#he's throwing up on the floor and crying in his bed for the rest of the day

[captain-huggy-bear]

Morning Sickness

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sex in the past, pregnancy, etc.

Summary: Quinn is getting increasingly worried about you as you're sick every morning and every evening, you're adamant that you're fine. Turns out you're right in a way.

Notes: Thanks to the person who sent this idea in :)

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It starts around a month after your honeymoon. Every single morning Quinn wakes to the sound of you throwing up and every single night he holds your hair back as you're sick over the toilet.

You pass it off as a bad stomach bug or anxiety, something different every time but Quinn doesn't believe you nor does he like what's happening. He's had many health scares with you; the chest infection that led to you being hospitalised after you nearly passed out at work being a prime example. As a result, he knows better than to assume that when you say you're fine, you're actually fine. Instead he sits with a heavy buzz of anxiety in his chest, a fear that something is seriously wrong but not knowing what and not knowing how best to convince you to get a check up and see the doctor about it. You’re stubborn to a fault. 

It's another one of those evenings where he's happily curled around in bed, blankets tucked in around both of you. You're in his arms, back to his chest, legs twisted together so that any movement jars the other, but you're so used to it at this point that sleeping apart is more difficult and less restful than navigating the tangled mass of limbs that the two of you become each night.

When you try to slip out of his arms he's awake like a shot, blinking through bleary eyes while you push his arms off you so that you can get up. Quinn lets you go, an instant release but he's quick to follow, footsteps padding on the carpet after you towards the bright light of the bathroom. Never once considering rolling over and going back to sleep.

"You okay, baby?" You're leaning over the sink, taking deep breaths, cheeks puffing out as you try your very best to not be sick again, nausea roiling through you. You’re so fed up of being sick, it’s become a routine that’s led to you being careful about what foods you eat in the morning and evening, learning what is the worst to throw up and what’s the least offensive thing to throw up.

All you can do is shake your head frantically before you're rushing to the toilet, knees hitting the floor with a loud thud as you lean over the toilet bowl to be sick. Quinn winces at the sound of your knees impacting tile and he's beside you in an instant, hands reaching for your hair to pull it back and out of your face so you don't have to worry about throwing up in your own hair.

"Oh, baby...just let it out..." A warm, free hand landing on your back, rubbing soothing circles as he feels the way your body jerks with each bout of sickness, your muscles contracting and relaxing each time. 

You’re crying, he can hear it, the way you whimper and whine because this is the worst and you’re fed up with being so violently sick…It only increases his worry because this has been going on for too long and it just doesn’t seem to be getting any better. 

He stays beside you, holding your hair and rubbing your back until you’re no longer vomiting. When you stop, cheek resting against the toilet seat in exhaustion he’s up and reaching for a glass to fill with water for you.

“Here, baby, have some water…” You take a mouthful only to spit it out in the toilet in an attempt to get the taste of vomit from your mouth, before downing the whole glass. It doesn’t really help much.

“I hate this…” You groan out, feeling silly because it’s not even like you feel ill most of the time, you just keep getting these random bouts of sickness in the mornings and evenings. Quinn shouldn’t be as worried as you know he is…it’s probably all in your head, maybe you’ve created a Pavolvian response to the morning and night time where your body expects to be sick, so you are?

“I know, baby…” Quinn runs a hand over your hair, pushing a few strands out of your face and behind your ear, he’s gentle about it, long fingers gingerly caressing your skin like he’s worried you’ll break, “You need to visit a doctor, baby.”

“It’s probably nothing, Quinn…I’ve just eaten something or have some sort of bug or something…” You don’t want to go to the doctors, you’re certain this will blow over soon, that it’s nothing serious and you hate the idea of taking more time off for it even as your husband looks at you like you might be the most stubborn human being on earth. 

“For weeks?”

“Quinn…” You sigh out his name because you don’t want to argue, because you’re tired. All you want is to go back to bed, curl up in his arms and get what little sleep you can before you have to go to work in the morning.

He must see how tired you are because whatever fight he had seems to leave his body, shoulders slumping, head nodding to himself like he’s made a decision in his mind to put this down for the moment even if he wants to keep going, repeat himself until you give in.

“Okay…okay, let’s get you to bed at least…” He gives up arguing because you’re so tired and have to be up at 6am for work. It’s bad enough you're not feeling well, let alone that you have to still teach like this, adding exhaustion to the mix is just a bad idea. He’ll keep pushing until you go to the doctors, but right now? Right now he can see you're tired and sleep is probably better for you than arguing at 1am. 

Quinn helps you to your feet, your hands resting in his much larger ones while he pulls you up. He keeps both hands on your hips the whole time as the two of you waddle your way back to bed, there’s part of him that worries you might fall or faint on the way back to bed, hands firmly gripping you just in case. 

He curls around you once you're both back under the covers, almost protective like he’s trying to shield you from some unseen threat and you nestle back into him, resting your head on the arm underneath you. 

The early morning throw up session had you completely wiped hours later, it really shouldn’t have been a surprise that you felt dizzy as the day went on. Even more so because food was just not enticing you and you had skipped lunch when your sandwich made you feel queasy just looking at it. Each lesson felt harder and harder to teach and your last lesson of the day had your head reeling. It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise with how dizzy you felt, how lightheaded you were, that you fainted completely in front of your students. Thankfully, you had felt it coming on, having lowered yourself to the ground mere seconds before it happened.

To give them their dues, your students who could have used that as an opportunity to cause a mess, do whatever they wanted and generally cause chaos, actually tried to help. They were so concerned for you that they got another member of staff to come help, David, your favourite trouble making hockey fan, put his rolled up Canucks hoodie underneath your head and Stacy checked you were still breathing. The fainting spell didn’t last long, within a minute or so you were back to consciousness and trying to sit up, staff and students trying to force you to lay back down. 

It’s Laura, the English teacher next door, who grabs your phone and calls your emergency contact, Quinn…even as you protest and tell her not to bother him, that you’re fine. All your protests go ignored by the forty year old, who had become something of a mentor and parental figure during your time at the school.

“Hi Quinn, sorry, it’s Laura from Y/N’s school?” You can’t quite tell what Quinn says on the other line, but you’re sure it’s along the lines of ‘what’s wrong?’ in a panicked tone because no one ever used your phone. You hate worrying him, he has so much on his shoulders already, so much weight there from the team, the season, his brothers…

“She’s fainted, do you think you could come get her? It’s the end of the school day anyway but I don’t think she should be driving home…thanks, Quinn.” 

You groan at her, tempted to tell her off for calling him against your wishes but you know she means well…you also know there’s absolutely no chance you’re getting away with avoiding the doctors now. In fact you wouldn’t be surprised if he drove you straight to the doctor's office after coming to get you…still, maybe you should see a doctor, what with throwing up all the time…and now fainting? 

Laura won’t even let you get up from your spot on the floor, packing your things away for you, getting your students to chill for the last 10 minutes of the day and waiting until Quinn arrives. You know she’s worried you’ll faint again, but it feels ridiculous, sitting on a cold, dirty classroom floor waiting for your husband to come get you.

“Hey, baby…” The way he stands in the doorway to your classroom when he finally arrives makes you want to cry. It’s like he’s scared you’re going to faint again, a sense of hesitancy and caution in his body language that you hate because Quinn is never like that around you. 

“Please don’t…don’t be scared of me, right now…” You feel like crying, wetness starting to fill your eyes and your voice coming out choked. You’re not even sure why you’re so emotional about him looking like that when Quinn’s always worried about you, it’s not a new development. He cares so he worries. 

“Hey, hey, I’m not scared of you…I’m worried, baby.” He’s crossing the space between you as quickly as possible, crouching down next to you with care, hands reaching for your face gently to rub his fingers across your cheeks to try and calm you down.

“I’m sorry…I don’t mean to be a bother…” Your eyes are so watery that Quinn’s face is a blurry mess, but even then you wouldn’t be able to mistake the serious set of his brow, the way his jaw clenches, how he always takes your concerns and worries seriously.

“Sweet girl, hey…you’re not a bother. You’re never a chore, okay? But I'm going to need you to accept that we need to go to the doctor's now, okay? I’ve already phoned them, they can see us in forty minutes.” You can’t really deny him, he’s been so patient with you, worried, but not pushing you to go to the doctors too much and you know he’s right…something’s not normal right now and you need to get checked out.

“Okay…” The smile he gives you is radiant, relief filled and bright like your answer is enough to make his day. It makes it worth it.

“Atta girl, right, let’s get you up off this floor, okay?” 

You nod at him, reaching for his outstretched hands and letting him grip yours tightly, your wedding rings gleaming and new under the fluorescence of the classroom lights. As Quinn stands he pulls you with him, helping you to your feet and holding you steady when you get a bit of a headrush from the sudden upright position.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, i’m good,” He doesn’t quite look like he believes you, “I promise, i’ll let you know if i’m not.”

He’s got an eye on you the entire way to his car, always watching in case you suddenly faint or trip or take a dive to the ground. You don’t, your dizzy spell has passed and now you just feel emotional and embarrassed about the whole thing. 

As is routine by now Quinn opens the car door for you and buckles your seatbelt, making sure it rests comfortably against you and isn’t digging into you at all. He goes a step further than normal though, reaching into the backseat to grab a blanket he keeps there for when you get cold, laying it over your lap and tucking it under your thighs like he’s worried you’ll get cold on the drive to the doctors. 

Quinn leans forward into the car, pressing a kiss to your forehead gently causing you to close your eyes, letting out a happy sigh. He lingers slightly, hand smoothing down some of your fly away hairs before he shuts the passenger side door and gets into the driver's seat. 

There’s a heavy silence that settles over the two of you while Quinn starts the drive to the doctor’s office. It’s a silence that screams that Quinn has things he wants to say, words he’s holding inside him right now and you wait patiently for him to break. 

It doesn’t take long, a few minutes pass before he’s watching you from the corner of his eye, “You need to start trusting me to handle knowing when something is wrong…” He sighs out at you, and you try not to cut him off, biting on your lip to force yourself to listen until he’s said what he needs to say. “I know you’re scared of being a burden and putting more stress on me, but, baby…I’m your husband. I need to know. I want to know. My job is to support you. I can’t do that if you’re not letting me in…” He reaches a hand across to squeeze your leg, an attempt to reassure you that he’s not mad, but that he wants you to trust him more and you get it…you do. You’ve been so reluctant to put any more stress on him, but here’s Quinn demanding that you do, telling you he wants to know when things aren’t quite right.

“I just…you have all this pressure on you and I don’t want to add to that.”

“Baby, the only stress you’re giving me is when you don’t let me help you…I need you to promise me you’re going to start relying on me more, please?” He can’t take it anymore. The way you try to hide how you’re doing, try to take all that onto yourself so that he doesn't get any of the pressure. You’re the only pressure he wants, fuck hockey, fuck the season, but he needs to know what’s wrong with you so he can fix it, so he can help you.

You reach for his hand on your leg, twisting your fingers in his and holding his hand tight, watching him glance at you out of the corner of his eye, focusing on the road for the most part. 

“I promise.” 

Quinn’s shoulders drop in relief, his need to support and protect you, to look after you already feeling better now that you’ve promised you’ll actually communicate with him properly. He loves you, but your fear of being a burden is his least favourite thing about you. He hates that people have made you feel like you have to minimise yourself, your problems. Hates that you’ve been trained to be so hyper independent and self reliant. 

“Have you taken a pregnancy test?”

You blink at the doctor like she’s insane because the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind that that was a possibility, that maybe you were pregnant.

“Uh, no…”

“Have you been using protection? Is it possible you’re pregnant?” You try to think back to your last period, late, try to think back to the last time Quinn and yourself had unprotected sex…your honeymoon. So over the moon, so giddy the two of you hadn’t really thought about it, forgoing the usual precautions because you were married now so it didn’t seem like such a big deal. 

You look at Quinn, the two of you sharing a look that says you’re both thinking back to your honeymoon, the two weeks of being absolutely feral for each other that you really didn’t think much about the consequences…well, you did, in a sense. Quinn had had a great time considering what you’d look like pregnant with his child, dirty talk filled with comments about getting you pregnant, but it had all been fantasies, silly in the moment dirty talk, neither of you had really considered (rather stupidly perhaps) that it might become a reality. You hadn’t thought…normally it wasn’t that easy for people and you’d always had concerns about fertility in your family in the past so why would it be that easy for you? 

“It’s…it’s possible.”

“Okay, I want you to go take this test and come back when you’re done. I think you might just be experiencing some really bad first trimester morning sickness.” You take the test offered to you, the little pee cup and pipette too, glad that she wasn’t expecting you to pee directly onto the stick…

“Do you want me to wait outside the door?” Quinn asks as you hesitantly get up, not really wanting to go alone, as silly as it was because all you were about to do was pee into a little cup and put some drops onto a pregnancy test, it wasn’t like you were going to do anything crazy. But, you’d never had to take a pregnancy test before, you’d never had to deal with the reality that you might be pregnant and even if it's with your literal husband it’s still kind of scary...

“Yes, please…” He’s reaching for your hand without any hesitation, guiding you out of the examination room and towards the toilets. 

You hesitate before entering, scared to find out the answer, unsure which you want to be true; that you’re pregnant or that there’s something else causing you to be sick and faint. You want kids, both of you have discussed it time and time again, but you always thought it would be planned, that the two of you would be actively trying when you got pregnant. 

“It’ll be okay, y’know? No matter what. If you’re not pregnant we’ll figure out what’s wrong and if you are? That’s a good thing, we wanted kids, baby.” Quinn can see you’re scared, the way you grip the test tighter, how you seem to stop breathing as you stare at the bathroom door. He’s trying to not get his hopes up, to temper some of the excitement he can feel because he really…fuck, he really hopes you’re pregnant, he’s so ready to be a dad, and it would be an added bonus to know you weren’t seriously ill, just dealing with the first trimester. 

“Yeah, just…wasn’t expecting it to potentially be this soon.”

“I know, baby, but it’ll be okay and mom’ll be over the moon.” You smile at the mention of Ellen, how excited she’ll be…heck Jack and Luke would be ecstatic to be uncles, suddenly things didn’t seem quite so scary when you considered the people around you, how supportive they would be.

“Yeah, she’ll probably scream down the phone…” If you’re pregnant goes unsaid but it’s there, the reality that maybe you’re both starting to get your hopes up for something that isn’t going to happen. 

“Okay…I can do this.”

“You’ve got this, baby…it’ll be okay,” He smiles at you one last time before you disappear into the bathroom.

Your hands shake the entire time you’re in there, completing the test and putting it on the side to wait. You pacing a hole into the floor, back and forth, back and forth as the time ticks down on your phone. In that time you start to get excited, nervous, but excited. The initial shock of potentially being pregnant disappearing in favour of thoughts about what it would be like to finally have your first child with Quinn…how he’d teach them to skate, how Luke and Jack would play with them at the lake house in the summer, how Ellen and Jim would be devoted grandparents, how you’d read them books every night and make your own Christmas traditions… Your nerves now centred on that possibility that you weren’t pregnant, that your hopes might be crushed.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look when the time was up, reaching for the door handle to Quinn pacing outside the door. His head shoots up the moment you open it.

“So?” Quinn looks so expectant, lips bitten and red from all his worrying, waiting for an answer. 

“I…I can’t look, can you check it for me?”

“Uh, yeah, course, baby.” You can tell he’s nervous too, but he steps inside the bathroom, locking it behind the two of you for privacy. You point to where the little, but no less life altering, test rests by the sink. 

You watch him walk over, watch the tension in his shoulders, how he looks at the little test, seems to read the marks, and then again, and again like he’s struggling to process it. You know the answer the moment his shoulders relax, the moment he turns to you with tears in his eyes and a wide smile, so wide across his face. He’s practically grinning, vibrant in the way he is after a won game or how he was at your wedding. The sort of vibrant that changes Quinn, his usually understated calmness wiped out in favour of pure unfiltered joy. 

“We’re…we’re having a baby…” Saying it feels unreal at first, that those two little lines can mean so much, that right now, in your tummy is your baby. The perfect mix of the two of you slowly growing into someone amazing, someone he’s so excited to meet. 

“Yeah?” You can feel your own excitement starting, hearing it is making it real, so fucking real. 

“Yeah, baby!” You’re crying, he’s crying, it’s a mess when you come together in a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you and lifting you off the floor to spin you around. You’re both crying into each other when his mouth slants over yours for a kiss, one of his hands cupping the back of your head, the other resting gently over your throat.

It’s a kiss that feels monumental, deep and filled with love, so much love that the taste of the salt from your tears does nothing to deter either of you as you cling to each other. The scratch of Quinn’s beard, the silky smoothness of his hair in your fingers, the way you cling to each other, you’ve not felt that happy since your wedding day, since you both finally said I do. It feels like the world has shifted on its axis in the most spectacular of ways and all that worry, all that fear is gone, just like that. 

He’s so fucking relieved, that’s part of it. God, is he excited that you’re pregnant, that he’s going to be a dad, but part of the excitement is relief, that you’re okay, that you’re not seriously ill. You’re just pregnant, just dealing with morning sickness and all the changes associated with growing a baby. 

When you pull apart neither of you go very far, foreheads pressed together, noses nuzzling against each other. His hands still cradle you close to him, his breath warm against your lips.

“We’re going to be parents…you’re going to be a mom…” There’s something about him saying it that makes it feel more real because it feels almost out of body of an experience, to find out you're pregnant when you had no plans to be. 

“Yeah…you’re going to be a dad…”

“Fuck, I love you…” Quinn kisses you again, soft but lingering as a hand comes down to rest against your belly, no sign yet of the bundle of cells that’s growing into a baby, “and I love this little bean too,”

“I love you too, you’re going to be so great, they’re going to love you.”

“They’re going to love us.”

[jackactuallywrites]

All Seeing, All Knowing, All Loving Part 18

Warnings: Vomiting!

Summary: You drank too much and puke it all up in front of Ghost because you’re a classy chick

Word Count: 1,991

ao3 link

Uh oh.

You were going to throw up.

You could feel those tell-tale signs, the pain in your stomach, the watery saliva at the back of your mouth, that tightness in your throat. Shit. You had about ten seconds to get to the toilet; otherwise, it was going to happen in your bed.

At a speed only matched by an Olympic sprinter, you flung yourself out of bed and ran to the bathroom, already beginning to gag as you lifted up the toilet lid, hugging the porcelain as you chundered into the bowl. Ugh. You thought you’d been lucky and avoided this after a night of binge drinking, but clearly, it had only been lying in wait. At least you hadn’t puked on Ghost.

Christ. How unappealing must you be to him now? You sounded like a damn plague victim. God, your stomach hurt. That was it; you were never drinking again. This was the last time you were going to allow yourself to get to this state again. At least the bathroom floor was nice and cold. You were still wearing your tights, the waistband digging into your stomach, which was not exactly helpful in your current situation, so you pulled them off, careful not to take your head away from the toilet for too long. Motherfucker, how had you puked on your own hair? It was so gross you almost wanted to cry. At least the vomiting had stopped for now. You flushed the loo, then gingerly pulled yourself to your feet using the sink as a crutch, your fingertips brushing against something fluffy as you did so. Ah, yeah, Soap was sleeping in the sink again. You still didn’t understand what his affinity for it was, and you gently scooped him up out of it, apologising, “Sorry, babe, I need the tap.” He was floppy in your hands, dead weight, a pain in the ass to shift, and you dropped him on the bath mat before turning back to the taps so you could rinse the bile out of your hair. You didn’t dare look at yourself in the mirror, slumping down to the floor and resting your back against the bathtub, praying that Ghost was still asleep.

“Feel better?”

Of course he wasn’t. You cracked open an eye to look at him, finding him standing in the doorway to your bathroom, illuminated from behind by the lamp in the living room, leaning against the doorframe, a glass of water in his hand. You shut your eyes again, leaning your head back over the bathtub side, wrapping your arms around your middle, “Not really.” You heard his footsteps approach, and then the soft touch of his thighs against yours as he sat next to you, and the cold touch of the glass on your skin as he placed it on your leg. Wait a second. Ghost wasn’t wearing trousers. Your eyes snapped back open, and you took a good look at the man beside you.

Ghost was only in a plain green t-shirt and white boxers. That was something. Now you could see his legs; his thighs were thicker than yours; he could crack a fucking watermelon in half with them! His skin was tan for an Englishman and covered in scars and dark blond hair, like the rest of him. On the top of his right thigh, the skin looked strange, bald and shiny, pulled taut. Was that a burn scar? It was fucking massive! Had someone tried to roast the man like a joint of beef?

The very thought of food made your stomach roil, and you groaned, pushing the glass of water over to Ghost as you crawled over to the loo again, cheeks beginning to burn in shame as the bile crept up your throat. Why did he have to come across you this night? Why couldn’t it be a night where you looked sophisticated and sexy, and he railed you over the kitchen counter rather than watched you puke your guts up? You weren’t a quiet puker either; Katie could throw up right next to you, and you’d never know, whereas you sounded like you were expelling demons.

And yet, Ghost was kind. Sure, you could hear him suppressing his sniggers, but he held your hair back for you and rubbed your back, much like you’d done for Helen. Christ, you hoped that wasn’t how Ghost saw you; as a friend. You finished retching, hoping that was the last of it for tonight, resting your cheek on the seat as you pressed the flush again, thankful that you were neurotic about keeping the bathroom clean. Ghost held out the water insistently, and you took a sip, swishing it around in your mouth before spitting it out. You groaned and went to sit back, finding that Ghost had shifted to be right behind you, so you sat between his legs and let yourself fall back onto his chest, resting your free arm on his thigh.

“You can’t hold your booze, can you?” Ghost teased, and you grumbled back at him, “Bite me.” You didn’t really want to think about anything; your head was beginning to pound, and trying to recall things only seemed to make it worse. But there was one memory you couldn’t shake.

“Did you seriously wank in my bathroom?”

You felt Ghost laugh behind you, his chest shaking, and he reached up to run his hand over his buzzed head, “Man has needs.”

You twisted in his lap so you could look at him, seeing the mirth in his eyes and the smile on his lips. There wasn’t an ounce of shame on his face.

“Do you really carry around photos of me?”

You would have thought that would have made him even the slightest bit defensive, but he was an open book.

“Keep ‘em in my wallet.”

“Okay, more pertinent question, where did you get printed photos of me?”

“Took ‘em off your phone.”

Yeah, you should have expected that. The man already had a track record of stalking, theft, breaking and entering; the list went on. You looked at him suspiciously, “Do you have naked photos of me?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“I swear on Johnny’s life.”

Strange. You regarded him inquisitively, but there wasn’t a hint of lie on his face. Not that there would be; he was a special forces soldier, no doubt he was great at lying.

“There were a lot of photos of me naked on my phone. You’re telling me you didn’t save a single one?”

He looked down at you, his eyes strangely intense, “I need to earn those. Couldn’t even look at them.”

It didn’t seem like the type of thing a man would do, but then again, Ghost wasn’t a typical man. Nothing about the situation was typical or normal. Perhaps you’d been ignoring that for too long.

You shifted out of his grip, crawling to the opposite side of the bathroom so you could sit with your back against the sink cabinet and look at Ghost properly.

“What are we?”

It sounded painfully cliché even as it left your lips, but you had to know.

“What do you want us to be?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, pursing your lips, “Don’t answer a question with a question.”

Ghost grinned, but you poked his thigh with your foot, “I’m serious!”

He opened his mouth to make another joke, but you scowled at him, and he thought better of it. He sighed, resting his arm along the side of the bathtub, tilting his head back as he looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. You didn’t interrupt, your stomach tense in a different way as you awaited his response.

“As far as I’m concerned,” he began, still staring at the ceiling, “I’m all yours. Have been for months.”

You raised a brow at him, even though he wasn’t looking at you, “Exclusively?”

“I haven’t touched another bird since I met you.”

It was hard to tell if the feeling in your chest was nausea or butterflies.

“That why all your army lot keep calling me your missus?”

He laughed, finally looking over at you, running his hand over his buzzed hair again, “Aye, well, it’s not like I keep you a secret.”

Apparently, you’d been in a relationship without knowing. For months. Well, Ghost had said he was yours; he hadn’t said anything about you being his. Maybe that’s why his eyes had what looked like a slight hint of insecurity to them.

You fiddled with the hem of his jumper, “I’m sure you’ve stalked me enough to know my feelings on the matter.”

“Wanna hear you say it.”

“Come off it. You know I’m yours.”

It was impossible to miss the way his eyes lit up, a wide grin spreading across his face. He reached across the bathroom to grab you, his arms encircling your waist so he could pick you up and pull you close to him, holding you against his chest. It was impossible not to feel how hard he was; it was practically jabbing into your thigh, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity, “Seriously? I’m all sweat and puke right now, and that makes you hard?”

“As a fucking rock. ‘d take you to bed right now if I didn’t think you’d puke on me.”

“Yeah, I think the motion might kill me.”

Ghost practically purred into your ear, “I could be gentle. Take it slow.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t.”

That made him groan, and he shifted you slightly so he could reach down to adjust himself, “Christ, the things you do to me.”

You snorted and stifled a yawn, and Ghost sighed, “You done puking for the night?”

“Unlikely. But for now, at least, yeah.”

He shifted underneath you, lifting you as he got to his feet, carrying you back through the living room into the bedroom. Soap had snuck in while you were throwing your guts up, having taken your pillow as his bed, so Ghost put you on his side of your bed, leaving Soap undisturbed. You looked at him questioningly as he went to leave again, “You’re not gonna wank in my bathroom again, are you?”

“Why, you wanna watch?”

“Yes.”

He froze in his tracks, letting out a breathy laugh, “You’re testing my resolve, little love.” He shook his head, “I’m fetching you a bowl, just in case.”

You were about to tell him where they were, but he’d already gone. Right, the man knew where everything in your house was. Instead, you just made yourself comfortable underneath the duvet again, shifting the pillows around until they were the right level of cool. The jumper, though cosy, was a little too hot for bed, so you pulled it over your head and tossed it on the floor. That would be a fun surprise for Ghost.

He returned quickly, placing the bowl on the floor next to the bed and the glass on your bedside table, then carefully climbed over you, slotting himself in between you and Soap. As his fingers reached out to pull you close, they hesitated, and he lifted the duvet slightly, looking at your bare back. You heard his sharp intake of breath, and the controlled way he exhaled, his fingers carefully wrapping around your waist as he gently pulled you back against his chest, the fabric of his T-shirt soft on your skin. His voice tickled your ear as he spoke. “You’re an evil little bitch, you know that?”

That made you smile, and you settled with your back against him, linking your fingers with his and bringing his hand up to your cheek, his arm snugly wrapped around your chest. You could feel how tense his muscles were and how hard he was, and it did wonders for your ego as you settled down into the pillow, smug as a cat that got the cream.

[president-homewrecker-arts]

he's not mad, just disappointed

[hauntingblue]

Episode 8 I am so scared....

[evie-sturns]

begging - Chris Sturniolo

summary: when chris gets home after filming, he is the most desperate youve ever seen him, he is literally a horny, clingy, wreck. after a lot of begging you finally give him exactly what he needs.

contains: sub!chris, smut, needy!chris, teasing, overstimulation, fluff.

-----------------------------♡----------------------------

6:14pm

i lay down on the couch in my pink pyjama set, curled up as i scroll through my phone. suddenly my head perks up as i hear the door unlock.

chris walks through the door, throwing his bag down and slipping off his shoes.

"hi chris!" i call out from the living room,

chris lets out a small whine in response, instantly dragging his feet over to the couch. i smile up at him as i open my arms, chris instantly flops down.

he lands ontop of me with a small grunt, instantly cuddling into me. he rests his head on my neck.

"you tired?" i whisper softly,

chris shakes his head, "no..." my eyebrows furrow as i run my nails up and down his back.

"do you feel sick?" i ask, his head shakes again.

"whats up with you then?' i mumble,

chris shakes his head, refusing to anwser.

i stay silent for a few moments, waiting for him to respond.

"can you touch me..?" chris whispers, pulling his head away from the crook of my neck to look into my eyes.

"so thats what this is about yeah?" i giggle,

his cheeks flush but he doesn't stop, "please- 'm so horny." his tone is somewhat desperate, a small whine in his voice.

"im tired chris, not today." i whisper, still rubbing his back.

"but- please, i've- i've been needy all day for you 'n i wasnt home at all today- please." he rambles, staring into my eyes with half lidded eyes.

"chris baby, i told you that im tired, maybe tomorrow yeah?" i mutter,

chris lets out a high pitched whine, clutching onto my shirt with balled up fists.

"i can't wait- please i just need you so bad ma, please, seriously." he babbles on, his grip on my pyjama shirt getting tighter.

i let out a small laugh, but he instantly cuts me off.

"stop! 's not funny!" he groans, burying his head in my chest.

i keep up my smirk,

"baby, just go upstairs and sort yourself out okay?" i speak softly, gently rolling him off of me.

"i cant- i wont be able to cum without you." he says, slightly panting now.

i stay silent, just staring at him.

i can't even deny the fact im getting more and more turned on by the second, looking at his completley flushed face, and the red tint spread across his cheeks from how embarrassed he is, looking just so pathetic begging for me like this.

i continue to just look at him, split between wanting to go to bed now and just giving him what he really, really wants.

chris burys his head back into my stomach.

"look at me." i whisper, he shakes his head.

i pull his head away from me, and grab his chin, tilting it up so he has to look at me.

he has teary, glassed over eyes.

a smirk tugs at my lips, almost in shock.

"are you about to cry?" i grin,

"no! im just! im so frustrated!" he grumbles.

"hey, fine, cmon." i whisper, standing up off the couch and grabbing his hand.

he stands up on shaky legs as i drag him to the bedroom, his eyes lighten immediately as he sees what is going on.

he suddenly has more of a spring in his step, and the tears in his eyes have gone.

i pull him into the bedroom, pushing him down onto the bed.

he looks up at me, staying silent and still.

“don’t get all shy on me now chris.” i speak, referencing his frozen figure and wide eyes.

“sorry.” he whispers, clutching the bedsheets.

“go on, take everything off f’me.” i tell him, folding my arms over his chest.

he nods frantically, instantly reaching down and fumbling with his belt buckle, throwing it across the room to the floor.

he unbuttons his jeans with shaky hands, sliding them down his legs before reaching for his shirt, which he throws off aswell.

he sits on the bed in his boxers, a sheepish expression on his face.

i can tell his cock is tucked into his waistband of his boxers, proving he’d been hard for a while.

“how long have you been hard.” i scoff, staring down at him,

he wipes a few strands of hair out of his eyes before speaking, “too long.” he mutters.

“let me take care of you, yeah? boxers off.” i tell him,

he tugs down his boxers and his erection springs out, his tip tapping his stomach, smearing his precum against the pale skin.

his tip is raw and red, it almost looks borderline painful.

i crawl onto the bed between his legs, resting my head on his thigh.

his dick sits straight up right by my face,

chris stares down at me, his eyelids heavy and lips a dark pink.

his loose hairs stick to his forehead as he lets out shallow breaths.

“please.” he mutters under his breath, his hips bucking up and his dick brushing my cheek.

i shake my head, placing a firm hand on his lower belly to hold him down to the bed.

“no, no squirming.” i mumble,

“i need it so bad- please- i’m so sore.” his voice cracks,

i grin slightly at his plea,

“please!” he raises his voice, his tone high pitched,

“please what..?” i decide to tease him a little bit more.

“please- please touch me, please- i’ll do anything baby.” he pants,

“finee.” i whisper, dragging my nails up and down his thighs,

i finally wrap my fingers around his stiff cock, i can feel his throbbing in my hand.

“i want your mouth- i need your lips.” he breathes,

“good boy, telling me what you want.” i grin,

i pump him a few times, my fist clenched tight around his length.

i drag my thumb up the long vein which travels up his dick, eliciting a loud moan from him.

my lips part as i stick my tongue out, gently licking up the underside of his cock, from his base to his pink raw tip.

he lets out a cross between a sigh and a whimper, the pleasure getting to him.

i finally wrap my lips around his tip, his eyes roll back into his head as he arches his back off the bed.

“oohh my godd..” he breathes, a smile on his face as his jaw falls slack.

i swirl my tongue around his tip, gathering the salty precum in my mouth.

his hands travel up to my hair, his long fingers intertwining into the strands.

i gently take more of him down my throat, gagging as he hits the back of my throat

“fucking- so- good” he gasps out,

i pick up my pace, bobbing my head up and down on his cock,

chris squirms on the bed, his hands tightening in my hair as he lets out strings of curses.

“i’m gonna cum- i’m gonna cum- please i’m so close-“ he babbles,

after a few seconds i pull off of him, edging him completely.

he looks down at me with wide eyes, almost looking like he could burst into tears right there.

“that’s not fair- that’s not fair!” he pants,

he reaches down and grabbing his cock in his own hands.

i instantly pull his hands away, shaking my head.

“but- ‘s not fair!” he says with a loud whine.

i sit up, rubbing his cheek, “i know it’s not fair, but i wanna ride you yeah?”

his eyes light up somewhat, but he still looks pissed.

i peel off my tank top, following with my tiny pyjama shorts.

i sit naked infront of him, he throws his head back.

“it hurts- i’m so hard it hurts.” he whispers,

my nipples harden at his words, the dampness between my thighs getting more prominent.

i shift up and i straddle his waist,

his hands reach up and grab my waist, his fingers digging into the skin.

i sit fully bare on his waist, my arousal dripping onto his skin.

he lets out a trembling breath, staring up at me piercingly.

i sit up on my knees before shifting back,

i reach down and grab his length, positioning his tip right at my entrance.

his head throws back, his fingers digging painfully hard onto my skin,

after a few seconds, i finally sink down onto his tip,

chris lets out a pathetic whimper as his hands fly down to the matress, his hands balling up the sheets.

i sink further, and further down before bottoming out.

my stomach fills with a familiar warmth, i let out a shaky moan as my stomach feels heavy and warm.

“thank you- thank you- thank you so much oh my god-“ he whines, his legs shaking subtly.

i start to bounce on his length, the stretch burning, in such a good way.

chris seems to be enjoying it as much as i am, his eyes trained on my tits as he fights to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head.

“i lo- love you so much- god you feel incredible.” he rambles out, his voice croaky and cracking.

he hands fly up to my breasts, squeezing them as he moans loudly.

“i’m so close already- i need to cum-“ he whispers, his hands sinking into my tits.

i bite back a smile at how hard he’s gripping me, it’s almost painful but i decide to not comment on it, instead just grabbing his hands and moving them to my waist.

i clench around him, the warmth spreading through my abdomen as i feel myself get closer.

“please let me cum- i need to- please—“ he breathes,

he arches his back off the bed, his head tipping back

his brown locks fall over his face, also spreading against the matress.

he sinks his teeth stupidly hard into his bottom lip, so hard to the point i can see blood drawing.

i feel my chest tighten as pleasure overwhelms me, my cheeks burning and my legs aching from the effort.

a loud moan rips out of me as i clench around him again, tighter this time.

i feel my orgasm crash down on me, riding it out to the best of my ability before flopping down on his chest.

i feel chris follow right after me, spurts of white filling my insides.

the room goes partially silent, only filled with our panting from both of us.

i slowly pull off of him, my whole body feels like it’s on fire.

chris’s cum leaks out of me onto the bedsheets, but i can’t be asked to care about that right now.

“i love you.” he breaks the silence, wrapping his arms around my back and rolling us over so he’s ontop of me.

i mumble a vague, ‘love you too’ as i hold him ontop of me.

after several minutes of laying like this he finally breaks the silence.

“i don’t think you understand how good that felt..” he whispers,

i grin tiredly, with a small hum.

“why did you have to make me wait so long- i think that’s the worst pain i’ve been in all year.” he whispers,

“i liked watching you beg!” i giggle,

“shut up- shush.” he laughs, his face going red.

“you were all, ‘pleasee i’m so soree let me cummm’.” i tease him,

he clasps a hand over my mouth, “i hate you.” he grins.

-

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnn n @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow w @mattfangirl girl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo larsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette e @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101saroona a @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 1 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz 4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall john @raysmayhem-72

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (pt.2 of Dilf Next Door!Ghost)

Simon’s hobby improved to a new level of enjoyment because of you.

He’s at his flat when you open the door with the key he gave you. A simple grey sweatpants hanging low on his waist, faded shirts he owned since the first few years of his service covering his body when you spot him on the couch.

Simon lifts his head from the book as soon as he hears the door creaks open, the black reading glasses still on his face when he lets out a soft grunt to greet you.

“Can give you something to do, princess.” He mutters when you explain that you’re feeling bored, so you come over to see what’s he doing.

He picks up his book again minutes later, now with your trousers toss aside on the floor, panties still on but push aside, allowing his cock to barge in and nestles deeply in your cunt. One of his hand pushing you down to rest your head against his chest, while the other still holding his book, listening to you mewl every time he turns a page and accidentally’ shift his hips, grinding in and out of your now dripping cunny.

“Quit moving, love. Can’t see the words on the book clearly if you keep doing that.” The hand on your rear snaps down to holding your hips against his snuggly, dragging you down onto his cock in a swift move and makes his fat tip nudge against your cervix, making your eyes roll back and creams around his hard dick, walls clenching down tightly and try to milk him, so you can be filled with his white cum again just like last night.

“Can I move? please I want to move, please…” You watery eyes meet his, peppering kisses along his neck in attempt to make him lose control, yet all he does is anchoring your hips with his both hand, the book now lean back against your tits.

“Only few pages left. behave.” He croons, guiding your hips to slowly massage his cock, then unabashedly using your tits as makeshift book stand while he resume reading.

You’re stressed out as your exam day approaches, one hand gripping your hair while another holding the pen, trying to write down again the key points you just went over again, but failed miserably because your exhausted brain can’t operate properly after hours of study.

“Come here.” After probably the 100 times he hears you sigh subconsciously within hours, Simon’s voice pops up, beckoning you to come closer as he lies on your bed.

He’s gonna fuck all those stress out of you, and god, he’s doing such a great job, holding you down and desperately wanting you smother him with your pussy, tongues darts out and lapping at your wet folds, making you scream out his name in pleasure whenever he take your swollen clit in his mouth and gives it a hard suck.

“Use my tongue, sweetheart.” He pats on your thighs—straddling his face and wrapping his head in those soft flesh—encouraging you to ride his face and use it for your own pleasure. Don’t you dare lift your hips from his face before you come, his big palm will immediately lands on your ass cheek and spank you if you do so, before pulling you down so he can lick all the juices from your entrance, groaning contentedly against your pussy at the sweet and intoxicating taste.

“just like that, ride my face, need to feel you come on my tongue.” His praises barely registered as you chase your orgasm, fingers tangled in his hair and head throws back with all those moans—definitely the best music he’ve heard in his entire life—feeling him slurping all the juices eagerly in afraid of losing even a drop when you cry out his name and drench his face with your release.

Little whimpers escape your lips when you move your hips away from Simon’s face, and he reaches up to chase your soaked pussy, pressing a few more kisses—on your cute clit and puffy folds, as if thanking them for drowning him in his best dream.

And when you look down at him, it’s that slight smirk on his face again, the smug expression he has whenever makes you come or even squirt with his tongue only.

“I suppose that’s a way to relieve stress. Now, you still need more ‘stress relief session’, or you gonna go back to read those bloody textbooks?”

[xi-vz]

HC—Luo Binghe looks almost identical to Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky. (basically Airplane is hot but doesn’t realize it.)

•

•

•

Shen Yuan woke up back in modern China after spending sixty years in PIDW, so, of course, the first thing he did was message Airplane.

(That’s actually the second… third?…thing he did. The first was trying reach out to the system. The second was crying.) ((But if Shen Yuan were asked why he was crying he’d scoff. Tears? No way! His eyes were just dry.))

Anyway, he reached out to Shang Qinghua—who, by the grace of God, came back with him—and found out that they both lived in Hong Kong. And not only that, but in the same neighborhood! Which was insane, but also very lucky. Maybe even too lucky? The universe never usually helped them out. Maybe this kindness of them being so near each other was an apology from The System? Whatever it was, it was best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The two agreed to meet on a Saturday, when Shen Yuan didn’t have school (being back as a senior in high school sucked).

Here’s the thing, Shang Qinghua sent a long winded text as a warning about how he looked very different. Which…fair. Everyone in PIDW was gorgeous, and people in the real world were not like that.

They agreed to meet at a café. Shen Yuan had sent Shang Qinghua a selfie so the man knew who to look for. It was a decent selfie, one Shen Yuan may have spent too much time on. It was a mirror selfie, showing off a nice outfit and Shen Yuan throwing up a peace sign. The photo showed an older teenager, with black hair that fell to his shoulders, large black eyes, and a silly smile. (He sent the picture to his mom too.) ((Seeing his family again was a whole other story better never to be told. There were a lot of tears and hugs on Shen Yuan’s part. It was a little embarrassing.))

Shen Yuan had gotten to the café early, snagging a corner table and waited with two iced lattes. He watched people out of the window. The streets were busy with both pedestrians and cars, there were delivery bicyclists and people carrying shopping bags. It was crowded. And loud. And dirty.

Being back was weird.

But, having indoor air conditioning was nice. And the internet! Oh God, he’d sell his kidney for the internet back home.

He blinked his eyes, his contacts felt harsh against them. Years without needing them made him forget what they were like. He should’ve worn his glasses, but had honestly forgotten where he put them. Maybe he should buy another pair? It wasn’t like he lacked the funds and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be in the modern world.

It was the chair across from him scrapping across the wooden floor that startled Shen Yuan back into focus.

His phone told him that Airplane was five minutes late.

“About time you showed u—Binghe?” Shen Yuan gapped.

“Close-ish?” Shang Qinghua flushed and adjusted his black framed glasses. His curly hair was kept in an undercut, he had pierced ears and a lip piercing and a sleeve tattoo on his right arm. He had freckles, dimples, and a 5 o’clock shadow too. Which. What? Okay. “Hi.”

That was Shen Yuan’s husbands face looking back at him! Sure, the eyes were black and there was no demon mark, but he intimately knew that face.

“Qinghua?!” Shen Yuan wheezed his name, his heart doing weird things in his chest at the fucking shock. “You look…you’re nearly identical to…”

“Yeah,” Shang Qinghua sighed, “imagine how surprised I was the first time I saw Binghe. The system stole my face!”

The voice was the same as Luo Binghe’s, even though the pitch was a little different.

And the body. Because…Shang Qinghua was tall? And muscular? And he was mother fucking LUO BINGHE.

“What the fuck?” Shen Yuan stared.

Shang Qinghua sighed as he grabbed his iced latte. His nails were painted black.

“My brain can’t—” comprehend this. Shen Yuan’s mind was static. Error 404 bounced around in his brain.

Was this some sick joke? Did The System do this? Was he really back in the bamboo house resting in bed and having a weird as fuck dream?!

“Wanna take this somewhere else?” Shang Qinghua asked, his eyes darted around the establishment uncomfortably. People were staring. At him. Because he was fucking gorgeous.

Shen Yuan had So. Many. Questions.

“Is it as bad as your office at An Ding?” Shen Yuan asked, his lips curled disdain.

Shang Qinghua huffed a soft sound of amusement. “Where do you think Binghe gets his clean freak mentality from?”

“Wait,” Shen Yuan stood up when Shang Qinghua did. “When you said you wrote a self-insert, you didn’t mean Shang Qinghua??? You meant Luo Binghe?!”

“Well, yeah, bro.” It was surreal to hear the word ‘bro’ come out of that mouth. “Binghe is all the good, bad and ugly of me, amped up to eleven. Well…with bad at a fifteen.”

“Wait, what?” The hamster in Shen Yuan’s wheel of a brain began to run faster as thoughts began to practically explode. But there was one that was louder than any of the other:

Did this mean that Shen Yuan basically married Shang Qinghua?!

[bi-writes]

mmm. being the final girl in ghost's slasher movie (dark!ghost x curvy!fem!reader, 18+)

his laughter shakes you to your core. you're cornered, in the very back bedroom under the bed, staring at the dull gaze of your roommate as she bleeds out on the floor.

she's gurgling. she coughs up mouthfuls of blood, and they trail down her neck like a spider web until it pools underneath her head, making the strands of her hair red and sticky. the slit across her throat sputters, and you watch as the white painted bones on the back of his gloves drips with the pretty crimson color. if it wasn't so cruel, if it wasn't blood, it might be artistic.

he takes a thumb and smears the blood over her skin. he draws shapes into her forehead and then both of her cheeks, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to stop from crying as she gasps, reaching up with a shaky hand, halfheartedly trying to push him off, but she's too weak.

he hums when he finishes, and your eyes well up with tears when he knocks her head to the side so she's facing you. he's written three words on her face, one word on her forehead, and then the rest on her cheeks, in her own blood.

I SEE YOU

you scream when he shifts, grabbing onto your ankles and yanking. you claw at the hardwood floor, trying desperately to get away from him, but it's no use. he has you, he found you.

no matter where you go, you've never been able to hide. no matter how far away you think you've gone, it never matters. no matter how long you go without hearing from him, it isn't a comfort, because that usually means the inevitable is coming.

he will never leave you alone. you will never get away. he will find you, he will have you, and every time you escape, it is always just him giving you the illusion of freedom, when in reality, he can have you as easily as he did before.

"givin' me a right headache, luvvie," he murmurs, flipping you over with not so much as a grunt and sitting on your hips. you squirm under him, but this behemoth of a man isn't something you can just push off of you. he's big and heavy, and with all his gear on, he must be thirty pounds heavier. you eye the gun strapped to his chest, but even at this distance, you know it won't matter.

ghost cannot die. that's how he got his fucking name. you've sunk a knife into his stomach before, you've shot him once, you've pushed him off of cliffs and down elevator shafts and watched him sink to the bottom of the fucking ocean, but he cannot die, he won't die, he will never leave me.

"fuck you," you spit, and he chuckles, pulling one of his throwing knives out of his boot and using it to pop the first button off the front of your shirt. it clatters somewhere in the bedroom, and ghost snarls when he sees the lace of your bra.

"expectin' someone?" he growls. "oi! look at me."

you glare up at him, tears sliding down your cheeks, and he uses the sharp edge to pop the rest of the buttons off, your shirt in tatters as it lays loose around your arms. he grunts as he sneaks it under where the cups meet, pulling upwards until he cuts the lace in half. you mewl when your tits bounce, falling free, and his pupils dilate.

"mmmm..." he pushes his mask up, leaning down, and you arch your back when he wraps his lips around one nipple and suckles. you reach up without thinking, your hands finding the back of his head and cradling it as he practically feeds on the fat of your breasts. "know how much you like tha'..."

you whine, and he lets go, pushing the front of his mask into your cheek, licking the skin. you scrunch your face, dirty fucking animal, and he mouths at your jaw.

"'f y'were just a good girl, wouldn't hafta do this," he taunts. you squirm when he lowers himself again, paying attention to the other breast and sucking it into his mouth. "y'make me do it, swee'eart. make me hurt sorry muppets...they're keepin' y'from me. and y'know tha' isn't allowed."

you cry out when he flips you over under him. he shoves your face into the floor, tangling his hand into your hair and yanking on it so that you're looking at your dead roommate, her eyes dull and lifeless as she lays there turning cold.

"look wot y'did," he growls. "look wot y'made me do."

she looks sort of pretty. she did annoy the shit out of you, you won't lie. she looks happier this way. quiet, relaxed, still. it's cathartic, to know that maybe this is what she was meant for. to die, that was her purpose. it makes a little sense.

"'m sorry," you whisper, and ghost loosens his grip on your hair. "'m sorry..."

he kisses the side of your neck, laughing a little.

"now y'r sorry," he says, amused. "y'r mine. when are y'going to learn tha'?"

you put your palms onto the floor, trying to turn over. he eases his weight up to let you, leaning down and putting both hands on either side of your head as he looks down at you. you meet his eyes, sniffling, and you shake your head.

"w-was scared."

"scared?" he tilts his head to the side, licking over his teeth. "scared of wot? would do anythin' for ya."

"i-i know," you sniffle. "just...n-never had anyone that...that would. i-i...i've never had anyone s-so good to me."

he grins, and you shiver a little, but not from fear.

"awww," he shakes his head. "y'r a bad liar, luv."

"i'm not lying--!"

he leans down, licking over your bottom lip, and you whimper.

"prove it," ghost rasps, and you blink up at him, swallowing hard. you push on his chest a little so he eases off of you, and you hook your thumbs into your jeans and shimmy them off. ghost watches carefully, his eyes flickering when you lay bare underneath him, and you bring your knees up before letting them fall. he licks his lips, his grin widening, and he meets your eyes when he sees what he likes. "bloody hell, y'r soaking the fuckin' floor, swee'eart."

you bite your lip, a little shy, and he grips your throat firmly before tugging you up to meet him. he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, stroking your sweaty hair and humming low.

"y'r gonna run again, aren't ya, baby?"

you nod, closing your eyes, and you let a soft moan slip out when he settles between your spread legs, pressing his pelvis to yours. you feel that familiar hardness, digging into your sex, and you can't help the grind of your hips, wanting to get closer, needing to have more of him. he might be the craziest motherfucker you have ever known, and it's a shame he fucks like a pornstar.

you open your eyes, reaching down, and he smiles wickedly when you unzip his pants, shoving them low until his cock is free. like he knew this would happen, he's been leaking into his boxers, and when you pull him out, the tip is red and wet.

you squeeze your thighs around his waist when he sinks into you, grunting when his thighs press to yours, burying himself deep. you cry, your back bowing sharply, and he smooths his gloved hand down your bare stomach, licking his lips when he trails streaks of blood down your soft skin.

"'s olright," ghost mutters, "quite like chasin' ya. makes y'r cunny taste better. makes y'so fuckin' tight, too, fuck--"

"yeah--" you gasp, and he smiles again, disgusting, filthy, murderous, terrifying.

"say it. say it, and maybe i'll forgive this lil' stunt, and maybe i'll let y'cum." your eyes roll back, and he grips your face tight. "oi! say it!"

"i'm yours! fuck--yes! i'm yours..."

[y3sterdaysproblem]

smoke and mirrors - chris sturniolo

chapter six part two

summary: your best friend Matt backs out of plans you had made together, so you replace him with his brother. the only problem is the two of you can’t stand each other.

{enemies to lovers, fake dating}

includes : explicit language, fluff, smut(penetration, oral, fingering, etc.), angst if you squint, lots of bickering, slow burn

wc: 5.4k

You guys stood a few feet apart for a few moments, your body further into the room than him, his feet inches from the door. Your eyes flitted to the counter quickly, noticing a basket of complimentary alcohol. You instantly moved towards it and grabbed two shooters, throwing one towards Chris. “One more for good measure,” you joke, but you both quickly crack them open and swallow them with a grimace.

Chris throws his empty bottle on the floor and walks towards you determinedly, leaning down as he approached you to scoop you up with his hands under your ass. Your legs instantly wrap around his waist and your arms around his neck, lips colliding harshly.

He walks a few more steps and plants you on the desk connected to the wall, not at all concerned about the creak you both heard. The only thing you guys cared about was the lust rushing through your veins.

As you kissed, articles of clothing started to come off. First, his suit jacket, then your shoes, then his shoes, then his tie was ripped off and thrown across the room, until you guys were only left in one layer each, and that somehow made this all feel even more real.

“Are you sure?” Chris clarifies again, his hands resting on the top of the zipper on your back, and all you had to do was nod before he started to pull it down, sliding you off of the desk to let it fall off of you.

You stood up on your now bare feet, slipping the straps off of your shoulders and allowing your dress to slide off of you and pool at your feet on the ground, left in only your underwear as you didn’t wear a bra with the dress. Chris’s breath hitched in his throat as he took in the sight of your nearly naked body, his dick twitching in his pants. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, putting his hands to use as he unbuttons his dress shirt, sliding it off as quickly as he could.

He steps back to you and wraps his arms around you, fingers exploring your back as you looked down to work on the button on his pants, quickly popping it open and shoving them down, leaving you both in just your underwear.

“Chris,” you whine, looking back up at him, your hands palming him through his boxers. He groans, his own hands sliding down to your ass.

“Hmm?” He hums, trying to focus on the fact that you were speaking.

“Bed, please?”

Chris shoves your hand away and picks you up again, dropping you back on the desk. He leans down and wraps his mouth around one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth enthusiastically. His right hand dips back to your underwear, pulling it to the side easily as it was a thong and already pretty thin. His middle and ring finger glided through your soaked slit, making you whimper and roll your head against the wall, eyes fluttering shut. “Bed is boring,” he mutters, kissing up your chest until he reaches your face again. “Bed is last.”

You cry out and arch your back towards him as his fingers slip inside of you with ease. “Oh my god, you sound so fucking good. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you like this, to make you sound like this.” Chris praises you, just like he had promised you on that date. The same comment that had sent your thoughts into a spiral.

“Chris!” You cried out as his fingers curled inside of you, thumb brushing over your clit simultaneously.

“Yeah, baby?” He coos, placing a soft kiss on your chin. “What’s on your mind?”

Your pick your head up off the wall and turn to look back down at him, your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as his fingers worked inside of you, your arms holding yourself up starting to become weak and shaky. “You. You’re on my mind, clearly you’re on my fucking mind,” you groan, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Fuck, I want you to make me cum so bad.”

Chris only smiles back at you, using his thumb a bit more as he fingered you, causing you to cry out. “Don’t worry, you’ll never want anyone else to make you cum after this.”

“You’re cocky,” you huff out, trying to hide the moan that slipped from your lips.

Chris laughs, pausing his fingers inside of you. “I’m good at what I do.”

You groan, reaching down to grab his wrist, trying to guide him to keep his fingers moving. “Come on.”

Chris furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head. “What?” He asks. “What do you want?”

“Don’t tease me,” you try to demand, but it comes out soft and whiny.

“I’m not teasing you, baby, tell me what you want.” Chris’s left hand strokes up and down your leg as you share this exchange, his touch seemingly lighting your skin on fire.

“Chris!” You huff in aggravation. “You want me to beg for it? Fine, I’ll fucking beg for it. I need you, Chris. I need you to finger me, to eat me out, to fuck me, to do whatever the fuck you want with me for the rest of the fucking night. I need you so bad it physically hurts right now. I’m so desperate and horny that I feel like I could cum just from looking at your dick so please stop teasing me and fuck me until I’m crying, please.”

You’re almost out of breath when you’re done speaking, sucking air in quickly as you finish. Chris’s eyes darken at the permission to do whatever he pleased, knowing in his head you’ve just consented to the best sex either of you have ever had. “Coulda started with that,” he teases before slipping a third finger inside of you, making you cry out.

His fingers pump inside of you quickly, your body starting to shake from the pleasure. It’s been so long since you’ve had sex that it doesn’t take you long to start feeling your first orgasm crawling up inside you, your eyes clenched shut tightly as you focused only on the fingers buried deep inside of you, pressing everywhere you needed them.

“Chris,” you moan, a hand aggressively reaching out to grip onto his bicep, nails digging into the back of his arm. “Chris, I’m… fuck, I’m-.” You cut yourself off, legs trying to clench as the band in your stomach snaps, head falling back against the wall behind you as he coaxes you through your orgasm, lips coming down to press onto your neck, sucking a purple mark on the soft skin.

Your moans slow as his fingers slow inside you, pulling them out once you’ve come down, making you twitch lightly. You’re breathing heavily as you open your eyes and bring them to Chris’s as he pulls away from your neck, his own eyes falling down to where a long, sticky string of arousal connected your core and his fingers, completely fascinated by how wet you were.

He looks up into your eyes and smirks, breaking the silence. “You’re pretty wet for someone you hate. Can’t imagine how wet you get for someone you actually like.”

You roll your eyes and punch him in the chest lightly. “Shut the fuck up about how wet I am, I’m sure you have the worst blue balls of your life right now.”

Chris laughs, using his hand to slap down at your swollen clit, making you gasp and jump, clearly overstimulated. “Yeah, it actually kind of hurts but it’s so worth it to hear you like that just for my fingers.”

You push his hand away from you and stand up off the table, ignoring how shaky your knees were. You loop your fingers through your panties and slide them down, grimacing at how soaked they were. You definitely wouldn’t be able to wear those tomorrow morning on the way home.

You’re both standing in front of each other now, you completely naked and Chris in his underwear, dick clearly straining against the fabric. Your hand reaches out and starts to palm him, causing him to moan out quietly, feeling the first bit of relief for himself since the first kiss outside. “Fuck,” he groans, his head falling onto your shoulder. “Want you so bad.”

You thread your free hand through his hair, tilting your head down to face him as your hand stroked him over his boxers. “You’ve got me,” you tell him in a whisper. “You can have me however you want.”

Chris picks his head up and connects your lips again, sliding his tongue against yours sensually as his hand comes up to rest on your jaw. He’s moaning into your mouth, damn near whimpering and it’s making you even wetter than before if that was even possible. He’s got you weak in the knees in more ways than one and you aren’t complaining a single bit.

You pull away from the kiss first, using both hands to slide his boxers down his legs, finally locking eyes on his rock hard length, a shiver making its way down your spine. “Holy fuck, Chris,” you whisper, and he just laughs.

“What?” He teases.

“You know what,” you tell him, looking up at his eyes that sparkled even in the dimly lit hotel room. “Go sit on the couch.”

He listens, turning around and walking to the couch with a bit more excitement than he usually would, plopping down on it with his legs spread, ready for whatever you wanted him for. You walked over slowly, eyeing him up and down where he was sat on the couch until you were directly in front of him. He had no idea where you were going with this and the thought of you having your own plan was exhilarating to him.

You shot a smile his way before sinking to your knees in front of him, hand reaching out to grab his dick and start stroking it, pulling small moans from his lips as you did so. You lean down, keeping eye contact with him, but don’t let your lips touch him quite yet.

“Tell me, Chris,” you say quietly. “Tell me how long you’ve wanted to get me like this. How long you’ve wanted to see me on my knees for you.”

Chris’s jaw is slack as he stares at you running your closed fist up and down his dick, heart pounding in his chest. “I-I don’t know, a really long time,” he whines out. “Fuck, you’re lucky I’m drunk otherwise I wouldn’t last at all, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

You giggle, leaning down to lick a strip from the base of his dick up to his tip, wrapping your lips around the head and sucking lightly before popping your lips off, pulling away again. “Not good enough. Tell me how long.” You demand, pulling your hand away completely and resting it on his thigh.

Chris groans at the lack of contact. “Since we were like eighteen! I can’t sleep with anyone without imagining what it would be like with you. I think about you when I get myself off. Every time I see you at my house I just want to bend you over the table and fuck you right then and there. It’s why I can’t be alone with you, because every time we’re alone and you’re just sitting there I just think about taking you wherever we are. You’ve had me wrapped around your finger for fucking years and you’ve had no idea, which is why I’m so desperate right now for something, anything, I just need you.”

You’re pretty sure the insides of your thighs were slippery at this point, completely coated in your arousal, not only from the orgasm but just from Chris’s words. He was so desperate for you and it was the hottest thing you had ever seen. It was enough for you to bring your hand back to the base of his dick and lean in, wrapping your lips around him and taking the first few inches, moaning when the taste of his precum hit your tongue. Chris’s hand instinctively went up and tangled in the back of your hair, wanting to push you down farther but resisting.

“Fuck,” he moaned, head lolling back onto the back of the couch and eyes fluttering shut. He focused on his hand in your hair, the way your head was bobbing up and down and your tongue where it was flattened on the bottom of his cock. It was all so overwhelming and he couldn’t believe it was finally happening after all of his fantasies. Though he was drunk, the fact that it was you overpowered his normal ability to last for what seemed like forever, his orgasm coiling in his stomach. “You’re so good, I’m- shit- gonna-.” Chris couldn’t even complete a full sentence and you knew what that meant, pulling your lips off of him completely.

You started to pump his full length with your hand, staring straight up at him. “Look at me,” you tell him and he picks his head up, eyes heavy as he looks down at you, mouth open as moans and whines leave his lips.

You’re not stroking him for long when he finally lets out a loud moan and shoots ropes of cum on his own chest, hips twitching and stomach tensing as he came. You smile at him and slow down, removing your hand once he’s finished, moving your eyes to look at his torso where his cum had been spread out, slowly dripping down his skin. “You look so good like that,” you whisper, bringing your hand that was coated in his semen to your lips, sucking off between your pointer finger and thumb while keeping eye contact with him. “Shame we didn’t do this earlier.”

Chris just watches you in awe, unable to say anything at the moment, too caught up in how sexy you looked. You just laugh at his silence and slowly rise to your feet before straddling him on the couch, sitting comfortably on his thighs. You lean down and lick a stripe up his chest, collecting more cum on your tongue, then bring your lips to his to kiss him again, cum slipping past your lips as your tongues danced together, causing Chris to moan at the taste.

He’d never had a girl do something like that before, but he thinks he would find literally anything you did hot, so he wasn’t even grossed out when he swallowed some of his own load, hands reaching down to grip at your bare ass, pulling you closer. Your hands rested on his cheeks and your hips started to grind against him, causing you to whimper out small moans of pleasure.

He noticed this and slipped one hand between you guys, grabbing his cock that was hard again, not sure if he even went soft after that orgasm, guiding your hips up with his free hand. Once you lifted your hips enough he positioned his dick at your entrance, ready for you to drop down on top of him and finally cross that line that he’d fantasized about for what felt like forever.

It was better than he’d ever imagined it when you finally sunk down and bottomed out, moaning into his mouth as you did so. “Shit, Chris,” you whine, pulling your face away from his. “You’re so big, feels so good.”

Chris planted both hands on either one of your hips, looking up into your eyes that stared down at him. “You feel incredible. I could stay like this forever.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him, placing a small, gentle kiss on his lips before pulling away and lifting your hips up, crying out as you drop back down again. You felt so full with Chris inside you like this and it was no doubt the best sexual encounter you’d ever had, and it was barely starting. “Chris,” you mewl, hips keeping a steady pace bouncing on top of him, his hands helping guide you so you weren’t too exhausted.

Your forearms were rested on his shoulders, using them for leverage slightly as your hips slammed against his repeatedly, the only sounds filling the room being the sounds of your bodies colliding and both of you breathing heavily. “Chris, I’m gonna cum again like this,” you whine out, the muscles in your thighs getting tired and your bouncing getting sloppy.

Chris wanted nothing more than to watch you fall apart again, but not like this, not yet. He looped his arms around your back and leaned you backwards until you were laid out on the coffee table in front of the couch, your ass barely on the wood and your legs hanging off. He moved his hands to the underside of your thighs and pushed them back, pulling out of you and dropping down to the floor on his knees. “What are you doing?” You question, propped up on your elbows to watch him. He doesn’t answer, only drops his head down and latches his mouth onto your pussy, tongue connecting with your swollen, sensitive clit, causing you to cry out and drop your head back.

He easily slips three fingers inside of you, curling them expertly, and the feeling of him eating you out and fingering you had you shaking almost immediately, legs twitching against his head. “Chris!” You moan, dropping your elbows out from underneath you and reaching down to grip his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. He moans against your clit and that’s all it takes to tip you over the edge again, a chorus of moans and whines leaving your lips as he fucks you through your orgasm once again.

Only this time, he didn’t stop or let up, he only pulled his fingers from you and wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you even closer to his mouth if that was possible. You were no doubt crying at this point, tears dripping down your face as he continued to eat you out. “T-too much!” You tell him, but he didn’t let up, and you didn’t push him away, and it took no more than thirty seconds of him overstimulating you with his tongue to cum again, your head hanging off the coffee table and your jaw slack, completely silent as your body shook.

You finally sucked in a deep breath as he pulled away from you, kissing up your thighs as he looked down towards your completely spent body, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Eventually, you pick your head up and lift yourself back onto your elbows, looking down at Chris where he smirked at you from between your legs. “I almost passed out,” you huff.

Chris just laughs and stands up, helping you to your feet, his arms wrapped around your back to hold you up since you were too shaky to stand on your own. “I would’ve kept going even if you passed out.”

Your eyes widen at his words. “That’s fucked!” You say, but you couldn’t help but laugh at his words. He just smiles at you before shoving you forward on the couch, causing a squeal to leave your lips. Your knees land on the cushions and your hands on the back of the couch, looking behind you to watch Chris step up behind you.

He places one hand on your hip and the other on his dick to line it up with your entrance, and you smirk to yourself as you press against him, arching your back for him. “You’re going to ruin me for anyone else,” you tell him, and it sounds like a joke, but you’re pretty sure it’s a hundred percent true.

Chris smiles and leans to press a kiss into your shoulder. “That’s the goal.”

He presses in and bottoms out in one go, making you gasp. You’d already had him inside you once, but the change in angle had you seeing black spots in your vision. “Fuck,” you whimper, placing a hand on the wall to brace yourself a bit from the harsh thrusts he was delivering, sending your body forward every time.

“You feel so fucking good,” Chris groans, both hands placed on your hips as he watches your ass bounce back every time he pounds into you, the sight of that and your pussy swallowing him whole making him lightheaded. “You’re so perfect, taking me so well. S’like you were made for me,” he slurs.

You couldn’t even speak at this point, too fucked out and overstimulated to be able to think about choking anything out, the only thing leaving your lips being a string of moans and whimpers, and maybe a little bit of drool from your mouth hanging open.

Chris’s hand slides up your back as he continues fucking you seemingly as hard as he can, grabbing your hair and creating a makeshift ponytail, pulling your head backwards, causing you to arch your back more. “This pussy was made for me, huh? Made just for me, for my cock only. Got you fucking speechless.” He didn’t even know what he was saying anymore, not only drunk off of all the alcohol you both had consumed, but drunk off of you. The way you smelled, the way you tasted, the way you felt gripping around his dick with your pussy. It was making him fucking delirious.

You used your left hand to hold yourself on the wall, your right hand coming down to rub back and forth on your clit, the feeling of your hand and Chris inside you triggering your tears once more, unable to hold back the way your body shook with a loud cry. “Fuck!” You yell out, feeling yet another orgasm bubbling up inside of you. No one’s ever made you cum this much in one night. You didn’t even think you’d made yourself cum this much in one night.

“Chris, don’t stop,” you breathe out, fingers still rapidly moving back and forth on your core, thighs shaking. “I’m so close, please, you feel so good inside me, don’t stop, fuck,” a string of profanities spilled from your mouth, not really making much sense as Chris turned you into a blubbering mess.

“That’s it, baby, cum all over my cock, I got you,” Chris coos, voice a stark difference from the way he was dominating you, dick feeling like it was about to split you in two from how hard he was thrusting and pulling your hips back to meet him. You happily listened, nearly screaming into the couch as you touched yourself through your orgasm, lurching your hips forward and away from Chris as you felt something you’ve never felt with a partner, only ever with yourself before. You cried out as you came, the sound of a small stream coming from between your legs as you squirted onto the couch and your fingers, your release dripping down your legs.

Chris’s eyes widened as he watched you shake, coming down from your intense orgasm. “Holy shit,” he muttered, to which you only whimpered, dipping two of your fingers inside yourself to coax a little bit more liquid out, pulling your fingers out and spreading your lips apart as you squirted a bit more.

“Chris…” you whine, turning your head to look at him, seeing him staring down at your completely drenched pussy and thighs, watching as the liquid dripped down your legs and into the couch. “I’m sorry, that’s never happened with anyone before, normally it just happens when I’m by myself.”

Chris reaches forward again and grabs your body, helping you turn around so you’re sitting on the couch, finally relaxing and not holding yourself up. “Why are you apologizing?” He asks, breathless just from the sight of you. “That was… the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You blush, looking away from his eyes, but he just sits next to you and grabs your jaw in his hand, turning your head to face him. “I’m serious. Don’t get all shy on me now.”

You giggle a bit and move your body, swinging your leg over his lap once more, taking up the same position you guys were in earlier. “Chris?” You start quietly.

He hums in response, moving his hand from your face and sliding them both down your body. On your waist, your hips, your thighs, finally reaching around and resting on your ass. “Yeah, baby?”

You smile at his words, lifting your hips and grabbing his dick, dropping yourself back down onto it, causing him to let out a small hiss as your hips landed on top of his. “I want you to cum inside me. Please.”

Chris brings his eyes up to yours, and in that moment you know you’ve got him wrapped completely around your finger. He’d do absolutely anything you’d ask him. You could’ve asked him to nose dive out the window and he’d do it just because you asked him. He was completely and utterly whipped just after one taste of you, and he couldn’t even complain. He lets out a small breath of air, clearly struggling to breathe at your words. “Anything,” he whispers. “I’d do anything for you.”

Chris stands up and takes you with him, walking you both over to the bed where he tosses you down, still inside you. He’s standing next to the bed and you’re laid on it, legs hanging off as he hovers above you. He grabs your legs and puts one on each shoulder before resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, starting to thrust into you again.

You’ve felt his dick at so many different angles tonight, each one better than the last, and this one was no different. Maybe it was the eye contact, or the words he had spoken to you seconds prior, or maybe it really was just the position you guys were in, him leaning over you and pushing your legs back as he fucked into you, you had no idea, but the way you looked up at him and he looked down at you it felt like you were the only two people in the world, and that feeling absolutely terrified you.

It didn’t take Chris long until his hips were stuttering and his moans grew louder, signaling he was close. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or if all this dick was getting to your head but you moved your legs to wrap around his waist and reached up to cup his jaw, sitting up on one elbow and pulling him down to meet you, pressing your lips against his firmly, but still someone sweetly. You both parted your lips as you kissed passionately, his hips coming to a stop as he completely sheathed himself inside of you, whimpering quietly into your mouth as he came, shooting long, hot ropes of cum deep inside you.

You stroked his jaw with your thumb as he came down, pulling away and placing a final kiss on his lips, both of you just staring into each others’ eyes for a few moments, not saying a word.

You were the first to speak, giggling a bit before you did so. “What the fuck?”

Chris laughs in response, nodding his head. “Exactly my thoughts.”

-

The two of you were laid in bed, Chris on his back and you on your side, head resting on his chest as his hand that was wrapped around you trailed up and down your arm, the room completely silent apart from your breathing. You hadn’t said much after you two had finished, only moving to grab one of the hotel towels to clean up between your legs as much as you could before the two of you crawled into bed under the sheets, still completely naked, room only lit up by one lamp in the corner by the desk.

You had so much you wanted to say, so many questions to ask, but you didn’t know how, and you had no idea Chris’s mind was filled with the exact same turmoil, wanting to speak but afraid to ruin the moment.

He had to, though. He had to tell you his true feelings.

Sucking in a deep but quiet breath, he began to speak. “Sophomore year,” he started quietly. “I wanted to tell you how I felt. I had finally worked up the courage to tell you, to tell my brothers, that I had feelings for you. That I wanted to date you. I was so young but I was so sure that I wanted you. I thought you were so pretty the first time I met you at lunch freshman year but I never could get the confidence to tell you. So… I waited until I was brave enough, and I went to find you at school. I couldn’t find you anywhere and I thought maybe you had left already, even though I was pretty sure you were going to walk home with us that day, so I almost gave up and told myself to do it the next day. I decided to look one more time, and I looked everywhere. Then I found you under the bleachers kissing that fucking asshole loser Theo Mason and… my heart fucking shattered. I realized in that moment that I had waited too long and you had no idea how I felt. I was so mad at myself for thinking you’d like me back and it was that moment that made me want to hate you. So I pretended to. I thought that hating you would be easier than dealing with my real feelings. That’s also why I got so mad at dinner last week. His name just… brought up so many bad memories and the fact that he was flirting with you right in front of me and you were clearly into him and the way you said you liked his name, I-fuck.” Chris’s voice cracked, his heart pounding in his chest and he poured out all of his feelings for the first time, to anybody. “It hurt and I felt like a little kid getting rejected all over again.”

You let Chris speak, not wanting to interrupt him or scare him away. You had no idea of any of this, and his confession and raw feelings brought made your eyes water, a fat tear rolling and landing on his chest. You felt terrible that he had been feeling this way all these years and that you were completely clueless. It wasn’t your fault, you had no idea, but it just made you so sad that this all could’ve been avoided with a simple conversation.

You assumed Chris had finished, so you picked your head up and propped yourself up to stare down at him, bringing your other hand up to his cheek to caress it softly. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, making Chris shake his head.

“You didn’t know,” he responds, just as quietly. “It’s my fault.”

You lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, pulling away slowly. “I liked you, too.” You tell him, almost sadly. “I thought there was no way you liked me back so when he asked me if I wanted to be his girlfriend and kiss after school I agreed. I never knew you were there, Chris, I would’ve chosen you in a heartbeat.”

Chris sighs, rubbing your back softly as he listened to you. “I’m sorry for treating you like shit all these years. I thought hating you would be easier than loving you and even after all this time I still just want you so bad.”

You smile down at Chris, eyes sparkling as you looked at him. You felt like for the first time you were seeing Chris for who he really was, seeing the man his brothers saw and loved, seeing the little boy his mom still saw when she looked at him. You didn’t see the person that stared at you in disgust, you saw the person whose eyes softened every time you looked away from him. You saw the person who stole as many glances your way as he could. You saw a man that seemed perfect for you, and you wanted nothing more than to try with him, to give you and him a chance.

“You’ve got me,” you tell him. “However you want me, I’m yours.”

-

a/n: thanks for waiting {: I hope it was worth it.

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[novascharms]

thinking about soft rafe who just wants to please his jealous girl njfezefeoizionfnmlks

before you can say more, his arms snake around your waist from behind, and you try to wriggle free, but his grip is firm. “i’ll throw them all out if that’s what you want,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it with maddening softness.  

you shake your head stubbornly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a real answer. “no,” you mutter, crossing your arms even as his hold on you tightens. “you should put them above your bed. make a shrine out of them.”  

his lips find a familiar trail along your neck, pressing soft, deliberate kisses that make your resolve falter. “i think i kinda like when you’re jealous,” he murmurs, his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine.  

you huff, keeping your eyes locked on the shelf in front of you, determined not to react. “who’s jealous?” you whisper, your voice small, defiant.  

you feel him smile against your skin, the curve of it unmistakable, and you purse your lips, refusing to admit how easily he gets to you.  

he presses you against him and suddenly, his gentle kisses turn into desperate nipping and soft sucking that flood your entire core with pleasure. you moan softly as his hands travel down, lower and lower until they're under your skirt and he's ripping your tights and panties down to your ankles.

"r-rafe.." you attempt to warn him, to stop him, to tell him this cannot happen in school but his name slips out like a breathless whisper and you can't get yourself to say no to this.

his hands are all over you and your body is pliant under his touch as he took one of your tits in hand, "you look so beautiful right now." you can barely focus on his words when his fingers are inching closer and closer to your pussy, tentatively trailling along the walls of your thighs before finally rubbing your pearly clit with his thumb, your eyes flutter shut and you instinctively try to push your thighs shut.

"should take a couple of pictures of you and hang those right above my bed," he muses and you whimper, head tilting back to rest on his shoulder as he forces your thighs open. "you'd like that, huh? your pretty cunt on my wall?" his thumb tirelessly rubbed your clit, flicking the little nub till your eyes were tearing up and you were gasping for more.

“more?” he’s taunting, almost mocking you as he his finger trails along your sensitive slit before finding your clit again. “mm,” you whimper as you buck your hips into his hands.

his lips nip at your skin but you can barely process it, you try to stay in the present, try to focus on anything that can ground you but fail miserably, “my fingers? does my pretty girl want my fingers inside her?”

"mhm, y-yes.." you whimper, back arching into his chest and you cry out when his fingers slowly push into your soaking cunt. your walls constrict around him and you're in disbelief at how filling his fingers feel. "rafe! oh, god!" you grip his forearm as he drills his digits in and out of you, fingers curling and pushing deeper and deeper.

you’re writhing against him, trying to stay up right as his fingers clamor in you and his thumb rubs your clit until it’s all sore and swollen. “it’s so g-good.. s’ good..” you mumble lazily, tears streaming down your face and rafe is mouthing at your neck, fingers move at a relentless pace. “c’mon, sweetheart, cum for me.”

you feel that familiar earth-shattering feeling, combination of that low pressure and deep coiling. your hips jerk against your will and then you’re moaning, eyes closed as you squirt and gush all over rafe’s fingers. “that’s it..that’s it, pretty girl..” rafe mutters quietly as you pant in his arms. you can’t believe that just happened in a storage room on school grounds.

“try to stand still, okay?” he mutters into your ear before he’s letting you go and reaching into your bag that sat forgotten on the floor for a tissue. he cleaned you up gently before pulling your panties and tights over your tights and up again.

you hold onto to the shelf for a moment to not lose your balance before turning to look at him, lazy smile on your face. “was that the first time?” he asks and you’re nodding slowly and leaning up to nuzzle your nose against his. he grins when you cup his cheeks, “i’ve only ever..done it myself and it has never felt quite like that.” you whisper and rafe pecks your lips, gently, lips brushing against yours. “anytime, baby.”

you wrap your arms around his neck slowly and he pulls you in, body against his as he kisses you again and again and again. “i want you,” you sigh against him when you feel his bulge poking you and he’s smiling against yours lips. “you just had me..” he murmurs. you shake your head, “no..” you whine softly, hands darting down to his bulge and gently running your fingers along it. “want you..” you repeat quietly.

you don’t know where this insatiable feeling is coming from, you don’t understand why you can’t get enough, can’t stop, don’t even want to stop.

you’re slowly sinking to your knees but rafe stops you with a pained expression, hands on your arms, “you’re not going to give me a blowjob in a storage closet. that would take the cake as the most assholey shit i’ve ever pulled.”

“i want to make you feel good.” you complain softly and he pecks the pout on your lips. “soon, yeah? i promise.”  

snippet from ‘teach please me’ series

[michaelceraifhewasagirl]

Stress reliever

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: Peter Parker needs to relieve some stress 🤷‍♀️ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

W!: harsh language, oral (fem receiving), mature content, MINORS DNI

______________________________________________

Peter storms into her room after school.

“Can I eat you out?” He asks, he looks frustrated and tired, the way he asked that question was hastily, almost like he’d been waiting to ask that question since the moment he woke up. 

“Huh?” She questions, she’s taken aback by his words, especially since he was acting completely normal today in school, what had gotten into him?

“Can I eat you out? Please?” He repeats, he looks at her expectantly and she laughs. “Well I’m not gonna turn down that offer” she chuckles and he throws his bag down on the floor of her room, quickly kicking the door shut as he slides off his shoes. “What’s gotten into you? Why do you wanna, well, you know” she questions. He’s never like this, he normally eats her out before sex. It’s never like this.

“I need to relieve some stress” he slips off his hoodie and throws it on the floor before laying next to her on her bed and placing a kiss to her lips. She smiles into the kiss, her heart racing. He fondles with her breast and her hand finds its way into his hair, tangling itself in the silky brown mess.

His hand moves from her chest and trails its way down to her lower stomach pressing lightly. She gasps as she feels his hand on her heat. “Fuck,” she gasps out and pulls away from the kiss. He sits up and crawls in between her legs pulling off her shorts and pressing his thumb against her clothed clit. She gasps and squeezes her eyes shut. He looks at her as he slides her underwear off. She can’t help but smile and bite her lip as she sees her boyfriend between her legs. She props her legs up on her feet to give him an easier access to her pussy. He snakes his arms under her legs, resting his large hands on her waist before he buries his head in her pussy, licking and sucking her clit, tasting her juices. 

“Fuck!” She covers her mouth with her hands and her hands snake their way into his hair, pushing down on his head lightly. He emerges from her pussy, lightly rubbing her clit with his thumb. “Can you believe Mr. Harrington sent me to the principals office for showing up to his class late?” He says as he rubs her clit gently. “Ah~”

“Even though this was like, my first time showing up to his class late in, what, two fucking months! He’s so fucking selfish-“ he begins to rub her faster “F-fuck! Ah,” “And not only that, we had to have an emergency Decathlon meeting because Abe forgot to send in our paperwork to qualify for the tournament this year!” He slows down rubbing her clit, but he moves his hand down to her hole, “Ah, oh, gosh!” “So now, fucking Cindy and I have to redo all of the goddamn paperwork!” He pushes a finger inside of her “Oh fuck,” “Abe’s a cunt, I hope he dies. He could’ve just told somebody else to do it” “mm~ mmhm” “Like, if you know you have fucking badminton practice the same time you received the email to do the paperwork, then you could’ve just told Harrington that you had badminton! Can you believe that!?” “Mm~ y-yeah baby, unbelievable,” he begins to quicken the pace of his finger inside of her, and she gasps, “Oh! Gosh! Peter!” “Decathlon has me so tired, M’sorry that I don’t hang out with you much anymore because of it,” “N-No, it’s, ah, it’s f-fine” he sticks another finger inside of her, “Oh! And also, and especially this, is what ruined my day even more! I was in line for lunch and I decided to buy a jell-O, because I don’t usually have enough money to buy it, but they raised the price by 3 goddamn dollars!” “Ah! Fuck,” “I know, right! I wanted to cry, I just wanted some fucking jell-O,” “oh gosh! Peter,”

He quickens the pace of the fingers inside of her and buries his head in his pussy, his tongue circling around her clit, “and the lunch lady told me that I was short, but she basically yelled it out for everyone and their mom the hear!” “Fuck! Peter!” “Oh, sorry” he licks her clit quickly as he fingers her pussy. “Oh! Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!” “Cum for me baby,” he says as he slurps up all of her juices, and he quickens the pace of his fingers inside of her, “Oh! Ah, I’m, I’m cumming!” Her back arches off the bed as he cums, hot liquid oozing out of her and onto his fingers “good girl,” he praises her as he takes slows down the pace of his fingers and stops licking her.

“You’re so pretty when you cum,” he praises her as he watches her chest rise and fall, she asks “fuck, how stressed were you?” And he laughs, “did I make you cum that hard?” “Yes! I can’t feel my legs!” 

“Aw, I’m sorry, honey, I’ll make it up to you” he slips his finger out of her pussy and sucks on them slowly and seductively, as he stares at her, “You’re such a slut!” She says and he laughs, “I can’t help it, you taste so sweet”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I am SO sorry for that ending 😭 I could’ve done that better but hopefully you enjoyed the rest of it

—————————————————————————-

[xoxochb]

oh hey guess who got sick 😁

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“don’t cry.” percy pauses to watch you. you disobey his orders and let tears roll over your cheeks. “please don’t cry, sweet girl. if you cry, I’m going to cry.”

“can’t help it.” your pout grows more prominent. “I don’t feel good.”

percy sighs. “I know, sweet girl. let’s get you in the bath, hm?”

“I’ll get vertigo.”

“no you won’t, I’ll be right here.”

he outstretches his hand. you take it reluctantly and let him pull you out of bed. like presumed, your vision begins to blur and you feel a sudden lightheadedness. you quickly latch onto percy and bury your head into his shoulder, closing your eyes to stop the feeling.

he holds you until you have returned to normal state and lift your head. “let’s go.”

“yes ma’am.”

slowly, he begins walking you to the bathroom. very slowly as you previously demanded he do. when you reach the designated room you lean against the sink counter. percy stands in front of you and begins stripping you of your clothes.

“taking advantage of a sick girl?”

“okay, fine.” his hand stops at the waistband of your pajama bottoms. “then you take your clothes off.”

“you want me to do a strip tease? oh, you dirty boy!”

nonetheless, you begin removing the rest of your clothes one by one. once you are reduced to nothing you swiftly get into the tub, pulling your legs up to your chest and resting your cheek on your knee.

percy, on the other hand, picks up your discarded clothing on the floor and throws them in the laundry basket before coming over and sitting on the floor beside the tub. he watches you intently as your fingertips toy with the water.

“tell me how you’re feeling, sweet girl.”

“like shit.”

he presumed as much. “let’s get you washed up.”

you allow him to do so. as sickness was not the most enjoyable time in your life, you were equally as excited that you were able to be babied by your boyfriend without a shitty excuse.

[kissbyoon]

( 🌲 ) ݁₊ “I ALWAYS COME BACK.”

╰┈ Jeonghan knows how to make you relieved and smile.

₍ 𝑓𝘵. ₎ 𓈒 정한 ˶ fluff, angst, comf * kissing, petnames (love, baby) ⎯⎯ 1.2k ꒱ ✦ husband!jh x wife&f!rea

♪ A/N : this was completely based on this reel I suddenly came across in my highlights and I knew I had to do this !! big thanks to @wonkierideul ღ hope u enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing!! (◠‿◠)

"love?" You called out.

Wiping your eyes, you tried to clear your vision as a yawn escaped your mouth.

You move your blanket to get up, but as soon as the cold air hits your skin, you're under the comfort of your blanket again.

Sighing, you wrap the blanket around yourself and groan as you use all your strength to lift yourself up.

The weather was undoubtedly not suitable for outings, but you're sure you hear some rambling coming from the next room and you panic.

“No, he can't be…” you murmur, immediately getting up and dragging your feet along the floor towards the living room.

As expected, your eyes landed on your husband, Jeonghan, who was stuffing clothes into a suitcase. It hadn't been months since his military discharge yet the company is already putting him on work.

You halt, observing his every move; when you have no idea, your eyes start to tear up.

Jeonghan leans back and rests his hands on his hips with a sigh. Just as he begins to zip up the suitcase, he feels someone staring at him.

He turns around, a bright smile spreading across his face as his eyes land on you—standing by the door in his clothes. But it soon vanishes when he realises that you were crying.

You don't remember for how long you've been standing by the doorway of your shared bedroom, sniffling and sobbing, using the sleeve of your (Jeonghan’s) t-shirt to wipe your tears away.

“Wha— baby?” Jeonghan was quick to throw his phone on the bed and rush to you, his face painted with concern. His one hand held yours, with the other on your cheek.

“Baby? Look at me, please?” He urged, his touch gentle as he stroked your cheek.

Raising your head, you tried to look at him, but it only made you burst into tears loudly, and Jeonghan tried to hold in his chuckle at the sight of you crying like a toddler.

Which, by the way, he found adorable.

You buried your face in his neck, crying out loud—your husband wrapped his arms around you, softly patting your back to calm you down.

“Shh… it's all okay, I'm here.” kissing the crown of your head, his words came out in a comforting tone; soothing the trembling of your body.

But your crying continued.

“Baby—”

“Don't go… please.” Your words came out as a plea; desperate and helpless. Jeonghan paused, staring at the floor.

He was expecting it, but not in this way.

He looked at you—who was clutching onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart, and it broke him.

“I'm not going anywhere, my love.” He inhaled deeply, and looked at you with a softened gaze.

Jeonghan was patient. He was patient as he waited for you to calm down before he could talk to you; gently holding you in his arms, swaying your body with his. Something that Jeonghan always did to relax your mind.

When you finally calmed down, your heartbeat and breathing steady—he placed one of his hands on the back of your head, slowly leaning back so he could face you.

As soon as your eyes met, the same beautiful smile spread across his face and he tilted his head. “So, that was the thing bothering you?”

His voice was comfortingly soft, with a hint of amusement that he always carried around to lighten the mood.

Nodding, you maintain eye contact with a pout on your face, sniffling. “When was the last time you stayed home?”

Jeonghan paused, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh, before… military…?”

“Exactly,” you choked out those words, puffing up your cheeks while a bright shade of red dusted your face.

He breathes a laugh, tightening his grip around you. Leaning down to bury his face in your neck, he rubbed your sides and smiled when your familiar sweet scent hit his nose.

“I'm sorry~” he cooed in a soft whisper, a hint of teasing in his voice that you could never miss.

“This won't make me happy by the way.”

Jeonghan pecked your neck, leaning back to kiss your cheek and jaw. “Now?”

“No.” you simply huffed, not even hugging him back as you kept your arms folded against your chest.

He lifted his head, eyes locked with yours and a gentle smile played on his lips that you wish you could snatch away with a kiss—

“It's just for a week, love. I'll come back and I'll not go anywhere else.” He widened his smile, cupping your cheeks that made you smile faintly. For a few seconds, you both stared at each other, his smile never leaving—he suddenly leaned in, pecking your lips.

“Wait here, okay?” In such a sweet voice, he said. It melted every part of you that was mad at him as he quickly ran towards your shared bedroom and soon returned with something in his hands.

Doljjongie. His pet rock, whom he often refers to as ‘our child’.

“Tada!” He squealed, taking your hands to hand you Doljjongie. You let out a laugh, holding it so gently as if it was alive and moving.

Your face brightened with a smile as you caressed Doljjongie—the silly face Jeonghan had drawn, making you giggle.

Jeonghan was satisfied.

He took a few steps behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pecking your shoulder. His hands reached out to rest over yours; caressing Doljjongie as you did so too.

“Take care of mom, okay? Protect her like I've taught you!” Jeonghan pressed his lips into a thin line, furrowing his eyebrows like he was lecturing a child; it made you burst into laughter.

He chuckled when your laughter echoed in his ears. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he kept his eyes fixated on you; the look of relief on his face accompanied by his boyish grin.

“Feeling better?” You could barely hear him, his tone hushed and soft, like you're the most gentle thing. Tilting your head to look at him, you nod; your smile growing when you made eye contact with him.

“I'm sorry,” you sighed, moving one of your hand over his to caress it. “I overreacted, didn't I?”

Jeonghan shook his head, not leaving you with any more questions.

“You didn't, my love.” He simply stated, sighing in contentment as he closed his eyes; settling deeper in the peaceful moment shared between you two.

His words were out quick but it was reassuring.

“I always keep you waiting, don't I?” He broke the silence.

“Hm, you do.”

“But I always come back, right?” He peeped his head a little forward to look at your face, and when you did turn your head towards him; he smiled with his eyes closed. You did too.

Jeonghan pecked your cheek, taking your hand to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Don’t skip meals and sleep well while I'm away. Call me everyday, text me about your day, send me your outfit of the day. I'll be waiting, hm?”

You nod, putting doljjongie aside on the couch, turning around to face him.

“I'll be waiting too.” Smiling, you press a quick peck to his lips and pull away—to which he immediately responds by pulling you by the waist to deepen the kiss.

@kissbyoon ⌕ ۫ all rights reserved/copying strictly prohibited. @/kstrucknet !

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 8)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

-

Now a nocturnal animal emerges into the daylight hours.

A week becomes two and your shoulders untense. It’s not something you notice at first because you’re used to an ever present strain between your shoulder blades and an ache in your jaw from grinding your teeth at night. Then a fortnight goes by without so much as a missive with your name on it floating across John’s desk or a stranger appearing in town after tracking you down, and you wonder if maybe the world really is big enough to hide in. 

It sure feels that way at times. The woods beyond the bounds of John’s property stretch out farther than the eye can see and even walking it feels like you could disappear into another realm. Old spruces shoot up high into the clouds, and deeper into the woods, huge rock formations grow more and more prominent as you near the mountains. John takes you through the woods on horseback, following the rough trails carved into the dirt by a century of wagons and carts using the same path. The footprints of a different time. 

Up in the trees, birds warble and chirp, talking to one another in songs that you’ve never heard before. A woodpecker drills into the side of a tree. Pinecones snap out of the upper branches and drop to the forest floor. 

There is only a single trail and it’s easy to lose. You grow a bit nervous when John takes you off the trail and deeper into the woods, but he does so with the confidence of a man that knows these woods like the back of his hand. You go quiet when he stops Buttercup to let a herd of deer wander by, the stragglers hurrying to catch up with the group, throwing the two of you nervous glances before they disappear into the thicket. 

“Should we be out this far?” you ask in a whisper, reluctant to disturb the silence. Though the woods are full of animals that bleat, chirp, chatter, and hoot, the sound of your own voice feels preternaturally loud and shrill. 

“We won’t get lost, darlin’. I know my way around,” John reassures you, curling an arm around your waist to hold you to him. These days, you hardly worry about tumbling off the horse. Not with him at your back anyway. 

“That wasn’t really my worry,” you mumble, trailing off.

“Then what’re you getting all worked up about?”

“Aren’t there wolves out here? Or bears?”

He snorts, the sound making you jolt. You don’t topple over because he has such a firm hold around your waist. “They don’t usually come this close to town. They’re more scared of you than you are of them.”

“That sounds like something mothers tell their children to stop them crying,” you say flatly. You draw your legs up automatically when John directs Buttercup through a shallow basin, a shortcut back home. It makes you anxious for a moment, but the water barely goes up to her ankles, so you relax when you realize that you’re in no danger of being swept away by the current.

“That doesn’t mean a bear or wolf can’t wander by, but it’s rare.”

“And there it is.”

You can feel the heat of his glower on the back of your head. “We could spend the night out here if you want to see for yourself.”

At that, you shut your mouth. Even if he were to prove his point, you have no interest in camping out in the woods now that you’ve become accustomed to the luxury of a soft bed. Granted that you’re forced to share that same bed, still you’ve never slept half as well as you do these days. You wake up rested after nine hours of blissful shut eye, a sleep so deep that your dreams only come in half-remembered flashes. Often they involve the man you wake up wrapped around, and for that you’re grateful that they remain submerged. 

A new desire has started to burrow its way into the back of your mind in recent days. It starts out as a thought so brief that you hardly notice it before it skitters away. 

And then it lingers. 

You wake up in the middle of the night hot, sweat dripping down the nape of your neck and a fire burning in your loins, a red-hot coil wound around itself, fit to burst. Pulsating. At some point throughout the night, you must have thrown a leg around John’s waist because it rests there now, your hand planted in the middle of his chest and your sex all but rubbing up against his thigh. Under your hand, you can feel his heart pump strong and steady.

You hold very, very still, waiting for him to wake. But John sleeps on, his palm loose where it rests along the curve of your hip, fingers curling into the flesh of your backside. 

You can hardly look at him these days without shaking. You’ve come to fixate on the sway of his hips when he walks and the flecks of silver in his beard. The grooves in his weathered hands. The way your head fits in the palm of his hand when he cradles it to his chest. The fond glimmer in his eyes that shines the brightest when he puts his hat on your head and it slips past your eyes, too big for your head. 

When you tip it up in order to see, the folds around his eyes become more pronounced with the force of his smile.

“There you are, bug,” he says, taking the hat off your head to set it back on his and reeling you in for a kiss. 

Bug, love, honey, darling. The constant flux of endearments makes your head spin. John never calls you by the name on your marriage license. It’s like that name means nothing to him, cast away at the first opportunity and replaced by an endless stream of pet names.  

He hasn’t touched your sex since making you come on the porch swing the week before. He pulls you into a chaste embrace at night, the only evidence of his own desire being the stiff shaft nestled against the small of your back in the early morning hours, which he takes care of on his own in the bathroom downstairs after pressing a kiss to your cheek. You feel robbed of something, though you don’t know quite what. 

You’re tempted to offer your help, but you don’t know exactly what that would entail. Inexperience and fear of rejection hold you back, stay your tongue. In the two weeks you’ve been married, he hasn’t once tried to pin you down and rut between your thighs like you expected and dreaded that very first night. 

Now that that time has passed, you don’t know how to initiate that moment again. 

John promises to teach you how to ride a horse. You can’t see a reason to protest, much to your chagrin. Despite your apprehensions, even you can’t deny that it would be a helpful skill. A train only goes one way after all, confined to a single track. A horse has no such laws to obey.

The thought stays nestled at the back of your mind as the days continue on.

You flounder around in the kitchen on the day that John invites his deputies over for supper. You’ve met the big one—Simon—now a small handful of times, each encounter marked by a silence that sucks the air out of the room when he turns his gaze on you and holds it. Perhaps you’ve simply ascribed too much importance to his person, given that every time you’ve seen him, your life has changed irrevocably. His presence is always followed by revelation it seems. The archangel of vicissitude. A harbinger of uncertain times.

The other two are new. John introduces you to them when you bring out the cutlery and crockery to set the table, and you nearly go cross-eyed when they reach across the table at the same time to offer their hands. You go to meet them halfway, but flinch when John brings his hand down on the table with enough force to make the silverware jump.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he apologizes to you first before turning his glare on the other two. “That ain’t proper, boys. You wait for the lady to offer her hand first—you don’t treat a woman like she’s a mutt you’re teaching to shake.”

“Ah, sorry, hen,” the one on the left says, his voice a thick Scottish brogue like a purr. He’s possibly the handsomest man you’ve ever met, but there’s something dangerous and wild in his eyes. When he smiles, it curls up in a roguish sort of way that makes you falter, like he’s in on a joke that you aren’t. “Dinnae mean to offend. No’ often we get ta meet such a pretty lady.” 

“Sorry—” the one on the right apologizes in a voice far more earnest than his counterpart’s. “And sorry for him. We think he was raised by wolves.”

“What’s yer excuse then?” the Scot sneers, knocking his knee into the other man’s under the table. “Dinnae see ye waitin’ for her fuckin’ hand like a gentleman—apologies, hen.”

“Christ,” John sighs, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. 

Simon stays silent at the other end of the table, but the whole table jumps when he aims a kick at the Scott’s leg. He hisses and blurts out a word in a language you’ve never heard before, the word unmistakably vitriolic. He clutches at his shin and shoots a nasty look at Simon, though he doesn’t make a move to retaliate. 

“Name’s Kyle. Kyle Garrick,” the other introduces himself, and you finally reach across the table to offer your hand. His hand is warm against yours when he takes it, dark skin burnished in the candlelight. There’s something inviting about him; something about his eyes, so dark that you almost fall into them. Thick lips curl up into a smile. “And this here is Soap.”

You frown. “Soap?”

The man in question runs a hand down his front, emphasizing the cut of his shirt and the way it clings to the muscle of his chest. “‘Cause of how well I clean up.”

Simon barks out a laugh at that. The sound comes so sudden and sharp that it startles you. “You got it ‘cause your mum had to wash out your mouth with soap.”

It’s the most you’ve ever heard out of him and you can only stare wide-eyed at the lot of them as they dissolve into bickering and squabbling after that. It’s almost a relief to head back into the kitchen to finish cooking. 

Dinner is a similar messy affair, punctuated by the sound of Soap practically gnawing the meat off the bone. He only apologizes when John barks at him for making a mess, more food on the floor around him than on his plate, but his table manners don’t last very long. John doesn’t seem so much embarrassed on their behalf as annoyed, but it’s an annoyance that comes with an aftertaste of warmth. You can tell without asking that they’ve known each other for years. 

There’s room enough in you for food and envy. Back home you had friends. Never close friends, but acquaintances at least. Maids you could recognize by face. Small talk while ascending single-file up the servants’ staircase. Perhaps little more than that. You’d never been particularly close to any of them, but how could you? You worked from morning ‘till night, up and down the stairs, moving in the shadows. Never making too much noise lest your employers take notice of you. 

Like he did.

You shake it off. That’s no matter now. You’re hundreds of miles away and living under a new name. A married woman, to the county sheriff no less. It only sometimes hurts your heart to think of how lonely you’d been. 

When they leave, you stand at the window and watch as they disappear into the black of the night, Simon at the front of the pack, his torchlight leading the way. The sound of horse hooves beating against the dirt recedes the farther they get. 

His hands warm your shoulders. You don’t know how long he’s been there, standing behind you while you stared out the window after the boys. All you know is that his hands are warm, and the kiss he presses to the back of your head makes you arch back into him, unconsciously gravitating closer to him. Needing to be near. 

In bed, you curl your fingers against his chest. On a rough exhale, you wake. You dream still of something terrible that happens somewhere else, in another city, in an old life. His heartbeat lulls you back to sleep.

John takes you to the local seamstress to have you fitted for a pair of pants and suddenly you’re out of excuses. They fit you comfortably, like a second skin, and you find yourself pulling at the legs at your final fitting as if to stretch out the material. The seamstress nearly jabs you with a pin and glares up at you until you stop fidgeting. 

You come to terms with it when he brings you into the stables and makes you fetch the saddle from where it rests on its stand. It’s heavier than you expected. You stumble back over to where John now has Buttercup standing in the middle of the stable, holding her by the lead fixed to her bridle. 

“I don’t know if—” you start, trepidation climbing up your chest until it grips you by the throat. For as many times as you’ve ridden her, you’ve never done it alone. 

John fixes her lead to a post and walks over to you, taking the saddle from your hands and letting it drop to the ground. He cups your face in both hands to tilt your head up. “Hey, honey. We’re not doing much of anything today, alright? Just a walk around the paddock so you get used to sitting on Buttercup on your own. I’m not gonna smack her ass and send you down the trail at full tilt..”

That gets a laugh out of you. “You promise?”

He smiles. “Promise, darlin’.”

And he keeps it. The only thing you do that day is learn how to tack a horse and how to properly mount and dismount her. The latter part of the lesson is devoted to you trying to find your balance while John leads the two of you around the pen at a leisurely pace. He calms you down when he sees you grow too stiff, stopping to coo and rub your thigh until you gradually relax. It’s heartwarming until Buttercup begins to tense up too for a reason unbeknownst to you and you watch in righteous fury as John calms her down the same way.

John gets you a hat to keep the sun from beating down on you, but there’s little he can do about the soreness between your thighs and the stiffness in your legs the next day. All you can do is hiss and moan in pain, hobbling around the house until he forces you down into a chair and hikes up your dress in order to apply an arnica salve to your inner thighs. 

It’s a relief and an affront at the same time. The duality of man. The salve soothes much of the ache, but you twitch nervously around John for the rest of the day, the memory of him pinning you to the chair and forcibly spreading your thighs haunting you. The lingering ache in your core is just the salt in the wound. 

It rains another day. A light drizzle while the sun is still out.

Every day you sit and you think, will it be today? And then the wash basins are emptied out in the field, the horses are taken out to the paddock, you pin the laundry up on the line to dry, and John presses a farewell kiss to your forehead when he leaves you with Kate and nothing happens. Every inch of you waits for more, anticipates more. Throbs when he leaves you wanting, only a chaste kiss and a squeeze around your waist before he’s off. 

You can feel it coming to a head. An itch you can’t shake. 

That day comes with another ache you can’t shake. 

“Please,” you beg, clasping your hands in front of you. “One day of rest. That’s all I’m asking. I can’t do this anymore, John.”

John snaps the lead in his hands. “Let’s get a move on. We’re burning daylight.”

You hang your head low on the march over to the stables, John taking up the rear like he expects you to bolt. An executioner’s walk. The thought of escape has never seemed further away—not even because of its feasibility, but because all you want to do is lie down and rest.

“You can quit your moping,” he says as you tack up Buttercup, a pout on your lips. “Got something special for you today.”

That makes you perk up, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t specify what that is. Anticipation mounts in you when he helps you up onto Buttercup and then climbs up behind you himself. He steers her away from the paddock and towards the trail leading into the woods, the sun at its zenith now, illuminating everything as far as the eye can see.

You’ve ridden this trail before. A week ago, with John at your back as he is now. Through the fields and over the hills until the trees start to number in the tens and then the hundreds, no clear delineation between plain and forest. Simply there and then everywhere.

By now, after hours of sun beating down on the path, the trail is mostly dry, yesterday’s rain long since having sunk into the earth. You think it’d still be a tough hike on foot, but on horseback you cover acres of land at a brisk pace, Buttercup hardly breaking a sweat. You cross paths with a small group traveling by horse and wagon, but John breaks off from the path not too long after that, steering Buttercup deeper into the wilderness, where the only gullies are the ones carved out by years and years of rainfall. 

You only see it when the land begins to dip and you’re forced to hold onto the horn and tighten your thighs around the fenders to keep steady. At the bottom of a hill, a small stream opens up into a larger river, narrowing out at the other end where the land rises again and the water can only trickle over the pebbly riverbed. On the other side, a rocky outcropping cuts the stream off from view.

“Is this where you used to come to bathe?” you ask, recalling an earlier conversation.

John sighs. “Thought I’d take you for a swim as a treat, but if you’d rather just tease me—”

“Well now, let’s not be hasty,” you say, already trying to dismount on your own, eyes glued on the stream glimmering in the sunlight. John chuckles, keeping you pressed to him until he guides Buttercup under a tree for shade and dismounts first, helping you down after him. 

All you want to do is wade in the stream up to your ankles, so that’s what you do. Boots kicked off, Buttercup relaxing in the shade of a tree, John standing by the water’s edge with his hands on his hips and watching you tiptoe over the smooth rocks below. You roll up your pant legs, but eventually you feel the ends grow damp as you venture farther out. At its deepest, you would probably sink up to your waist.

“Don’t you want to swim?” John asks from somewhere behind you.

You splash around a bit, kicking your feet through the water. “Hard to do that with clothes—”

When you turn back around to face him, your eyes dart down momentarily at the sight of skin before you squeak and whirl back around, sending up an arc of water. Twice now you’ve seen him naked. 

“You’ve no clothes on,” you state, bluntly enough that it almost sounds stupid. 

You hear the water splash and ripple when he takes his first step in. “Right—you better think about doing the same if you don’t want to ride home soaking wet.”

“I was perfectly fine just getting my feet wet,” you say indignantly.  

“We came out here to swim, not get your feet wet,” John laughs. You stiffen when his hand comes down on your shoulder, conscious of the fact that your husband is standing right behind you, entirely divested of his clothes. “So best get to steppin’.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Oh, honey,” he says pityingly. “Yes, I can.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you make your way back to shore, careful not to allow yourself a glimpse of him. Your boots are stacked beneath the shade of another tree, John’s clothes folded neatly beside them. You strip slowly, attentive to the world around you; though unlikely, it’s not impossible that someone might wander by. Your only consolation is that John is still within sight, though you keep your back to him because in recent days, you’ve developed a hunger for him that even now makes your stomach hurt.  

Though the air is warm, you shiver. When you turn around with your arms crossed over your breasts to hide them from sight, you find John wading in the river up to his waist. You’ve seen him like this once before, the hearty body of a man in his prime. Sturdy and strong. The hair on his chest is darker than that on his head, wet too from the dip he must have taken when your back was turned. His hair is slicked back too, a wet hand combing it back. 

“Come on, darlin’,” he calls, beckoning you forward with his hand.

The water is a cold shock when you step in past your ankles. Ice cold tendrils wrap up your legs, sucking the warmth from you. 

You suck in a soft breath when he pulls you into his arms and heaves you up, big hands gripping under your thighs. Your breasts press against the wet skin of his chest, nipples already pebbled. The river is deeper than you assumed; John pulls you deeper in until it pools around your waist and then your chest. Cold enough that you shiver until John dips his head down and the kiss he presses to your lips melts you from the inside out. 

You can’t escape the intimacy of water-slick skin. When John drags you up his chest, your nipples brush over his and the shudder that passes through you is violent, toe-curling. You know that he can feel the heat of your core even underwater. With your legs wound around his waist, every inch of you is plastered to his front. Even your fingers play with the ends of his hair, arms draped over his shoulders. You can’t look away.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, breath hot on your face. “Eyes on me.”

As if you could look anywhere else. 

He reaches down under the water to readjust himself and you gasp when his shaft is suddenly right there, trapped between his belly and your heat. It’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to coitus, his glans nestled between your folds. You’d only have to shift slightly for him to slip right in. The thought makes your breath quicken. 

He doesn’t make a move to take you though, even knowing that he could. How easy it would be. How it’s due to him. Your husband that’s waited a fortnight to take you as his own. John kisses you until each slick pass of his lips grows sloppier, clumsier—his lips barely parting from yours before they’re on you again, rendering you a creature of base needs. 

But his hands don’t shift from your backside where he holds you in place. His fingers dig into the flesh hard enough to bruise, but they don’t move to part your folds to make room for his manhood. You expect him to—practically yearn for it and squeeze him around the neck all the harder when he subverts your expectations, doing no more than letting you grind your heat against the base of his shaft. 

“John—John, please,” you beg, mindless for what. You don’t know what you’re asking for. 

“What d’ya need, darlin’?” he asks into your mouth, stealing your answer with another kiss. 

You fall under the swell of another wave. When the root of his cock glides over your clit, your core clenches on nothing, a sob half-bitten off in your mouth, ripped from your chest. 

It doesn’t matter how close to him you get—he gives you nothing. The heat could very well burn you from the inside out. Cold water caresses your skin as it flows past, but the center of you runs so hot that you hardly notice it. 

When he hikes you higher up against his chest, you clench your fingers in his hair, whining when he takes your nipple into his mouth. Your gasp comes out sharp and hurt when the coarse bristles of his beard rub rough against your breast. He sucks at your breast tender at first, gentle, eyes half-lidded like his mind has gone somewhere else, but there’s a glint in his eye that grows wild and dark, that turns him rough. You don’t know what to do except shake and let him use you how he wants. 

Desperation nips at your heels, urging you up the length of him. If you had more nerve, you’d reach down and grasp him under the water, notch the head of his member against your sex and sink right down on him. You need him like you've never needed anything before. Every part of you aflame, searing hot under the sun at its highest point; right overhead, right on top of you. 

His teeth sink delicately into your areola, tongue lapping over your nipple to soothe the hurt, and suddenly, you break.

“Please—” you gasp, wrenching his mouth away from your breast and whimpering when he resists at first, glaring up at you like he might bite. “Please, John—I can’t take it. I need you.”

His eyes darken, the pupil swallowing everything up. “Need me where, wife? Here?”

A hand dips between your thighs, pointer finger gliding over your sex, plump with blood. So tender that your mouth hangs open on a whine when he touches you. 

“Y-yes,” you whimper, gaze swimming. 

John’s breath comes out in a harsh, ragged pant. Completely undone in a way you’ve never seen before. “Get out, darlin’. I’m taking you home. Gonna give you what you need.”

[evie-sturns]

ignore - Matt Sturniolo

summary: you've been in a mood all day, ignoring matt and giving him little attention, you won't tell him what's wrong so he has to fuck the answers out of you.

contains: smut, arguing, crying, swearing, rough!matt, slight overstimulation.

-----------------°°••....••°°----------------

i've been pissed and emotional all day, i'm not even sure what for anymore, everything that people do is pushing me to my limits, especially my boyfriend, matt.

3:39pm

"c'mon we've gotta go." matt says, tapping my arm as i sit with my arms folded on the edge of matts bed. "i'm not going!" i raise my voice at matt, my eyebrows raised as i roll my eyes.

"chris and nick are waiting for us, we've booked the top golf session, we are going its for the celebration of nicks brand come on." matt says with a dad like tone.

i shake my head, "i don't want to, my head hurts." i say in a whiny tone, somehow on the verge of tears, matt lets out an exhausted sigh, tears start to fall down my cheek as i rub my eyes.

"why are you crying." matt says in a calm tone with a sigh. "go away!" i groan, matt walks out of the room shaking his head, he closes the door behind him.

"i don't know whats going on with her, im sorry nick." i hear him say to his brothers outside the door, i sniffle as i flop down on the bed behind me.

6:12pm

i've been enjoying the empty house by myself for the past few hours, i hear the triplets pull into the driveway before knocking on the door, i unlock the door and they all walk in, i give nick a hug, before asking chris how it went. he instantly starts to yap about his golf shots.

after a handful of minutes chris decides we should all watch a movie, matt tries saying something to me but i simply ignore him,

"y/n." matt repeats himself, i shoot him a side eye before continuing to speak to chris.

nick and chris pile onto the couch, matt sits down on the other side of the plush couch, i walk over to matt, sitting down on his lap and laying down against him, my back pressed against his torso and the back of my head resting on his shoulder.

matts chest rises and falls with each breath, lifting me up and down subtly.

9:29

the movie has been playing for over 3 hours, i've shifted around slightly against matt a couple of times, but haven't said anything to him.

i let out a heavy sigh matt taps my waist before whispering in my ear "please talk to me, you've been acting very off today."

i scoff "i've been acting off?" i whisper back, an attitude clear in my voice.

"yes you have, been acting like that, bratty." matt replies, i stay silent after that.

"talk to me about it." he says again, i shake my head no.

the closing scene of the movie finishes, chris and nick get up, "im headed to bed, see you guys in the morning." chris says with a yawn, "bye chris!" i say chirpily.

nick stands up, "see you!" he says running over and hugging me before leaving the living room.

matt and i sit in silence for a minute or so before matt pushes me off his lap, "come with me." matt says, i stare straight into his eyes, not moving nor speaking.

"come. with. me." matt raises his voice, grabbing my wrist and dragging me to his bedroom. he slams the door and locks it vigourously.

i sit down on the edge of his bed, fiddling with my nails. matt storms over to me, picking me up then throwing me back down on the bed, i fall straight on my back, my head landing in his pillows, one specific pillow having a stupid pug on it.

matt rips off his cute crewneck sweater, my eyes drawn to his tattooed arms.

his two hands firmly grip the waistband of my sweatpants, before yanking them and my panties down in one go. he unbuttons his jeans before pulling me by my ankles towards the edge of the bed.

"matt-" i start, he cuts me off, "dont start."

his boxers drop to the floor before he stands at the edge of the bed, i wrap my legs around his waist. matt stares into my eyes, asking for permission, i stay silent, just staring into his eyes.

"use your words and tell me what the fuck you want." he almost demands, his right hand now firmly gripping my waist.

i can't deny the fact i need him, the sudden switch in mood turns me on, along side matt being angry which he is never like, hes never fucked me while hes mad.

"just fuck me then if your so desperate." i mumble, matt lets out an exasperated laugh before lining himself up with me, slamming into me, his tip bruising my cervix.

i let out a yelp, "fuck!" matt starts to pound in and out of me, not showing signs of slowing down.

he grips my waist with both hands, his fingers digging into my skin as small grunts fall from matts lips.

the sounds coming out of me echo throughout the room, resulting in matt slamming a hand over my mouth, the cold metal of his rings pressing against my cheek.

"gonna act like this whole day? think you can act like that?" matt breathes out, his left hand which is still firmly placed on my waist tightens. matts breathing picks up,

im starting to consider always acting like 'this' so that matt fucks me like this again, i dont think ive ever had better sex in my life.

he repeatedly hits a spot inside of me which is driving me closer, and closer to my orgasm.

"awnser. me." matt says, staring into my squinted eyes, he removes his hand from my mouth, reaching down and brushing my clit.

"i- i didn't mean to" i say cluelessly, my mind completely fogged as i clench around him.

the pit in my stomach realeases as i orgasm, matts thrusts stop, after all this not wanting to overstimulate me.

"gonna talk to me now sweetheart?" matt says his voice soft but his breaths heavy.

i scoff with an eye roll, matt raises his eyebrows before thrusting into me again, i wince, "sensitive.." i say as matt presses on my clit, he starts to thrust again, waiting for me to speak.

i let out loud moans as matt starts to pick up his thrusts "please-" i groan, "matt-"

"i'm sorry- fuck" i say, my thighs dropping from his waist and squeezing together, matt pulls out, finishing with a whimper and painting my stomach with white streaks.

"oh my god-.." i groan, covering my forehead with my arms as i wipe away the few tears that fell from intensity.

"are you okay?" matt says, picking me up off the bed and carrying me towards the bathroom.

i hum in response, "was it too much? did i hurt you?" matt asks, worry in his voice as he places me down on the edge of his bath.

he bends down between my thighs, dabbing a towel gently against my skin. he walks out of the room, shortly coming back now wearing sweatpants and a white wifebeater tank top.

he brings me over the shorts i was wearing previously, and one of his black shirts. he pulls them onto me gently, his cold finger tips brushing against my skin.

he picks me up again, carrying me over to his bed and flicking off the overhead light, leaving his dim lamp on which illuminates the room just enough. he lays down on the bed, i lay ontop of him.

we lay in silence for about a minute before matt breaks it "are you okay? i mean you've seemed really off today and i should've talked with ya." matt says, running a hand through his hair.

"im sorry." i sigh, "no no, don't say that." matt replies instantly, "i'm not actually sure whats going on, i think i'm just a bit hungry" i say quietly,

matt laughs, "i did all of that for you to just be hungry?" he jokes, rubbing his eyes with a smile as his ears go red.

"i don't know!!" i laugh back, matt wraps his arms around my waist as i lay on top of him.

i suddenly spring up, "i'll be right back." i say, jogging out of the room towards nicks room, i knock twice before opening the door, nicks laying on the bed on his phone,

"you okay?" nick asks, i walk over to him, giving him a hug.

"im really sorry about not coming to topgolf nick, i was in a mood and i am extremely happy about your brand."

-------------

[miley1442111]

fix it-a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

please don't read if you have emetophobia!!!!

summary: aaron says some horrible things, can he fix it?

pairing: husband! aaron hotchner x wife! reader

warnings: mad angst, aaron is so mean, reader believes she is a bad mother, heartbreak, feelings of disappointment, jack is so sweet, reader is pregnant, talks of pregnancy, talks of vomiting and morning sickness, no happy ending :(

part 2- fix it together

It was all coming down to this. It was Jack’s birthday and as his step-mom, you had been party planning all week. He was having a dinosaur themed birthday with a bounce house and watching a movie in the backyard, like a little drive in movie. You were excited for him. Aaron hadn’t really been around much that week, he was busy dealing with some legal battle the FBI was up against, meaning the rest of the team, including yourself, had the week off. It was Friday night, Jack’s actual birthday and he was asleep in bed as you waited for Aaron to get home. You were reading a book Spencer had recommended you as you nursed a cup of tea, getting sleepier by the second. 

The front door opened and there Aaron stood, briefcase in hand, handsome as ever. You smiled and got up from your spot on the couch, ready to greet him. He smiled softly as you hugged him, running a hand through his hair. “How did it go?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper.

“Oh it was fine, nothing too jarring. How was the week?” He asked, walking further into the house. 

“Fine. Nothing to report. Jack’s asleep but-”

“Did you do something for his birthday?” He asked, cutting you off. 

“Yeah, of course. I picked him up from school early and we went for lunch and to a film. He really enjoyed himself,” you smiled and he sighed. “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, fine,” Passive aggressive. Aaron was being passive aggressive.

“Aaron,” You said, worry coating your words. “Is everything ok?”

“Yes! Everything is just fine,” He sighed again, sitting on the couch. “Just one thing though- you didn’t think to offer him to see his mom?” He asked, malice behind every word. The accusation cut you deeply. Of course you’d asked, but he’d said no. He said ‘I don’t want to go without dad’ because of course he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to go to his moms grave without his dad, and not on his birthday either. You stood there, stunned at his words. He continued. “Y’know, you promised me this wouldn’t be an issue, so tell me now, is this an issue Y/N? I need to know because we can still get an annulment.” 

You gasped at his words. “Aaron stop-”

“No, you stop. You are not his mother. She is. She still is, even if she’s gone. You’ll never be his mother. You’re doing a good job of parenting but nothing compares to Haley. Thank god you’re not his actual mother.”

That was venomous. He was going straight for every insecurity you had around your relationship with Jack and throwing it in your face. He was hurting you. 

The silence was heavy. Aaron finally looked at your face and saw the disgust written all over it. The worst part was the fact that he knew it wasn't disgust at his actions, it was disgust directed at yourself and your parenting. You loved and adored Jack, he knew that. He knew, though he’d never admit it, that Jack liked you more than him, or maybe it was just his insecurity speaking, he wasn’t sure. He knew you gave everything of yourself to the both of them. And he knew he’d just done irreversible damage. 

“I offered,” you muttered, your eyes trained on the floor as you wrapped your arms around your chest, pleading with yourself to not cry. You felt silly, standing there, in his hoodie, his home, and seeing his child as your own. “He said he wanted to wait for you. I said we’d go on Sunday.” 

Aaron’s stomach dropped at the tone of your voice and the words being spoken. He was making you cry. He was hurting you. And all you’d ever been to him was perfectly kind. You’d always been so supportive, so loving, and so caring. As he came in he saw a love note on the fridge, he’d seen one of his favourite chocolate bars on the counter with a note beside it, a little wrapped gift beside it too. There were multiple reminders on the fridge for yourself, ones telling you to pick up things for the party, pick up Jack’s big birthday gift (a new bike), and call Jessica. You cared so much about the both of them, and he’d just said some of the worst things he could’ve, just because he was stressed.

Imagine how stressed you were, planning an entire party on your own while simultaneously working through hours and hours of paperwork (courtesy of your job, you were still working from home even if you weren't technically working), and parenting all week, all alone. 

“There’s dinner in the fridge, I-I’m going to go to bed,” you mumbled, walking about and leaving him alone with his thoughts. He heard your footsteps retract, walking up the stairs and in the opposite direction of your shared bedroom. Shit. You were sleeping in the guest room. 

He got up, irritation and shame barely allowing him to get to the kitchen to eat the meal you’d made him. Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he have just listened to you? 

He sat alone eating, his eyes drifting to the gift on the counter the entire time. I don’t deserve it. He thought, but caved once he finished his food and cleaned up. He pulled the small bow off and unwrapped the colourful paper to reveal a positive pregnancy test. His heart broke again. Inside beside it was a note, in your beautiful handwriting. 

To my dearest Aaron, 

I wanted to tell you the second I found out but I also didn’t want you to come home too early when you were still needed in Washington. We’re pregnant! I’m so excited and nervous and happy and scared all at the same time. I didn’t want to upstage Jack’s birthday but I obviously needed to tell you :) 

I love you so much and I can’t wait for this next chapter! No more guest bedroom I guess :) 

P.s I’m almost sure Jack knows, I’ve been having horrible morning sickness :( but at least this fulfils his christmas wish last year, remember ? 

Anyways, I love you so much and I’m so excited. 

Your love, Y/N

Xxxx 

He felt sick to his stomach. You were pregnant. He’d just been evilly cruel to you and you were pregnant. He’d said some of the most vile things on planet earth to you, he essentially called you a bad mother. And you were pregnant. He hadn’t even realised he was crying until he saw the splotches on the paper, ruining one of the cute doodles you’d done. He immediately put it down, not wanting to damage it further. 

He took a deep breath, then went into his study and allowed himself to cry. He’d been mean. He’d hurt you in the one way he promised he wouldn’t, all because he was overwhelmed. All because he was stressed. 

“Dad?” He heard Jack’s voice and straightened. He wiped his face. “Why are you upset?” Jack walked into his office, pyjamas and a teddy in hand. 

“I did something mean to mom,” he admitted. “And I hurt her by accident,” he wasn’t sure if it was by accident. He was sure some deep part of him just wanted to self-sabotage himself. “And I feel bad about it.”

“It’ll be ok. Mom’s been sick this week, maybe you have the same tummy ache and it’s making you mad?” He suggested and Aaron let out a pathetic chuckle. 

“Maybe bud, maybe,” he agreed. “How about we get you back to bed, huh?” 

“Can I say goodnight to mom again?” He asked and Aaron’s heart broke again. He lifted him up and nodded, walking them down the hall. “You go into her and I’ll get your bed ready, yeah?” 

“OK dad!” Jack exclaimed as he was let down to the ground, and went running off to your shared bedroom. Aaron shook his head. 

“She’s in the other bedroom,” he pushed down another wave of tears at Jack’s confused face. 

“Why?” He asked, confused. 

“I was really mean,” Aaron sniffled. “Say goodnight from me too?”

“Ok dad,” Jack said, walking into the guest room. 

Aaron heard your voice, wishing Jack good dreams. You’d been crying. 

He was the worst person in the world. 

Jack came into his bedroom a few minutes later. “Mom’s still sick, she said goodnight and to tell you that she loves you.”

Aaron almost started crying again. You were so caring. You always put him above yourself. “Thanks buddy.” 

Aaron tucked him in and closed his door over, wishing him a good night. The tears came shortly after. He tried to sleep in your shared bed, but it wasn’t right. You weren’t there. 

Sleep evaded him that night. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, the morning sickness hit you like a truck. You had your head in the toilet for an hour, at least. You didn’t come out of the guest room until about 9am. You could hear the usual sounds of Jack and Aaron playing outside, probably soccer. You walked downstairs and got yourself a glass of water, the only thing you could actually stomach at the minute. You looked out the window that led to your garden and smiled when you saw your boys playing, then the nagging voice that you thought you’d gotten rid of all but screamed in your ear You’re such a terrible parent. Aaron’s just been trying to conserve your feelings this entire time. Jack probably hates you. You shouldn’t be having another child. 

You looked away. Focus on the party. You told yourself. Get through today.

You had a long list of things that needed doing before the party at 3. You had to pick up balloons, pick up the cake, pick up Jessica and her kids, pick up Sean from the airport (as a surprise for Aaron and Jack), and set everything up. You left a small note on the table explaining where you were, and left. You ran all your errands, leaving picking up Jessica, the kids, and Sean till last. When you walked back in, the house was set up and Jack was immediately excitedly by Jessica, his cousins, and Sean which gave you a moment to slip away from Aaron.

Soon enough, the party started and you were bombarded with around forty children and a party to have. You felt Aaron's eyes on you constantly, checking in on you or just watching you. Once the outdoor film started, Penelope, Emily, Jj, and Spencer came over to ask what was wrong with you and Aaron, saying it was strange to not see you all over each other. You told them about the fight (not the pregnancy) and they were shocked at his behaviour. How could he be so mean? How could he treat you like that?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron had been trying to talk to you for hours. Whenever he tried, a kid or one of the team would stop him with a dumb question, or needing help. You had Emily, Penelope, Jj, and Spencer crowding you the entire night, sending him the dirtiest of looks. That’s how he ended up at the end of the garden with David and Derek, who were both giving him a lecture about how what he’d done was wrong. 

“You can't say anyone is a bad parent!” Derek stressed. “That’s a very clear no-go!”

“I’m aware,” Aaron said, his lips tight in a frown. “I know what I did was wrong.”

“Then why aren’t you apologising?!” Derek exclaimed, loud enough that a few kids turned around to shush him. 

“Because,” Aaron sighed. “Those four haven’t left her side in hours.” 

As the movie came to a close and the children left, you were left with just the team and family. 

You all sat down to dinner, chinese takeout- Jack’s favourite. There was laughter and true joy, especially at David’s insistence that he could make the meal much better than Jack's favourite take-out, considering he was a ‘chef’. 

You all sat down to watch Jack open his gifts, individually thanking each person who gave him something. He was especially taken by the gift Spencer got him, a book on dinosaurs, and he adored the bike. You’d gotten one that you'd made look similar to Sean’s motorbike, Jack was always obsessed with Sean's motorbike. You’d even drawn on specific details that made it even more unique. Everyone eventually trailed out and it was just you, Jack, Sean, and Aaron. Jack asked Sean to read his bedtime story. That meant you and Aaron were left to clean up together. You got up to start picking up plates but Aaron stopped you. 

“Can I?” He offered and you nodded, sitting on the couch. You hadn’t eaten at dinner, all food just meant more vomiting in the morning and you were not up for that. “Can we talk?” He asked. 

“About what?” You sighed, looking over at him. “I think we’ve both said enough.”

“I’m so sorry about last night,” he sighed, coming over to you and sitting beside you. “I was awful. I was disgustingly mean just because I was overwhelmed. You’re an amazing mother to Jack, while you’re not his biological mother, you love him as such and he loves you. You’re a great parent. I was just being reactive and mean. I was so cruel and I'm sorry. I don’t want an annulment. I want to be with you forever. I know that it isn’t a problem. I know how much you love Jack and me,” he chuckled humorlessly. “I know how little I deserve it.”

You took his hand. “What you said… it was probably my worst nightmare,” you chuckled flatly. “And what you said was pretty damaging, Aaron. I just… it completely restarted the voice in my head that says I’m a terrible parent. It made me scared to think about what’s going to happen when we have our baby. I was already terrified about being pregnant, and this was just…” you trailed off as Aaron’s heart broke. Your voice was raw with emotion. You were so hurt. 

“I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that you are the best mother our children could ever have,” he promised and you smiled, but it lacked the regular spark your smiles usually contained. 

“The best mother Jack could have is Haley. We both know that.”

Fuck. Now you were comparing yourself to Haley again. Aaron had quite literally set you back about 4 years in your confidence as Jack’s mother. “Honey-”

“I know it sounds bad, but we both know it’s true. I’m good, but as you said, I’m nothing compared to Haley. Which is fine Aaron. I understand my place.”

His heart broke for what felt like the millionth time. He’d hurt you so badly. “Honey please, I was stressed and overwhelmed and I took it out on you. I meant nothing I said. You’re the best mother to Jack and our unborn child. You are the love of my life-”

“I’m the second love of your life,” you smiled sadly at him. “I’m going to bed, goodnight Aaron.” 

You walked up the stairs with a heavy heart. No matter what he said, you’ll always remember the look on his face when he told you that you weren’t enough, that you weren't Haley.

You fell asleep on your side of the bed, since you couldn’t exactly sleep in the guest room when Sean was in there. 

Aaron leaned against the counter as he washed dishes, thinking about how he could fix this. 

Could he even fix this?

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criminal minds masterlist