It wasn’t even anger you sensed was simmering under the skin until you turned back to him, and your eyes flashed with ire before the words were even spoken.

“I don’t need your pity, Mr. Miller. I said I want to pay.”

“It’s Joel. And I said you’ve done enough, so—”

Ire morphed to something more in a blink.

You didn’t mean to say it, but you did.

“Fine,” you huffed, suddenly exasperated, “If you’re so fucking opposed to me paying my way for this one simple thing, I’ll get another guy. Forget I asked.”

It was a low blow, for sure. Joel knew how badly you’d wanted this to stay between just you and him—and he would never dream of seeing you ‘earning your keep’ with anyone else. His expression said as much as soon as he’d heard your words; his whole face hardened at once.

But then you’d turned to leave. You didn’t care what he wanted to tell you, and if you did, you certainly weren’t brave enough to stick around to hear Joel say it then.

So you left. He had a full, busy day ahead of him anyway.

You woke up wet.

In an effort to avoid your boss, you’d run errands all day. Buried your nose in a sea of Civil Procedure notes as soon as you got a second alone, almost vomited seeing the Erie Doctrine, and went back to your hotel room to try and study there. Once you had, you napped instead.

Now your clothes stuck to your skin; the sheets around you were soaked. You peered over the big white duvet holding your body interred and saw smoke overhead.

Or steam.

Yes, definitely steam. It was drifting from the bathroom, where the door was thrown open. You shifted up to sit.

“Tess!” you yelled, “Shut the goddamn door, I’m boiling.”

As a law clerk, you weren’t afforded the luxury of a suite to yourself, so you shared it with the other new grads on work trips like these. Tess Servopoulos loved long, hot showers and never closed the fucking door. You groaned.

And, feeling depleted of all energy from your studies and the stress and the steam searing every inch of your skin, you flopped back in the bed. You kicked the covers off your legs. You’d just lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from your forehead, when an awful, fresh realization dawned.

You glanced at the clock—3:37.

“Fucking hell,” you hissed.

You were supposed to meet your dad at two to get some paperwork signed. You needed to have that filed with the court by four. He was probably engaged somewhere else by now, whether it be a client, a conference, or a couple white lines in the bathroom of a partners-only club downtown, and you wouldn’t have a hope of reaching him here. You rubbed your face and groaned again.

You’d set an alarm for 1:30—you knew you had.

Where the hell was your phone? Why was it so warm? What if he’d called? Aw fuck, he’s probably blown that thing up to hell and back by now. Maybe he was drunk. He had to be. Where was Tess? Where were your pants?

You’d made it up to your feet, clumsily, and faced a full-length mirror. Your bottoms were gone. You closed your eyes and screamed inside, remembering why they were.

“Glad you’re getting some use out of this.”

The second you heard it, your lids flew open. You turned.

And, standing in the warm yellow glow of the bathroom light—holding the culprit, your vibrator, like a prize—was Joel. Naked as the day he was born, save for one thin towel around his hips, and grinning. Moisture glistened on his chest and pooled about his feet, and his hair was smooth, tamed, and combed back neatly from his face.

He waved your silicone toy in the air, and immediately, you regretted giving him your room key the other day.

“I thought we agreed you’d wait for me—”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Your voice was thick with sleep. Joel’s own was slow, dulcet, and kind as it always was, even when teasing. When you grit your teeth, he just set the toy aside.

“I’m sorry. Bad timing. I saw your—”

“No.” You threw up both hands at once, suddenly out of breath and fucks to give, “You know what? I don’t care. You need to go. I have to be down at the courthouse—”

In twenty minutes. You cut yourself short and hurried off to find shoes. You could wear other pants. Ask another attorney to sign the forms if you couldn’t reach your dad. Forget that his boss and yours had just caught you with the vibrator he’d bought you last month and try not to feel too humiliated knowing he knew what you’d been doing. It didn’t matter—Joel didn’t matter. You slid on a mismatched pair of slacks and set off toward the door.

Then you had to stop. Joel beat you there, quick as ever.

“Listen. Hey.”

“Will you stop?!”

You pushed at his big and wet, stupidly broad chest. You felt the small grey hairs on his pecs tickle your palms, and for a second, you thought you heard a chuckle.

“You’re gonna make me late—”

“Hey, hey,” Joel said again. Of course it sounded fatherly, “I already signed the POA for Morales, hon, you’re good.”

You’re good.

“You what?” You stared at him in disbelief. How did he even know you needed Frankie’s power of attorney signed in the first place? You figured your dad would’ve mentioned it, but still, it wasn’t really Joel’s form to sign.

“The case is mine now,” he clarified, reading that look, “Wasn’t my first pick, but it is what it is. And your dad—”

Your dad was probably lagging wildly behind on his own caseload, so he’d pushed one off on his friend. Again.

“You can’t keep picking up his slack,” you gritted out, “One of these days it’s gonna bite you both in the ass. You know he shouldn’t be forcing these jobs on you.”

“I offered.”

“You caved.”

“He’s my best friend, what do you expect me to do?”

“Not let him use you! He’s making you feel bad for him.”

“And what if I did? What if I did pity the bastard?”

You scoffed. Then winced, inwardly.

I don’t need your pity, Mr. Miller.

From the look on Joel’s face, he seemed to be remembering the same. He shook his head.

“That’s not…” he trailed off. He rubbed his jaw with his hand and started to move from the door, deflating some.

His other arm extended to you, wordlessly, and already anticipated what was sure to follow. You swatted him off, then walked to the bed. You considered sitting but didn’t. Instead, you crossed your arms like you always did and turned away, facing the window with a cool, flat affect.

By now, Joel knew better than to take that for what it seemed. He crossed the room to you, treading softly.

His voice turned gentle again, like an apology: “Honey…”

But your gaze was already fixed outside. You frowned.

“Darlin’,” Joel continued, undeterred, “Come on.”

And you didn’t need to see his face to hear the rest: ‘Look at me, please,’ with eyes all comfort and warmth.

“Don’t you have a phone call with an R.O. or something?” Briefly, you recalled Acacius and a stream of other items from the checklist you’d covered that morning, and you had to stop yourself then from straying too far. You blinked once, just as Joel was approaching from behind.

“I cancelled,” he said.

You sighed, “Mr. Miller…”

You knew he hated doing that.

“Joel,” he pressed. Adding, “Something came up.”

You wouldn’t even ask. You shouldn’t care. You felt him standing there, fanning hot breaths across the nape of your neck, and you really couldn’t have taken that worse. You visibly tensed, hands balling into fists at your sides, and—hell, he wouldn’t quit moving now, would he?—Joel bent down. He hesitated, as if gauging your reaction in time, then descended further. He kissed your shoulder.

You cracked; it never took much from him.

For all your inane, ancillary plays at feigning indifference, one movement of Joel’s mouth and your resolve was lost. You clung to words, weakly, but all the rest fell away.

“We don’t…want your charity. Me or my dad. Alright?”

“I know.”

Joel kissed your skin again, then pulled at the strap of your blouse. It fell limply away, and his lips reattached.

Exactly when he’d walked you back to the bed, you couldn’t be sure. By the third or fourth kiss, your stomach was tight, knees weak, and your eyes drawing closed; it didn’t matter to you or to him what had passed before. Your bodies found the bed and blended together.

Tangling, in a way. Tearing blindly at clothes and not saying too much apart from Joel’s soft, sweet words:

“That’s it.��

“I know.”

“Good girl.”

Good girl when he kissed you. Good girl when he stripped you bare. Good girl when his hands roamed the broad, naked expanse of your body and let your own do the same to him. Good girl when your fingers hooked the outline of the towel and tugged it away, your vision filled with a sight you’d come to like more and more each day.

“That’s my girl,” Joel murmured. He cradled your head while you gripped his base, “‘S’yours, baby. All yours.”

Yours. Mine. You weren’t sure you had the sense or self-possession to even know what that meant, especially here. Joel wasn’t a boyfriend. He wasn’t a lover, at least not in the traditional sense. He wore dark wool suits like your father and worked from dawn until dusk every day, practicing law for longer than you’d been alive. Still, the smile above you was sweet. It coaxed you gently as you slid your hand up and down his length, like he sensed this was more like a lesson for you. Learning experience.

“Remember, spit a little first,” he instructed. Then, to demonstrate this point, he brought his fingers to his mouth and wet them quickly. He slipped his touch down to yours and met your gaze while he joined you there.

He rubbed and slicked himself up and he did it with ease. You followed his lead and watched his face contort—crow’s feet pinching even tighter at the sides of his eyes as pleasure began to pool in his gut. He looked pretty. You’d never thought to tell him this, but Joel really had an unparalleled face. It was an old and beautiful thing. For this reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to tear your gaze away, maybe to wet your own fingers. Instead, you slipped your hand between your legs, where his hips had come to rest. You worked a slow, light touch against your folds; you were drenched, and it didn’t take long for your fingers to be, too. You moved them back to Joel’s cock.

“Like this?” you ventured.

The man answered with a grunt, at first. Then a grin.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Joel nodded, quiet but emphatic. Trying not to smile too big as he let your touch take over for his, “Just like that, sweet pea. Get it nice an’ wet for daddy.”

You wanted to whimper at that. Something must’ve flashed in your eyes at the intonation of the last word, and the look must’ve suffused your whole expression, because the next thing you knew, Joel was lowering his body to yours. Petting your hair, letting you rub on his shaft as fast as your soft, lithe hands could manage.

“Feel that, baby? Feel how much daddy missed you?”

You did.

Your brow pinched, and you wanted more of that. More from him: those tender, edifying words of praise being mumbled your way while your touch worked him over. Maybe you could’ve helped it, but then again, in this state, maybe you couldn’t—you whimpered for him.

Wriggling your hips against the bed to get your warmth pressed flush with his own, and squeezing him tighter:

“In me, daddy. Please.”

You angled his cock in your trembling grip to plead as much. You knew he liked being the one to push in the first time, so you didn’t move too far with that push, but you begged him with your gaze. You felt him tense a bit.

And just when you sensed he might let you have your way, he moved off. Down. Sliding his torso away from your own, to go lower on the bed, and smirking again.

“I think she needs my tongue first, doesn’t she?”

You wanted to nod. Instead, you flinched. You crawled away from his hold before it could secure itself firmly on either one of your legs, and you had to snag your bottom lip between your teeth to contain that blossoming need. It almost spilled from your mouth in a moan before Joel’s could reach your lower half. Then you scrambled to sit up

“No,” you choked out.

This wasn’t new. While you shook your head, Joel lifted a brow and stood from the bed. He reached behind him.

The night stand.

You closed your eyes.

“This isn’t…supposed to be for me.” you sighed.

In a second, Joel was back where he started, and you didn’t have to steal a glance through your lids to know what he was holding. Slotting himself gently into place.

“Don’t,” he started, sharp, “—say that. I mean it.”

You knew he meant it, but you also knew better than to accept at face value what he said, moving down on you.

This wasn’t part of the deal. Joel’s money was meant to serve his pleasure, not yours. Letting him take you any other way seemed to blur the lines between transaction and affection, and though you’d done this before, it still didn’t feel right. You couldn’t bear having his focus here.

Evidently, though, he could. He’d snatched your vibrator from the night table and lowered his torso to your legs, lips twitching the tiniest bit. ‘Open up. Let me see her.’

Joel was on his stomach, eyes glowing with intrigue.

“Let me see how much she’s missed me, baby.”

The grey matter in your brain might’ve trickled through your ears—the whole thing went to mush at his words. You pushed at his hands, then the top of his head, but clearly, your will was weak. You wanted this. Needed it.

“That’s a good girl. Let daddy have it,” Joel drawled.

You wanted to cry. Or maybe hide. His index and middle fingers prodded at your folds, pulling them apart, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn you’d stopped breathing. Joel kissed the slope of your mound with a quiet kind of reverence. The salt-and-pepper stubble on his chin brushed your clit, and your back arched reflexively. Then, remembering why you’d come to this arrangement in the first place, you felt a wave of guilt supplant that pleasure.

You clawed at his head and shook your own, weakly.

“No. W-wanna make you feel good,” you choked out.

Not me.

Not here.

Just let it—

“Fuck,” you keened through your teeth. Joel’s lips made contact with your slick, drooling cunt and, in a second, sucked your nub in between them. He flicked his tongue.

Joel groaned, then pulled away to meet your gaze.

“Feels plenty good f’me,” he assured you in a murmur. Eyes glossy, “She’s so fuckin’ sweet, honey. So pretty.”

Then, as if to punctuate his point, he slid his tongue down the whole wet mess of your slit, and he moaned. He curled the muscle and invaded your sticky, sensitive, precious warm flesh with vigor and force—maybe a little desperation—and you whined at the feeling. Your toes curled tight. It was doubtlessly a sight to see: Joel’s old and weathered head against your young and supple skin, the wiry greys of his chin rubbing your cunt like no man’s his age should’ve been. He took you gently. Forked his fingers over your folds to hold you open for him and then, over and over and over again, just licking stripes. Squelching noises only seemed to goad him on while he buried his nose and savored your taste without reserve. Your stomach clenched with that pleasure, then swelled.

“That’s my girl—so good for me,” Joel said, as though reminding you, gently, it was okay to relish the feeling.

Once more, he suckled your clit in his mouth, rubbing the tip of his tongue in a quick back-and-forth motion, and the next sensation hit without a breath of warning.

Your belly twisted again, then flushed with hot pleasure.

“My— fuck,” you cried, shuddering with a climax you didn’t know was coming. You held his head and whined.

Joel’s tongue didn’t stop. Your vision blurred. Whatever reprieve you might’ve hoped to find came in the form of his lips drawing back, momentarily, only to sponge little kisses on your still-pulsing heat. Your body jolted back.

“I c— I’m done. I’m done,” you blurted out.

Joel nodded against you. Humming through his kisses:

“I know. Keep going.”

Keep going.

So simple.

Still, you couldn’t breathe. Your sight was inundated with stars. You felt Joel’s stubble on your slit again, only this time, the pleasure was tripled. Your legs trembled, and your hands made fists in his hair. Joel kept on kissing.

And kissed again, again, and again, until your fingers in his locks pulled taut to the roots and your hips were bucking up in his face: ‘Too much, t—oh fuckfuckfuck.’

Then came a buzz. Skirting your legs in a blink, before diving to meet Joel’s mouth on your clit. You shrieked.

“I know, I know,” Joel joined, as though soothing a wound while he maneuvered the vibrator. Lifting his head and then kissing your thigh, “I know. You’re alright.”

You wanted to sob; you felt ready to burst. You trusted Joel’s judgment but had never been subjected to this sort of pleasure. What if it was more than you could take?

“I’m here.”

Joel’s words were slow to crawl off his tongue, but their intent was clear. You writhed once more, and he was kissing your skin, rubbing your thighs, and taking the toy to your clit with a warm, devoted touch. He wasn’t cruel.

He had a glint in his gaze when you met it, like he knew you wouldn’t accept this feeling alone—but he wanted you to. He wanted the indulgence to be your own and an end in itself. There was care in his touch, tender praise with every caress, and you guessed this was intentional. Joel needed you to know this was more than only his.

You felt more naked than you’d ever been: soaking the sheets with your last release, fresh arousal trickling out, Joel’s spit mixing with your nectar and sweat and pressing you down in the bed. And nudging you, gently.

“‘S’okay, baby. You’re alright. That feels nice, doesn’t i—”

“Kiss me.”

It came out faster than you could even try and stop it. You weren’t sure why you said it. The words were acerbic on your tongue—you hated ever sounding needy—but then your mind and your mouth and your worries were all silenced at once when Joel came clambering up for you.

His lips were wet and grinning as he kissed you. He held the vibrator hostage between your legs while his body pressed tight against yours. His movements slowed.

Then, as if he’d crawled in your head and read your mind:

“It’s okay to need me, baby. It’s okay to want this.”

His hips made that assurance even clearer. Joel reached down and took the vibrator again, increasing the friction between your groin and his while he pressed the buzzing toy to your clit. You whined into his mouth at the feeling.

Your eyes rolled back, and the pleasure soared. This morning, you might’ve bristled at the words he’d just spoken, but here, in this bed, it felt okay. It felt safe.

Joel felt safe, for once, and you weren’t sure how to keep that idea from sticking—how to reconcile the notion of swapping sex for cash with a man for months on end, and then this. Your stomach churned. He held your face and kissed you more, and your clit throbbed and ached. Before you could ponder your thoughts a second longer, a white-hot pleasure washed over, and you came again.

“Good girl,” Joel cooed.

Throbbing even more this time.

“That’s a sweet girl. That’s my baby.”

All but aching with desire. Feeling it double.

“Cum for daddy, that’s it. Keep going.”

Feeling it trickle down your legs.

“She’s feelin’ real good, huh?”

You could barely breathe.

You whined. Felt something splinter between your thighs and then more of it, more of you and that slick, oozing pleasure and Joel’s groans, overjoyed—‘Making a fucking mess’a daddy, isn’t she? She feel that good?’—and by ‘that good’ you guessed it was more than normal.

This was more warmth than usual. Somewhere in the midst of your own mind-numbing pleasure, you’d let out a spurt, sticky and wet. It now coated the hairs on Joel’s tummy, and while his skin shone, his eyes were brighter. He flitted a look to you, gaze flaring, and slid down. Low.

Back to where he was before. Moving the buzzing pink bullet aside and letting his mouth assume its place.

Of course, you yelped.

“Joel!”

You winced, both from saying his name and feeling so raw. Joel grinned at the sound and suckled your clit.

It was drenched. You and Joel, too, were doused all over and practically gleaming under the rays of late afternoon sun then pouring through the window. For a second, you cast a look outside like you had before, but it was only to brace your body for the bliss at hand. You stared and felt a crude, carnal shockwave seize you head to toe. It traveled fast and made you release, again, or else just continue the same flow as before—and this time, into Joel’s waiting mouth. He lapped at you feverishly now.

He squeezed your legs and licked you dry. He worked in merciless circles, like his life might have depended on making you stay at this peak. All the while, you were tearing at his hair. Riding his face as your body fell apart.

That was alright. This pleasure was yours for now, but there was still time yet to make it worth his while, you reasoned in a half-intoxicated state. Your legs vibrated as you started to crawl—limp—back up in the bed and, numb with elation and a desperate need to please, you stretched your arm toward the night stand. You huffed.

You reached blindly but got it. The box. Weak fingers found the first plastic strip and tore yourself a square. Then, lifting it to Joel, you ignored the last stabs of pleasure between your legs. This was fun, but still his.

“Go on,” you told him, breathless, “Fuck me.”

Joel quirked a brow. He took the condom, still panting himself. He brought the latex to his tip out of habit, then:

“Yeah? Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

Your head was swimming. Somewhere entrenched in the furthest recesses of your brain you could feel it, that dizzying, self-centered pleasure. You pushed it back.

You suffocated it, and you spread your legs wide for him. You let him lay you down and tug the rubber over his cock, then nudge at your hips to situate himself in just the right way. How he liked it. He seemed to be content, and your heart swelled. In this airy, buoyant state, you felt more at ease to speak, sure that he’d understand.

“This should cover some of it, right?” you panted out.

Joel slowed.

“What?”

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, eager to keep going. But you steeled yourself, just barely, then.

“Sex. Now,” you said, “It’ll cover some of my car repairs.”

Instead of nodding like you’d expected, Joel only blinked. Then you opened your mouth to speak again, and his body stopped you cold. He planted a hand beside your head on the pillow and raised his hips; you felt his heat leave with it. You reached for his backside immediately, to try and pull him back into that pre-missionary position he’d held, when Joel brushed you off. His face was hard.

“Money?” he quipped.

“Yeah,” you started, then remembered how you talked outside of the bedroom, when he seemed more serious, “We’ll go again. All week. You can even put it in my—”

Joel balked, like you’d just slapped him across the face.

“No,” he said, sharp.

“No,” he repeated, more to himself this second time. Almost as though he couldn’t believe what you were suggesting—and making him guilty by association.

Joel clenched your pillow like a vice and shook his head.

“You’re not getting paid for this,” he finished, and when your gaze penetrated his, confused, he squeezed harder.

“Thought you wanted it.” Joel added, almost shamefully.

“I do! I do…I just—” you sputtered.

“What? Think you need to offer up a week and a half of fucking to make it worth my time? Is that what this is?”

Well, in a way, maybe.

You weren’t sure what to say. Former dizzying bliss was dwindling fast, and now you were facing him cold. Sober.

Increasingly irritated, again.

“I just need money, Mr. Miller—”

“It’s Joel, hon,” he bit back, for the fourth time that day. His eyes flared with something more, maybe annoyance, but then he was tempering it just as fast. He ran a hand through his damp grey hair and shook his head, pausing, “It’s Joel. I know you need the money, baby, but it’s—”

“It’s what we agreed,” you protested, “What I need—”

“Well it’s not what I want!” Joel barked.

Anger surged again, and this time, evidently, the feeling was harder to keep at bay. He was scarcely able to rein in his features, settling on a grave little scowl instead of a frown, and he sucked in shorter, shallower breaths through his nose. You felt him let your pillow go.

“Forget it—the cash.” Joel grit his teeth even tighter, “Forget these payments and the goddamn allowance I’ve had you on. I can’t do that anymore. It’s not right.”

Your heart sank.

You didn’t know what to say.

Luckily, Joel’s voice resumed on its own.

“Whatever you want, whatever you need, sweetheart…”

He stopped. Silence followed, then stretched on for one full, terrible minute. In that interim, you could see his chest rise and fall fast. He was trying to slow it down.

“Whatever you need paid off, I’ll do it. Anything. You don’t have to touch me again. It was wrong of me to allow that in the first place,” he rejoined, tone cooling.

Sounding guilty, too.

Above you, Joel didn’t seem keen on holding your gaze, so he fixed his stare someplace on the headboard instead. Then he moved off your body, slowly.

In spite of the distance he attempted to give, he was still crowding your space. Looming large and bare and weary as you’d ever seen him, knees shuffling back awkwardly through a mass of cotton sheets while his eyes shifted low. Away. The rest of him filled your lungs with a heady cologne scent and your stomach with a thousand tiny blades—you were hurt that he wasn’t sticking to his end of the bargain. You were mad that he was trying to claim the moral high ground now, after everything you’d done.

Mostly, though, you were just upset that you felt like you were losing someone close. That Joel Miller was more of a confidant, friend, and father figure than your own dad had ever been, and that got all fucked up over money. Your lips pursed, and something stung behind your eyes when you reached for him again. Your throat stung, too.

“The reason I agreed to do this,” Joel went on, and the ache in your head worsened when he winced from your touch, “was ‘cause I didn’t want you getting ‘help’ from anyone else. I was selfish. And that’s not an excuse…”

He started to move off, hand dropping from yours.

“…but it’s the truth. I’m sorry.”

At length, Joel found your gaze, and the eyes said it all over again: I’m sorry. You might’ve believed them, too.

But you were you, and you couldn’t help but press:

“Why?”

Your voice was small. Joel was trying to stand from the bed, but you grabbed at his hand again and made him meet your eyes. Confusion was painted across his own.

Kneeling in front of him, curious, you tried to clarify.

“Why’d it have to be you?”

Judging from Joel’s expression as soon as you did, you got the sense that this question made him feel dumb. He frowned, but he held your stare and answered anyway.

“Because I wanted you first,” he replied, “Before all this.”

Your stomach twisted. He did?

You didn’t need to ask twice to know what that meant. What he’d said, in words and with a look, was enough. Still, it was always in you to know more, to be sure, so you crept a little closer. You let your hands roam up and—

“No,” Joel said, as soon as your fingers reached his side.

You’d just wanted to feel him, maybe prod him further on what he’d just said through acts that didn’t require verbal articulation, but he refused. He backed up in bed.

“This isn’t about—” he started, low.

“Sex. I know,” you answered for him. Then your touch grazed his thigh, and you were dying to have more. To be told in a way you both knew and understood. To touch, “You want me to believe you really…liked me before?”

“More than you know.”

There was that blunt, open pragmatism in the Joel you’d always known. Perhaps guided by natural inclinations, or else your hand on his leg, drawing higher. Moving closer.

Showing skepticism through your eyes and the hint of a playful, disbelieving smile starting to curl at your lips.

“When you met me?” you teased.

You’d known of Joel for years, and had met him a couple times as a teenager at various firm holiday functions. You probably hadn’t exchanged more than ten words altogether before starting law school a few years back.

“Hell no,” Joel answered, fast, “When you started work.”

His gaze was timid again. It was fixed on his thigh where you’d started to slide your index up the warm, muscled expanse of his skin, and though you could tell he was more than hesitant, you wanted to know. Wanted to feel.

It wasn’t so easy convincing a man you’d been working for—and fucking, largely without feeling—to pay bills that you wanted him here and now. But you needed to try.

That maybe, somewhere along the way, you’d come to want him, too. That cash wasn’t the only thing at stake.

You crawled between his legs, then straddled his hips.

Your lips smiling still as you did: “How much?”

Joel blinked back. Dazed.

“What do you m—”

“How much did you like me? When did it start?”

Joel sighed when your heat rubbed his. He tried grabbing ahold of your hips, when you glanced down and saw he’d already discarded the last condom. You couldn’t have that if you wanted to continue this talk.

You reached back and grabbed another.

“Darlin’,” Joel said, strained, “We shouldn’t…”

“Says who?”

You’d already worked the rubber halfway down his length when his heavy-lidded gaze locked with yours. You saw lust there, mixed with worry. Curiosity. You kept going.

“Says your dad, if he ever finds out what I’ve done to his little girl,” Joel replied, closing his eyes at the feeling.

You had the latex worked down to the base of him when you smiled. Felt him seize your hips, lids fluttering open to find you in their soft, glossy stare, and you felt better. Like clockwork, you went together and joined, at last. You felt Joel squeeze your backside and groan when you first sank down to take him whole. You shuddered, too.

But you tried to steady your voice as you spoke.

“Semantics, Miller,” you told him, only faltering a little, “Things you are ‘doing’ to his little girl. Not just ‘done.’”

There, you had a point. Surely your father would have had some choice words for his business partner and best friend if he knew how far Joel’s cock was currently stuffed inside your tight, wet cunt. It might even piss him off, if he weren’t too drunk to receive the news himself.

Joel blinked hard, signaling that he knew this too, and presently watched your body swallow all eight inches at once, after you’d raised yourself up to just the tip and sank back. Your ass fell to his groin with an obscene sort of squelch, and your walls involuntarily clenched. You both let out sounds of pleasure, and held on tighter.

Your hands on his chest for stability, while one of his own held your hip and the other fumbled around for your clit, gliding through the sheen of your arousal on his front. You rocked your hips and felt how much it really was—how you’d drenched his whole abdomen with your last release. You smiled at this and stared, pleased with the pretty, sticky display you’d laid bare all over Joel’s belly.

When Joel wasn’t watching you ride, he stared there too.

“Not so ‘little’ anymore,” he mused quietly. Then he looked up to find your eyes, seeing them as glazed as his, “And I ‘like’ you, hon. Present tense. Not just…‘liked.’”

Alright.

“How much?”

You wanted to say it with some confidence. Nonchalance. Then Joel’s cock nicked a particularly sensitive ridge inside your walls, and that thought was gone as quick as it had come. You gripped the flesh of his upper chest and rolled your hips harder. Let out your breaths in little fractured whimpers while you rode him more. Another sweet feeling twisted low in your gut.

With just a glimpse of that, Joel moved his hand from your heat up past your hips and waist, to squeeze one of your breasts. His fingers were wet. You could feel them, equal parts warmth and wanton yearning as the pads pinched your nipple and gave it a firm tug. He grunted.

Clearly, there was more to it than just the touching and feeling for him—Joel’s eyes drank in the sight of your skin as it glistened with the arousal he’d just smeared. He thumbed at the wet, stiff peak and swallowed. And, just as you were about to adjust the rhythm of your hips bouncing on him, his free hand joined the first and pulled you down. You cried feeling his cock wedge deep; your hands fell to either side of his body when he yanked your face down to his. He fucked up into you from underneath

You squealed, soft, “Joel!”

He kissed your open mouth. Made you lay flat overtop him while he fucked your dripping hole. You whimpered.

“Joel—” Again.

“I like you so much, sweetheart,” he said, in answer to your last question, lips close, “Does she like me too?”

As if to save him the trouble of a swift reply in words, your body told him instead. You squeezed around his cock, and with another desperate cry, bit his shoulder. He hammered your poor, aching pussy with a groan of his own, and he held your body down to his. Grinning.

Kissing the side of your head while he pounded away. Stroking your hair, “Is that a ‘yes’? She like her daddy?”

Drool was bound to slip out of your mouth any second. Your lips were locked in a permanent ‘o’ while he drilled from under you on the bed. Still, you managed to nod.

“Uh-huh—oh, fuck, fuck, da-ddy. Yes, daddy.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as another blistering wave seared your insides. Joel was relentless with his thrusts now, driving himself in and out without stopping or slowing. He must’ve known you were close. He was too, judging by the sounds of his grunts and hushed tone.

“Let daddy take care of her then, baby. All of her. OK?”

His words trickled through your ear as sweet as honey. His cock was less kind, but that was okay—you liked it.

You loved him here. Taking care of you. Her. Everything.

And, in this half-coherent state of fuckdrunk pleasure, you were tempted to give in to whatever he begged.

It would be so easy. Joel cradled your face in his hand, practically beaming with pride while he fucked you over and over, and your legs were spread, walls were stretched, eyes practically rolling back, and you felt more secure than you’d been in ages. Joel could care for you.

He rubbed his thumb over your cheek and hummed.

“Daddy’s got you,” he said, voice all warm assurance.

Nudging you closer and closer to your peak—and perhaps some other form of surrender. Release.

Submission?

Joel wouldn’t be so bad for that.

He could fuck you well and leave you content. Make you forget what it meant to be strapped for cash and saddled with guilt and worry over bills every month. Joel could provide, for now. His eyes said as much; his fingers threaded through your hair and rubbed your scalp. He cupped your face, all fifty-six years in his own looking as handsome as they’d ever been. He felt good. He felt safe.

You were hot. Your legs trembled and ached.

“Is that something you’d want?” he pressed.

And, still holding Joel’s gaze with a heavy-lidded, fucked out look of your own, you surprised yourself by nodding, slowly. Your body was spent, but the curve on your lips, then his, was sincere; Joel nodded back as he grinned.

“Yeah? You mean it, sweetheart?”

He flipped you both over and got on top, never breaking apart. You wound your legs around his back and let him cup your cheeks again, and from this angle, you felt it. You wouldn’t try and fight it now; you just kissed him.

Then you came for a third time, walls clenching and squeezing and gushing again, smearing Joel’s front as he fucked you right through it. His groans were a little more subdued than yours, but in their timbre, you could hear his desperation. He emptied himself inside you, in the condom, and kept holding your face all the while.

You felt a low pulse between your legs. Then another. And another. And another. Joel’s hips began to still, his hefty greying belly bumping lightly against your skin while he drained what was left in his balls, and you swore that his bones might’ve creaked from the sheer force of those final thrusts. He seemed exhausted. Somehow, though, the man looked even better in this state—haggard and worn as he was, the face above your own was soft. Smiling, faintly, and kissing you constantly.

You couldn’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it; you were far too tired and fucked out of your mind to protest right now.

Joel trailed a path with his lips from your chin to your ear. He kissed the hinge of your jaw and sank himself deeper.

“Mr.—” But you caught yourself, shortly, “…Joel.”

He lifted his head, not apologetic in the least.

“Maybe just one more—” he started.

“No,” you finished for him, sharp.

Still smiling, but with your eyes on him in a thinly veiled threat. Joel accepted that and kept his dick where it was.

What followed was gradual but natural enough. A little awkward as you broached that uncharted territory of remaining in the other’s presence after the deed was done, but Joel didn’t seem like he wanted to leave the bed, and you had nowhere else to go until dinner with your dad at eight. There was a moment you wanted to separate your body from Joel’s, if only to slip off to the bathroom by yourself, but the man just held you closer.

“You think your old man will mind if I joined tonight?”

Here the fuck we go.

“He’ll kill you.”

You pushed hard against his hold without getting so much as an inch of give. Joel had to fight back a chuckle.

“Oh, yeah? Why?”

“Because,” you began in a huff. Wriggling with very little success in his arms, while you were pinned in missionary, “I smell like you. You smell like me. My dad’s a drunk, but he can sniff stuff like that out in a heartbeat. Too risky.”

You punctuated those words with a still more serious look, but before you could nudge at his chest again or say something more, you were forced to swallow a scream. Joel’s grip tightened even more, and he moved to stand up from the bed—with you still in his arms and impaled on his cock. He started to walk to the bathroom.

“Great. Shower’s got plenty of room for the two of us.”

“Joel!”

“Glad I don’t have to keep reminding you of my name.”

His voice was smug. Your gaze was hard. Joel was still hard himself, amazingly, and you almost groaned when you felt the head of his cock bump somewhere soft and sensitive inside. He toted you into the big, bright room.

“If not tonight, how ‘bout tomorrow? Just you and me.”

He would never stop this shit. He reached for the faucet.

“Still too dangerous. You know that,” you chided. Your resolve only wavered a little when you felt the hot water start to pelt at your back. Joel closed the glass door, “Besides…I need to focus on figuring my shit out right now. Work and bills and getting myself a rental car soon.”

Joel paused. He turned, still holding you.

Then, just as swiftly as he’d stepped inside, he carried you right back out of the shower. You whined in protest.

He took you over to the bed and set you down. He left to find his wallet and keys. You might’ve been tempted to voice your displeasure in some other way—namely, by marching back to the bathroom, locking the door, and bathing alone—but before you could speak a word, Joel was back. He looked down at you and held out his fist.

“What’s—”

“Your dad and me’ll be up to our eyeballs in bullshit working the Garcia audit tomorrow—and I know you don’t want him seeing us leave together anywhere—so we can meet at Bohanan’s at six. How does that sound?”

You blinked.

“I don’t…have a car.”

Joel opened his hand. Keys dropped out.

In a single glance, you could see they weren’t his.

Joel drove a garish Super Duty F-450, not an Audi. The cogs were quick to turn in your head, but clearly not fast enough, because Joel was closing your fingers over the keys before you could breathe so much as a syllable to him. When you did, it came out more like a stutter. Palpably mad but far too rattled to get much out:

“Joel, I-I can’t—”

“I’ve been meaning to buy one anyw—”

“You’re insane,” you started to push the keys back, and for some reason, your heart was thudding extra hard as you did. You went on, unblinking, “You don’t…need to.”

“I want to.”

Joel’s hands were warm when he pressed both of his palms to secure yours between them. He could probably feel the way it shook a little, but he didn’t seem to care. His gaze was too busy trying to find, and hold, your own while you swallowed and stared and racked your numb brain for any words of defiance. At length, nothing came.

All you could do was meet that look. In the soft brown irises above, you could see it all—the need to comfort, and care, and provide where he could, offer better than the hand you’d been dealt and maybe, interspersed with those feelings somewhere, a simpler need in him to give.

For once, you wanted to believe it.

Fun fact: This fic was inspired by true events‼️💯 My life 😫🤪😤😈 Like reader, my truck is also busted as SHIT and needs $2,700 in repairs!!!! Unlike reader, I will not be sucking and fucking Joel Miller to recoup my losses (not asking for donations, just wanted to give y’all a giggle at my misfortune LOL)

[fashion-runways]

hi!! new pinned post, because the last one had gotten long again-- if you want to read previous posts, here's the first one, here's the second one. the tl;dr from those is that my dad got wrongfully imprisoned abruptly, our place was raided, the cops broke a bunch of shit and took a bunch of our things and still haven't returned them, they left all the broken things for us to spend money in repairing, we had to spend money on a lawyer, trips to visit him, new clothes, medicine and food for him in jail, etc. it was a mess, way more details in both posts. he's back home now, with an ankle monitor because technically his case isn't being investigated yet, they haven't done anything about it at all, the case hasn't moved one ounce lmao it's great, always trust the judicial system and cops!! ugh, anyway!

we found a therapist for my dad who can help her deal with all the stuff he had to deal with while in prison, all the bullying, the depression, the starving, the separation, etc. he needs to get a bunch of other medical appointments, has to get surgery, among other things, but for now things are much better on that front. that being said, he did lose his job and my old redbubble account got suspended without a warning months ago, plus argentina's economy is... really bad right now. food prices rise every day, public transportation prices went up like a 200% in a couple of weeks, salaries are low and stuck there, subsidies are gone, the local peso keeps falling, we have an absolute psychopath as a president who spends more time insulting or threatening anyone who oppose him than caring about people. it's a disaster. for updates on argentina in english, this person on twitter makes very good informative threads if you're interested.

anyway, i used to make around 30/40 dollars a month in redbubble, and that used to help adding up to the donations i got here, and it got suspended, so now i make like 1/2 dollars on teepublic monthly. so... it's a huge loss. there's a lot of things me and my mom are in charge of paying-- groceries, power and water and gas, medicine (she's diabetic, i have some sort of chronic sinusitis), our dog and cat's food and medicines, wifi, phone bills, public transportation, healthcare, my dad's new therapist... so, you know, i really need anything people can donate. even if it's just a single dollar, literally any amount helps. i love fashion so much and i love this blog, i work really hard on it even when my brain says no, and i really appreciate how much you guys love it too. i love seeing people discover new styles, new designers, new things to be inspired by. so, yeah... i'm never going anywhere, but i do need help to basically stay afloat.

as usual, my kofi link is this one: https://ko-fi.com/fashionrunways and my teepublic link is this one: https://www.teepublic.com/user/dinah-lance. thanks for being around and sharing and reblogging my posts, thanks for asking questions about fashion, and of course thanks for helping to the ones who can, and thanks to the ones who can't too, i know how that feels like, don't worry about it. love you 💖

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[notsopersonalcharlie]

Work Divorce - The Interlude

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader angst (with a happy ending of course)

Summary: The bridge of Work Divorce

Notes: I was feeling the angst. Obviously we all know how this ends, but enjoy! Gif is not mine

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Aaron,” you repeated. Your said it what felt like a hundred times since you got off the jet. Aaron was driving, his knuckles white on the wheel, eyes straight ahead.

“We have to talk about this.” He was still just as angry as you were, his lips pressed into a line. Your arms were crossed over your chest, knees pointed away from him, eyes out the side window. It didn't take a profiler to figure that one out.

“No! I’m upset and I’m angry and nothing I say right now will be at all productive! Leave me alone!” Your nose tickled with the precursor to tears and you swallowed around the lump that had remained in your throat since Aaron helped you out of the cave. Your eyes stung with tears and you closed them, letting the little lurch in the road at the end of your street remind you that you were almost home.

“No!” Aaron could be difficult to argue with. He brought every lawyer skill he had to your screaming matches.

“Fuck you, Hotchner. You wouldn’t let me do something and it resulted in two people dying. I have every right to be fucking furious.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have every right to ignore me! We’re supposed to talk about things.” Aaron pulled the car into the driveway, parking outside the garage since your car was inside.

“That is not fucking fair right now and you know it. If we were supposed to talk about things you wouldn’t have shut me down at the station.” You slammed the door to the car, harder than needed but driving home a point. You stalked to the front door as Aaron locked the car and brought in your bags.

“You were putting yourself in danger.” You turned around once the door to your house was closed, trapping the sound of your screaming.

“That’s our fucking JOB Aaron. You have to deal with that. You put yourself in danger all the fucking time. I have to be able to do my job!” You snatched your bag from his hands and stormed upstairs, once again unnecessarily slamming the bedroom door shut. You stewed for a moment, taking deep breaths and staring at the bed the two of you had left unmade on the way to work almost two weeks ago. You heard Aaron's footsteps near the door and then they carried away into the house. You dropped your bag where you always did in the closet, tossing the dirty clothes into the laundry basket before heading straight to the bathroom.

Aaron finally came in when you were done showering and had laid down in the bed face first. You couldn’t get that poor girl off your mind. It was a process, you both knew it, but it took time.

“I don’t want to be near you right now,” you huffed when he sat down on the bed.

“Where am I supposed to go, huh?” His hand traveled closer to you on the bed, a peace offering. You tucked your hand under your chest, turning your head away from him.

“Jack has a bed.”

“It’s for a seven year old.”

“Go away.”

“Fine.” He got up and set down his bag beside your. He had packed the dirt stained clothes you were wearing in the cave into his own bag on your way out of town and he dropped it into the basket before taking it out to wash. You didn't move.

The laundry kicked on and Aaron returned, heading straight to the bathroom. He showered and put clothes on in the closet. As he walked out, he paused in the doorway, hand on the doorframe and muttered softly, "I love you."

You were laying on your back now, staring at the lines in the ceiling.

"I love you too." He tapped the doorway once, like he was deciding to continue, but thought better of it and continued out.

The sun had set a long while before when you got up to turn out the lights and get ready for bed. Your footsteps must have clued him in, because Aaron came up the stairs slowly and louder than normal as if to announce his presence.

"Can I come back now?" You turned from where you were moving the pillows around and fixing the blankets.

"Yeah... I guess." He let out a little sigh that made your lips twist into a small smile. He sat down on his side of the bed, plugging his phone in to charge.

"Can we finish fighting tomorrow? I'm exhausted." The tiny curve in your lips turned into a full smile and you snorted a laugh.

"Me too. C'mere." You flopped onto the bed, Aaron pulling the covers up around the both of you and pressing his face into your shoulder. He slept nuzzled into you like you were his missing piece every night he could, and he had never slept better before he met you.

"I'm still mad," you whispered into his damp hair.

"I know. Me too."

"We can fight more tomorrow." He nodded a little bit, his breaths already steadying. You thought he was asleep after a few minutes of quiet, your mind still replaying the case over in your head.

"I'm sorry." Your heart beat must have jumped because he ran a soothing hand over your waist where it was tucked under your pajama shirt.

"I know. I love you."

"I love you too."

-/-/-/-/-

You woke up after Aaron, as always. You were still mad, though now it was tamped down with layers of logic. You had known all along that this day was coming. There had been moments of it, when you were just getting together, and right before your wedding, but there had never been a time where it was solely up to Aaron to decide if you went into danger or not. It had been years, and you had let it go when he decided to keep you in the station or sent you to the crime scene instead of after an unsub. You knew it was coming all along though.

Aaron had already left for work, but your lunch was packed in the fridge and there was coffee left for you, but no note.

You arrived not much later than him, said a good morning to Reid, who was usually first in the office after the two of you. He looked as exhausted as you felt and you plopped down at your desk to complete your paperwork from the case.

The whole team had filtered in by the time you got through it. Not because it was actually difficult to complete, but because you were still replaying the girl's voice. 'Why didn't you come?' echoed in your head and your rage had returned. You stood up, maybe more abruptly than you needed to given Emily's little jump, and you took a deep breath before stalking up the stairs towards Aaron's office.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the whole team looking at you with wide eyes.

Aaron looked up from the files on his desk

"Wha- Oh." You closed the door behind you, crossing your arms.

"Back to fighting," you started, "Because I could have saved her, and I could have gotten him to turn himself in. He wa-"

"You have no idea if he would have stepped down. He could have tried to take you instead." Your cheeks heated up.

"I am not some precious little thing you have to keep safe! I have to be able to do my job just like you and all the rest of the agents on your team!" He stood up from his desk, leaning forward braced by his hands, his face drawn into a scowl.

"You are something precious I have to protect. There was no way of knowing if he was being serious about his demands and if you had gone in without a weapon and he had one..." He didn't deign the result with an explanation.

"This isn't working, Aaron." He stared at you, the sudden stillness in his limbs and chest only lasted two or three blinks, but you'd done it on purpose, remind him what he was actually fighting with.

"You don-"

"No. I don't." You wanted to kiss him for the relief that washed across his face, the relaxing of his shoulders, the slight shocked blinking.

"I do mean though that I can't stay on this team. I can't let you restrict my instincts and I can't tell you to fight yours."

"I was afraid you'd say that." He pointed to the chair across from him with his chin and you sat down at the same time as him.

"I think it's time to cash in that promotion I have been putting off." He nodded, leaning forward.

"I'm sorry. I know you love this job." You smirked, leaning across his desk till your noses were near touching.

"I love you more."

[crookedteethed]

⋆ ★ Rafe says “he's done” with mistress reader

18+ smut(pinv), oral (male receiving), cursing, infidelity, toxic relationship, "su*cide attempt", mentions of daddy issues, reader is delusional asf in this one , no happy ending, age gap between Rafe and reader

It had been bad this time; it had been fatal. 

Rafe had said it was over; this time, he meant it. 

He said things were going well with his wife, and he didn't want you to ruin it this time. These were his exact words.

He was too old now to be chasing young girls' pussy around like he was still in his twenties. His exact words. 

He was too old, and you were just young girl pussy. 

In your final moments with him, you asked him if his wife knew how to stuff him whole inside of her mouth without gagging like you do. 

He said that wasn't the point. On their wedding day, he made a vow to his wife whether she knew how to stuff him whole or not.

"Dilation of the throat." You said. "That's when your throat slowly starts to close; you can hardly get any food down your esophagus, let alone air. It happens as you get older. Rafe, I hate to tell you, but your wife is dying."

Rafe had called you childish,He kissed your tear-soaked eyelid, then left your studio apartment--in which he helped you pay for.

Then that was it.

He was gone as quick as it all happened.

The first week without Rafe hadn't been that bad.

You cried some, binged watched cable TV, and then sat numbly on your sofa, wishing Rafe was there to coddle you like the father figure you always saw him as.  

His warm embrace taut around your body, he'd peck his lips around the supple skin of your face, telling you that everything was going to be ok, and then he'd fuck you, make you forget about whatever you were sad about, and then go back home and sleep in the same bed as his wife, while you were all alone. 

During the second week, you started to feel the emptiness even more acutely, and your stomach and gut became more hollow. 

To cope, you slept with a couple of old flings, guys, and girls that quite naturally never made it past the talking stages because they weren't Rafe. 

In the third week, you realized that Rafe had not blocked your number, so you called him. 

He picked up within the third ring. 

"What." he said sternly. 

"I'm just checking in on your wife, how's her dilated throat? Does her blow jobs feel tighter than usual? If so, her throat will be completely closing soon, meaning she won't have space to breathe. Rafe, your wife doesn't have much time to live ---"

He hung up. 

You called again. 

"I've missed you." You were the first to say. "Come over so we can talk--bring your wife too, maybe we can work this out, just the three of us--"

He hung up again.

Then, because you were drunk, you sent him a picture of your clit with the text message, "She misses you too :(." 

In the fourth week, you figured that there was only one thing you had to do, and that was to kill yourself. 

Of course, you weren't going to commit suicide, but Rafe didn't have to know that. 

On that Saturday afternoon, you knew Rafe would be off of work somewhere laughing with his wart of a wife and his friends and their warts of wives. 

That must have been the reason he didn't answer when you called him, so you sent him a voice message. 

"To whom it may concern, I've decided I no longer want to live. To the left of me, I have a prescribed bottle of Vicodin, of which I plan to take all 27 capsules, and to my right, I have my note. In my note, I have given my lawyers specific instructions to out you and I's rendezvous to your wife. I have a USB with all our text messages and sex tapes on it; I've planned for them to give to her when I die. If you don't want this secret to get out, I'd advise you to be at my apartment complex in one hour fucking my brains out. See you in one hour; tell your wife I said hi."

And then you waited. 

You jumped when you heard Rafe bang on your door three times, and then he'd remember he had a key, then he barged in your apartment, his head swinging from left to right.

He saw you sitting on your sofa with your matching lingerie set on, a bottle of vodka in your hand.

"You do care." You smiled, standing up to give him a hug, he shrugged you off.

"Where is it?" He asked. "Where's that USB?"

"There is no USB." You said.

Rafe had looked down at your coffee table to where your supposeit Vicodin had been.

"That's fucking baby aspirin." He scoffed, as he slowly start to undo his belt buckle. "This is what you were going to kill yourself with?"

You nodded shyly as he grabbed you by your hair and forced you to your knees.

A blowjob was the last thing you wanted from him, but you'd take anything.

Looking down at you, Rafe said, "Maybe next time I'll lend you my old man's revolver, that'll do the trick, right?" right before he grabbed the back of your head, and forced his cock--all nine inches of it--down your throat.

You'd hadn't gagged, though you wished you had, so he could have slowed down his relentless thrust into your mouth.

With every thrust, your body responded, craving more, yet yearning for a pause—an unexpected reprieve.

You could hardly catch your breath as he maintained his relentless pace, a rhythm that sent waves of sensation coursing through you.

You wanted to surrender, yet a part of you fought against the tide, desperate for control in a moment that demanded nothing less than your complete submission.

Rafe eyes never seemed to leave yours with his cock stuffed in your mouth. He loved the humiliation of blowjobs. You just stared at him, teary wide eyes.

Rafe's face was so handsome. His eyes were so beautiful. So full of life. A face that could be so easily broken. Your mouth. So full of his cock.

Fuck, have you missed this.

You could see the desire in his eyes, the hunger for more. His gaze was intense, burning into you, and it excited you to know your power--how quick he came to your rescue.

You felt his hands on the back of your head, not forcing, but guiding, encouraging you to take him deeper. His breath quickened, and you knew he was getting closer with he twitch of his cock. With a soft moan, he pulled you up, his eyes still locked on yours.

He wanted to watch your reaction as he took control, as he showed you who was in charge.

He pushed you against the wall, his mouth finding yours, and you tasted yourself on his lips. It was degrading, and you loved it. He knew it too, and a smirk played on his lips.

"You like being used, don't you?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Being on your knees, taking me however I want. It arouses you."

You couldn't deny it, the wetness of your cunt dripping down your thighs.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice a mere breath. "I do." And with that admission, he took you again, this time with you on the edge of the sofa with both your legs pressed to your sides.

You let out a soft moan as Rafe entered you, his cock sliding deep with one slow, deliberate thrust.

That familiar stretch and burn always made you gasp—a sensation you loved and craved. Rafe's hands gripped your hips, his touch firm as he held you in place, his eyes never leaving yours.

You loved how he watched you, taking in your every reaction as if it were the first time all over again--almost as if he was all yours and no one else's to share. 

His thick cock filled you, and you could feel every vein and ridge of him as he slowly began to move. That delicious friction built as he withdrew and then thrust again, setting a slow, sensual rhythm.

The room was filled with the sounds of your passion—your soft moans and the slick, wet sounds of your bodies moving as one.

Rafe's breath quickened as he began to move faster, his hips snapping as he drove into you with purpose. You met his passion with your own, your bodies a tangle of limbs and sweat.

His hands explored your body, caressing your breasts, neck, and face, his touch both possessive and adoring.

As your pleasure built, you knew you would climax soon, and you wanted Rafe to join you in that exquisite release.

You whispered for him to let go, and with a few more powerful thrusts, he obeyed. His body stiffened as he filled you with his release, his cock pulsing as he found his own bliss.

Rafe laid your limp body outstretched onto your sofa, and through hooded--fucked out--eyelids, you watched as he put back on his clothing. 

"I think I love you." you croaked. 

Rafe ironed out his slacks and proceeded to put his foot in one pant leg, all the while saying: 

"I love my wife." He said sternly. 

Defeated, you laid your head back and closed your eyes. 

"This was the last time, Y/N." He said. You could hear him put on his last article of clothing and straighten himself out. 

"You always say that." you sighed. 

"Well, I'm serious this time." 

"You always say that part too." You said.

And with that being said, he placed his lips on your forehead, took your bottle of baby aspirin, and left your apartment for the second "last time" that month. 

Rafe went back home, made love to his wife, and then told her he loved her, but he knew he didn't really mean it. 

[livwritesstuff]

Today was a bittersweet day – the last day of the three-month parental leave Steve had taken when their daughter Robbie was born before he headed back to his counseling job.

Eddie knows that Steve is feeling torn a few different ways about going back to work.

On the one hand, Steve loves his job, and he’d worked his ass off earning his doctorate so he could be a trauma therapist just like he’d planned. Kids had also been a part of his plan, obviously, but as more of an in addition to type of way, rather than instead of when it came to his career. Eddie knows this, and he knows that Steve is excited to go back, to reconnect with his patients after three months apart.

Eddie also knows that their kids are everything to Steve in a way his job will never be (duh), and Eddie had seen the way Steve refused to ignore the gravity of today – the last day he doesn’t have to share his time with anything other than their daughters.

Steve had been emotional about going back to work in a similar way the first time around with Moe, and he’d called home about eight or nine times during his first day back in the office, asking how things were going and if he’d missed anything. Now, Moe is two-and-a-half (and some change, if they’re being technical), and Robbie just hit the three-month mark a few days ago. This time, Steve had done his best to split his time between their two daughters, and it’s not all that different from their normal day-to-day, honestly, just…something heavier in the air, maybe.

Now, Moe’s all fresh and clean from her bath, her bangs slicked back with the rest of her damp hair (Steve had put on a whole show of planting kisses all over her forehead and saying, “is this where you’ve been hiding your brilliant brain from us?” which always sends Moe into giggling hysterics), and Steve’s got her all bundled up in a big fluffy towel, snuggling her close with one arm as he balances Robbie on his chest with the other, all of them piled into a rocking chair while Eddie sits stretched out on Robbie’s rug.

“I’m probably not gonna be home when you wake up tomorrow morning,” Steve tells Moe, and it’s not the first time he’s brought up this particular subject today, but, y’know…toddlers. Really gotta nail in the point sometimes with toddlers, “‘Cause I’m going back to work, so I have to leave early to drive into Boston.”

“Why do you hafta drive to Boston?” Moe asked.

“Because that’s where my office is. Remember a few weeks ago when we visited my office?”

“Yeah and they met Robbie.”

“That’s right,” Steve nodded, “Everyone I work with met Robbie. I got to take a break from work when Robbie was born, and now it’s time for me to go back.”

Moe’s eyebrows are furrowed.

“But…I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, bug,” he tells her, “I miss you and Robbie and Daddy like crazy when I’m not home with you.”

“So why don’t you take more break?”

“I sorta took all the break I’m allowed to, sweet pea. It’s time for me to go back to work.”

Eddie looks at Moe, sees the cogs turning in her little brain as she tries to figure out a way to convince her dad to stay home with her.

“But what if you just don’t work anymore?”

It’s a good question, Eddie knows, and she’s not the only one asking it.

Not too long after Robbie’s arrival, when Max and El had come to visit and meet the new baby, Max had privately asked Eddie if he thought Steve might throw in the towel on the whole career thing this time around. Again, it’s a fair question for anybody who really knows Steve, anybody who sees how much he loves their kids and how much he loves being a dad, even if Eddie knows the answer is no. Still, it’s a close no.

Steve hums sympathetically, “Maybe someday, but I like my job. I get to help people, and I worked hard in school to be able to do that. Someday you might decide you want to have a job where you do more school and get special degrees.”

“Like what kinds of jobs?”

“Like a doctor or a lawyer, or maybe you want to work in a lab and do research on something. It’s a big world, Moe, and you can do whatever you set your mind to."

"I want to be an astronaut," Moe tells them.

"Well, there you go."

"Or I wanna be a cookie."

"Oh-" Steve's eyebrows furrow as Eddie starts to laugh. "Alright..."

"That's my girl," Eddie says, "Astronaut or pastry. I like it."

[heavyhitterheaux]

One Way Street (NSFW)

AN: Go watch The Instigators!!

Synopsis: Meeting Scalvo has put you head over heels when you move back to Boston after graduating. Little did you know, the person that you fell for isn't exactly who you thought he was and that the relationship between the two of you would never be the same again

Pairing: Scalvo x Reader (The Instigators)

Do not engage if underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Walking along the Boston streets, you were taking in the fresh air on a beautiful autumn day when a bakery came into your view and you couldn’t help but to smile. However, it wasn’t just any bakery, you had come here plenty of times growing up and now that you had finally graduated college and moved back to spend some time with your parents, you had to make this be your first stop after your plane had landed last night.

Walking in, the smell of fresh donuts hit your nose as you looked at the rows of display cases trying to decide what you wanted to get to take home for yourself as well as your parents. Mr. Besegai owned this bakery for as long as you could remember and when you looked up from the display case, you saw him coming out of the storage room with someone hot on his trail. He was tall, had curly hair, and for some reason his hair seemed to be damp, almost if he had just taken a shower which had you slightly confused. He looked to be in some type of rush and bumped into you as he had taken out his phone to glance at it as he was trying to get to the exit.

“Oh, sorry about that.” He simply said while not bothering to look at you. But once he finally made eye contact with you he held your gaze for a second before you snapped out of it and finally responded back to him.

“It’s okay, no worries.”

“Never seen you around here before, you just moved here?” The curly haired man asked you and quickly shaking your head you told him no. Nobody ever intrigued Scalvo, but now that he had set his eyes on you, he was curious about the brown skin girl with the dyed auburn curly hair.

“No, I just moved back. I just graduated from University of Maryland. I grew up here.”

Mr. Besegai was watching the exchange between the two of you as the wheels in his head started turning on how he could get his plan to work as he pretended that he was simply wiping down the counters. What you didn’t know was that because of your father being a big time lawyer, he had spent the last four years in jail and had recently gotten out due to having good behavior because in actuality, he had gotten fifteen. It was all due to a misunderstanding, but your father wasn’t trying to hear it. Your father and him would do business all the time and would constantly be meeting at his bakery. When your father had to bring you along, Mr. Besegai always made a point to give you a free donut. It changed every time since you didn't quite have a favorite flavor.

He wanted to get back at him for what he had done and knew that using Scalvo to get to you was going to be his best bet. If he could get you to trust him, that would make this job ten times easier.

As far as he knew, Scalvo didn’t know who you were and he was going to do his best to keep it that way so that his plan would be able to work. He had found Scalvo wandering the streets of Boston when he was eleven and took him in after his grandmother had passed. As soon as he was old enough, he introduced him to his world of how he was able to make so much money and from that point on it was history. The two of you had never crossed paths before since you would be in boarding school the majority of the time.

Just last week, he had approached Scalvo and told him about his newest plan in order to rob the big time prosecutor for what he had done to him and then Scalvo had told him what he had done to his father which he had never mentioned. Your father apparently had convicted him of a crime that he didn’t commit and was sent to prison to serve out his time. While he was there, he had another run in with another inmate and ended up losing his life. From that point, Scalvo began running away from home with his grandmother and felt that nothing made sense in the world anymore. That’s why he was the way he was now. It was all simply business with him. He didn’t show emotion, let people in, and simply kept everyone at a distance. The only thing on his mind was making money and getting back at Mr. Lawson who stole his father away from him.

They simply had to wait until a big event happened in the city for the plan to be executed. Mr. Besegai had zoned out for a minute, but as he tuned back in to pay attention, he actually saw Scalvo smile which had never been a thing before.

Yeah, this would be the perfect thing to add to the plan.

“I guess I'll be seeing you around then.” Scalvo told you and you couldn't help but smile.

“I guess you will.” You simply answered, but was quickly interrupted by Mr. Besegai.

“Y/N, what donut do you want today for old times sake?”

“Oh, I can…”

“Nonsense. Pick out a donut and a cake to take home. Always good to see your face around. Maybe you can be a good influence on Scalvo here. He needs friends.”

Scalvo’s eyes went wide as he looked at him annoyed while you were focusing on the display of treats in front of you.

“Hmm, I could always use another friend and I'm feeling the maple bacon donut and red velvet cake.”

“Coming right up.”

After he boxed up your cake along with your donut, you were on your way and you made it a necessary task to say goodbye to Scalvo who once again smiled at you. Once you were gone, he quickly interrogated Mr. Besegai.

“Who is she?”

“Oh, Y/N? Beautiful girl who comes from a beautiful family. Known her since she was born practically. She would be a good influence on you because God knows you need it.”

From that first meeting, Scalvo didn’t quite know what it was, but you intrigued him. He felt a weird sensation in his stomach. Were those the butterflies that people always talk about? After getting your number, the two of you had gone on several dates to which Scalvo’s surprise he actually enjoyed so there was no doubt in his mind to ask you to be in a relationship with him. He was actually surprised that you said yes. He would simply be going over the plan to get back at Mr. Lawson during the day and spend time with you at night. It had been about four months since he and Mr. Besegai had been planning and knew that it was only a matter of time now, but the biggest thing he had to do was have patience.

So, they both had to make sure that they did it at the right time in the hopes that nothing would go wrong. Scalvo felt that he had waited long enough and it was finally time to get him back for what he did because at this point, the only thing that he did for Scalvo was ruin his life.

The two of you were currently taking a walk after you had had dinner at a restaurant that you had chosen in the city, and was simply taking in the fresh air before Scalvo dropped you back off at your apartment although it was a little cold outside. Scalvo had laughed when he saw you come outside from your apartment, but as soon as you said that you were still cold, he took his scarf to wrap it around you.

You had noticed that he had been extra quiet over the past few days and made a point to ask him about it. As you two were walking, you simply nudged him with your elbow. Breaking him out of his trance, he turned to look at you.

“Hmm?”

“Why are you so quiet? Is something on your mind? You’ve been really quiet since dinner, well actually these last few days. You know that you can tell me anything.” You asked him as you stopped walking and he quickly followed suit.

“Yeah, but it’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little self about.” He told you as he lightly grabbed your hand and put it up to his lips to kiss the back of it.

“Are you sure? You know that you can always talk to me. I’m a good listener.”

“I know you are, but it’s just not something that I want to focus on right now. I’m here with you enjoying your company and that’s what my focus should be. I’m sorry that I got so distracted.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

He was far from it, but if he pulled this off it might make it a little better.

What Mr. Besegai didn’t know about the plan was that he did plan on robbing him, but he also wanted to end his life.

An eye for an eye.

He wasn’t about to tell him that and simply kept it to himself. His biggest thing was to not get caught because he knew if he did that he would serve serious time and more than likely would never get out.

Killing a big time lawyer? He would never hear the end of it.

And you would probably want nothing to do with him after that.

Only two things kept him going at this point, getting money and you.

He couldn't lose you, not now.

After he pulled this off, he wanted to be done with this life but didn't know how that would go when he told Mr. Besegai.

He would probably try to kill him because of how much he knew, but he needed to try.

He needed to try for you.

He wanted to be better for you.

He wanted you in his life for the long haul even though he imagined that it probably wouldn’t be very long.

“I’m okay, promise.”

“Then are you actually going to tell me what you do for a living? You take me on these lavish dates, but have yet to tell me.”

Scalvo laughed to himself before he answered your question.

“I make investments in companies and when they take off, I get to see the money that comes from it. I just don't like talking about work when I'm with you. You're my peace from all of that.”

“You must be pretty good at it then.” You told him as you two sat down on a bench in a park that you two had come across on your walk.

The only thing he thought was that he was simply good at it enough so that he didn't get caught.

“I guess I’m alright.” He replied as he shrugged, but you simply smiled at him until he asked you what was up.

“What?”

“You are too modest and never give yourself enough credit. But what are you doing this weekend?” You asked as an idea popped into your head.

“Nothing important. But if it has to do with you, I just might make an exception.” He told you as he pinched your cheek making you laugh.

“My parents have a cabin in Montreal and since I'm not doing anything either, maybe we could go.”

Scalvo smiled at the thought of you wanting to spend the weekend with him but there was a problem. Montreal was in Canada and he needed to get across the border.

With a passport.

Something that he didn't have.

Well he had a few days and could probably come up with an idea to make it happen. Maybe Mr. Besegai knew a guy because he literally always did.

“Okay and after this, I'm planning our next date since you planned the last two.”

“There's a jacuzzi too just so you know.” You said as you smirked.

“We're definitely going to be putting that to good use.”

–

The relaxing weekend was coming to an end as you two decided to go in the jacuzzi one last time before driving back down to Boston. The two of you had planned to leave in a few hours hoping to get back in the early hours of the afternoon. You were currently sitting on his lap while he had his arms around you.

“Thank you for this. I needed it.” He whispered in your ear as a small smile graced your face.

“I could tell. You had been so distracted so my idea was to get you away for a little while. Besides, your focus wasn't on me and I didn't like that very much.” You told him as you turned to look at him.

“Hmm. Well I promise to not let it happen again.” He told you as he leaned down to kiss you and you kissed him back with a sense of urgency and desperation.

Turning around to straddle him, your arms went around his neck as you felt him untie the top of your bathing suit letting it fall to the side and it was quickly forgotten. His hands traveled lower to rest on your hips before one of his hands started to run across your folds through the thin material that happened to be the only thing left covering your body.

Kisses were placed in a trail starting from your neck and kept going as he lifted you a bit higher to place kisses along your breasts before placing one of them in his mouth and sucking lightly leading a moan to escape from your mouth.

“Mmm.” Was all that came out of your mouth as you threw your head back and you soon felt the other half of your bikini fall away from your body as he untied it.

Scalvo simply stood up as he held onto you and stepped out of the jacuzzi and made his way back inside the house to the master bedroom. He gently laid you down and he hovered over top of you as your arms went back around his neck and guided him closer to you so that he could meet his lips with yours.

“I need to hear you say what you want me to do to you.” He whispered against your lips and before you could answer, he lifted two of his fingers to your mouth and you immediately opened it to suck on them. Once he was satisfied with how wet they were, he slowly inserted them into you, making you gasp.

“Baby, you need to use your words. Tell me what you want.”

“I want to feel every inch of you.” You breathed out and you could see that cocky smirk that you loved so much spread across his face.

“We'll get to that, but I need to taste you first. Is my pretty girl okay with that?”

You nodded your head as he moved down on the bed and took a hold on your hips before tightening it so that you wouldn't be able to move. The bruises that would be seen tomorrow would be worth it.

As he came face to face with your core when he got himself comfortable, he kissed up and down both of your inner thighs before you felt his tongue where you wanted him the most.

“Babe…” You breathed out as he continued to pleasure you.

“You like that? You like when I put my tongue in your pussy?”

“Yes, oh fuck. Don't stop.” You told him as you grabbed your nipples in order to play with them and roll them between your fingers. You placed two fingers in your mouth and got them wet enough to rub it across both of them.

Luckily you two were in the mountains with no nearby neighbors and you could yell as loud as you wanted.

Your hands then quickly found their way to his hair that you loved to play in so much as he began to fuck you with his tongue faster.

“Shit, stay right there, stay right there.” You told him with desperation in your voice. But he had a better idea. His fingers had replaced his tongue and his mouth then moved to suck on your swollen clit and you knew it was only a matter of time before you lost it.

And your original thought was right as you squirted back to back all over his face, but he still wasn't letting up as he continued to suck on your clit.

When he finally released his hold on you, you sat up and quickly kissed him and felt him slip his tongue in your mouth so that you could taste yourself which he quickly made a point to comment on.

“You see how good you taste? I want more, but we can save that for later since I do remember you telling me that you wanted to feel every inch of me, correct?”

All you did was nod as you peered down to see him bricked up but he still had his swim trunks on. He followed your gaze and quickly kissed you once more.

“Take it out then.”

Doing what he asked, you slid them down and his dick sprung to life. You quickly spit in your hand before you began to palm him and jerk him off.

“How do you want me, baby?” You asked in a whisper against his lips and he placed his hands around your neck as you continued to jerk him off.

“Why are you asking me silly questions? You know how I want you. So get there.”

Smirking, you leaned forward to kiss him before turning around and positioning yourself on your knees and arching your back with your ass on display for him.

You felt his dick moving up and down the length of your folds before finally sliding in earning moans from the both of you.

Scalvo started out at a slow even pace to make sure you were comfortable before all that could be heard in the room was skin slapping against skin.

“Good girl, you're being such a good girl for me baby. You like when I fuck you like this?” He asked you, but the only thing that could be heard were your moans and whimpers from beneath him.

When you didn't answer him, you felt a soft smack to your ass, making him repeat his question.

“Baby, I asked you if you like when I fuck you like this? Answer me like the good girl I know you are. Otherwise I'm going to stop.”

“Yes!” You were finally able to breathe out and without warning, Scalvo slid out of you and flipped you over before sliding back into you.

Now that the two of you were face to face, your foreheads were touching as he placed your legs on his shoulders. He captured you in a kiss as he continued to pound into you and you could feel the familiar feeling in your stomach building. Obviously Scalvo could tell by the look on your face.

“I'm…” You started to say, but he immediately cut you off.

“I know, baby. Me too.”

Moments later both of you hit your peak at the same time and Scalvo slid out of you and you quickly sat up and took him in your mouth as you felt the sticky liquid hit the back of your throat.

As you milked him dry, he moved his hand down to slowly rub small circles along your clit before removing his hand and licking his fingers.

“Mmm, my baby tastes so fucking good.” He told you before he lifted your face towards him so that he could kiss you.

“I need you to lay down for me.” You told him and he gave you another kiss before he did as he was told.

You simply straddled him as you faced away from him and he immediately knew what it was.

“Wouldn't be right if I didn't reverse cowgirl on you.”

“Get to it, then.”

Both of you went for two more rounds until finally taking showers, changing the sheets and getting comfortable in bed. The two of you were simply talking as your head rested on his chest and he came to a realization.

“You are so easy to talk to. I don't think I've ever told someone this much about myself.” He confessed and you turned to look up at him.

“But one thing you've never talked about is your family.”

“There's nothing to tell.” He told you and you could feel him tense up.

“Baby, you should know by now that you can trust me. Obviously it bothers you, but if you don't want to talk to me about it, maybe a therapist might help? I can tell it's a sensitive topic for you and you’re hurting.” As soon as the words left your mouth, he immediately turned up his nose.

“I don't need a therapist. My mom left when I was two and my father was killed. That's it and that's all.”

“I just want to help.” You told him as you grabbed his hand, but he moved it away from you.

“Y/N, I get it. But I'm done talking about this.”

“But baby…”

“I said I was done.” He told you and the tone of his voice somewhat scared you, making you jump as you sat up to look at him.

He immediately had a guilty look on his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. You don't deserve that.” He said as he moved a curl out of your face.

“I just want for you to be okay. You're always so distracted now. I’m just worried.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” He told you as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead. At that point he was just happy that you didn't move away from him.

It was quiet for a minute before either of you spoke again.

“I want you to have dinner with my parents next week on Friday. They went on a short trip and they’ll be getting back on Thursday night. I want you to meet them.”

Scalvo’s eyes suddenly went wide and he wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. This was a situation that he had never been in before.

“I… you want me to meet them?” He asked for clarification and you simply nodded.

“I’ve been spending a lot of time with you and you’re important to me and one of my favorite people to be around. I think that’s worth sharing with other people.”

“If it’ll make you happy, then I’ll do it.” He told you as he smiled at you and you leaned up to kiss him, he eagerly kissed you back and when the two of you broke apart, you were sitting in a comfortable silence as you laid your head back down on his chest.

Scalvo’s heart was beating a mile a minute as he sat there and thought about the situation that he was currently in.

You were too good for him and way out of his league and he knew it.

Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stay away from you seeing as it was getting harder and harder by the day.

–

It was the day before Scalvo was due to have dinner with you and your parents and he was on edge and very annoyed.

He was currently with Mr. Besegai and Cobby going over the plans that would take place two days from now on that Saturday night. He thought at first that he was going to do this job by himself seeing as he’s done many by himself before, but to his surprise, Cobby was brought on at the last minute. He was a drunk who talked too much and he was the last person that he wanted to be around. After arguing with Mr. Besegai about his decision for ten minutes, he had finally given up.

His thoughts quickly went to you and he wondered if you were having a good day seeing as he hadn’t really had any time to call and check up on you. Not that you would mind though since you had it in your mind that he was this big time investor that was busy a lot of the time. He knew that you wouldn’t question if he had been M.I.A. for the majority of the day. As he thought of you, his phone quickly vibrated and he looked down to see a text message from you and he instantly got a smile on his face.

You- Hi, handsome! Just checking on you. I hope you’re having a good day. Call me when you can.

Cobby noticed Scalvo smiling at his phone and raised an eyebrow before addressing it.

“Scalvo! Pay attention! What the fuck has you smiling at your phone like that?”

“Your mom’s nudes, now mind your own fucking business and leave me the hell alone.”

“Outta pocket and unnecessary.”

“You being here is unnecessary because I don’t fucking need you in order to pull this off.”

“Will you two knock it off for Christ’s sake?! Scalvo, Cobby is here because he offered to help and quite frankly, you could probably use it in this situation.” Mr. Besegai said and Scalvo immediately rolled his eyes.

“Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“Don’t start with me. Now we need to go over this one more time to make sure we have it right.”

The entire reason that he decided to bring Cobby on was not because he didn’t have any confidence in Scalvo being able to pull it off, it was because when Scalvo found out the connection between you and Mr. Lawson there was a possibility that he could be hesitant going through with the plan entirely and he couldn’t risk that. He knew that the two of you had grown close seeing as you spent a few days out of the week with each other. He figured that he should probably tell him about the connection, but the last thing he wanted to do was cloud his judgment. He needed him to be focused in order to be able to pull this off.

He knew for a fact that Scalvo would never do anything to hurt you or put you in harm’s way.

As they were going over the plan once more, Scalvo was only half listening since he had this damn plan memorized since day one and simply sent you a text back.

Scalvo- Been busy all day and definitely missing you. Can’t wait for dinner tomorrow night and I’ll call you once I’m finished.

“All I know is Scalvo better not fuck this up since he’s over there not listening.” Cobby said and all Scalvo did was look in his direction before responding.

“You have one more motherfucking time to say some shit to me before I put a bullet in your head.” He told him as he pulled out his gun and aimed it at him.

“Let’s fucking go, then!”

“HEY! NO! NONE OF THAT! Not before this job is done then I could care less what the two of you do. I can’t believe at one point in time you two used to be friends.”

“Yeah me either. His ass needs a fucking therapist.” Cobby said and Scalvo had just put his gun back, but still had his hand on it.

“Are we done here? I got shit to do. And for your information I have a therapist because my girlfriend made me get one. Not that it's any of your business, asshole.”

When the two of you had finally gotten back to Boston, Scalvo actually looked into getting a therapist and found one that he actually liked. You were so excited when he told you about it.

“Well it's obviously not working. And since when do you have a girlfriend?!”

“It’s only my first week, so I’ll still bust a cap in your drunk ass. And once again, my business and not yours.”

Mr. Besegai simply waved Scalvo off and he made his way to the door to go down the steps before turning back to Cobby.

“I brought you on not because I didn’t think that he could do it, but because his judgment is going to be clouded once he figures everything out and we can’t have that.”

“How so?”

“The man we’re about to rob? Scalvo’s dating his daughter and he has no idea. Once he finds out he might not go through with it. If that happens, I need you to be able to finish the job for me.”

“Fuck and I’m not supposed to tell him anything?! This could turn into a fucking disaster.”

“He’ll find out soon enough. Until then, just let him be. This is just as Important to him as it is to me.”

As promised, as soon as Scalvo made his way to his car he called you and you picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“My princess hasn't heard from me all day and I missed her.” He confessed as he weaved through Boston traffic.

“She misses you two and also wants you to do something for her.”

“Name it and it'll be done.”

“Pick me up from work since my car was acting stupid earlier? My dad sent a tow truck over and he offered me a ride, but I said I would wait for my handsome boyfriend to come and get me.”

“Say less. I'll be right there.”

Scalvo quickly made an illegal u-turn as he started heading in the direction towards your job. Once he pulled up and saw you, he was all smiles and opened the door for you to get in.

First thing he did as you got into the car was kiss you and you made sure that you gave him several kisses back.

“Mm, I missed tasting those lips so much.” He told you and all you did was laugh.

“Surprised that you didn't say that you missed my other pair of lips.”

“Oh, I missed those too and I can't wait for us to be able to catch up later.”

As both of you moved through rush hour traffic, you told Scalvo that you were hungry and he mentioned that he had stuffed a menu from a new place that had just opened up in the glove compartment that had good reviews. Once you opened it, you were surprised to see a 9mm handgun staring back at you and gulped.

“Scalvo…”

“What's wrong, babe?”

You never called him Scalvo unless you were being serious, so he knew that something was probably wrong.

“Why do you have a gun in your glove compartment?” You asked and his eyes went wide as he looked over and saw it. He simply grabbed the menu for you and hastily shut It.

Fuck, he forgot he put it in there. The last thing he wanted to happen was you seeing it.

“You closing it so that I can't see it is not making it go away. Why do you have that?” You asked and he refused to make eye contact with you.

“For protection.”

“Not a good enough answer.”

“Well it's the truth.”

“Protection from who?”

“Baby, don't worry about it. Just look at the menu and tell me what you want to eat.”

“Not until I get an explanation.”

“Being a person who does the job that I do can lead to having a lot of enemies. I need to protect myself at all times.”

“But…. you told me that you invest in small businesses.”

“I do and I dress like this to not draw any attention to myself. If I don't look the part, people might leave me alone. But you can never be too sure.”

“Well I don't like it.”

“Y/N, it doesn't matter if you don't like it. I'm not getting rid of it. I need to be able to protect myself and you if it comes down to it.”

“But why? Why would that even happen?”

“Nothing wrong with being prepared. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you that I could have prevented.”

There was something that he wasn't being honest about and you could tell. Despite him telling you that you were an easy person to talk to, you felt that he still held onto a lot of secrets.

“You know what you want to eat yet?”

“Drop me off at home until you’re ready to be honest with me.” You told him as the forgotten menu was held in your hand, but you weren't looking at it.

“Baby, come on. I want to spend time with you and I told you why I have it. Last thing I want to do is fight with you.”

“If someone was after you, you would tell me, correct? So I could help you?”

“Princess…”

“Answer my question.”

“Yes, now can we move on?”

“For now, but I still don't like it.”

“You'll forget all about it once I eat you out later at your apartment.”

–

There was literally only one day to go until Scalvo and Cobby would be breaking into James Lawson's house and robbing him of everything that he was worth and Scalvo was hoping that it would end with him being able to put him six feet under.

They had done a dry run earlier in the day, even though the ride mostly consisted of them arguing and Scalvo actually leaving Cobby and making him run behind the car for shits and giggles before he eventually stopped to let him back in.

Now he was on his way to dinner with your parents. After telling Scalvo to pick up some dessert from the bakery for dinner, he picked you up from your apartment and then the two of you were on your way to your parents house. As he turned on the street, you pointed at which house it was and he instantly got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

No, this couldn’t be right.

This was the lawyer’s house, James Lawson where he lives with his wife and two dogs

The house he planned on robbing tomorrow night with Cobby.

Since when did he have a daughter? Or any kids for that matter? He didn’t remember reading that anywhere and he always did his research before a job.

“Wait, this one?” He asked once more as he pointed at it before turning to pull into the long driveway.

“Yes, this is it. My dad is a lawyer. You might have heard of him, James Lawson? Apparently he's a really big deal in Boston.” You said while laughing. Everyone knew your dad and it wasn't always for the best reasons.

Scalvo gulped as he nodded his head and began to park next to who he assumed was your father’s range rover.

Fuck, this can’t be happening, this CANNOT be happening

“Oh, I didn’t know that he was your dad.”

“Yeah, but to keep me protected he didn’t really talk about me and my mom very much so not a lot of people know. I even use my mom’s last name in order to not draw any attention to myself. A lot of people don't like my dad.”

As you undid your seatbelt, you looked over to see him looking nervous.

“Babe? Everything okay? You look pale. Well, more pale than usual. You feel alright?” You asked him as you felt his forehead.

“Um, I’m fine.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous. They’re going to love you. I already told them so much about you.” You told him as you grabbed a hold of his face and turned it towards you.

Oh shit

“I just… I’ve never done this before with anyone. You’re the first girl that I’ve ever taken this much interest in and I just want to do this right.” He told you being completely honest.

“You’re freaking yourself out over nothing, I promise it’ll be fine.” You told him as you leaned in to kiss him.

“Then later it’ll be just us once we go back to my apartment. But maybe I can give you a preview once we leave here.” Whispering in his ear and giving his bicep a small squeeze, you smiled at him and he returned it, but you could tell that it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

After you had gotten out of the car, Scalvo quickly followed you while grabbing the cake from the backseat and walked side by side as you both made your way to the front door. You simply put your key into the door and unlocked it.

As the two of you stepped inside, you called out to see where your parents were as you led him into the kitchen in order to put the cake on the table.

“In here!” You heard your mom say from the living room and you grabbed Scalvo's hand that had gotten noticeably sweatier in the last three minutes.

When your parents came into view, you immediately hugged them before stepping back to introduce them to Scalvo and you could tell that they were intrigued by him.

This was the first person you had bought home since your prom date so you knew that they were probably excited.

“Mom, dad. This is my boyfriend Scalvo who I can't stop talking about.” You told them and felt him in some way relax as he was holding your hand.

“It's nice to meet you Mr. And Mrs. Lawson.” He told them and they smiled at him and quickly embraced him.

“It's so good to finally meet you!” Your mom told him, but your dad was looking at him curiously.

“Hmm, are you sure that we haven't met before?” He asked Scalvo who immediately shook his head no even though that was a lie.

They had met plenty of times and the first one was at his dad's trial believe it or not.

“You just look so familiar, but anyway I'm happy to meet you. All she does is talk about you.”

“Okay! Enough of throwing me under the bus!” You exclaimed, earning a laugh from everyone in the room.

“Hey, you started it.” Your dad said as he held up his arms in defense.

“Come on, dinner should be ready. We can go sit in the dining room.” Your mom announced and that was when Scalvo mentioned the cake.

“Oh, and I brought a cake for dessert.”

“Perfect! We didn't have time to make one so that worked out.”

Once all of you got settled around the dining room table, plates were piled high with food and conversation between Scalvo and your parents came easy. You could tell that he had finally relaxed or he was putting on a really good front at the moment. Your thoughts were then interrupted by your dad asking him what he did for a living.

“Oh, I’m a businessman you could say. I invest in small business and then I make a profit from it.”

“Really? What company is your latest investment in?”

“Mr. Besegai’s bakery not too far from here.”

Well that wasn’t entirely a lie.

“Ah, Mr. Besegai, great man. Known him for a long time. Used to always go to his bakery every weekend that Y/N was home from boarding school to get treats.”

So, that’s why Scalvo had never seen you before.

“Yeah, he is.”

“I hear that’s where the two of you met.” Your mom added and both of you smiled at each other.

“He almost knocked me over, but yes.” You had told your mother as you sipped on your wine.

“I was looking down and didn’t notice you! You aren’t exactly tall.”

“HEY!”

Scalvo held his hands up in defense as you gave him the evil eye, but that eventually went away as you began laughing.

Before the cake was cut for dessert, Scalvo excused himself to the bathroom in order to text Mr. Besegai.

Scalvo- Are you FUCKING serious?

Old man who gets on my nerves- What now?

Scalvo- Why didn’t you tell me who her parents were? You knew. You fucking knew this entire time.

Old man who gets on my nerves- I planned it perfectly. I wanted you to get closer to her to make our job easier.

Scalvo- How do you expect me to still be able to do it!?

Old man who gets on my nerves- I don’t care how it gets done, but you better fucking do it. Otherwise I will have your head on a silver platter and you know I’m good for my word. Get it done so I don’t have to hurt you or your little girlfriend.

Scalvo- If you touch one hair on her head, I will empty my clip into your fucking chest

Old man who gets on my nerves- Don’t fucking forget who saved you from being homeless on the street. I took you in when I could have let you starve. Do as you're told and she doesn’t get hurt.

The next day, Scalvo had told you that he would more than likely be busy and to keep you distracted from what would be going down at your parents house later, he sent you to an expensive spa for the weekend and would pick you up on Monday morning. He was currently in his car with Cobby sitting outside of your parents house, except they were down the street so that they wouldn’t be seen.

Cobby felt like he was distracted and didn’t want to say anything about it, however he needed for him to focus so that the two of them would be able to pull this off.

“Uh, you alright over there?” He asked him and Scalvo turned to him and rolled his eyes.

“You knew, didn’t you?”

“Knew what?”

“That we’re robbing my girlfriend’s parents.”

“I.. uh.. Look, he told me not to tell you because he didn’t want your judgment to be clouded.”

“Well now what the fuck am I supposed to do? He threatened to hurt her, but me doing this is probably going to hurt her more.”

“Hmm, I see therapy is really working. You’re really opening up to me.”

“Cobby, I will still kill you, let's get that straight. You still don’t know what to say out of your fucking mouth after all these years.”

“Tell me who your therapist is, I need to go and see them.”

“COBBY WILL YOU FUCKING FOCUS?”

“Okay, fine, fine. Let’s just get this done, because if you don’t go through with this, he’ll either kill you or kill her.”

“I added on another part of the plan that I didn’t tell you about.”

“Are you going to share with the class?” He asked after Scalvo was quiet for a few minutes.

“I was going to kill him for what he did to my father, but now I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“Not Scalvo having feelings.”

“I will… look, I think they’re finally sleeping so let’s go over the plan one more time and then it’s go time.”

“Okay, lover boy, let's do this.”

“Don’t call me that.”

The plan was to break into his office and get into his safe while Cobby despite how fucking stupid Scalvo thought he was figured out a way to empty his bank accounts. He still didn’t understand how he figured it out, but he wasn’t asking questions. He just wanted for this to be over with. After the two of you had eaten dessert the day before, Scalvo asked for a tour of the house and he knew that he could use this to his advantage. Even though he had the blueprints and floor plans of the house, seeing it in real time in front of him was a different story.

Your parents knew what he looked like so wearing a mask was a must. He reached for his gun and got it out of the glove compartment, just in case.

Just in case.

After cutting off the electricity to the house and disarming it, Scalvo and Cobby slipped their way inside and moved to the bottom floor where his office was.

Cobby got out tools in order to open the safe as Scalvo stood there ready to load the money into it when he suddenly heard footsteps behind them. They looked at each other in a panic before the office door swung open and they were now face to face with your father who was holding a gun in his hand.

“If the two of you leave quietly, we can forget that this ever happened.”

“Ehh, no can do sir. Our orders come from higher up, so we’ll just take this money and be on our way.” Cobby said and it was as if Scalvo was too out of it to speak.

“I’ll give you one more chance, next time I’m shooting.”

Scalvo didn’t say anything, but instead knocked your father’s gun out of his hand kicking it away from him and held his gun up to his temple as Cobby looked on with wide eyes. Scalvo nodded towards Cobby to finish what he was doing before they were interrupted, but he still stayed quiet. Your parents knew what his voice sounded like and if he opened his mouth that would be the end of it.

Your dad held up his hands in defense as Cobby began stuffing the duffle bag.

“I’m done, let’s go.” He told Scalvo who was still holding the gun up to your father’s head and he didn’t move.

“It’s not worth it, let’s go. We have bigger things to think about.” He said as he tugged on his arm.

Scalvo finally lowered the gun as he sighed, but only told Cobby one word.

“Rope.”

The two of them left your father sitting in the dark tied to his office chair with duct tape on his mouth, but at least he was alive.

The ride back to downtown Boston was silent as Cobby was working on his laptop emptying his bank account.

“If she finds out, she’s never going to forgive me.”

“Ehh, she might. At least you left him alive. That has to count for something, right?”

—

The next few days were a blur after you had called Scalvo frantic and told him about what had happened to your parents. You told him that you were going to stay with them for a few days since your mother was still pretty shaken up about the entire thing. You also couldn’t put your finger on it, but Scalvo was acting weird. You could tell that he was once again hiding something from you and the plan was to get it out of him one way or another.

It was Friday and your lunch break when you decided to go to the sandwich shop that was next to the bakery before heading back to work when you spotted Scalvo talking to someone outside of it when you pulled up in your car. You smiled to yourself before getting out of the car and greeting him.

“Hi babe!” You said as you came up beside him and it was clear that you startled him.

“Oh hey. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” He asked as he hugged you and kissed the top of your head.

“Lunch break, but I’ll be heading back soon. Who’s your friend?” You asked as you turned to Cobby.

“Cobby, Scalvo’s best friend. Nice to meet you. He doesn’t shut up about you.”

“He uses that term too loosely.” Scalvo muttered and you laughed.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. Scalvo needs to get out more, but he doesn’t think so. But maybe you could help with that.” You answered when Cobby’s wrist caught your eye. It was a gold bracelet and it looked very familiar.

Too familiar.

As in it was your father’s bracelet that he kept in his safe.

The safe that was broken into last week and they still had no leads.

Now it was adding up.

Expensive cars.

Expensive trips.

Expensive jewelry.

He got you anything you wanted without giving it a second thought.

But, him having the gun and always being secretive was everything that you needed to know.

Scalvo wasn’t a businessman at all.

He was a fucking criminal.

Your boyfriend was a criminal and he had just stolen from your parents.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He told you as he smiled. You smiled back before turning to Scalvo.

“Meet me at my apartment later?”

“I’ll be there.”

It was around nine at night when Scalvo finally knocked on your apartment door. You let him in and simply went to pour yourself a glass of wine. You poured him one too and slid it in front of him, but you were still quiet.

“Baby?”

“I’m going to ask you this and please do not lie to me.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“Why was your friend Cobby wearing my father’s gold bracelet that he keeps in his safe?”

Oh, fuck.

“Uh…”

“Scalvo, if you lie to me I will literally fucking riot. How did he get it?”

He remained quiet as he was taking this moment in.

There was no way in the world that the two of you would be able to move past this.

“SCALVO, ANSWER ME NOW DAMN IT!”

“We broke into your parents house and took it. But….”

“How could you do that? Why would you do that?”

“Just let me explain. Please.” Scalvo pleaded with you as he grabbed your hand, but you quickly shook your head and got loose from his grasp.

“Explain, what? How you used me? Stole my dad's money? Do I mean absolutely nothing to you? I love you and I feel so stupid for it!”

“I love you too! You mean the world to me, please understand that and no! I didn't even know who you were when we met! It had nothing to do with you! It was Mr. Besegai because he was mad that your father put him in jail. When I finally figured it out, he said if I didn’t go through with it that he was going to hurt you and I couldn’t have that happen.”

“I feel so stupid because you straight up played me like a fool. Hmm, businessman huh? All you do is fucking steal for a living.”

“I never meant to hurt you. Please understand that. But my father died because your father wrongfully convicted him and he died in jail before I could get a chance to prove that he was innocent and has done the same thing to how many other people?”

“I’m sorry about your father and what happened to him wasn’t fair in any way, shape or form, but this is not the way to fix things and you know it.”

“There's a right way? Then tell me so I can bring my dad back. The only one who actually gave a damn about me.”

“The person who is standing in front of you right now also gives a damn about you!”

“You'll never understand. Look where you come from and then look where I come from. We were doomed from the start.” He said as he started to walk away and you quickly stood in front of the exit blocking him in.

“We can fix this.”

“We'll never work and you know it. What I've done is always going to be at the back of your mind. I care about you Y/N, but…. Just take care of yourself.”

“No, you do not get to walk away that easily. You… just wait a minute.”

“I can and I will. This is done. It’s what’s best for the both of us no matter how hard it might be.”

“So, that’s it? You’re just going to leave me?” You asked as you felt the tears build up in the corners of your eyes. Scalvo noticed and it took everything in him not to embrace you right then and there. He took a step forward, but moved right back because he knew that if he did, he wouldn't want to let you go.

“I’m not any good for you. I have absolutely nothing to offer you and let’s be serious. A daughter or a lawyer dating someone who makes money by stealing from important people in power?”

“But I still want you.”

He knew at that point as much as he didn’t want to do it, he had to say something that would hurt you in order for you to stay away from him.

For your own good and for his.

“And you’re living in a fantasy land if you think that this would ever work. Y/N, do me a favor and don’t call me anymore, don’t look for me. This is it. We’re over, and we’re done. This relationship is a one-way street, and it was only going to lead to a dead end.”

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

false god - m. murdock

a/n: sorry if this is bad i did my best because i have been thinking about him a lot warnings: cursing, smut, cunninglus (reader recieving), exhibition (kind of?) matt has an oral fixation, praise, premarital activites, reader is deaf and uses hearing aids but it's only mentioned once, if i missed any let me know! word count: 1.8k summary: the night before your wedding, you and matt are starving. you want to order room service, matt wants to eat out. pairing: matt x fem!reader now playing: false god - taylor swift "but we might just get away with it/religion's in your lips/even if it's a false god/we'd still worship/we might just get away with it/the altar is my hips"

When the devil finally proposed to you, he did it amongst flames and darkness.

…

Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite as dramatic as that.

Matt had proposed to you in the empty office of Nelson, Murdock & Page where you had met, with the lights turned down and candles lighting up the air around you. It was romantic, just as the two of you deserved.

Planning took a long time, too, with flowers, dresses and food taking over your every thought.

But now, all of that was done. There was nothing to be worried about anymore, as you and Matt specifically requested that if anything were to go wrong, Foggy and Karen would take care of it the best they could and not alarm the two of you unless someone was either dying or threatening to kill you.

So, in less than twenty-four hours, you would be Mrs. Matt Murdock, doomed to a life of lawyer jargon and patching up wounds, with no way out. The thought made you giddy.

The ceremony was going to be held at the church, but the pair of you had moved in with each other a long time ago, so it felt weird to try and avoid each other the night before the wedding and the morning in your own apartment. So, you and your future husband, as well as your small wedding party, had booked a few rooms in a hotel near the church.

You both had your respective ‘last hurrah’ a few weeks prior, so there was really nothing to do after the rehearsal dinner other than head to your room and relax, waiting for your alarm to go off to start getting ready.

You had decided to take it easy, enjoying a glass of wine after what you deemed to be an ‘everything’ shower, taking all the necessary precautions to feel like your best self on your wedding day. You had even bought yourself a nice silk pajama set, white, just like your rehearsal dress, and just like your wedding dress.

Your wedding dress hung freshly steamed in the closet of the hotel room, your shoes placed neatly beneath it. Your jewelry and accessories were laid out neatly on the dresser across from the bed. Your wedding ring sat in a box, inscribed with your husband’s name on it. He sat next to it, your name in braille on the inside of the ring.

In the morning, your mom, your sister, Karen, Marci and the woman who had been doing your hair and makeup for every major life event would be there, coffee in Karen’s hands, as your soon to be husband and his best friend got ready together, reminiscing on how they had landed themselves here.

Everything was perfectly set in place. Your job now was to just get married, and really, how hard could that be?

So, with your wine, you tuck yourself into bed with full intentions of getting a good night’s rest in your silky bridal pajamas.

Except, your job was almost done. There were no more seating arrangements to make, no one else to chase after for an RSVP, no more fittings, and no more menus to create to adhere to you and your soon to be husband’s particular tastes.

So, for the first time in weeks, you weren’t stressed at all.. Which left you with one conclusion:

You missed Matt.

You had seen him a few hours ago for the rehearsal dinner, but you were suddenly left with the conclusion that you were aching for the man you’d spend the rest of your life with.

Before you realized what you were doing, you were calling him.

On the second ring, he answered.

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?”

“Hi. Everything’s great.”

A pause.

“Okay, do you want to talk about anything..?”

“There’s nothing else to do, Matty!” You’re out of bed and pacing now. “I’m stress free, and I can’t even be with you!”

You hear his laugh from the other side of the line, and it makes your heart flutter.

“We have the rest of our lives to spend the night together, baby.” He must have had a drink or two like you, because ‘baby’ is his tipsy nickname for you.

“I know, but I miss you now. And I’m hungry.” You tell him.

“Do you want to come over, order room service, and make out?”  He grins. “You just have to leave before midnight, it’s bad luck to see the bride the day of the wedding.”

You’re putting on your slippers when you pause and consider this for a minute.

“Matt, You’re blind.”

“And you’re deaf, don’t forget your hearing aids, baby.”

“How drunk are you right now? How would I be talking to you if I didn’t have them in right now?” You question.

A pause.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” His voice is softer now, and before you know it, you’re out the door and walking down the hallway.

He opens the door before you can knock, because of all the men in New York, you’ve landed the one with heightened abilities.

“Hi.” You grin, but he doesn’t respond. He simply leans down and picks you up bridal style, much to your objection. He kicks the door behind him closed before he carries you to the bed. He lays you down on it, finding himself on top of you.

“Silk?” He asks gently, his hand on your side.

“Mhm. Bridal pajamas.” You giggle. He just grins and leans in to kiss you. He pulls away from the kiss only to move to your jaw, and then down your neck. “Matthew, I want to order room service, I’m starved!”

His hands find their way underneath your top, his fingers beginning to creep up your skin.

“Me too. Been planning so much, I’ve hardly had the chance to be with you.. To touch you like this.”

You hum softly, but then your stomach rumbles loudly. So, when He lands on his knees in front of you and pulls you forward so that his head is between your thighs, he takes a second to lean over, searching for the room service menu before handing it to you, as well as the phone.

“What looks good, baby?” He asks, leaning his cheek against your thigh. Your pajama bottoms are shorts, so his warm cheek is a sharp contrast to your skin.

“What are you up to, Murdock?” You ask suspiciously, sitting up to look at the menu.

“Nothing, what kind of desserts do they have on there?”

What a weird, secretive man your future husband is.

“Uh, they have a crème brulee, apple pie, angel cake with chocolate ganache frosting—”

“Oo, can you order me one of those?” he asks, starting to kiss your thighs. Your face flushes.

“Sure, But I’m also gonna order the chocolate covered strawberries and the brownie al a mode—”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He hums, “You just have to order it for me.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, but you go to dial the number for room service.

The woman on the other end of the phone is very nice.

As she begins to talk, Matt listens in, but mainly focuses on pulling down your shorts and panties, kissing along your thighs.

Your free hand goes to his hair to try and keep him from eating you out while you order room service, but he is a persistent man.

His lips meet your clit first, and he listens as you gasp, trying to finish the order that he had so kindly requested you to make. His tongue meets your folds, finally satiating the hunger he had for weeks leading up to this.

Your fingers grip his hair, only making him quicken his pace.

“Can I also get uhm—” You can barely think straight. “The uh, Fuck—” Matt’s nose rubs against your clit, his tongue moving at a devastating pace.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” The woman on the other line asks.

“Yeah, Sorry, stubbed my toe on the dresser,” You explain. Matt grins from his place between your thighs. His tongue drags up and down, as if he’s licking every inch of you, like maybe he’ll never be able to taste you again. “The angel cake, can we get two slices of that?” You ask, your fiancé’s pace increasing.

“Yeah, of course. Anything else?”

Matt takes only a moment to stop his assault on your pussy, to add, “The strawberries, baby,” before continuing to lap his tongue against your wet heat.

“The chocolate covered strawberries, and that’s it,” You finish.

“Alright, we have the brownie, the strawberries, and the cake..” She finishes. “What room?”

“Two twenty six,” You tell her. You roll your hips up to try and get more from Matt, but one hand leaves his grip on your thigh to hold your hips down. He knows you’re close, he always knows.

“Oh, are you the bride for tomorrow?” She asks.

This god damn wedding.

“Mhm,” You manage out, biting your lip to try and stop yourself from moaning.

“Congratulations!” She chirps, “Consider the room service complimentary, then,” She gifts.

“Thank you, very much.” You hum.

Matt stops his assault again.

“Ask her how long,” and then he’s back to tasting you, relentlessly.

“How long?” You ask, breathlessly.

“Should only be about ten, fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, thank you,” You say again, your grip on Matt’s hair tightening as you edge closer to your orgasm.

“Of course! Have a very happy wedding day!” And with that, she hangs up, and you toss the phone in the general direction of the machine.

“I’m gonna kill you,” You tell Matt, who stops quickly.

“Do you want to kill me, or do you want me to make you cum?” He asks. He looks really pretty between your thighs.

“Please, Matty..” You give in, and he smirks.

“That’s my good girl.” And he continues to suck your clit, edging you closer and closer. His pace quickens, somehow even more. You let out a soft moan that sounds like absolute heaven to Matt’s ears.

Your thighs are starting to shake because you’re so damn close. Matt keeps his licks consistent, waiting for your release. Your fingers tug on his hair, as you moan, finally hitting your release. He lets you ride out your high, licking all your cum up, making sure to suck up every last drop.

“So sweet and so good for me..” he hums, planting a soft kiss to your clit before pulling away, licking his lips.

“You’re such a dick..” You giggle.

He laughs, kissing your thigh.

“Did so well for me, Sweetheart..” He hums, leaning up to give you a soft kiss. When he pulls away, he slips your shorts back on, and looks like he has a new idea. “Ten to fifteen minutes, huh?”

“Mhm..” You’re just looking at him with such adoration.

“We could probably put that pretty mouth to good use while we wait, right?”

[leqonsluv3r]

please read❗️

so as you all know, i haven’t been as active on here in the past couple of months.

here is why; it all started when we first moved into our apartment four months or so ago. the first week we moved in we have had issues with our downstairs neighbor. he has made our life a living hell basically and has complained to management about us a number of times. to preface, we have done nothing wrong. we always keep our noise to a minimum and our dogs never really bark unless they’re scared or playing. but that is besides the point, we got a number of complaints and were given a notice to not let our dogs dedicate on the sidewalk or bark (which was never really a problem to begin with but we complied).

cue those days that go buy, i get a knock on the door after i come home from work.

its an eviction notice.

instantly, im panicked and my mom is panicked. we don’t have money for this, we cant afford a mover or to move again. we just moved. these are all very real thoughts that kept going through my head. my anxiety didn’t make it any better lol, but that was the realness of it. we didn’t have the money or time for that, we had just moved three months prior into this apartment.

so we decided to get a lawyer, the eviction notice gave us two weeks to move out. TWO WEEKS. thats so illegal, hence, the lawyer we got. also the reason they wanted us gone was for our dog peeing on the sidewalk and barking excessively during quiet hours. which, keep in mind, neither has happened at all.

we got a court date after the two weeks, consulted a lawyer. BUT JUST WHEN YOU THINK IT CANT GET ANY FUCKING WORSE.

my mom looses her job, which….is more added stress on top of everything else we have going on. i only make so much and rent where i live is fucking astronomical and almost impossible to pay. hence, why im on here…i hate to be one of these people and i never thought i would have to make one of these, much less post it to my writing blog where i write leon smut lmao. but…i started a go fund me and it’s linked below. if you would like to help out even by a couple dollars…that would be great. even reblogging and sharing.

my mom is applying for foodstamps but we still need to pay for rent and other bills, its all on me and i don’t have all the money myself to do it. so any help at all is appreciated.

i just need all the help i can get right now and i hate asking for it but…

i really need it.

thank you, i love you all. ❤️



[hwangism143]

dim lights (work nights)

synopsis: work party. seungmin is a suit. a glass of wine. oh, you are so done.

pairing: lawyer!seungmin x fem!reader

genre: workplace romance, fluff, teensy angst

warnings: drinking, punching jokes, swearing

word count: 1.2k words

a/n: been in my drafts for like a week hehe. suit seungmin has me screaming. anyways, enjoy and pls drop any and all feedback!

"I'll be charging ten dollars to punch him in the face, upon your generous request," murmured a low voice tantalizingly close to your ear.

You scoffed, "The things I want to do to Davies go far beyond a modest punch to the face. Those things could get me in jail."

One arm across your waist and the other's elbow propped upon your hand, you turned to face the owner of the honeyed voice that just offered you an extremely lucrative deal moments. Swirling around the remaining wine in your wine glass, you studied Kim Seungmin as he studied you.

"In that case," Seungmin sighed, "You'll have to pay my legal consultancy fees which, I'm afraid is far higher."

A laugh bubbled from your lips as Seungmin smirked at your rage. Watching one of the many people you were currently pitted against for a promotion kissing up to your boss made anger blossom within you. Then again, you weren't exactly known for being the most level-headed lawyer employed at the Prescott, Park and Daley Legal Firm.

But you, along with Seungmin, were known for being the best.

You offered Seungmin eyes that reflected betrayal. "I thought you would bail me out for free. I thought we were friends," you chastised.

"We most definitely are not friends, darling," said Seungmin smugly.

A smirk was forming on his lips and an eyebrow was ticked up. You felt yourself being stripped bare under his piercing gaze and flirtatious smile. Oh how he loved torturing you.

You caught your lip between your teeth to drink him in, deciding to conveniently ignore the fact that your teeth were currently in the process of being stained by your dark red lipstick. Seungmin's hair was styled to perfection, his skin was glowing and his eyes stayed on you as if you were a person he wished to learn every fold of. His three-piece suit was tailored to perfection and hugged his body perfectly.

You looked away and hoped he attributed your flushed face to the wine you were drinking. He was right though. You and Seungmin were not friends, not in the conventional sense. It was more of a situation where being paired up so much over the seven years that you spent at the firm caused to the two of you to become comfortable in each other's presence.

Both you having graduated top of your class from law school (you went to Harvard Law while Seungmin opted for Princeton), you both joined the law firm at the same time, full of dreams and aspirations. At first, you both considered one another as rivals. Constantly being compared truly made you inhibit a sort of begrudging sense of dislike towards him.

However, working your first together, truly made you realize how he was actually a very caring person. Seungmin constantly knew what to say to you without even saying anything. He brought you food and made you ramen after he found out your extreme affection towards the Korean delicacy.

You and Seungmin, however, came from strikingly different backgrounds. Seungmin lived comfortably and had a wealthy upbringing, which caused people to often underestimate his hard work. You went to school on an eighty percent scholarship but still worked three jobs to pay of your student loan, causing people to often very offensively doubt your etiquette.

You heard the rumors about rich kid Seungmin during your initial weeks at the firm. Allegedly (you are a lawyer, of course you use the word allegedly more than any other word over), he lived in a high rise apartment with so many floors that a helicopter, a fucking helicopter,crashed into the side of it.

You took extreme pride in being the only one to know that this was, in fact, true, as confirmed by the man himself.

Forcing your eyes to go back to Seungmin, your gaze sat on the horrendous lump which he called his 'tie'.

"It's on wrong," you remarked, motioning towards Seungmin's tie. He gave you shrug. "Fix it for me?"

You set down your now empty glass on the sleek granite table and the private restaurant lounge your colleagues and high playing clients were currently in. The low jazz music and soft lighting gave the entire room an ambience of romance. This was only heightened by Seungmin's sudden desire to covertly flirt with you.

Reaching around his neck to undo his tie, you never broke eye contact with him. You could feel his gaze start from your eyes and trail all the way down to your black stilettoes. He had a faint smile on his face. So he likes what he sees?

Finishing with a scoff, you send him away with a pat on his arm in a futile attempt to diffuse the tiny fireworks that were popping all over your body. Seungmin disappeared into the crowd to socialize, leaving you his scent surrounding your very being.

Grabbing another drink (a mojito), you walked over to the table where Seungmin's paralegal, Hyunjin, sat scrolling on his phone. Both of you being ambiverts who leaned more towards the introverted side, you both often found yourself sitting at the quiet people table in silence.

You could see Hyunjin's welcoming eyes move from you to somewhere behind you, morphing into one of distaste. You followed his line of sight to find your paralegal, Yeji, downing shots like her life depended on it. Although Hyunjin loved his cousin, he wouldn't be caught dead doing the things she did.

"You're painfully fond of him," started Hyunjin in mock annoyance, "It's disgusting."

You rolled your eyes at him and gave him a light slip. Hyunjin dramatically feigned pain and pushed a plate of food towards you. Your stomach rumbling as if on cue, you pounced on the food and relished it. That was one good thing about these corporate meetings; they had free food, at least as far as girl logic went.

Finishing up with a satisfied sigh, you looked up only to lock eyes with a notorious Mr. Peterson, a heavily disliked client who loved hitting on women. The bartender, Chan, offered you a sympathetic smile and slid you a shot of tequila.

"You're gonna need it," he said pitifully, patting your hand twice for reassurance.

Suppressing the urge to slap the now emerging Mr. Peterson and plastering on a fake smile, you turned to face the cause of your sorrow. The short, balding man's attempt at making any nonsensical, non-professional conversation was shot down by you quickly. You waved around your hand around, hoping he would take note of the large diamond ring that sat nestled in you finger.

You hoped he would take the hint about your marital status. You were loyal to your husband to a fault. Behind you, a Kim Seungmin watched you in amusement. You felt both sadness and anger seep into you. Sadness because he wasn't near you and anger because you were left alone to deal with a human shaped insolence.

Finally escaping from the clutches of Mr. Peterson grubby hands, you put your head down on the cold marble slab. Your hands held your heels and your head was already pounding from the effects of alcohol. Behind you, you heard a laugh that you knew unmistakable belonged to Seungmin. Turning around, you came face to face with a seemingly put together and knowingly exhausted Seungmin.

"Working hours are over," you said wearily.

"So?" came Seungmin's dry response.

You held your arms up like a child. "So, would you like to carry your extremely drunk yet adorably lovable wife home?"

Seungmin pressed a kiss to your forehead and duly obliged.

main taglist (reply to be added) - @linoalwaysknows

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love and Liabilities (Agatha Harkness x FemReader): Chapter One

Summary: While you attend a pretrial conference for your current case, you’re stunned to learn your opposing council is your former ex…and law school professor, Agatha Harkness

Word Count: 4.7k

Tags: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Smut, Light Choking, Light Degradation Kink, Mommy Kink, Hate Sex

A/N: Hi :) This idea has been bouncing around my brain since the promo pics came out. Lawyer Agatha, the gift we all need for the new year. This is my first real attempt at writing smut, but I hope y’all enjoy. Updates will be around every 2 weeks. If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please let me know. Feel free to let me know what you think! 💜 Also a special shout-out to my sweet girlfriend, Sarah, thank you for always listening to my crazy ideas.

Smoothing out a wrinkle from your pantsuit, you looked over your case materials from outside the courtroom. It had been almost a decade since you graduated law school, and you’d spent the time since working in corporate law as a junior attorney, before leaving the firm and working your way up as a top prosecutor. To say you were married to your job would be an understatement. It wasn’t enough to be good, you simply had to be the best. You’d always pride yourself on your ability to dig deep in a case and pull out missing details, or find a crack in a seemingly perfect alibi. You were ruthless, but you knew you had to be. The defense attorneys you found yourself battling in court were absolute sharks, and if they sensed an ounce of hesitation on your end it would be a total bloodbath.

Dealing with criminal defense cases was as interesting as it sounded, although it wasn’t what you envisioned you’d be doing after law school. You had different dreams back then, more altruistic visions of helping those who needed it. Closing your eyes, you saw a brief flash of the strikingly blue eyes and dark hair that caused you to change your choice of career, before you quickly shook those thoughts aside. It had been almost ten years since you’d allowed yourself to think about her- about any of it, and it wouldn’t benefit you to take a stroll down memory lane before the biggest case of your career.

A law clerk eventually came by to inform you the judge was ready for you. This was it. Gathering your materials, you walked through the details again in your mind. Pre-trial conferences were relatively helpful when trying to reach a plea bargain, review evidence, as well as decide what to present to the jury. There was no doubt in your mind that this case would go to trial. After all, a woman who kidnaps two children and takes them to a small town in New Jersey didn’t leave much to plead innocent from. What was the name of it, Westchester? Westmont? No, no, you mentally crossed those out, until the name finally came to mind…Westview. Westview, New Jersey.

The room was relatively empty, and you recognized the judge, Carol Danvers. She had a reputation for being rather uptight, but was typically fair in her rulings. She’d moved up through various circuit courts throughout her career, and you’d heard rumblings she was being eyed for a potential Supreme Court nomination. Setting your briefcase on the empty chair next to you, you thought of any possible hiccups from the defense. Supposedly a brief psych evaluation had been done after the incident to rule anything out, so they wouldn’t try and plead insanity, right? You couldn’t see Carol ruling in favor of that. There was the small problem of genetics; the woman was the boys’ birth mother. But, you’d looked over the adoption contracts, as had your colleagues, and they were airtight. It had been a closed adoption, and from what you could tell there had been no contact for over a decade. Plus, with solid testimonies from both families and multiple eyewitnesses you weren’t worried of whatever argument the defense would make in her favor.

Speaking of the defense, you quickly realized the defense attorney hadn’t arrived yet, which was a bit unusual. Racking your brain, you tried to remember the name of the attorney Yelena said was leading the case, but no one came to mind. Pepper Potts perhaps? Carol also appeared to notice the lack of the second attorney, as she whispered with one of the law clerks. You could barely make out what they were saying, but she sounded annoyed. But, no matter, you knew this had absolutely no impact on you.

Carol finally sighed in defeat at whatever the law clerk told her, something about hitting a fire hydrant? “Well, as we’re waiting on the defense to resolve their…tardiness, will the prosecution step forward?”

Standing up, you grabbed a copy of your materials, evidence, testimonies, anything the judge would need, before taking a step towards the judge. “Your honor, the state of New York is ready to move forward with our case. You’ll find sufficient evidence to dismiss any plea deal, as well as ensure we can schedule a trial date.”

Handing the papers to the judge, you watched as she flipped through them, an unreadable expression on her face. Minutes passed before she looked up at you. “The prosecution is dismissing the plea deal being proposed by the defense?”

Nodding, you recalled the deal that had been sent over to your office. It was preposterous, and was heavily dependent on the mental state of the defendant, or rather the lack of mental state of the defendant. “Yes, your honor. The state has inculpatory evidence to convict the defendant, as well as a number of witnesses willing to testify.”

A voice you’d only heard in your dreams for the past decade spoke up, and you nearly froze in place. “Inculpatory evidence? That’s a rather bold claim, I’d call it circumstantial at best.”

It couldn’t be. Paralyzed, you forced yourself to ignore it, to ignore her and keep your eyes locked forward. It couldn’t possibly be her, you would have remembered hearing her name as the defense attorney. Clearing your throat, you continued, trying to keep yourself calm. “With all due respect, your honor, the typical procedure for a case involving the abduction of a minor is what we’re basing this precedent on-”

An obnoxiously loud cackle cut you off, and nearly made you whip your head around in annoyance. The slow clacking of heels echoed throughout the room, followed by the faint scent of Burberry that invaded your senses. Brief flashes of lecture halls and late night office hour visits intertwined with the smell of cigars and expensive whiskey. Lengthy, heated arguments over the moral justification of various Supreme Court rulings whilst being undressed and pressed against the door. Diamond jewelry and lavish bouquets being delivered to your modest law school apartment as you sheepishly explained to your roommates you were seeing an older woman. Secret rendezvous in dimly lit piano bars in Manhattan which would end in a king size bed in a penthouse you could never dream of affording.

It all led back to the same thought, the same woman you’d done your best to let go of. The very same woman you currently found yourself standing face to face with. Agatha Harkness. Clever blue eyes met yours, and a slow smirk painted her perfect red lips. She hadn’t changed much over the past decade. Her dark hair, now peppered with some gray, was pinned back with a few loose strands framing her face, and you briefly thought of how well it suited her. The fitted black pantsuit which accentuated her features, and black heels that made her look deceptively tall as she towered over you.

For a moment it was as if no time had passed at all, and you were back in her lecture hall. But as quickly as that oddly nostalgic feeling overcame you like a tidal wave, it swept away, leaving you with the reality of the situation. Clearing your throat, you looked past Agatha, keeping your focus on Judge Danvers. “As I was saying. While looking at prior cases involving the abduction of a minor we were able to set a precedent that-”

Agatha let out another cackle, and it took everything in you to not roll your eyes. However it appeared Carol was at the end of her rope with patience, as she banged her gavel twice. “Does the defense have something they wish to share with the rest of us?”

“Your honor,” Agatha drawled out, her voice sweet like honey, “The prosecution is making bold assumptions on precedents that do not directly follow the evidence of this particular case. To rule anything otherwise would be direct defamation to my client.”

“Defamation?” You all but hissed, momentarily forgetting you were in the middle of a courtroom. The answering smirk Agatha gave you only fuelled your fire. “Your honor, the defense is all but negating the direct evidence of the defendant’s guilt. We would like to proceed to trial while throwing out the plea deal.”

Agatha’s shark tooth grin widened, and you had a sneaking suspicion she was baiting you to get a reaction. Typical, as she always prided herself on being ten steps ahead of her opponent. Taking a deep breath, you regained your calm composure. It would do you no good to allow your emotions to take over. That would merely ensure Agatha to have one more victory over you, one more thing she would take away from you. But things were different this time, you weren’t some feeble, naive law student fawning over her professor. The playing field was finally leveled, and it was about time she realized that.

Unfortunately, you forgot Agatha never played fair. You curiously watched her grab two folders from her briefcase, all but tossing one at you whilst handing Carol the other. “While we’re discussing the plea deal your honor, I’ve included additional information regarding my client’s psychiatric evaluation.”

Practically tearing the folder open, your eyes scanned the lengthy documents before landing on something that nearly made you fall over. Before you could get a word in, Agatha continued on. “Due to our country’s ever failing healthcare and medical practices, my client has been unable to receive a proper psychiatric evaluation. Your honor, I am requesting a continuance to this trial until my client can get the help she needs.”

Carol’s focus remained on the papers, an inscrutable expression coloring her features. “I’m granting a one month continuance for the defendant, Wanda Maximoff, to be given a psychiatric evaluation. As long as Miss Maximoff follows the terms of her probation and doesn’t leave the state of New York, we’ll resume this conference one month from today. Thank you to the prosecution and defense, you’re dismissed.”

Not wanting to see the smug smirk on Agatha’s face, you packed up your materials, including the folder Agatha gave you, and did your best to hurry out of the courtroom. It was foolish to think you’d beat Agatha at the game she taught you to play. That’s what it always was to Agatha, a game. It was like everyone around her was playing checkers while she was constructing the most elaborate game of chess known to man. All while she moved you around as whatever piece she desired; because that’s how she viewed you, as an object she could twist and mold to her liking until you outlived your usefulness.

Ignoring the familiar sound of her heels approaching, you drafted a quick email to one of your colleagues with the news of the trial being halted before going to order your Uber. You didn’t have to look up to know Agatha was standing in front of you, because that was just part of her intricate plan. She surely knew you were furious, because of course she did. Hadn’t she once told you she knew everything? At the time you thought it was a cheeky remark to make you laugh, but looking back you came to terms with the fact that the only person Agatha Harkness could ever care for was herself.

You were growing weary of the rising tension, so you finally broke the silence, keeping your eyes locked on your phone. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m not sure,” Agatha replied, and although you weren’t looking at her you could practically feel her gaze burning into you. “I never took you for a sore loser, dear.”

There it was, she was trying to get her claws back in you. Keeping your tone even, you checked on the status of your Uber. “I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to. I’m just doing my job.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, your phone was ripped from your hands. “Hey!” You exclaimed, angrily whipping your head up and your eyes narrowed, meeting the deep blue eyes you used to get lost in. “Give me back my phone.”

“Checking for your ride?” Agatha mocked, arching an eyebrow up at you. “Is that more interesting than talking to me?”

“Watching paint dry would be more interesting than speaking with you,” You retorted, your discomfort quickly growing.

“Now darling, is that any way to speak to me?” Agatha teased, her voice gradually dropping in volume. “It’s been so long.”

Glaring at her, you tried to pry your phone from her hands, but she put it in her back pocket. “And whose fault is that again?” Your voice was laced with venom, you subconsciously wanted to make her feel as badly as you had. “Should we take a stroll down memory lane and recall what caused this?”

Agatha’s gaze hardened at that jab, and you momentarily wondered if you pushed too hard. “I’m surprised you’re leading this case. I thought you wanted to,” she paused and used air quotes, “‘help the voiceless’, not strangle them.”

“How dare you,” You seethed, not caring that your voice was growing in volume. “I’m just doing my job, Agatha. Besides, isn’t strangling the helpless what you do best?”

Agatha tilted her head back, and let out another cackle. “Doing your job? You’re trying to imprison an innocent mother.”

“Your innocent mother kidnapped two minors and took them over state lines,” You fired back, vaguely aware that Agatha was taking small, slow steps towards you.

“She’s still their mother,” Agatha pointed out and you felt your face grow red from rage.

“Regardless of DNA, it was a closed adoption. She waived her parental rights,” You argued, unaware of anything but the infuriating woman standing in front of you. “Surely you’ve been practicing long enough to know how to read a contract.”

“And I thought I taught you to read between the lines of said contracts,” Agatha countered, and you knew she was testing your argument, it’s what she always did. “Things aren’t always black and white, dear.”

No they weren’t, you silently agreed. By this point your back was to the wall of the deserted corridor, Agatha still towering over you. Your faces were practically touching, and you could practically taste her lips. Both of you were panting from the exertion of bickering, and it wouldn’t take much to close the distance. She was so close, closer than she had been to you in so long. Having her back in your orbit, taking over all of your senses, made you forget the reasons you were so angry with her. Instead, it made you remember how many other times you had found yourself in this exact same position.

You could feel your ironclad restraint begin to slip away, and Agatha appeared to notice it as well. She let out a low chuckle as she turned her face to the side, her breath now hot against your ear, and allowing her to whisper, “Looks like it still doesn’t take much to get you riled up, does it?”

Shuddering, you struggled to get your breathing even, thinking of the many reasons why this was a horrible idea. Your history aside, you were on opposing sides of what would most likely be a very public case. It wasn’t just unprofessional to be doing this, it could potentially jeopardize your whole career. But it was hard to think about any of that when you locked eyes with the woman you had spent so much time trying to forget. Her right hand left your waist to push back the loose strands of your hair, tucking them behind your ear.

Each movement was slow, and delicate, and as her fingers slowly trailed down your neck, she gently squeezed, before gradually applying more pressure, and you had to physically restrain yourself from moaning. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs and had to close your eyes from the overwhelming sensation. Agatha’s lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open kisses on your flesh while her fingers began to move lower, cupping your left breast before slowly pinching your nipple. This time you couldn’t stop the quiet moan that left your lips, and Agatha quickly used her free hand to silence you, covering your mouth.

“You always had a problem being quiet,” Agatha murmured, lips still on your skin. “Let’s find somewhere more…secluded to continue this, hm?”

Feeling yourself nod, you opened your eyes and let out a pathetic whine as she let go of you. It didn’t take long to find an empty storage closet, and Agatha practically shoved you inside before slamming the door behind her.

Pressing you against the bare wall, her eyes scanned yours before asking, “Are you sure?”

Being with Agatha like this was the greatest euphoric high, and it always left you wanting more and more. It didn’t have to mean anything, and you certainly didn’t want it to. It was just two people working out their frustrations, right? You nodded again, grabbing her right hand and placing it back around your throat. “Are you going to choke me again or are you too much of a coward?”

She nearly growled at that, and squeezed, a little rougher this time. You pressed your face into her shoulder, trying to silence the noises you always made when she touched you. She had barely started but it was so good, and you didn’t hesitate when she used her free hand to try and remove your blazer. Taking a step back to take off your blouse and bra, you nearly tripped over some boxes, and her hands steadied you.

“Careful,” She lightly teased, eyes still dark from arousal. “I’m not nearly finished with you.”

Her hands skillfully unhooked your bra, carelessly tossing it to the side, before lowering her mouth to your breast, and lewdly sucked. As if she anticipated the noises you’d inevitably make, she roughly pressed two fingers in your open mouth for you to suck. Moaning around them, you eagerly sucked and sucked, thinking of where you wanted her fingers to go next. Agatha’s tongue swirled around your nipple, teasing it enough to make it go erect before using her teeth to pull. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, your last functioning brain cells wondering how she could still have this strong of an effect on you.

She let out a low hum, clearly enjoying this as much as you were before moving to your other breast, only this time she bit down, and the rush of pain and pleasure flooded you. Unable to cry out as she fucked her fingers further down your throat before adding a third, causing you to gag around them. Releasing your breast, Agatha panted out, “Look at how pathetic you are, sucking on my fingers like a good little slut. What a good girl.”

Whimpering around her fingers, you clenched at the filth spewing from her lips. You hated this, how easily she could flip the switch and have you dripping and wanting her to fuck you through the floorboards. Agatha cooed, using her free hand to gently stroke your face, and roughly pulled her fingers out of your mouth. She was face level again, and you watched the gears turn in her head as she weighed out what to do with you. That same free hand cupped your jaw, and she was so close, your brain buzzing from the endorphins. It was so good, you hated how good it was.

Her normally perfectly red lips were stained and parted slightly as she looked at you with an indecipherable stare, and you were still breathless from her earlier ministrations. Before you could fully comprehend what you were doing, you grabbed her hair and smashed your lips together. You swore you heard her groan, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and you had no time to contemplate it as you felt her tongue teasing the entrance of your mouth. It has been so long, so very long, but you fell back into the familiar dance you could never forget.

Everything Agatha did she dominated, for she had such a strong presence that was impossible to ignore. Just kissing her was enough to get you off, as her tongue expertly swirled around yours, sending you further and further from the edge of reality. You were so far gone you barely noticed her hands moving lower, and lower, until they were pawing at your ass. Groping and grabbing, she was insatiable as she conquered your mouth. You broke apart for merely a second and without speaking, you helped get rid of your pants, slightly stunned you were still this in sync after all this time.

But again, you had no time to ponder that thought as Agatha quickly slammed you against the wall, and you couldn’t help but moan at the pain. The same fingers you eagerly sucked on were now teasing your entrance, rubbing gentle, slow circles. Agatha’s breath was hot in your ear, and you whined, trying to thrust your hips up for more friction. You needed more, you needed her more than ever before. Going without for so long was fine, you’d nearly forgotten what it felt like, what she felt like; but the second you remembered you couldn’t bear a second without it.

“Someone’s awfully worked up,” Agatha taunted, her voice softly whispering in your ear. “Did you want something?”

“Agatha…” You breathed out, your voice nearly cracking. “Please…”

Her fingers teased your clit, and the sensation made you cry out, causing Agatha to silence you with yet another kiss. “Behave,” she murmured against your lips, “Do you want me inside you? Do you want me to fill that sweet little cunt?”

Mewling, you again tried to tilt your hips up, desperate to feel her inside you, but her other hand kept you in place. “Agatha, please, I…I need it, please fuck me.”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, “I know your brain just melts when that pussy gets wet, but we both know that’s not what you want to call me, is it?” Blushing, you tried to avert your eyes but it was impossible. She nipped at your lips before continuing. “Be a good girl and beg for it.”

“Mommy,” The words slipped past your lips and you felt another rush of heat between your legs while Agatha moaned.

“Good girl,” Agatha praised you, and before you could prepare yourself she roughly entered you with two fingers, filling you completely.

Her fingers were so long and so good, hitting the spots you had trouble reaching. You couldn’t help but clench around them, and she groaned in your ear. Wasting no time, she set a fast and hard rhythm, skillfully fucking you better than anyone else since her had been able to.

“I almost forgot how good your cunt feels around my fingers,” Agatha hissed, nibbling on your ear, “Suck me in, slut.”

Your hips met her fingers, and you desperately chased your orgasm. “Harder, please mommy fuck me harder.”

Putting all of her weight on you, Agatha swiftly added a third finger and you nearly squealed at how full you felt. Her fingers were so deep, and you were so close, so very close to the edge.

“Such a good whore for mommy,” Agatha cooed, and her voice was strained, you could tell she was close too. “Do you want to come on my fingers?”

“Mommy please,” You cried out, unable to focus on anything but wanting to feel her fingers make you come harder than you could ever remember.

Agatha’s hips rested against your knee, and she began riding your leg, chasing her own high. “Come for mommy, baby. Soak my fingers.”

Twisting her fingers and hitting your G-spot again, and again causing you to quickly unravel. Feeling your orgasm coming, you clenched around her fingers, needing her to stay inside you. Your knees buckled and you swore you saw stars, unable to speak as you silently cried out. Agatha came right as you did, grunting in your ear and roughly thrusting against your leg as she came undone.

“Fuck,” She panted, keeping her fingers inside you as you continued to twitched around them. “Good girl, such a good girl for mommy.”

Breathing heavily, you gradually felt yourself come back to Earth. You were drenched with sweat, and you were sure you looked positively debauched. Agatha was staring at you with yet another inscrutable expression on her face, and you felt yourself relaxing around her fingers as she slowly pulled out. You grabbed her hand, and lewdly cleaned her fingers off, watching her eyes darken once more as you made a point to swirl your tongue around them until they were clean.

As your brain fog cleared, you were all too aware of the uncomfortable silence growing around you. With every high that came with being with Agatha, it was almost always followed by an indescribable low. There were so many things you wanted to ask her, so many things you needed to know. Brief flashes of arguments and slamming doors. Dozens of unanswered calls, and late nights spent wondering what you had done wrong to deserve her random outbursts of anger. But with every argument, every heated fight, it would always end the same way; with Agatha pressing you against some surface and having her way with you.

There had been so much more going on at that point than you were aware of, and as the pieces slowly came together, she was too far gone for you to be able to help. You’d begged and pleaded with her, but it never mattered. What was it your therapist had said to you? You couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to help themselves. Letting go of her nearly killed you, and now you made the mistake of opening that door again, knowing how much more complicated it would be. You weren’t just her law student anymore, you were on opposing sides of a trial.

It appeared Agatha was having the same train of thought as you, for she wordlessly helped you find your clothes. In spite of her just being inside you, you made a point of turning around as you got dressed, as the air in the room seemed to drop and any of the warmth that had been there prior had disappeared. There was so much you wanted to say, yet simultaneously wanted to get as far away from her as you could.

Agatha finally broke the silence as she fixed her hair, and she was back to her usual condescending self. “You know you’re wrong pursuing this case, right? It’s not too late to back out.”

Rolling your eyes, you finally grabbed your phone from her back pocket and saw your Uber driver understandably canceled your ride. That would certainly tank your rating. You quickly ordered another before replying with, “You know this meant absolutely nothing to me, right?”

Pushing past her to exit the room, she let out another cackle, the sound like grating nails on a chalkboard in your ears. You knew she wouldn’t follow you, and you were thankful for that. This was an indiscretion, a momentary lapse of judgment. You’ve been on edge with all the extra hours you’ve been working; you weren’t thinking clearly. The courthouse was still relatively empty, and you left the building, trying to get the thought of Agatha out of your mind. Why did she have to be so infuriating?

Your Uber eventually rolled up and as you got in you went to check your work email. It never failed to amaze you how quickly your inbox would fill up when you didn’t check it for more than five minutes. Scrolling through, you vaguely listened to the music your driver had in in the background, until a familiar song started playing. Frank Sinatra, a favorite artist of a certain attorney. The Way You Look Tonight had always been one of her favorites, and you could remember the last time you listened to it together.

Your mind absentmindedly drifted, the memories you’d tried to lock away slowly creeping back up to the surface. It seemed no matter how hard you tried to forget, she didn’t want you to. Settling into your seat, listening to Frank Sinatra, you thought back to the first time you met Agatha, or rather, how you met Professor Harkness.

[rxqueenotd]

VINCENT RENZI NSFW ALPHABET?

Your wish is my command:

CW: HIGHLY NSFW

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare with Vincent includes smoking a cigarette, naked, of course, in bed and touching various parts of your body. A stroke across your bare stomach, kisses along your fingertips. He loves to touch and admire you and he loves the vulnerability of the moment.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Vincent loves his hair. He may not admit it, but he very much enjoys running a hand through his locks and likes the attention his hair garners. He knows all about his status as “hot lawyer.”

It’s a tie between your eyes and your hands. He likes being able to look into your eyes when he’s fucking you, and also loves sharing a look with you where no words need to be spoken. But your hands, more specifically your fingers, Vincent loves them. He will often lick your fingertips during sex and guide them to your swollen clit. He also loves guiding your hand to wrap around his base as he slides in and out of you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

The first time you beg Vincent to cum inside of you, it unlocks something primal inside of him. He makes sure to fuck into you deeply when he cums, often saying afterwards, “I like when you walk around with part of me inside of you.”

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Vincent loves to fuck you when you’re on your period. He would lay a towel down and gently unfold your legs, parting your folds with a single, velvety fingertip. You were self conscious, at first, because no other man would touch you during your time of the month previously. Vincent quickly shatters any memory of anyone before him when he rubs your clit in gentle circles, working you through a sweet, effortless orgasm. He watches you closely throughout the day and any time you complain of cramps, he is quick to slide his hand in your panties or bend you over a countertop to help alleviate your discomfort.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Vincent has plenty of experience in the bedroom, and loves to take the lead. However, he pays close attention to what gets you off the best, and becomes really in tune with your pleasure within weeks of sleeping with him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He specifically loves being on top, hovering closely over you to watch your facial expressions contort and change as he makes you cum in an effortless succession. But he also loves fucking you from behind. He loves to watch the way your pussy grips him and sucks him in.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Depending on the setting, he is mostly serious. Always kissing, licking, sucking, and biting. He is more apt to be goofy if you’re fucking in a semi-public setting or in the car. He is also very humorous when you come to his office for a quick fuck.

“Mademoiselle, I take my job very seriously.” He would say with his usual smirk as you’re peeling his robes off of him.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Vincent is well groomed. He has a thatch of dark, curly hair that curls around his shaft.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

This man is the picture of intimacy. He would hold your face and kiss you, murmuring words of endearment in French, fucking you deeply and slowly. He loves to worship you and will often praise you for how well you take him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Vincent will mainly only jack off in the shower to relieve tension. When you figure this out, you slyly join him in the shower, urging him to continue, dropping to your knees to watch the way he strokes himself. When the first spurts of his cum hit your face, he groans out, clawing at the tile wall. When he’s done, he carefully scoops a glob off your cheek and into your happily waiting mouth. You suck his fingers greedily and he smiles broadly at how compliant and filthy you are for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Vincent 100% has a breeding kink. He loves the idea of seeing you pregnant with his child and the thought eggs him on every time he fucks you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom, his office. He is specifically fond of the memory of fucking you in his childhood bed after he took you to meet his mother and stepfather.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything: a look, a touch, specifically what you’re wearing or how you smell. When you’re debating particular details of a case and you outsmart him. He is turned on in equal measure by your brains and your beauty.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Choking or slapping you. Even when you ask for it, he refuses. He doesn’t want to disrespect you, even when you beg him to.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves giving- watching the way your chest rises and falls, the feel of your thighs around his head. The man knows his way around a pussy and absolutely loves eating you and reducing you to a teary eyed mess. But he also loves receiving. Lazing back in a chair while you go down on him. Watching the way your cheeks hollow as you take him deeply into your mouth, swallowing around his length. He loves to bunch your hair around his fists, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs, praising you between moans and groans.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Once again, this depends on the mood. He loves fucking you first thing in the morning, slow and deep. He also loves bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking you mercilessly from behind as you make dinner.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are more apt to happen if he’s taken on a tough case. Vincent is a workaholic and when he’s immersed in a case, he is rarely home. You often surprise him at his office, letting him bend you over his desk for a quick fuck.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Vincent is game to experiment safely. Once again, he won’t slap, hit, or choke you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Vincent can bounce back pretty quickly. At the beginning of your relationship, you fucked up to three times a day. He loves to fuck you, to please you, and is usually down to fuck whenever you are. He loves to cum inside of you and keeping fucking you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Vincent was never big on toys, however, when he walked in on you using your vibrator on one of his late work nights, he fell apart. He quickly took over, fucking the toy in and out of you, hovering over your folds in pure ecstasy and admiration.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Vincent loves to tease you. Especially in public. He would whisper lude lamentations in French to you, hand always squeezing your thigh or side, gently pulling you back into him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Vincent is loud. He doesn’t care to moan, groan, or call out your name. A plethora of “ahs” and “ohs” typically fall out of his mouth. Especially when he’s deep inside of you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Vincent has a fascination with your ass. From the first time he sees you, he immediately notices it. You’re curvier than what he’s used to having and the moment he first gets you undressed, his hands immediately are all on your ass- groping it, kneading it, spreading you apart. He spends a long amount of time eating you from behind just to be closer to your ass, biting it, kissing it, grazing his teeth along the swell. He just loves your ass.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Vincent is an average size but definitely knows how to work it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He is ready to go when you are. A lingering look, the slightest of touches, and he’s ready to go.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Vincent will typically light a cigarette and share it with you after sex. This man is used to running on no sleep, so it’s no surprise when he gets up to shower or stays awake longer to read a book with you curled into his side. He typically falls asleep late at night or early in the morning, no matter how tiring the sex may have been.

[viburnt]

Divorcing Izuku Midoriya Headcanons

I'm on a creative rush, and this may make zero sense because I'm tired lmao. Anyways, have some angst <3

Tagging the babes: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot @trickster-kat @angelshimaa (babe, you've missed some very angsty posts) @xhieru @mimisxs @dabislittlemouse

Content Warning: Divorce, emotional abuse and manipulation, mention of baby-trapping, alcohol.

• As I said in my last post, divorcing Izuku is a nightmare. Think about the most energy-draining and mental health deteriorating process, and multiply it for a minimum of 6 months. Izuku won't make things easy for you at all, trying to drag and prolong the whole ordeal just to keep you close. I've divided this set of headcanons by key moments/topics to keep some order. I hope you enjoy them, I'm pouring my heart on these (also pay attention to detail because I'm working on something hehe).

Denial and confusion: the first days after you serve him papers

• Izuku genuinely doesn't understand why you want to leave, refusing to accept the fact that you're not happy being by his side. He's given you all there is to give: a comfortable house, nice clothes, expensive cars, etc. So when you serve him papers, Izuku's first reaction is confusion followed by fear. In that head of his, he's made everything a good husband has to do! So why? Why would you not be happy?

• If you were smart enough and planned your movements with care, you should be able to go through your divorce without depending financially on Izuku or having to live in the same place. You'd have to deal with his incessant calls and texts, often having to block unknown numbers to avoid hearing his whines, but it'd be less difficult. If you weren't thoughtful about the situation and proceeded without the right steps, oh, you're in for a treat: there's nowhere you can go besides the house you shared with him, no place where you can be at peace. You're at Izuku's mercy, like it or not, but that's another story.

• In addition to his denial, Izuku starts to (unconsciously) guilt trip you. Phrases like "Sorry for not being enough," and "I know I'm very pathetic" become frequent. It pains your heart to hear those things because you know Izuku loves you, you are just not compatible at all. You try to let him see it's not about being enough, it's more about effort; with much patience, you set things clear to avoid any misunderstandings, but Izuku just doesn't get it.

• "Haven't I done this or that for you? Didn't I buy you all these things? Am I not enough?" "Izuku, I didn't ask you for any of this, all I wanted was my husband..." Conversations like this occur during this phase, and they can only be held through the phone (when he is sober and not yelling/hollering how much of a mistake a divorce would be). He tries to gauge sympathy from you, telling you that his job is important but that he loves you so much!

• He becomes an empty shell of the bright ray of sunshine the public knew. It goes unnoticed by many, but the people who work around him can tell. It is then when he starts telling others about his marital situation, and you end up seeing faces you've met once or twice during galas or hero events. You "accidentally" stumble across your husband's colleagues, like Ochako, who try to convince you to give him a second chance. "I- I know we don't know each other a lot but please, consider it. Izuku is a great guy a-and I'm sure you guys could fix any problem!" It is embarrassing for you because no one wants people to know their issues.

• What's so ironic about the moment when you serve him papers is that he receives them at his office, the very root of all the problems in your marriage. It was the place where he had spent anniversaries, birthdays, Valentine's... those four walls witnessed the beginning and the end of your relationship. Izuku has a mental breakdown when he finally reads the documents but, hey, he was still pro-hero Deku, right?

Negotiations and lawyers: The first weeks and months

• If having to deal with Izuku's colleagues trying to change your mind wasn't enough, be ready for your soon-to-be ex trying to negotiate. Midoriya suggests couple's therapy to talk this through, and for a split of second, it almost sounds like a good idea! But then you remember all those times when Izuku had promised you he'd be there for you and failed. It didn't seem plausible after that... Besides, all things considered, it'd be hard to find a therapist who could see your side of the story. Who would dare to tell someone as charming and popular as Izuku that he failed as a husband?

• Once therapy is off the table, Izuku brings up children. It may be considered a low blow, especially if one of your dreams was to form a family with him, so his offer felt cruel. "W-we can have kids! Wouldn't you want that? We can be a big family, with one- No, two babies!" "Ouch, it takes a divorce for you to even think about it, huh? That's uh, slightly concerning. Besides, a kid needs a father too... I'm not planning on being a single mom in this marriage" Now, Izuku strikes me as the kind that would try to . to stay. I'm sorry if it sounds terrible, but considering how sometimes he acts on impulse, he really could try it.

• Izuku also tries to be at home more often; he "cooks" (it's takeout disguised as home meals), brings you coffee to the bed, and calls you all kinds of sappy nicknames... It saddens you, why couldn't he care like that before? Of course, this point only applies if you still live with him during this whole process. If you don't, he starts frequenting the places where he guessed could find you: cafeterias, plazas, shops...

• Finding a lawyer for you was a hard task, especially because everyone sees you as a "dumb" woman who is trying to divorce Japan's number one hero. Not to mention they were very expensive, and Izuku was certainly not giving you money for that. You tell Izuku that mediations need to happen to progress with the divorce, but he never shows up to the meetings. There's always an excuse for that man! No matter how much you plea, he refuses to sign the paper. Izuku also becomes very mean towards you, outright berating you for not understanding him. It's gruesome to see him turn into such a monster during these months.

• As an additional point for this part, Izuku hires a private investigator to follow you around. He feels bad for thinking of it, but the idea that you could be seeing someone else while you're trying to divorce him eats him alive.

Last resort: Mediatic battle

• The media is very quick to pick up your marriage's fall down. Time after time you visited your lawyer's office for them to put two and two together, and Izuku takes that to his advantage. Sensationalist articles had already been happening, a lot of them being cruel and demeaning towards you. Titles like "Is she a cheater?" "No amount of success gives you the girl!" And "Pro-hero Deku will be looking for a new wife soon" started popping up. You have to take down any social platform to avoid being targeted.

• It is when Izuku gives a public declaration that things get worse. "I'm sorry, my wife is just not happy with me anymore. Please respect her wish! Don't harass her, I failed as a husband." It may seem like a hearty and sorrowful declaration from the outside, but Izuku picked word by word to gain sympathy and pressure you into changing your mind. People in the street call you "heartless", and the stress simply keeps growing for you.

• To put it in simple words, you were David against Goliath, except Goliath was a glorified person who had all the resources and support of the people. You were nothing but a tiny mouse squeaking to be set free of a relationship that was suffocating you.

The aftermath: Supposing you haven't given up and he signed the divorce papers

• If you somehow manage to divorce him after all these problems, congratulations. You survived 5% of the drama that awaits you! Now you won't be able to date someone without people snapping photos for entertainment news or judging you for leaving "such a great man". Izuku will still try to convince you to go back to him, playing his "sad lover" role in front of the cameras so well! He'll try to send expensive gifts and tell you to keep the house, he'll call you drunk in the middle of the night, and if you're not careful enough, he may try to gaslight you into thinking nothing wrong was happening in your marriage.

• One particular thing I must mention is that Izuku only signed the papers after you yelled at him at one of the legal mediations, hot embarrassment tears falling from your tired eyes as you begged him to let you go.

• Anyways, the list could go on, but those are the main points of divorcing Izuku :')

"Please, just sign the papers..." You said through the phone, your voice tired of pleading to someone who simply refused to hear you. "I will, I will! I'm just a little under the snow with work. Can you reschedule?" Izuku said, apologizing for not being there for you. Excusing himself for failing you, but refusing to let go. "You know how many articles I've seen with my face saying how much of bitch I am for visiting my lawyer's office?"

Izuku's silence was deafening, you could only hear him sigh slightly, perhaps feeling bad for putting you in such a position. "I don't want this divorce."

"But I do, so don't make things more difficult for me, please." He heard you say, biting his lip to hold back the tears. Izuku was glad you couldn't see him, sitting alone in his office with a half-empty bottle of wine you'd gifted him for his birthday. "Do you remember what day is today?" He asked.

"I don't know, Monday? I haven't slept lately." You answered unamused. "It's our anniversary... we married 5 years ago, on this very day." His words came out as a slow slur, his breath hitching as he crumbled through the phone. "I miss you a lot, please-"

"I'll see you on Wednesday, if you're not there I swear to God..."

...

"Mr. Midoriya?" Your lawyer called, her voice bringing your anxious husband back to reality. "Ah, sorry, it's me. Is... is she in there?" He asked, pointing at her office. She just looked at him with little sympathy and nodded. "On time, as always. Maybe you should avoid keeping her waiting, that's the least you could considering how many times we've had these conversations."

"There's no way I can fix this, is there?" Izuku asked as if the lawyer cared. "Wanna do something nice for her? Divorce her."

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (13)

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, past break-up, arguments, daddy Dean, angry reader, Mary being a bitch

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Designed by pain (12)

“Did you pack everything, Michael?” You lovingly run your hand over your son’s head. Moving back to the States won’t be easy. It will be a hard piece of work to leave your old life yet again.

Nothing is ever easy with Dean Winchester in your life. He’s like a tornado coming into your life to turn everything upside down.

“Can we stay with Dad and Uncle Sammy? Dean told me so much about his home and Baby! Mommy, he’s got an Impala called Baby and…” He trails off, suddenly falling silent. “Sorry, mommy. You already know that.”

“It’s alright, baby boy.” You softly kiss the top of his head. “Have a look around your room. We don’t want to miss something. We will stay for at least a week or two, okay.”

“Hmmm…okay.” He nods before running off to his room to check if he forgot something.

“Uh-do you really want to meet up with Bobby for a job?” Sam pokes his head inside the living room. “Maybe you can fix things with Ketch, or at least find a new, and better position here, the UK.”

“One could believe that you don’t want Y/N to come with us,” Dean grunts while his brother tries to make sure you’re not making a hasty decision. “She wants to meet up with Bobby. You like Bobby. He’s a good man and an even better employer. If she wants to work for him, it’s none of your business.”

“Guys, can you not fight? I had a lot to prepare before our flight. You are still butting heads like kids,” you snort when Dean gives his brother the stinky eyes. He purses his lips and wildly gestures at your tits. “Dean, my eyes a little higher.”

“I didn’t point at your boobs,” he says but glances at your cleavage. Dean hums, and subconsciously licks his lips. “Even though, they are nice to look at.”

“Dude,” Sam huffs. “Seriously?”

“What?” Dean shrugs. “It’s the truth. Now, back to packing things. Do you need more, sweetheart? I can get some boxes and pack everything up.” He grins, giving you puppy dog eyes.

Sam tries to stop his brother from saying something making you change your mind. “Dean…” He sighs. “Slow down.”

“No, Sammy. I gotta bring her away from that douche. He’s got grabby hands. I won’t let him touch her.” Dean harrumphs. He hates Arthur Ketch with passion.

“That is enough, Dean!” You grab his ear, tugging hard. Dean winces and tries to grab your wrist, but you only tug harder. “I decided to go back to the State to work for Bobby. Not yours, or anyone else’s. There’s a lot to consider and organize before I can even think of moving back to the States.”

“Can you stop fidgeting?” You watch Dean nervously shift in his seat. “Dean, the seat is more than comfortable. This is the first class.”

“How’d you pay for it?” Sam watches you get a credit card out of your purse. You smirk and toss it at him. “Is that a company card?”

“Arthur decided that he doesn’t want to let me go. He insists that I retract my two weeks’ notice. Arthur is not very mature when it comes to rejection, it seems. He told me he’ll do anything to keep me at his company.”

“So, you use the company card to pay for your flight?” Dean snickers. “I love how you think. Even better, you can be so devious.”

“I don’t think that’s legal, Y/N,” Sam, ever the lawyer throws in. “What if he takes legal action?”

“He can eat shit,” you snap at Sam. “I won’t play by his rules any longer. I’m officially on my way to discuss another deal with Bobby Singer. If I invite a few friends to join me on my flight, it’s justified.”

Dean grins proudly. He’d done the same if he was in your shoes. “No swear words in front of the kid,” he says, but chuckles. “We cannot use fecal language when Michael is around.”

You huff and lean back in your seat, closing your eyes to get some sleep. Michael is already asleep, and Sam is close to drifting off himself. Only Dean is antsy and cannot calm down. Not only because of his problem with airplanes but the fact that you are so close too.

“DADDY! We’ve missed you.” You smile when Sam’s kids run toward their father. He immediately wraps his arms around the screaming bunch to hug them. His wife, Jess, shakes your hand while you ask her if Michael can stay here for today. You don’t want to leave him in the hotel room you booked or drag him around.

Holding his kids in his arms Sam sighs. “I’ve missed you too,” he says and hugs them a little tighter. The last days made him see how lucky he truly is. He had the chance to watch his kids growing up and has the love of his life by his side.

“So, Sammy,” Dean clears his throat. “Can Michael stay here and meet his cousins? Y/N wants to talk to Bobby and mother.” He spats the last word.

Jess holds out her hand for your son. “Of course, he can stay here as long as he wants to,” she says when he takes her hand. “How about we go inside, and you can introduce yourself to your cousins, Michael?”

Sam and Jess walk inside their home with your son and their children. You watch them go with a sad expression. You and Dean could’ve had what they have. He’s a little chaotic, and sometimes a mess, but Dean has a good heart.

If only Mary didn’t manipulate your relationship back then…

“How did it go?” Dean asks when you walk out of the building of Bobby’s company. “Did you get the job? Bobby didn’t leave you hanging, right?”

“I got the job, and he will help me find a place to stay,” you tell Dean if only to stop him from asking more questions.

“I know you don’t like me much, but I can help you too. Sammy is good at house hunting, and I’m good at renovating things. You know that. We can help.”

“Dean—” sighing deeply you look at Dean. He offered to drive you around, bringing Baby on purpose. Dean wanted to bring old memories back up. “Can we just drive?”

He raises his hands in surrender and nods. “Where to now?”

“Your mother’s place,” you say, venom in your voice. If you don’t do it now, you’ll never find the courage to face the villain of your story. “I have a lot to discuss with her. And Dean…”

“Yeah?” He furrows his brows. “What can I do for you?”

“I need a ring, with a big diamond. And for you to not say a word. Leave this to me…”

Dean comes back twenty minutes later. He opens his hand to reveal the engagement ring you left behind years ago. You swallow thickly but take the ring to put it on your finger.

“What are you up to?” He asks while following you toward his mother’s house. Dean wonders if he should stop you from confronting his mother. Mary is not going to admit her mistakes or ask for forgiveness.

You smile sweetly, but there is a dangerous glimmer in your eyes. “Revenge,” you say, and grab his hand. You interlace your fingers with his and put your sweetest fake smile on.

“Knock, baby,” you coo, before Dean can chicken out. He starts to sweat but raises his fist to knock. “I will so enjoy this.”

The door opens moments later. Mary looks at her son, smiling because she believes he came back to apologize. But then, her eyes land on you. Your fingers interlaced with Dean’s.

“What are you doing here?” She spats your way. “I didn’t invite you.”

“I wanted to thank you for bringing Dean back into my life,” you let go of Dean’s hand to show off the diamond ring on your finger. “Who would’ve thought that burning the message I left to tell Dean about his unborn son would bring us back together, huh?”

You smirk, seeing the struggle on her face. “I have a grandson?” She hiccups. “No, this is impossible.”

“No,” your eyes grow cold, and you deepen your smirk. “You don’t have a grandson, and you don’t have a son any longer.” Her face falls when you step closer to look her up and down. “Pathetic. Only because your marriage was loveless you wanted to ruin what Dean and I had. What a pity we found each other again.”

“No—you won’t take him back. Not after he left you years ago.” Mary shakes her head, but you simply chuckle.

“We will rise from the ashes, stronger than before. Dean will be a good father for our son and a good husband,” you chuckle darkly. “And you can choke on the hatred and bitterness you consist of. You will never see your grandson because he doesn’t need a coldhearted bitch like you in his life.”

Mary can only watch you grab Dean’s hand to lead him back toward Baby. Your heart hammers in your chest, and you're about to cry because all the hurting hits you again. You won’t, though.

This time you walk away from Mary Winchester, your head held high…

Part 14

Tags in reblog.

[hothothotch]

hi sweetheart! after you absolutely killed my last request and cleaned every dish with it MM MM MMMMM I'm back

this time, DBF!Hotch. The two of you got caught on your dad's new security camera beside the house that you didn't know about. Your dad tries to send aaron home to chew you out on it but Aaron gets all defensive and refuses to let you take the fall for both of your actions (maybe this leads to aaron's first acknowledgement that he loves you, 😮‍💨) but yes just protective!hotch standing up for you and your relationship 🦋🦋

Hello I'm baaaack!

I'm finally taking the web off the asks that got lost on my inbox when I disappeared, so you may see me for a few days!

Requests are still open, and you're invited to send anything Aaron Hotchner on my way.

Thank you for your request!

LUCK: sucess or failure apparently brought by chance rather than through one's own actions. Chance considered as a force that causes good or bad things to happen.

With you, it was usually bad things.

Of course, there were exceptions — like when you graduated in law, only a few months ago; or the day your father (the Senator) allowed you to go for a guided visit to the FBI to study it's many Units just because you wanted to see law being applied on different contexts; or — and this one was your absolute favorite — when you stumbled into your dad's best friend, Aaron Hotchner.

The latter one had been an absolute blast.

Aaron Hotchner was BAU's Unit Chief, and thanks to his ties with your father, he had been the one responsible for your tour of the sixth floor. Aaron had been attentive and careful, he embraced your curiosity as if he was being paid to give someone a tour, and not to find serial killers.

At the end of your tour, he offered you his number because, "I was a lawyer, so if you ever need something, or another tour, just give me a call".

One week later, you called him to ask for advice on a hard case you've taken at the law firm you were working at; Aaron asked you to dinner so you could talk privately about it, and helped you go over the case files. You also talked some more about your private lives — how he had an 8-year-old son, how you had a dog, how both your jobs took more time from you than you wanted. At the end of the dinner, there was another one scheduled.

Aaron had to reschedule that one (a case in Alaska wanted his immediate attention), but he knocked on your door first thing when he came back, a bouquet of flowers (sunflowers, to be exact) in hand as he proposed you'd go out for that delayed dinner. You accepted right away.

The third date was at your home, and that was the first time you kissed. The first time you've done way more than kissing. By the time Aaron left your home that night — staying over wasn't an option when he had a son at home —, you were sure there was nothing you wanted more than a solid career and to have that man's hands on you again.

That was when things started to go wrong.

You've had your fourth date scheduled when a pipe at your home exploded, causing a flood to start in your bathroom and spread all over your house; and while you weren't excited to go back into living with your father, that was the only available (and financially worthy) option, because you certainly wouldn't ask Aaron to let you live with him.

No. Nope. Absolutely not.

It wasn't like you were dating, on the romantic sense of the word. Yes, you had feelings for him; yes, you messaged so often that people had asked more than once if you were in a relationship; and yes, you did way more than just making out like hormonal teenagers whenever you had a second to be together.

But Aaron had a son, and you had a golden retriever (and said golden retriever was too attached to Aaron, to be honest), and a month and a few days of hookup wasn't enough to justify calling someone and saying, "Hey, mind if I crash down at yours while my pipes are being changed?".

"Yes, honey" Aaron nodded, looking down at you as he played with your hair, "That's exactly what you should've said".

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in bewilderment. That was probably the third time you've been having that discussion, but it was the first time you've done it personally since Aaron had just came back from a case.

As usual, Aaron spent the night at home with Jack (he did invite you to go over, but you didn't feel like you were this far in your relationship to say yes) and appeared first thing in the morning at your father's house to see you. Now, you were lying together on the backyard, Aaron looking down at you, prompted up on his shoulders as you laid on the towel you brought out.

It was intimate, cute. The kind of moment you wouldn't have anywhere else, since the two of you lived on apartments. It was special, as if there was something more going on there, something unspoken.

Frightening. That was the word to describe it. And yet...

"I'll keep that in mind next time" you replied, a smile spreading on your face at the sight of the smallest quirk on his lips, "I like it when you smile, Aaron".

Aaron's smile widened, and God — you could feel your heart beating faster at that godly image, at the fact that you had put that smile on his face, the realization that his look of adoration was for you, and not any other woman.

"I like it when you smile, too" he whispered, leaning to press a soft kiss against your lips, "Even if this is not a rare occasion, because you're the softest person I've met".

"Oh, come on!" you pushed him away, and even if it was nothing more than the touch of your hand against his chest, Aaron pretended to fall backward on the towel, a silent invitation for you to lay on his chest, "I'm not soft!".

"Yes, you are" Aaron replied with a laugh, "Even more than Garcia, and she's essentially a marshmallow".

You gasped at his words, placing your hand on your heart as if he had offended you, "I can't believe you said that! I am a serious lawyer!".

"Never said you weren't, honey" Aaron pointed, pressing a soft kiss against your head, "Just that you're a very soft lawyer, that's always good to everybody".

"Which some would point as a weakness".

"Some are stupid" Aaron shrugged, "You are not. You're the best lawyer I've met, and I know you can do great things, baby".

You didn't know how to react to his words if there was an appropriate way to react. On these few months you've been seeing each other, Aaron had made a point of cheering you on whenever he could, and even managed to watch some of your court hearings (a benefit he got from being both an ex-lawyer and an FBI Agent), always having some strategic input for the next one.

Aaron has been helping, and has been hearing. He believed you even when you weren't sure your father believed.

God, you loved that man.

"Thank you" you whispered shyly, moving to kiss his lips, "I don't know what—".

"What the fuck is happening here?".

So, here's where the word luck suddenly turns into unluck. That specific moment in time, when you realize that the feeling of something missed you've been nurturing, had nothing to do with a lack of word to define your relationship with Aaron, but with the fact that at the end of the day... your father had no idea you've been dating Aaron.

It wasn't like you were hiding it from him — you've been open about dating someone, and he was aware that he knew that someone, but in truth you've never properly told him who that someone was. And while you wanted to say it was pretty obvious (because you've lost count on how many times you and your dad talked about Aaron when having dinner together), your dad had never been the one to read between the lines.

So, yeah. That was kinda your fault.

"Dad!" you stood up immediately, thanking every god available you and Aaron had decided to just lay outside, and not do something else, "You're home early".

"Yeah? You tell me" your dad snorted bitterly, looking between you and Aaron with anger written all over his face, "I was watching the security camera because I know this is when you get Lucky ready for her walk, and what do I see? You and Aaron here together! What was I supposed to do?".

You had some answers on your mind, but none of them seemed important as you looked around, eyes half-closed as you studied the space around you, "There are no security cameras on the backyard".

"Thank God I put on some last week!" your father pointed, "I thought you'd be safer if I did, and now I see that was providential for some other reasons".

You noticed when Aaron stood up beside you, his hand touching the small of your back softly, "There's no reason for you to talk with that this way".

"No reason? No—" your dad stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second before he pointed at Aaron, "You, I want you out of my house. And you—".

"No".

For a second, you thought you'd been the one to mutter that simple word, that you had dared to say 'no' to your father to defend a... situationship with Aaron; it made sense because in your heart you wanted — craved — to tell your father that he couldn't tell you who you could date, or to put your "I'm an adult" speech to use, but you hadn't been the person to retort.

It had been Aaron.

"What did you say?" your father barked, his eyes twitching in nervousness.

"I said no" Aaron replied, taking a step in front of you, "You're not gonna talk like that with her. Not today, not ever".

"I'm her father—".

"That doesn't mean you don't owe her respect!" Aaron retorted, his voice louder than your father's, "You wanna talk about us, that's your right. You wanna know about us, that's also your right. But to scream with her in order to get some manipulated answer, that's not happening, not on my watch".

You knew you were supposed to step up and say something. Maybe you should tell Aaron to leave, so you could talk privately to your father; maybe you should stand with Aaron and leave with him because, honestly, you were dreading this specific talk.

But having Aaron defending you?

You've decided to study law because you knew what it was not to have someone on your back. Of course, your father had defended you in some instances, but there were other moments he'd made it known he'd step out so you could solve things by yourself; it did help you build character (as he used to say), but you missed having someone patting your back at the end of the day, or helping with the fights you just didn't feel ready to fight.

Aaron was just that person.

You didn't know if it was because he was FBI or it was his lawyer side rubbing in again, but it didn't matter — Aaron was fighting for you. Fighting for what you had.

God, you really loved that man.

"Okay" your father humphed, both his hands on his waist as he looked directly at you, "Then plead your case. And I hope is a good plea, because I didn't pay for the best university is this country for you to give me some lame reasoning—".

"Shut up!".

Yeah, this time it was you. And you knew that if you didn't go on with that, you probably would get too afraid to continue, so... "I'm an adult, dad" you cringed at how lame your words sounded in front of what Aaron had just said, "I won't say there isn't an age gap..."

"Twenty years" your father pointed between gritted teeth.

"But I'm an adult!" you stomped your feet, holding Aaron's arm, "I'm 28, I'm a lawyer, and I..." you closed your eyes, biting your bottom lip before those three words escaped her lips, "I can make my own decisions, dad. I'm not asking for your permission, I'm asking acceptance".

Silence. Deafening silence.

"Can I talk to Aaron?" your father asked finally. You could read anger all over his face, the way his jaw was tense and his hands were closed in fists, but you could also see defeat in his eyes — the realization that it didn't matter what he did or said, you'd stick to what you had with Aaron.

And you were proud of yourself.

You looked up at Aaron, waiting to see if he wanted to have this talk with your father, even if you knew he was too much a gentleman to refuse something like that (you had your doubts he'd ask for permission if he ever decided to pop the question — but why the hell were you thinking about that?), which was quickly confirmed with his curt nod, "Okay" you whispered.

With a gentle smile towards Aaron, you made your way towards your dad, stopping your walk beside him before whispering, "I love him. Please, don't fuck with that".

He didn't answer, nor looked at you. Taking it as your leave, you walked back inside the house, closing the door behind you — but not quick enough not to hear Aaron's final words.

"I fucking love your daughter, man. Please, don't fuck it up".

Maybe you weren't that unlucky, after all.

Thank you for the request!