#sh. chapter nine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

animasolaoriginal · 2 months

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I n f a t u a t e d ♦️SIX

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN

As they talk ground rules concerning their unique situation, she finds herself agreeing to whatever he tells her, ultimately confessing her reason for allowing all the vile things he does to her. Dangerous information in his hands, and he knows exactly how to use it to his advantage, pushing her limits even further.

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Free use/power play. Oral cockwarming. Anal fingering/sex. Rough oral sex/deepthroating. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 7.4k

A/N: Please remember to check the tags very thoroughly! This chapter is a little rougher. Just a heads-up.

FIVE 🟥 SIX 🟥 SEVEN

She focuses on what he told her: Get dressed. Ignore the pain, she tells herself. It's hard, very hard, one wrong move and there are new tears in her eyes. It's a strange pain, deep-rooted, a soreness of muscles she had no idea she even had. Walking is tough, but sitting is even worse.

After somehow managing to slip into the clothes he put out for her (the dress is cute, a happy color, the soft fabric moving around her thighs, brushing against her sore butt, the thong however sits a little too tight between her cheeks, pressing hard against the knob of the plug, every movement only adding to the discomfort), she slowly makes her way into the kitchen on unsteady legs, pressing her lips into a thin line, breathing hard through her nose.

He sits on a bar stool at the kitchen island, sipping on his coffee, his eyes moving away from the phone in his hand towards her when she approaches. His smile makes her forget about the little sparks of pain when she moves closer. He pulls her against him, leaning in to kiss her forehead, luckily not forcing her onto his lap or onto the stool next to him.

“Help yourself,” he says with a nod to the coffee pot and a variety of breakfast foods laid out on the counter in front of him. Fruits, toast, buns, oats, other cereals, jam, slices of cheese and ham, fried bacon, small sausages, too much to choose from, really.

Letting go of her again, he looks back at his phone, seemingly scrolling through emails. She turns her head away quickly, doesn't want to be too nosy, so she leans in and grabs a piece of sliced apple, nibbling on it, not really hungry after all.

She stands a little awkwardly next to him, leaning on the counter, the same counter he had her bent over yesterday. It's a strange thought and an even stranger thing to eat off the same surface now. Or to think it's been a day (and a long night) since she woke up in his place, as his... whatever she is to him. His to fuck whenever he wants, apparently. It's still all a little fuzzy.

This somehow turned from a simple hook-up to her asking him to take her virginity to him taking her however and wherever he likes, and it's only taken him one day (and that awfully long night) to breach all her holes, take all her firsts, and it doesn't feel like it's the end of it. And somehow she is glad, in a twisted sort of way. Glad he didn't drop her after he's used her. Instead he provides her with clothes, food, keeps her close. Despite all the pain she's in, it feels strangely nice to have someone take care of her like that.

Someone who does the thinking for her – which is only fair when he is the one who takes away her ability to do so in the first place. Another thing she finds enjoyable despite the soreness it leaves, is how he never fails to give her that head-empty-feeling. No worries, just fucked out of her mind, happy. A feeling she only ever achieved with drinking too much, and somehow getting fucked is better than having to deal with the aftermath of too much alcohol.

“So, how do you feel?” he asks through the murky fog of thoughts inside her head, quite the opposite to how she feels when he does all these vile things to her.

She swallows the apple bite and licks her lips. “Sore,” she says quietly. “But I'm fine... if I just stand here,” she adds, giving him a shy smirk.

He grins at her, though there is a furrow to his brows. Putting his phone into his pocket, he gets up, and she shifts to follow him, but he holds up his hand. “Wait here,” he tells her, and she nods, watching him leave the open kitchen into another room she hasn't seen before. She's barely seen anything of his place, to be honest, but she has the impression there'll be time for that yet.

When he comes back, he grabs a small water bottle from the fridge and holds out two pills in his palm, one slightly larger than the other. She looks up at him, hesitantly takes the medicine.

“One for the pain and one... for after,” he says, cocking his head to the side. She frowns at the explanation. “You're not on birth control, are you?”

His question heats up her face. Clearing her throat, she looks down at the pills. “No,” she mumbles.

“Take these then,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket, quickly sliding his thumb over the screen. “I'll get you the pill. You'll need it...”

She doesn't know why this is so embarrassing to her (she's so embarrassed she doesn't even register the implication behind his words). It makes her feel like a child, someone who's way in over their head but doesn't want to admit to it. This is not the kind of taking care of her she thought about earlier, this feels like showing off her flaws, makes her realize she was not prepared for any of this to begin with.

Inhaling deeply, she puts the pills on her tongue and brings the water to her lips, swallowing hard to get them down. She empties the bottle, trying to empty her mind as well and not worry about anything anymore.

But now she thinks about accidentally getting pregnant because he couldn't stop pumping his freaking cum into her (and how she didn't even think about that possibility while he's done it), and how she feels so inexperienced and tiny next to him, him in his fancy suit pants and ironed shirt, typing on his phone, looking busy and important, and she's here in her small sundress that barely covers her thighs, barefoot, hair messy, face flushed, hurting from the inside out, useless.

He seems to feel her discomfort and without saying anything, he puts his large hand on her back, warm and comforting, rubbing softly up and down. She takes a deep breath, forces a smile and picks up another sliced apple piece, trying to focus on anything but her worries. She'd even have him fuck her senseless again, just to get rid of the nagging thoughts, soreness be damned.

“Okay,” he then says after a few minutes, his hand slipping to her lower back as he steps closer to her. She looks up, nibbling on the apple. He smirks at the sight, momentarily distracted. “Let's talk ground rules, shall we?” he eventually continues, sitting back down on the stool, lowering his towering height a little bit.

“Ground rules?” she asks, frowning at the change of topic.

“Yes. Think, darling, what are things I already told you to do and not to do?” He looks at her, a serious expression on his face, watching her so intently she feels her cheeks burn up even more.

“Uh,” she starts, thinking hard. It's a little contradictory to have her remember things he said when he keeps turning her brain off. “I... I uh...”

His hand grabs her chin, and she winces, eyes widening.

“Use your words,” he tells her sternly.

She swallows hard, her mind racing, her heart beating out of her chest. “I... I am yours to... use. You... you can... f-fuck me whenever you want,” she whispers, stumbling over her words, feeling even more embarrassed now. “And I... I can't say... no...”

He tilts his head, listening patiently. “Correct,” he says, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Anything else?”

She frowns, biting the inside of her cheek. Her throat tenses up. She doesn't know what he wants to hear from her. It's like these horrifying moments when the teacher asks a question and you haven't listened to anything they said. Her stomach drops. “I... I don't know...” she murmurs under her breath, voice quivering, brows furrowing.

He stares at her, but then nods and loosens the grip on her jaw, gently cupping her cheek instead. “It's okay, I'll tell you,” he replies.

She relaxes slightly, but only until he lifts her onto his lap in one swift motion, effortlessly, his grip on her upper arms tight, and she flinches badly, unable to hide the pained little whine slipping from her lips. He moves her on his thigh, one arm wrapped around her, the other back on her cheek, tilting her face up. Her muscles protest, the ache flaring up as she shifts on his hard leg. She swallows any other sounds that threaten to spill from her, blinking quickly to keep the tears down as well.

His thumb wipes at the corner of her eye as he watches her closely. “Hurts, hm?” he whispers, and she nods. “You'll always have to tell me if you're in pain, okay? I can't read minds. Ask me for pain killers, ask me for anything, just ask. That's a key rule: you will ask me if you need anything, understood?”

“Yes,” she says, wincing before she adds: “Sir.”

“Repeat.”

“I... I'll tell you when it hurts, and I'll ask you if I need anything...”

He nods, caressing her cheek. “Good. That includes taking the plug out,” he clarifies, pushing his leg up slightly, coaxing another wince out of her as the motion pushes against the mentioned object stuck in her butt. “You don't have to wear it all the time, but you will ask me if you can take it out. Right?”

She nods, he looks at her. “Yes, sir,” she says quickly. “I... I'll ask you when I want the plug out...” His eyes narrow slightly, her heart skips a beat. “Uh, if... if I'm allowed to take it out...”

He huffs a laugh. “Exactly. You don't want anything. You take what I give you, you do what I tell you, always, no matter what, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbles, biting her lip, focusing more on the words to repeat than on their actual meaning. “I'll do what you tell me to do, take what you give me...”

“And that includes?” he asks softly, cryptically, leaning in a little, his finger tracing the shape of her lips.

She blinks in confusion.

He smiles at her, then brushes his lips against her ear. “If I pump you full of cum, you will not get rid of it. If it drips down your leg, you will let it drip. If it gathers in your underwear, you will walk around with it until I tell you to change. I will tell you if you can clean yourself or not.”

His words make her shiver, and it's not just the close proximity, how his deep voice vibrates through her body. It's humiliating to think he has this kind of power over her, making her wear his cum like a trophy. Taking away the innate want to be clean. She inhales sharply, hoping he won't notice the hesitation in her voice. “Y-yes, sir. I'll... keep it on... and in me, at all times...”

He leans back, watching her closely. “Good girl,” he says, and she shivers for a completely different reason, her breath hitching slightly. His eyes move over her burning face, a soft smile grazing his lips. “You'll do anything for me if I call you that, huh?” he adds quietly, almost mockingly.

She looks away, something hot growing inside her stomach. “Yeah,” she admits quietly, worrying her lip between her teeth. It's indeed worrying how he can see right through her, and even worse that she will in fact do absolutely anything for a bit of praise from him. Worrying and deeply disturbing.

“Isn't that good to know,” he whispers, leaning down to press his lips against her warm cheek. She swallows hard, still not looking at him. His hand moves along the column of her neck, a light pressure against her throat, thumb rubbing over her pulse. “Why did you come to me?” he then asks, making her look up with a frown. “You approached me. You made me take you... why?”

Made him... take her? It's that big black hole she has in her memory of how she actually got here. He took her after all, and it wasn't just for a hook-up, she knows that now. He wanted all of her, all for himself, for more than a night. All because she approached him first?

She tries to ignore the dark truth of his actions, focuses on his question, thinks back to the night she's first seen him. “I... I've noticed you before,” she then replies, quietly, watching him as he listens to her. “I've come to the club a lot, always because of... well, you. I wanted to be... one of those girls...” He raises an eyebrow. “Well, you know, you always had one or more around you, and they were all so pretty and tall,” she adds with a little purse to her lips, her words tumbling out of her mouth with a bit of a rush now. “And I wanted that too, I mean, not being tall, I can't just grow like that, right? But, uh, to have your attention. It's silly, isn't it? I barely know you... but... that doesn't matter much, hm? When there are... feelings... or, I guess, illusions of feelings or whatever this is?”

The lines on his forehead deepen slightly. “What are you saying?”

“I was... uh... well, I... I guess I had a... a crush on you,” she says quickly, averting her eyes as her blush expands to her ears and down her neck, a strange tightness settling in her stomach.

“Had?” he asks, nudging her chin with his knuckles to make her look up. “You no longer have a crush on me?”

She lets out a groan, her eyelids fluttering. To be honest, she has no idea. Is this still a crush or something else entirely? Whatever it is, it's anything but healthy, that much she can admit to. “No, I still... I think I still do...” she whispers, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Still, huh?” he says, his fingers moving up to cup her jaw, turn her face back towards him. “Despite everything?” She nods into his hand. “Aren't you a cute little thing...” he adds with a dark smile. “You're absolutely perfect, do you know that?”

His words surprise her, but as soon as he leans in to press his lips to hers, she doesn't question them anymore. Perfect for what? Doesn't matter. He wants her, all of her. Is it fucked-up and strange? Yes, certainly, but she doesn't care. She has his attention now, more than that even, more than she could have ever imagined (and this is clearly far beyond anything she could have ever thought up on her own).

Her hand finds his wrist, holding onto him as she moves her tongue against his, slow and intimate, a deep connection between two strangers who feel like so much more. What they are exactly, she can't say, and frankly, it doesn't matter.

After breakfast, he shows her around the penthouse. It is a penthouse, high above the city, a giant array of many rooms, most of them he tells her not to enter. There's a gym, another bedroom plus bathroom, his office that's connected to a library, a large room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves she stares at longer than she should. The interior continues to be minimalist, a lot of blacks and whites, antique-looking wooden floors, intricate trim lining the walls. It looks expensive, luxurious, but ultimately also very masculine.

If she didn't know it already, she'd say this was the typical den of a bachelor, and from all she does know about him prior to waking up in his penthouse, he is one of the most popular ones. Rich and single, no wonder he was always surrounded by women in the club. His club. And to think she is the girl he chose to take back home? It's still mind-blowing to her.

He squeezes her hand to pull her out of the library, and she follows slowly. He's strangely gentle to her, always waits for her because she still can't walk properly (it is his fault though, so it's something a normal man is expected to do, but he is far from normal, that much she knows now, that's why it's such a surprise). He pulls her towards him when he explains things or when they step onto the large balcony that wraps around most of his apartment. And she feels safe, protected, and, despite her isolation from the rest of the world, not alone.

It's a sunny day today, contrary to yesterday, and she's in awe at the view she has over the city. If her whole body wouldn't be in pain from all the former ordeals he's put her through, she'd think she woke up a princess, or at least someone on the whole other end of the wealth spectrum.

She can barely think back to her old life, where she had a shitty job, lived in a shitty apartment the size of his walk-in closet, had barely any friends, mostly just acquaintances, who'd ask her to come along sometimes, and co-workers she'd talk to on occasion, and no family to rely on. It's been a hard, lonesome life, so to be able to spend her time here now, with him, she'd let him bruise her every single day for the rest of her life if it meant she could stay.

That is what this deal is, right? She doesn't have words for it, but it's the age old thing of giving a service to receive something in return. Letting him use her for a chance at a better life. Doesn't sound too bad, does it?

He finishes the tour in front of his office, one hand on her waist, head tilted down to look at her. “Do you want to lie down and rest now?” he asks her, his low voice so gentle she completely forgets about the other side of him, the dark one, the one that forces his cock into her ass to punish her.

She shakes her head. “I'm fine,” she says, stupid as she is, blinded by the pleasantries he's shown her.

The shift in his face is immediate. A dark glint settles in his eyes. “Yeah? No more pain?”

“Well, I'm still sore,” she says quickly, biting her lip. “But it'll be fine.” He seems to understand that she just doesn't want to leave him.

“Come join me in my office then,” he tells her, guiding her into the big room.

The giant desk is the center piece of the space, a large window behind it, a couch on one side, another, smaller desk on the other, framed by shelves and sideboards. Apart from the occasional plant, there's no clutter anywhere, not even on the desk, only a little cart beside it, laden with various alcohol bottles and glasses.

When he leaves her to walk around the desk and sit down on the leather chair, her eyes move to the door leading into the library. She's already turning into that direction, thinking about finding a book to read, when she stops, literally freezes on the spot as she remembers his rules.

She turns back to him, clearing her throat, licking her lips, suddenly very nervous. “Can I... can I get a book from the library?” she asks quietly.

He looks up in the middle of opening a laptop, one eyebrow perked up. “No,” he says, and she frowns at the harshness in his voice, her heart instantly sinking. “Come here,” he adds and waves her over.

Inhaling deeply, she shuffles to him. He rolls back in his chair, creating a space between his legs. The gesture is pretty obvious, the command unspoken, she still hesitates as she moves closer. His eyes darken as he watches her.

“Kneel,” he tells her, and she does, her heart beating faster.

She can't help but wince when she settles between his legs, hands on his thighs, looking up at him, carefully leaning on her knees as to not get the heels of her feet in contact with her sore butt.

His hands move to unbuckle his belt, long fingers opening his pants. “I want you to cockwarm me,” he then says, his eyes boring into hers. “Do you know what that is?”

“I... put your cock in my mouth and keep it warm?” she replies with a raised eyebrow.

“Smart,” he says, patting her head with a smirk. “Exactly like that. But I don't want you to suck me off, understood? You just keep my cock in your mouth, no sounds, no movements. Can you do that?”

She nods slowly, not entirely sure she understands correctly, but she's willing to please him nonetheless. “Yes, sir,” she whispers, shifting closer between his legs.

“I need to work, make some calls and video chats, and you are not allowed to interrupt me. No noises,” he repeats, looking at her pointedly. “If you need a break, you do so quietly. But you will not leave, you'll stay right here under the desk. Just a couple of hours, okay?”

A couple of hours? On her knees with his cock in her mouth? Hours? The shock must be obvious on her face, and he moves his hand down to caress her cheek.

“It's not as bad as you think. Just relax, make yourself comfortable down there. Keep me nice and warm, yeah?” The gentle voice is back, and she inhales deeply, feeling something warm settling in her stomach.

“Yes, sir,” she whispers, giving him a weak smile.

His fingers sink into her hair, and he moves her further under the desk before he rolls his chair closer. There's enough space, even though she feels as if sitting in a wooden box, caged in on three sides, the hard wooden floor beneath her, and the table top above her, but she can look past his chair and out of the window, sees the clear blue sky and some clouds floating by. She cannot see his face though, only his crotch. He grabs her wrist and guides her towards his cock as he frees it with his other hand.

She grips it gingerly, shifting closer on her knees, and she can already tell that this position will add to her list of pains. The floor is hard and unyielding, and her dress not long enough to work as a protective layer. Sighing quietly, she opens her mouth and lets him put his tip on her tongue, then he nudges her to close her lips around it. Her first instinct is to hollow her cheeks, but he quickly corrects her with a soft slap to her jaw.

“Hold completely still,” he reminds her, and she hums in response, nestling between his legs, hands holding onto his thighs, head as still as possible as she feels the weight of him on her tongue. And she's supposed to do this for a couple of hours? She almost wishes he'd just fuck her hard on his desk or something.

She can hear him typing on his keyboard, click clack, a monotonous sound, sometimes mixed with a soft thud when he puts his phone on the table. After only a few minutes, she is not only bored out of her mind, but also feels a slight ache in her jaw. Additionally, it's very hard not to move her tongue. It's so tempting to just flick it around his tip, feel the spongy flesh, taste more of him. His scent is already in her nostrils, and it has a strange effect on her.

An arousing one.

A loud exhale slips through her nose, and she feels him shifting in his chair, his hand coming down to grab her jaw. She lets out a muffled whine when he pulls her head to his crotch, letting him slip deeper into her mouth, but that is not what he intended to do. He presses her cheek down so it rests on his pelvis, close to his hip. She tries to settle into the new position, her knees aching already. Draping her arms around him, she adjusts and actually relaxes against him, his cock heavy on her tongue, a bit more than just the tip.

He ruffles her hair once she keeps still. “Good girl,” he whispers, before he focuses back on whatever he's doing above her. His words only increase the wet feeling between her thighs, but she tries to ignore it, focuses only on the weight and scent and feel of him in her mouth. She even closes her eyes, leaning against his warm body, occasionally trying to swallow the drool gathering on her tongue, which is harder with her mouth open like this, so she can't get it all down. Some drips past her lips, running down her chin. But she couldn't care less.

Suddenly his voice sounds above her, and she realizes he must be talking to someone, stern, professional, barking orders in a way that's demanding and authoritative. She doesn't care what he says, it doesn't matter to her. It's the thrum and timbre of his voice that lulls her, makes her sleepy, and she feels herself drifting off, jaw going slack, but then a jerk runs through her body, making her twitch, and she gasps as she realizes she's bumped into him as she fumbled to put his cock inside her mouth again.

He keeps talking as if nothing happened, but his legs press against her shoulders for a bit, and she relaxes into him again, adjusts her position, keeps her eyes open and stares past his crotch towards the wall – which is so boring. A simple white, maybe even a soft beige, she isn't sure. Could be the daylight that changes the color. Daylight. There are no shadows to follow, no indication of how much time has passed. Just his voice, then silence when he's done with the call, the click clack of his keyboard.

Sometimes he moves his hand under the desk to caress her hair, slip his fingers through it, massage her scalp. She hums softly then, and he allows the quiet noise. Her jaw is tense, upper lip is dry and no way to lick it, while more drool keeps running down her chin. She wipes at it with her hand while she keeps one arm around his waist to hold herself up. She is so bored, her mind empty and at the same time not as she thinks about things she would rather do than sit in this uncomfortable position on her knees.

It's not even his cock in her mouth, she's somehow fine with that, but everything around it, the keeping quiet, the not moving, the doing absolutely nothing. And she can't even fall asleep in fear she might bump her head when she wakes up or maybe even bites down on him because she can't control her jaw any longer. For what it's worth, it's these doubts that keep her awake at least.

To keep herself somewhat entertained, she tries to think back to all the things that happened since she woke up in his bed. Her memories are hazy, but she still remembers the moment when he forced the plug into her butt, just like that, as if it was a normal thing to do. And she had just let him – well, she couldn't really fight him, she's tried, oh and he'd spanked her for it also. So fighting him really is and was not an option.

While she thinks back to the beginning of their strange situation, she hears his voice again, interrupted by other voices. A video chat probably. Again she doesn't care what those men are talking about, it doesn't matter to her.

Rolling her jaw a little, accidentally pushing her tongue against the underside of his cock, she stiffens slightly, waits for his reaction, but nothing happens. He keeps perfectly still, a true professional talking to whoever, while some girl he picked up in his club cockwarms him under his desk. What a normal thing. What a strange world where this is indeed beginning to be normal to her as well.

She dares another little press of her tongue, feeling the texture of his warm skin, the veins throbbing beneath it, and again he doesn't do anything. In her mind she thinks back to the first time she had his cock in her mouth, that handjob turned blowjob on the couch, how he's forced her down on him, how panicked she has been – and in comparison to the next blowjob in the kitchen, he had been really gentle.

A shudder rushes through her as she remembers how he pushed into her throat, made her gag, that horrible twitch of her body she couldn't control, the feeling of not being able to breathe, choking on him and her own spit. Nothing she wants to experience again, but knowing her situation, she may not have the luxury to wish for anything.

When her thoughts become darker all of a sudden, she focuses back on the here and now, hears the drone of the voices above the table, feels his warm legs around her, ignores the ache of her knees and jaw, the constant flow of drool down her chin, the weight and heat and taste of his cock in her mouth.

Somehow he's gotten a little harder, thicker, filling her mouth more, straining against her lips, and she can't help but move her tongue beneath him, roll her jaw once more, and then she sucks, hollows her cheeks, not necessarily to do something to him, but to keep the spit inside her mouth. His hand is on her head in no time, fingers digging into her hair, and she forces herself not to make any noise as she flinches against him.

His grip is rough, but his hand is heavy, holds her down, in place, still, and she relaxes again, breathes deep through her nose, closes her eyes, doesn't move as she holds him between her lips. The tension in his fingers eases, and he starts to caress her again, gently massaging her scalp, all while talking to some men over a video call.

And eventually her head runs completely empty. The way he touches her, how his cock rests hot and hard and heavy on her tongue, his scent all around her, it's all there is, all that matters.

Him.

Someone to focus on, someone to please... someone to service...

Only him.

It's his voice in her head, a soft echo, getting louder, clearer. “Baby?”

Her eyelids flutter open, a new strand of saliva drips from her chin. His hand is on her jaw, catching it. It takes her a moment to realize where she is. Under the desk, between his legs, his cock still in her mouth. She moves her hand up, rests it on his thigh, and he slowly rolls his chair back. She follows the movement, shifts on her knees, a sudden sting crashing through her body, and a muffled groan escapes her.

“You can let go now,” he tells her quietly.

She blinks again, looking up from under her lashes, meeting his gaze. There's a soft smile on his lips. The heat in her stomach is instant, a fire jumping to life by the snap of a finger. She leans back hesitantly, using her hands to hold his cock and wipe at her wet mouth. Her first instinct is to swallow, really swallow, without anything obstructing the motion. Then she inhales deeply, not daring to let go of his erection. It's covered in her spit, as is part of his pants, and she feels her cheeks burning up.

His hand cups her face, thumb rubbing over her chin. She sits back on her knees, one hand braced on his leg, the other tight around his throbbing length. “You did good,” he tells her, nudging her to get to her feet, his other hand prying her fingers off his cock before he grabs it himself.

She more or less crawls out from under the desk, gets up on shaking legs, a strange weakness in her limbs from kneeling for however long he's made her do this. Her head is filled with cotton, a strange vertigo making her sway a little. Suddenly he's standing next to her after she's blinked a few times, that tall frame towering over her, warm, strong, confident.

“Come on,” he says, his voice a little muffled, his hands on her waist turning her until he gently pushes her stomach-first onto the desk. Confusion washes over her, her cheek rests on the cold wood of the tabletop. His knee is pushing her legs apart, he steps between them. Her heart beats faster. His hands move along her sides, following her curves, slip under the skirt of her dress.

He flips it up quickly, while her breaths turn almost frantic. What's going on? His fingers curl around her hips, pulling her back a little. Her hands find the edge of the table. She can only see him out of the corner of her eye, her vision is blurry, he's just this intimidating shadow behind her, backlit by the light streaming through the large window. Her legs twitch against him when she feels his finger in the cleft between her ass cheeks, following the fabric of her thong before pushing it aside, and a quiet wail escapes her.

“Shh,” he makes, not even hesitating when he tugs at the knob of the plug. She squirms a little, her rapid breaths fanning over the tabletop. His thumb presses the metal toy against her tight muscles, and she whimpers in response, the soreness within flaring up again.

“P-please...” she croaks out.

“Please what?” he asks, fingers closing around the base of the plug, pulling gently. “Please fill my ass? Please fuck me hard? Or please stop?” he teases.

She gasps when he suddenly pulls the plug out with a strangely wet pop. She knows she shouldn't answer him, it's a trap either way, but she can't help herself. “Please don't do this...”

He puts the plug on the table next to her, stepping a little closer between her legs. She hears him spitting into his hand, before something wet and warm slips between her cheeks, over her tense hole. He completely ignores her when he dips his finger into her ass.

“Don't! Please!” she whimpers, writhing on the desk.

He pokes his finger deeper. “Why?”

“B-because... you... you just said... said I did good,” she stammers, body shivering under his ministrations. “So... why... why are you... punishing me?”

“Punishing you?” he asks, genuine confusion in his voice as he stills his finger inside her. “This is not a punishment, sweetheart, it's a reward.”

Her response is a sudden sob, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Come on, do you really think anal sex is a punishment? Did it hurt that bad? Didn't you come when I fucked you in the shower? Can't you remember? I bet that felt good, huh?” While he speaks, he pumps his finger in and out, slowly adds another, repeats the motion, every word accentuated by a deep push of his hand against her ass, slow and steady.

She sniffles quietly, unsure what to say to that.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, fingering her harder, deeper, faster, his fingers stretching her tense muscles.

“A-a little,” she whispers.

“Really? Or is it just a strange feeling?”

His question makes her pause. Of course it's a strange feeling, she's never had fingers or other things pushed up her ass before she met him. But she does question the pain or discomfort. Because the more he pushes into her, the better it feels, or maybe her body just adjusts to the sensation, giving her the illusion that it may feel better?

“Huh? What is it?” he presses, moving his fingers faster, the squelching sound making her blush deeply.

“I... I don't know...” she whimpers.

“Does it hurt or does it not hurt? It's a simple question!” He sounds more and more agitated, but she can only breathe faster, whine louder.

“I don't know!” she cries out.

“Well, how about this,” he starts, pulling his fingers from her ass. “How's this then? Does this hurt?” he asks, and she feels the spongy tip of his cock press against her hole. It's a simple roll of his hips, and he's inside her, slipping deeper, slow shallow thrusts as he fills her out.

She can't even say anything or make any noise except a low gurgle from deep within her throat, she can barely breathe with how full she feels all of a sudden. Her fingers curl around the edge of the table, his thrusts, as slow and careful as they may be, pushing her back and forth. His hands grip her waist, it's a steady push and pull as his cock slides in and out, slowly getting faster.

The friction is worse than yesterday, her muscles too tense and unprepared and frankly still sore. He doesn't care, slipping deeper, pounding harder, going faster. Every thrust feeds the fire burning within, the bad kind, not the one smoldering in her stomach, but the one sending cold shivers over her skin as pain ripples through her.

“Does – it – hurt?” he asks through gritted teeth, every word stressed by a particularly hard snap of his hips.

She whines quietly, too overwhelmed to even comprehend the question or why he's asking it.

“Tell – me!” His grip around her waist tightens, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress, squeezing her sides.

She gasps, breathes rougher. “Yes... yes!” she wails.

He stops immediately, the only sound her little whines and the loud thumping of her heart in her ears. His hands ease their grip, moving lower over her curves, caressing her tense skin. His cock rests hard and heavy inside her, throbbing slightly. “Good,” he says, inhaling deeply. “Tell me what you want,” he then asks, kneading her cheeks lightly, pulling them apart as he waits for her answer.

This must be another trick question, she thinks frantically, trying to control her heavy breaths. “I... I don't... I don't want... anything...” she then whispers. Somehow that reply came to her, slipped over her lips, a deep-rooted understanding pushing to the forefront of her mind.

“Correct,” he whispers, surprise evident in his voice. “You don't get to decide what I do to you. You don't get to say no. You take what I give you...”

She closes her eyes, he resumes the rolling of his hips.

“And if I tell you that this is a reward, you better fucking believe it!” he ends, quickly picking up the pace, really hammering into her now.

She cries out, body convulsing, thighs slamming into the hard edge of the desk, the sudden onslaught of sensations making her head spin. His pants and groans become louder, his thrusts even harder, and she succumbs to it all, just takes it, like he wants her to, while hot tears roll over her cheeks, gathering under her head pressed to the table.

The pain is that heavy thing inside her, weighing her down, pulling her into all directions at once, overtaking everything she feels. It's mostly just... hurt. Burning, aching, thumping hurt. Though there is a strange heat building up as well, but it's flimsy, a feeling like trying to catch smoke. She's yearning for it, but it slips away every time he pushes particularly deep.

She's numb when he finally finishes, a loud grunt echoing through the room as he gives her that final thrust and stills, all of him inside of her, his cock throbbing angrily, balls twitching against her folds, ropes of cum shooting into her bruised depths, warm and filling. He leans his hands on either side of her body, breathing heavily as he comes down from his orgasm.

Her eyes are closed, lashes clumped, face wet from crying. Her body shudders deeply when he slowly pulls back, her muscles clenching around him until the pressure is gone, her hole left gaping, something hot and thick dripping from it. He moves his finger around her sphincter, teases it with his fingertip. “Clench,” he orders, and subconsciously or not, she does, muscles working around his digit. He pulls it out and grabs the plug, quickly pushes it back into place, sealing his cum inside her.

He rubs his hands along her rear, then adjusts her thong and pulls her skirt back over it. She hears him walking around the desk, and without much protest, she is being rolled onto her back, head hanging off the edge as he pulls her towards him. Moved like a doll. Used like a toy.

“Open your mouth,” he tells her, and again, she just does, pliant and defeated, her eyelids too heavy to open. His hand is under her head, holding it up, a strong but somehow comforting touch. There's nothing comforting about his next move.

His cock, still semi-hard, pushes into her mouth, her jaw protesting, his tip, wet and slippery, scraping over her gums. He bends her neck a little, stepping closer, sinking it deeper. It hits the back of her throat, and she feels that deep shudder, the uncontrollable twitch, the sliver of panic, when she gags around him, her throat working against the intruder. He pulls back a little, lets her swallow the spit and bile, before he pushes back in, deeper, deeper, filling her throat, his hips resuming those rolling motions, just against her face now.

With how he leans over her, how her head is held by his hands, she feels his tight balls slamming against her nose with every thrust. She's already breathless, gasping and gulping for air whenever he allows her some reprieve between gagging and choking. Spit and cum drip from her lips, trailing down the side of her head. She's too weak to fight this, can't do anything but let him fuck her face, push into her throat, over and over again, until she feels her consciousness slipping.

But he never lets her drift off, watching her closely, pulling back just in time. He seems to fully harden again, more and more with each deep plunge, his groans are quiet, his movements becoming jerkier. She feels so dizzy, muffled whimpers sitting right where he pushes into her throat. Somehow she's stopped gagging, her muscles relaxing enough to allow what he is doing to her.

His hands grip her head, holding her still as he pushes deep, stills there, and shoots thick warm spurts of cum right down her throat. The urge to breathe, to swallow, is that faraway thumping motion in the back of her mind. She doesn't care anymore. She just wants it to end. Tears and spit and cum leave trails on her flushed face. He pulls back eventually, his cock throbbing against her swollen lips, the last drops of his seed landing on her chin and further down her aching neck.

He pulls her off the table, her body limp in his hold. She can barely feel how he sits her down, holds her chin, nudges her softly. “Breathe,” he whispers, wiping at her soiled cheeks. His voice moves something within her, her stomach flutters, chest heaves, and with a deep sharp inhale, she resumes the frantic attempts to get air back into her lungs, gasping, gulping, coughing hard. He gently rubs her throat as he watches her.

She slowly calms down, though new tears spill from her lashes, hot and desperate, and she remains deeply disturbed by the turn of events. When her eyelids flutter open, she sees him leaning over her, watching her, eyes dark and stern.

“Did you like your reward?” he asks.

Something snaps inside her head like a twig that's being stepped on. The fucking audacity! She wants to scratch his eyes out, shove something down his throat for a change.

The sudden anger that rises within her makes her gasp, a deep shiver almost as bad as her gag reflex or the coughing fit that shook her earlier. It terrifies her. Where did that come from? Pressing her lips into a thin line, she only looks at him from under her lashes, afraid she might say something that will make him really angry.

His eyes narrow, jaw clenches. His hand closes around her throat. “When I give you a reward for good behavior,” he starts, his voice low and with a dangerous edge to it. “I expect you to be grateful. I expect you to say thank you.”

She stares at him, blinking slowly, tears streaming down her face. Is he serious? Thank him for this kind of treatment? How was that even a reward? He didn't even make her come! Somehow she didn't want to see it before, but now she does, in that tiny moment of clarity as the relief to still be drawing breath floods her body. She sees it now: he is absolutely insane, there's no other explanation.

(This isn't normal, this isn't what she wanted, not what she wanted, not normal, not wanted, not –)

An even more disturbing revelation is that there's only one thing she can do: follow his orders, be at his mercy, play along.

So she does. “Th-thank you,” she tries to say, but her voice is just that raw, rough croak caught in the back of her throat. She frowns, clears her throat, winces at the strain and ache within. Whines at the pain.

And strangely enough his expression softens, his hand moving to her cheek, caressing it gently. He leans down and presses his lips to her forehead, then wordlessly picks her up onto his arms and carries her out of the office.

FIVE 🟥 SIX 🟥 SEVEN

End notes: So. This happened. It kinda escalated a little in the end, hm? I'm sorry (but not really). You've read the tags though (I hope), so please don't blame me.

Again, I want to stress that THIS IS FICTION! Not real life! I do not condone this behavior! But sometimes those characters that live inside my head have a mind of their own, and they just do stuff, I can't stop them.

So, thank you for (still) being here! Remember, no rain, no rainbow, right? It'll get better again, I promise!

Thanks again for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

TAG LIST: @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE◾

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN◾ELEVEN

#ao3 original work #dead dove do not eat #dom/sub #d/s dynamic #praise k!nk #free use kink #cnc free use #older man younger woman #size difference #modern au #joel miller smut #supernatural smut #dean winchester smut #arthur morgan smut #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #original fiction

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julesthequirky · 7 months

Text

The Choice: Chapter Nine

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau and Ben (Soldier Boy)

Warnings: Language, typical Soldier Boy behaviour, angst, dashed dreams, mental breakdown.

W/C: 1,617

Everything hurt. Your throat felt tight and sore. Your head pounded, and your eyes felt gummy from all your tears. Your knees ached, and your soul felt irreparable. God knows how long you’d been here for. It felt like a century.

“Sh, sh, shhh.”

There was that low, soothing voice again.

Your fingers felt stiff as they clutched the jacket of the person it belonged to. Your tears had soaked into their shirt, leaving a wet patch. They were warm, whoever they were, with a steady heartbeat, which helped to calm you. And they smelt nice. Musky aftershave…

Hands pushed at your shoulders, pulling you back. You didn’t want to leave the safety or the comfort of whoever’s arms you were in. The busy hum and the bright lights of the mall came rushing back. You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing you were anywhere but here.

Warm, dry hands cupped your face, thumbs stroking over your hot, gummy eyes, catching any lingering tears caught on your lashes.

“C’mon, darlin’.”

You expected a Southern drawl but got Dean’s deep-timbred, Mid-Kansas accent instead.

“It’s safe. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you. Not on my watch.”

Shame filled you, remembering the event that transpired and what you must’ve looked like to everyone in Walmart. You couldn’t.

“Hey, hey. Look at me. Look at me.”

Your eyes open, and Dean’s green eyes filled your vision. Magnetised, you focused on the flecks of colour, the hue changes and just how emerald they looked in the brightness.

“Where’s Ben?”

You’d left him alone in the middle of the store with Mark and the girlfriend.

Dean’s lips turned into somewhat of a smirk.

“Well, after you ran out, he tore right into the guy. Beau had to pull him away before he could land a punch. They’re both still inside the store, waiting for you. I suppose he’s not such a bad guy after all.”

Oh.

“We can go right home, put all this right behind us. I won’t pry. Hell, I don’t blame you if you never wanna talk about it ever again, but if you do want an ear, I’m here.”

Thanks to Dean, the intensity you’d felt a moment ago had calmed. The tightness in your chest and throat receded, your breath steadied, and the thoughts in your head cleared. You flung your arms back around him, breathing in his manly musky scent that was so distinctively his.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“No…I’m okay. Thanks, D.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

Your knees were aching on the hard mall floor. Dean pulled back and helped you up. You turned to the store and took a deep breath. Beau and Ben were inside, waiting. They would understand if you decided to abandon the shopping trip. But in all honesty, you weren’t a quitter. At least not in trivial matters.

You brushed yourself down and wiped your eyes. They still felt a little gummy but were quickly returning to normal.

You just hoped that Mark and his girlfriend weren’t still inside.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head. “No, I want to.”

You took steady steps towards Walmart. Your cart and shopping were still in there, probably being looked after by Ben and Beau. You wondered how Ben was getting on. How angry he must‘ve been flashed through your mind. Angry enough to have a punch-up in public.

The hand on your lower back had your shoulders and back easing. It reminded you that you weren’t alone. Dean had your back. Literally. His touch felt natural like it belonged, but there was no way in Hell you were telling him that. You’d look crazy.

You returned to your cart, manned by Beau and Ben. Your ex-husband was nowhere in sight, and relief ran through you.

“Darlin’,” Beau hugged you, wrapping his arms around you tightly, almost setting you off again. “He never deserved you. He’s an asshole.”

Beau’s Southern drawl comforted you to no end.

He let you go, and you gripped the bar of the cart. So much was added. All that was missing were groceries. You steered the cart away from the clothing section. Walking in a daze, you grabbed items from the list in your pocket, whipping around the store. Ben added a crate of beer and the whiskey he had been drinking from.

You paid for the items, not bothering to bag them until you reached your cart. You opened the trunk. The guys helped you put it away, and you soon found yourself in the driving seat, staring into space, with Ben beside you.

The image of your ex’s new girlfriend’s pregnant round belly occupied your mind.

Ben poked you.

“You gonna drive?”

“Right.” You murmured.

You couldn’t remember the drive home or how the groceries made it inside. Somehow, you ended up in the room where Dean was sleeping, pulling open a drawer and taking out the set of baby booties from within.

The dream you so long wished for was now being taken over by someone else. Sitting on the bed, you let your heart break all over again.

A loud crack pulled you out of it, then a yell of rage. Sitting up, you placed the baby booties on the mattress and slowly headed down. Dean and Beau were surrounding the kitchen. From further in, you heard grunting, huffing and panting.

“I am NOT the one to blame!!”

Beau and Dean looked at each other. You stepped closer. You saw Ben’s eye lock on you from the space between Beau and Dean. Your heart leapt to your throat, and he was barrelling through both of them in a matter of seconds just to get to you.

“You!” He roared.

He was dirty and unkempt. His undershirt had stains on, as did the grey sweats he wore. He had great big bags under his eyes, and looked absolutely feral.

He grabbed your arm, gripping it tightly. Your eyes widened in shock, unable to free yourself.

“This fuck up is on you! I’m sick of taking the fucking blame for your fuck ups!”

You could barely take it in. Your brain was on the go-slow still.

“I didn’t—”

“No, but they sure have.” He pointed to Dean and Beau.

Ben was angry and bitter and had been for a while. He stormed past you and up the stairs. You followed, scrambling up after him.

“What are you doing?!”

“I’m doing what they’re too fucking pussy to do.”

He headed into the room you’ve been sleeping in, Dean’s room. Your heart leapt to your throat again, and your pulse spiked as panic shot down your system. Not the baby clothes.

The door barged open, slamming into the wall and splintering. You ran in after him, gripping the back of his vest, desperately trying to pull him back. He shoved you off like he was swatting a fly, and you landed on your ass with a thud.

He picked up the booties on the bed, keeping them in his fist. He turned to you.

“Where are the rest!”

You shook your head.

“I’m gonna start tearing out each fucking drawer until I find them.” It wasn’t a warning. It was a promise.

When you didn’t answer, he yanked the first drawer out of the chest, throwing it on the bed when it didn’t have what he was looking for.

“No!!”

You scrambled up.

“Please!” Your desperate, futile beg went over his head.

You needed him to turn and walk away like your life depended on it.

“I won’t ask again. Where are they, Y/N?”

You shook your head, pleading, tears streaming down your eyes, still trying to pull him away, feet slipping on the carpet. But he was superhuman. Your strength was nothing compared to his.

He couldn’t really be doing this.

The emotion in your chest expanded as he yanked open another drawer, ripping it from its hinges and chucking it on the bed when it wasn’t the right one.

The gaping wound seemed only to worsen.

“Stop!!” You screamed, raining your fists down his back. He ignored you and opened the third drawer.

The wound gaped further. Your heart lurched when his hand reached out. You leapt up, straddling his back and covering his eyes. He yanked you off, pushing you back against the bed. You grunted as pain sliced all the way up your back.

“Please, Ben.”

You didn’t understand why he would do this.

He turned to you, fists full of the tiny garments. “Your problem, Y/N, is you don’t believe in yourself. These clothes fulfil nothing. They don’t mean shit! Wake the fuck up and stop holding on to shit that’s meaningless.”

His words shredded your heart.

“They mean everything!”

He shot you daggers.

“Bullshit!”

Spittle flew off and landed on your forehead. You grimaced as you wiped it off and scrambled to get up as he turned away.

“No!! Please! No!”

No amount of begging or pleading would work. They all fell on deaf ears. He gripped the doorknob and swung it shut behind him, leaving you screaming and crying. You tried the handle; it rattled, but the door remained. He was on the other side keeping you from the clothes.

Your fists bashed on the splintering wood, and your throat burned from begging, pleading and sobbing, your energy fast draining. Anger spiked your system, and you kicked at the door. When that didn’t work, you gathered the remnants of your energy and threw it at him.

“I hate you!!”

Silence.

You slumped against the door, eyes hot and gummy, stinging with fresh tears.

Of course, you didn’t hate him. It would have made everything so much easier if you did.

Tags: @yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch, @ashdoctor, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-number-one-fan, @afro-hispwriter, @tiredstrangerr, @zemosdarling228, @justjensenandhisalteregos, @ladysparkles78, @nescavaneck, @winharry, @stellasfictionalworld

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storiesofsvu · 2 months

Text

Decadent Desires Ch 14

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, smut eluded to briefly, mentions of typical BAU type stuff. If any of y’all are my ao3 ppl, bless you & thank you for all the extra comments & chatting about this story! I absolutely love hearing all your thoughts/opinions/what you think is gonna happen. Like, yes please, send me your full book reports! Everybody gets an A++

After last chapter; for anyone who might want to look into more Heather Dunbar, all her works can be found here

Your eyes twitched, daring to open long before you wanted them to and you stifled a yawn, shifting slightly in the bed. As your senses came to you could feel Heather’s arm very loosely thrown over your waist, though it wasn’t an act of intimacy and definitely wasn’t cuddling. You’d accidentally fallen asleep in her bed the night prior before she could even bring you a bottle of water, exhausted from the heat and sun and thoroughly fucked. She stayed up for another couple of hours before turning in herself and sometime during her sleep had rolled over closer to you, her hand flopping across your hip.

The chirping out the window became too much and you knew you weren’t going to get anymore sleep, no matter how hard you tried. Your eyes cracked open, looking at the clock on the nightstand, at least it was already past nine, you’d gotten a little bit of a sleep in. Tossing Heather’s arm off you, you groaned softly as you sat up, stretching out your body and rolling your neck, a couple of joints cracking as you did so.

“Why the hell are you up?” She grumbled, burying her face into the pillow.

“Our flight’s at noon.” You yawned, “I’ve got to start packing.”

“I own the fucking plane. We take off when I say we take off.”

“Check out is also at noon.” You chuckled, swatting at her hip as you stood from the bed, beginning to collect your clothes that were scattered across the floor.

“You really think I didn’t already pay them off for a three p.m. checkout?” She finally opened her eyes, rubbing at them as she looked up at you and you laughed softly again.

“Then sleep. I need to shower and pack and probably get a few things ready for the week, we were so focused on the retreat I know I must’ve been missing a few things back home.” You crossed through the open door back to your room.

“God.” She huffed, dropping onto her back into the pillows as she picked up her phone, “it better not be fucking snowing back home.”

“Heather please, it barely snows in D.C.” You laughed as you hastily folded the clothes in your hands, dropping them into your open suitcase as you glanced around the room. “Hey, is Rob still off on Sundays?”

“Yeah.” She called back, “he said something about wanting to make a late dinner tonight.”

“You think you can ask him to meet us at the jet?”

“Why?” She sat up, holding the bedsheet to her chest as concern took over her face, knowing just how much a week of travel and this amount of sun exposure could affect you, “are you feeling sick? I need you for that merger meeting.”

“I’m fine.” You cast a look over your shoulder as you wrapped a towel around you, “I’ve just got a date with Prentiss on Wednesday.”

“Sweetheart, you’re in the clear.” She assured and it was your turn to chuckle.

“Heat… how many people are you currently fucking?”

“In D.C?” She asked and you nodded, “three not including Rob. But you know I don’t let them fuck me and I don’t share toys.”

“Not the point. It was in the contract I signed and Rob is far faster and more convenient than me taking time off my precious and very important job to see my gyno.”

“I will call him and tell him what time to meet us.”

“Thank you.” You shot her a smile, digging through your suitcase for classy yet comfortable clothes for the plane ride home.

“If you’re going to all that effort you may as well come back in here for one last round.”

“Go back to sleep Heather!” You called back, disappearing from the doorway and Heather heard the shower starting a moment later, letting out a sigh as she dropped back into the bedsheets.

Emily could not wait a second longer to get out of this hell hole and back home, preferably without a stop at the BAU first. Every case was teetering the line on rough, things that no normal human would be okay with witnessing or being around and this one was no different. This time there was the added affect that no matter how hard the team tried, they were always a second too late, never finding a living victim, an hour behind the unsub every step of the way until they’d finally baited him into it. Not only was she exhausted and not looking forward to the amount of paperwork that was going to come across her desk because of this week, but she really didn’t want to get the lecture she knew was coming from Bailey.

She stashed her bag into one of the cupboards, retreating to the back of the jet to drop down into the corner seat, letting out a weary sigh as she ran a hand over her face, pinching at the bridge of her nose. She just needed to get home and she would be able to handle this. Thankfully no one else really wanted to socialize either, finding more private spots on the jet, curling up in seats and couches until the plane was at cruising altitude and most everyone was asleep. She dozed off a bit herself, thankful for the rest though she wished it was more when she stirred in her seat, eyes cracking open to find they were still another few hours from Washington.

A fresh mug of steaming and very welcomed coffee found itself on the table in front of her as Tara hovered in the aisle beside the quad of seats.

“You okay?” She asked gently.

“Yeah.” Emily replied with a huff, picking up the mug, “that just… fucking sucked.”

“Man it really did.” The other woman groaned, dropping into the seat across from her, “but remember…we got him.” Her hand reached out, squeezing at her knee, “he won’t hurt anyone else.”

“I just really wish we’d clued in earlier, could’ve saved a lot of people a hell of a lot of hurt.”

“I know.” Tara replied, “so do I.” With another squeeze of her knee she settled back into her chair, taking a sip of her coffee, “we’ll do better next time.”

“Mmm.” She nodded.

“Thanks, for the extra days off by the way.” Tara commented, noting that while they were heading home on a Sunday that Emily had made the call the BAU wouldn’t be functioning until Wednesday.

“You guys need it.” She sighed, “after a case like this, everyone needs time to disassociate and pretend like there’s nothing wrong in the world.” Her gaze drifted out the window, “JJ needs to see her family, spend time with them, hug them so tight it’s like she’ll never let them go. You better be going to see Rebecca; remember why we do what we do to keep the world safe….”

“And what about you?” She asked after a quiet moment, watching the way Emily’s face twitched as she stared out the window a moment longer before turning back to her and waving her off.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been doing this a long time.”

“I know you have, and I’m not profiling, I’m doctor-ing, so you can’t lecture me.” Tara leant in on the table between them, “deny it all you want, but you have someone right now who means something in your life. It could be a new friend and that’s it, but it also could be something more and I don’t need to know any details right now, but I want to make sure you’re not just going home alone to a bottle of wine tonight.”

Emily huffed, taking another sip of coffee, “she was out of town this week, I’m not even sure when she’s back.”

“Hey…” Tara’s hand slid across the table, squeezing at her own, “whatever change you’ve made recently? It’s been a good one. You’ve been happier, more energetic, getting out of work on time and spending your weekends actually doing something. I haven’t seen you do anything other than work since we came back, so call her please… for me?”

“I’ll think about it, but I’m not making promises. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork and god knows Bailey’s gonna be blowing up my phone once he hears about the case.” She sighed, though her lips curved up into a soft smile and Tara relaxed into the seat across from her, giving her a knowing look before Emily’s gaze drifted out the window again.

Once home you began the usual post travel routine, make sure to immediately unpack, dumping clothing directly into the laundry and setting aside those that needed to go to the dry cleaners. You sorted through your work bag, filing everything correctly, stashing half away in your home office and packing the rest back up to have on the go. A quick clean out of the fridge, tossing anything that had unfortunately gone bad over the course of the week before putting in a grocery order and deciding to rely on take out for dinner. Finally, it was time for a luxurious everything shower. It didn’t matter how expensive or fancy the resort was, you always preferred your own shower, the water pressure and temperature was perfect, you had all of your own skin and hair products and didn’t have to worry about taking too much time or how many other people’s feet had touched the tub.

You wandered back downstairs just in time for your dinner to arrive, making sure to leave a hefty tip for the driver as it was much later than you’d normally order and the weather was starting to turn. Not even waiting to fully unbox everything you dug a fork into the chow mein, your stomach growling heavily already, stuffing a few forkfuls into your mouth. When you turned to grab a bottle of wine your eyes landed on the practically overflowing recycle bin and glancing over to the calendar you let out a groan, it was getting picked up in the morning, but only if it was in the alley.

With an annoyed sigh, you grabbed a sweater, shoved on a pair of slip-ons and grabbed the bin to trek through the yard and dump in the appropriate place. Back inside you locked the door behind you, a shiver moving through you at the chilly air lingering in your kitchen as you washed your hands and finally poured out a glass of wine. A sip of that and another mouthful of noodles and there was a knocking coming from the front door. A quick glance to your phone confirmed you hadn’t missed anything so you padded over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open to find Emily on the other side.

“Hey.”

Your voice broke her out of her trance of worry, fully registering that she actually had shown up at your door in practically the middle of the night. Her eyes flicked over your form, her shoulders relaxing at just how cozy and at peace you looked, leggings and loose sweater, your hair still damp and messily braided to keep it out of the way while your face was bare of any make up.

“Hey.” Emily replied, mimicking your soft smile. Her ears picked up the sound of laundry going in the distance and she spotted your work bag sitting right inside the entry, eyes flicking up to the kitchen to your barely touched take out and she suddenly put it together, wincing, “oh shit! I’m so sorry, you just got back.” She couldn’t help it, glancing over her shoulder as if it would be a better idea to retreat to her car, “this is outta line, I should’ve called. I just… man today really fucking sucked…”

You practically snorted at the out of line phrase, your hand reaching out to pinch at her elbow, waving her into your home, “it’s fine, come on in.”

You lead her into the kitchen, urging her to take a seat at the island as you stripped off the sweater, now back in the warmth of the house. “Wine?” You asked, opening the cupboard, “or something stronger?”

“Something stronger, please.” She grumbled, running a hand over her face. She glanced up at the sound of you sliding a tumbler of bourbon over to her and her eyes landed on the cotton ball stuck to the inside of your arm, “are you okay?”

“Hmm?” You asked, looking over your shoulder to her as you stashed the bottle back in the cupboard and she gestured to your arm. “Oh,” you let out a small huff of a laugh, ripping the band aid off and tossing both into the garbage, “yeah, just had some blood taken.” You slid back onto your stool, picking up the carton of noodles and gesturing to the others, “you hungry?”

“No, thank you.” She let out a weary sigh, taking a long drink of her booze.

“Emily… are you okay?”

She glanced up at you, her eyes flitting between your oh so cozy aura, the barely touched food, prime wine that you were trying to enjoy and she let out a huff, nearly pushing back from the island. “god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have just shown up like this.”

You managed to catch her hand before she had managed to actually push her stool back, “Em… I said it was fine.” You squeezed gently, urging her to sit back down and she did.

“It’s just.. I’m not exactly.. uh.. up to my normal caliber and definitely not in the headspace for our normal activities…” She nearly avoided your gaze and you let out a soft laugh.

“And that’s perfectly fine.” You reassured her, nudging her glass closer toward her, “compensation doesn’t always have to be sexual. There’s an entire other dynamic to it, companionship means support too. Contrary to what you may think, I do actually enjoy spending time with you and that will always include outside the bedroom.”

She let out a deep breath, “my brain is still trying to sort out the whole sugar baby situation and I think I’m just overcomplicating things. I kind of figured it was a sex for money but make it…morally legal.” She nearly laughed at her own words, pulling a small grin from you.

“There are plenty of sugar baby relationships that don’t even involve sex. Some people are just lonely, or scared of doing things by themselves so they have someone go with them to lunch, movies, opera, the theatre. Hell I’ve heard of a few old married couples where the wife has a passion for arts and the husband would much rather sit at home with the game on, if he doesn’t have to suffer through it himself, he has absolutely no qualms with a much younger man escorting his wife.”

“So I really am overthinking things?” She asked, looking back up to you with a soft smile and you chuckled.

“Yeah.”

“I still feel bad about intruding on your evening.”

“It’s not like I had much planned.” You shrugged, “now c’mon, help yourself to food, I’m definitely not going to finish it all.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Em..” you warned, “when was the last time you ate? Truthfully.”

“Before we got on the jet.” She winced and you cast her a glare.

“We’ve got noodles, rice, beef and broccoli or ginger chicken.” You pushed the containers toward her, “help yourself.”

She picked up a fork and the container of rice, taking a couple of bites while a comfortable silence took over the room and she was finally able to relax a bit. It was then that she started to realize more of the meaning behind your words, and why she was so drawn to showing up at your house in the first place (and why Tara had been so insistent on it). If she had just gone home she would likely be pouring over case files and attempting to get as much paperwork done as possible to get ahead before Bailey got into things with her. Sleep wouldn’t have been an option until it was all done, she definitely wouldn’t have eaten and a bottle of wine would have been her best friend. Instead being inside your kitchen felt warm, welcoming, simply having another human in the same room made her remember that there was so much else to life than just work. Things didn’t have to be so dreary and boring all the time.

“How was Florida?” She asked after a few moments.

“It was decent.” You shrugged, “secured a good amount of supporters, got some up and comers onto our ideas, reminded myself I’m not actually terrible at tennis and managed to only have my ass grabbed four times while congressmen tried to teach me how to golf.”

“Ew.” Her nose crinkled and you laughed, “I hope this doesn’t sound bad, but do you… have to like, play dumb a lot around them?”

“Oh no, I actually am completely horrible at golf. And you only get one chance to truly play dumb around them before they realize how much potential you could or do have and only certain ones feed into the dumb, some see right through it.”

“So you’ve got to know how to read them even quicker?”

“Yup.” You took a sip of your wine, “Heather always said it’s best to slide in with a hint of sensuality, let that be the bait and you have a matter of minutes to figure out whether you’re going low or high status to get them wrapped around your finger. The guys, it was go low. Do I have a very successful career with one of the highest ranked Senators in the country? Of course, but that completely slips their minds on a retreat like that when I’m wearing a cute outfit serving them drinks filling the role of cart girl.”

“Huh.” She replied, digging through the container before taking another bite and silence took over the room again. Though this time there was something lingering in the air and after a few minutes you chose to speak up.

“I take it your week wasn’t as good?”

Emily let out a heavy breath, “just a really bad case. I don’t want to drag you down with details but it was one of the worst we’ve seen in a while and in the end we barely caught the guy.”

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it? I promise I can handle the gory details; Tony never holds back; I actually think he over exaggerates to make himself sound cooler…”

“Tony?” Her brow furrowed.

“Agent friend.” You replied with a shrug.

“Ah,” she poked around at the rice again, “and no, but thanks. I think I just really didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Alright.” You cast her a warm smile, closing the lid on your take out as you stood from the island. You were full and Emily had done nothing but play with her food for a while now, you were sure she wasn’t going to eat anything else. “How about we take the bottle of wine upstairs then?”

“Oh, but I—” she stumbled over her words and you laughed softly, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.

“I’m not going to pounce on you, don’t worry. The tv in the bedroom’s nicer and it’s getting late, may as well fall asleep in the bed rather than have to drag ourselves from the couch later.”

She let out an awkward laugh, closing the rice container and sliding it over to you, “oh, right.”

You looked back at her, reaching your hand out as she slipped off her stool, “C’mere.” Tugging her to you she let out a little ‘oop’ as your arms wound around her, wrapping her into a tight hug. A wave of relief crashed over you as she let out a content sigh, relaxing into the embrace and the tension in her shoulders finally began to drip away. You pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head, squeezing at her once more before gently pulling away.

“Thank you.” She murmured softly, giving you a tired smile.

“Anytime.” Your hand trailed down her arm, curling around hers as you turned to the staircase, “now come on, you need some good cuddles and sleep, number one recommendation from doctors after a rough week.”

_______________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @dowsedwithbleach @divergentalwaysandforever-blog

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #decadent desires #emily prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss series

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bigtreefest · 5 months

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Chapter 7: Then Again

From: Bigger Houses Series

Pairing: Mountain Ranger! Ari x Reader

Summary: Everyone’s got regrets they might wish to go back and change, but then again, you would have never gotten here

Word Count: 3,304

Content/Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, SMUT, honest conversations, hiking, cuddling, soft intimate shower, oral sex (f receiving), p in v protected sex, lotsa kissing, praise and lowkey size kink, swears

Author’s Note: O. M. G. This is the first time I’ve written smut, so I wanted to make it super soft and loving like I feel really pairs for this couple. Nine months into the relationship, wowza. Talk about true love, somebody pls find me a bear of a man like this.

Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are sooooo welcome and appreciated!!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Below is the song which inspired this chapter. It’s my favorite on the entire album. It just kinda puts warmth and longing into my chest, so I hope the vibe matches what I’ve written.

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“Yes Mom, I promise I’ll be safe.” You looked into the camera of your phone as your mom looked right back at you.

“As long as you promise. I don’t want you eaten by a bear, but apparently you’ve got your own bear of a boyfriend to ward them off.” You laughed along with her own chuckle at that joke.

“Yes, Ari knows these woods well. I have no doubt he’s taking us on a good and safe route.” Your head turned away from the phone at a knock at the door.

“That’s probably him now.”

It was Sunday morning and Ari had asked you on a nice hike with him. The weather was set to be sunny, yet brisk, perfect for a rigorous walk through the mountains.

You opened the door and Ari greeted you with a kiss on the top of your head. “Morning, Duchess.”

He turned to see you were on the phone. “Oh, good morning Mrs.—“

“Ari, please. Call me mom. How many times do I have to tell you?” You both smiled and blushed at that as Ari went into your kitchen and dropped off his things. You sat on the couch, continuing your phone call.

“I knew there was something about that boy the first time I saw him. I’m so glad the two of you are so happy together. I can’t wait to come visit and officially meet him in person soon.” Ari had spoken to your mom on several occasions over FaceTime now, each time garnering more of her respect and adoration, which was rare for her. She always had sky high expectations, and you were her daughter after all, but she didn’t want you to have to face the same struggles she did, both career and romance-wise.

You rolled your eyes, thinking she wouldn’t catch it, but of course she did. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady. You know I’m right. I’ll let you go have fun on your date, though. I love you!”

You smiled back. “Love you, too, Mom.”

Once the call ended, you walked over to Ari, watching him bent over and looking through your fridge. You just couldn’t resist the urge to smack the plump, ripe piece of ass in joggers before you. Just as you were winding up, a large hand went and covered both cheeks.

“I know what you’re, thinking, Angel. You’re not gonna get me this time.” He rose from his hunched position, and towered over you, eyes glinting with mischief, pairing with the sly grin on his face. Before you knew it, Ari had scooped you up and plopped you back on the couch, peppering your face with kisses and tickling your sides. You were helpless, kicking your legs from under his body, doing your best to fight off the attack.

“Ari, quit it! I give, I give, you win!” You squealed through your giggle.

Ari’s hands and lips stopped their assault, but he didn’t pull away, instead, leaning in and putting a fat kiss on your lips. “Get on your hiking boots! We’ve gotta go before it gets hot.”

You nodded and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “Help me tie them?”

Ari’s head drooped down as he sighed and grabbed your boots off the floor. He could never say no to that look. He kissed each shin as he slid the boots onto your feet. “Anything for you, Duchess.”

You helped by tying one of the shoes as Ari tied the other. He was just such an expert, having to do this everyday for however many years now. Looking at the single knot you had made on your right shoe, he untied it and pulled the laces tight, making his own double knot in its place.

“You’re so much better at that than me.” You huffed. He laughed back, kissing the wrinkle away from your forehead that showed up when you were frustrated.

“Nonsense. You’re great at it. I just like ‘em extra secure.” He grabbed your hand and helped to lift you off the couch, the two of you putting on your hiking backpacks and heading out the door, ready for the trail.

Your hike was filled with amazing views and sightings of so much wildlife. You truly loved seeing Ari in his element, as well. He constantly checked on you as he led you through the winding trails, pointing out his favorite spots and, of course, stopping for snacks and photo ops.

He could tell when the exhaustion was starting to creep in, but luckily by that point, the two of you were nearly home.

As you came back, Ari started on heating up the leftovers from dinner the night before. You went out to your back porch which overlooked the rolling landscape, rich with colors of green and rocky gray, mountains graced with snow caps when you looked up at the peaks surrounding you.

Ari came out carrying two warm plates of Thai food from the good place in town and you snuggled up on the couch of your patio furniture and ate together.

He grabbed your plates and set them aside, as the two of you chatted, the sun casting a warm glow over the landscape. Ari pulled you close so your back was against his chest, his strong arms tight around your waist. He wiggled to scoot until his back was up against the arm rest, finally placing his head on your shoulder as the two of you settled.

Ari kissed your neck, his beard lightly scratching the sensitive skin, as you sat there pensively. “Ari, do you ever wish you could go back and change things? Go back to a time that was simpler, where you didn’t know what it was like to live through so many hardships? Do it all differently?” You felt his chest heave with a sigh and he exhaled out of his nose, the warm air hitting your collar bone.

Ari let the question hang in the air for a moment, thinking over everything in his life while he formulated an answer. “If I could go back, I probably would’ve held onto my old Bronco. It used to be my grandpa’s, and it was getting old, so I traded it in for the truck. I probably would’ve visited him down in Atlanta a little more, too, before he passed.”

You nodded as he hummed, thinking of more things. “I probably would’ve stuck around for graduation, finished my degree so I could become rich.”

You giggled as his chest rumbled behind you. “I’d probably apologize to Savannah for wasting her time, would’ve hung out and vacationed with my childhood friends a little more….”

“Had a little more patience, or sent a few more prayers to heaven, but I don’t know if that all was really in the cards. If it were up to me, who knows where I’d be? I look back at all of that. The heartbreaks, the hard goodbyes, they led me here.”

You turned to look up at him, his gaze distant in thought before he looked down at you. “If it was all different, though, I wouldn’t be sitting here with my whole world in my arms, stealing kisses on a Sunday afternoon. Sure, there are a few things that I might’ve changed if God put me in charge, but then again, I would have never met you.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes at his words. “Why? Is there anything you regret?”

You laughed and sniffled as you shook your head. “No. Not at all.” He used his thumb to wipe the tears falling down your cheeks.

“I feel really dumb right now. I was gonna say something stupid like buying bitcoin to be rich. Or like, maybe just not date at all until I found you. But you make a great point. I wouldn’t have come up here if it weren’t for all that. I think I love you too much to regret anything that led me here. Anything that I thought was a wrong turn definitely turned out right.”

He shook his head, laughing along with you, kissing away the rest of your tears. “Trust me, I love you more.”

The two of you sat there, basking in each other’s presence, before you began to become overly aware of the dried dirt and sweat that sat on your skin.

“I, um…. I think I’m gonna go take a shower. Get the outdoors off of me.” Ari nodded and helped you up off his lap, preparing to head home and do the same when you lingered before heading inside.

“Do you want to….join…me?” Ari sprung up out of his chair, head nodding vigorously. He grabbed the plates off the table and ran to drop them in the sink. He watched as you sauntered, hips swaying while you discarded pieces of clothing, one by one, completely naked before reaching the barn door that closed off the master bathroom from your bedroom.

Ari shimmied down his pants with much less grace, shucking off his shirt and socks, before joining you in the steamy room. He watched in awe as you stepped into the water and it ran down the curves of your body. Ari reached his hand under the stream and immediately retracted at the sting of the heat.

“God, Duchess. I love you, but I don’t think I could stand it if the lava you’re standing under burns my skin off before I even get to touch you.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Bear, it’s not that bad.”

You begrudgingly turned down the temperature as Ari joined you. This wasn’t the first time you and Ari had done anything, but it was the first time you had seen each other fully naked all at once, since you hadn’t fully had sex yet.

You turned around as Ari grabbed your shampoo, gently rubbing it into your scalp. You moaned in satisfaction at the feeling of his fingertips massaging your head, basking in the intimacy and ecstasy of the moment.

“Angel, if you keep making noises like that, I don’t think we’ll ever get clean.” You laughed as you leaned back to wash the shampoo out of your hair.

Ari leaned under the stream with you to wet his hair. You squeezed the shampoo into your hand and began to massage it into his scalp, scratching your nails through his hair just the way he liked.

“Oh, fuck Angel, that’s good.” You giggled, hitting him in the chest.

“If I’ve gotta stop, so do you, mister.”

The two of you continued to wash each other, sharing kisses and feather light touches here and there before getting out and drying off.

Once you had brushed out your hair and Ari’s, the two of you made your way to your bed, sheets freshly washed just the day before. You had your towel wrapped around your body while Ari’s hung low on his waist. Ari held your hips, looking into your eyes, as you slowly backed up until your knees gave out from hitting against the bed.

Ari moved to crawl over you, his towel coming undone as he did so. Your eyes trailed down his firm chest, to his chiseled abs, until you could see how hard he was. You moaned at the sight, watching how his dick twitched in response.

His eyes stayed locked with yours until he leaned down and kissed you, trailing away from your lips and down your neck before retracing the path with his tongue.

You shuffled under him, removing your towel and discarding it on the floor with his, adjusting yourself so your head laid against the pillows. He kissed you again, deeply, passionately, before smiling and pulling away.

“I love you. I’d never change anything about my life unless it meant I could have met you sooner just to love you that much longer.”

You could feel his heavy cock tap against your leg as he kissed down your chest, eyes never leaving yours. You watched intently, lips parted in a light gasp as he finally reached where you were yearning for his touch.

Ari’s biceps bulged when he pulled your legs apart, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. Your breath shuddered at the sensation.

“Is this okay, Angel?” You nodded and whispered back.

“Yes, please. Please keep going.”

Ari’s tongue darted out of his mouth licking a stripe up your slit. Your back bowed as he dove in, licking and sucking. You knew he called you Angel, but his tongue was heavenly.

You let out a high-pitched moan, entangling your fingers through the wet strands of Ari’s hair, using the leverage to grind against his face. He inserted a finger into you, pumping it and curling it against your spot just right. You felt your legs began to shake, but pushed Ari’s head away before you could reach your peak.

“Wait, hold on.” You spoke while still trying to catch your breath. He looked up at you in bewilderment, beard glistening with your arousal.

“What’s wrong, Duchess? Did I do something?” You shook your head, still gasping for air.

“No, no. It was so good, I just, uh…..I want you to be inside me when I come.” Ari nodded, coming back up your body to kiss you.

“Okay.” He whispered back, a soft smile on his face. “Gimme a sec.”

He ran over to his discarded joggers and fished in the pocket to find his wallet where he pulled out a condom. He returned to you in bed, taking his spot between your legs again, and rolled it on. You knew he was huge, and you’d only taken two of his fingers before, but you couldn’t help the anticipation to feel all of him.

“I’m gonna open you up first, okay Angel?”

You nodded and immediately threw your head back as Ari scissored two of his long fingers against your walls, preparing you and stretching you out for what was to come. You wailed when he added a third and Ari swore he had never heard or seen something so beautiful before. The movie that was you feeling this level of bliss from him made him feel warmth and pride through his chest. He needed to be inside you.

Ari pulled out his fingers, swirling his tongue around them and sucking them clean, moaning at the sweet taste. His eyes rolled back and he nearly came from the culmination of partaking in your pleasure up to that point. You couldn’t help but clench against nothing, watching the specks of lust within the love in his gaze after that as he leaned down and framed your face with his large hands. He leaned in to kiss you, then pulled away as his dark blue irises, thin around his blown pupils, shifted between your eyes.

“Are you ready? Are you sure?” It came out breathy and strained. He wanted this as badly as you, after taking everything step by painfully slow step for nine months together.

“Yes, Ari. Please. I just want to feel you so close.”

He nodded and ran the head of his cock

up and down your folds, gathering your arousal before perching at your entrance. He kept one hand at his base, the other on your cheek as he looked deeply into your eyes. You felt the bulbous tip breach your entrance, almost with a pop as your tight warmth welcomed Ari.

“Ah, oh, Angel, you’re so tight.” Ari nearly yelped at the feeling of being inside you. You watched as he couldn’t help but let his eyes flutter closed from the overwhelming pleasure. “I’ll take it slow, promise.”

All Ari wanted was for you to enjoy this as much as him, and when he was able to pry his eyes open to see the way your face was contorted, your eyes as sincere and pleading as his, he knew you were. He slowly pushed in further, accompanied by a deep moan from you. Neither of you were virgins by any means, but something about this moment with Ari felt like being born again, straight into delectation.

He pushed another inch in, slowly, and your hands flew to his broad back, nails digging in the muscles that firmly blanketed his scapulas. His hips jumped at the sting, pushing him in to the hilt, causing you both to brace against each other at the fullness and all encompassing warmth.

His head dipped into crook of your neck, breath fanning your collar bone and beard sending tingles through your body as he sucked on the spot that gave you chills.

Your hands ran down his back and to his ass, pulling him in closer to you, if that was even possible.

“Ari, I need you to move.” You felt him nod against you and his hips pulled out only a few inches before rolling back in.

You breathy moans were close to his ear, spurring him on to keep going faster, pulling out farther and pushing in deeper until the warmth from your core began to climb up your body again. He found a rhythm and could feel as your pussy began to clench.

“Duchess, I can feel you’re close. It feels so good. You’re always so good to me.” His praise pulled you that much closer to the edge, hands grasping for purchase across his back, slipping slightly from the thin layer of sweat.

“Fuck, Angel. So tight. It’s okay, you can let go. Let go for me.” Ari needed you to come for him. He needed to feel your body sucking him in, holding him tighter. He pulled his head from your neck to look into your eyes when it happened. He moved his thumb down to your clit, rubbing tight circles and sending you over the cliff you were hanging on.

“Oh god, Ari!” You keened, your ankles locking around his narrow hips as your entire body contracted in ecstasy. Ari wasn’t far behind, the tightness surrounding him causing him to drive his hips all the way forward and spill into the condom. He collapsed over your chest again as he grunted lowly into your ear.

The two of you stayed there for a few minutes as you caught your breaths. He pulled back, his now dry hair draping over the sides of his face and framing yours, making a small world where it was only the two of you. His silky brown locks blocked everything else out. The only thing in existence was your shared gaze, filled with hazy satisfaction and dopey smiles.

Ari leaned down and kissed your lips, and then your forehead before he whispered to you. “I’m going to pull out, okay? You stay here while I go get a washcloth.”

You nodded and gasped as you felt the sensation of the ridges of his dick passing against your walls until you were empty. On instinct you rolled over to your side and closed your legs, still sporadically convulsing from the orgasm. Ari returned and cleaned you up, pulling up the covers and crawling into bed behind you, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you closer.

He kissed you shoulder and muttered. “I’m so happy to have you. I love you so much.”

You turned over and tangled your legs with his, pulling him in for a lazy, filthy kiss. “I love you, and I’m the luckiest person in the world. Or more like, my whole world was just in me.”

You winked at Ari as his shoulders bounced in laughter at your ridiculous statement. You were drunk in happiness, but neither of you would have it any other way. You slung your arm around his waist and nestled deeply into his chest, a satisfied smile on your face.

Next >

Bonus A/N: as Paris Hilton says, “that’s hot”

Series Taglist:

@patzammit

@hawkeyes-queen

@identity2212

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theclassiccosmic · 6 months

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Pick a Pile / March Epiphanies

Images from Instagram & @hikayelertukendii

PILE 1 - White Tulips

Pile 1 - 6 of Pentacles Reversed, Page of Wands, Knight of Cups, Nine of Wands, Ten of Swords Reversed

Miracles, Strength, Tenacity, Fortitude, End of Suffering

You are stronger than you know. I’m getting the image of the Disney movie, Hercules. He is raised by his mortal parents, always having to be careful with his strength and abilities. However, in this time, it’s like you are coming “online” to the fact that this is your authentic identity. No more “being careful”, no more hiding. You’re taking a leap in something, even if you’re scared. As soon as you take that leap, I see miracles being rained down on you! Yes, babe!! You are leaning into your strong leadership role. You’re being your true self, even if you’ve been told that you are usually “too much” for people. Let those people go find less. You are embracing who you are now. You are loving yourself. You are filling your own cup. You should be so so proud of yourself! I’m proud of you <3

Oracle Cards: Quiet Your Mind, My Heart is Open to Love, Radiate Confidence

These tell me that you should take time to regularly meditate or pray. Everyday. Your thoughts become things, so make sure you’re quieting your mind daily. This will bring out your best timeline. Grounding will make you more confident, less anxious. Embracing your authenticity will open your heart up to love. Loving yourself, loving others, attracting a romantic partner. This will all culminate for you, as you *actively* participate in bringing it in. Spirit and the Universe/God, is always here for you. They are cheering you on as you enter this new chapter!

Song for Pile 1: Can I Jump? - Freya Ridings

PILE 2 - Red Tulips

Pile 2 - Five of Cups Reversed, The Emperor, Three of Pentacles, Queen of Pentacles

This will be a month for you to release a toxic ex or situationship. This connection left you out in the cold. It was all you initiating and desiring (ie. You doing everything, and them not doing sh*t) Too one sided. You might have met them at work, like you two work together, or you went to their place of business looking for a service and met them (like the barista at your local coffee shop). But here’s the thing, your attention was only the first way they were *taking* from you. You were also giving your power away by giving their establishment money (examples that I’m getting: paying for coffee, continually going to them to groom your dog, going to them for some sort of healing service - chiropractor, reiki, massage). And they just kept taking! Bc they knew you liked them and their ego was getting stroked. But not anymore!! With the Queen of Pentacles and The Emperor I’m seeing you taking your power back! They were bleeding you dry, keeping you disempowered, until you reached a big mental shift and energetic upgrade (could be peaking this month!) Finally you are coming out of the cold (this pile is the only one where the flowers are in the snow - coincidence? I think not). You are choosing yourself. You are realizing that you are worth more. You are worth reciprocal energy exchanges. You are worth receiving as well as giving. You are worth the Sun being shone on YOU instead of the other way around all of the time. Yes, babe! I’m loving this for you!

Oracle Cards: I Release All Negative Energy, Surrender to the Spirit Energy, Strong Brave Bold, You Will Not Stand in the Shadow of Another

The Oracle cards even speak of this being a negative/toxic connection. Actively work on releasing it (cord cutting ceremonies, meditation, journaling), they are not worthy of you boo! You are strong, brave and bold and sometimes people see that, and instead of being *attracted* to it in a romantic way, they are drawn to it in a way that brings forth envy. They want to take it from you. But like these Oracle Cards say, You will NOT stand in the shadow of another! It’s giving…self respect okay! Move on and watch your glow up explode!!

Song for Pile 2: We Can’t Be Friends (Wait for Your Love) - Ariana Grande

PILE 3 - Lilac Tulips

Pile 3 - Strength, Four of Wands Reversed, Six of Pentacles Reversed, Queen of Swords Reversed, Ace of Swords

3 out of your 5 cards came out reversed. You’re definitely laying something down now. “Laying down the struggle” is what just came through. In the deck that I’m using, even your upright Ace of Swords is showing a hand dropping the sword. You’re not fighting anymore. You’re done making life hard. I’m getting this visual of that old Disney movie The Sword and the Stone. In all of your cards, your swords and your wands are pointing down, they’re falling. I’m seeing them fall into the stone from that movie. And then you come along, with all of your innate intuitive power, and pull them out. You are making what hurt you, now *work* for you. You better get it, fam. Side note: when I looked up that movie, the year really called out to me. It was made in 1963, and when I look up the angel number 1963 online it says “Angel Number 1963 asks you to trust and believe that you will always have plenty to care for yourself and your loved ones. Know that you are able to confidently serve your life purpose and soul mission with your wants and needs being met along the way. The angels and Universal Energies will ensure that your material needs are always met in Divine right time. Trust that the Universe provides all.” [Sacred Scribes blogspot] Which brings me to the energy of the Strength card. On my deck, strength is represented by the bull. Very much like a Taurus. You may have a Taurus Mars {the planet of action and doing) or you may have a lot of Taurus or fixed energy in your birth chart. Either way, this is telling me that everything is going at the pace in which it should. Divine timing is at play right now. I’m feeling like some of you may have been feeling frustrated by how long this “healing journey” has been going on for you. Peep what the oracle messages had for you “everything will reveal itself in time”.

Oracle Cards: My Destiny Will Reveal Itself in Time, Surrender to the Spirit Energy, Consider All Your Options Before Acting, Let Go of Things That No Longer Serve You

There is healing happening here. You are surrendering. You are trusting the divine timing of it all. And if you’re *not* doing that, then the message here is for you to lean more into that this month. It is imperative for your growth and ascension. In life we must let go of things, people, environments that no longer serve us. It’s sad but it’s true, not everyone is meant to go with you on this journey. Consider your options. Trust your intuition. Don’t let others make your decision for you. Make the decisions and life choices that will make your heart happy. In doing so, you will let go of a lot of hurt and strife that you are no longer meant to be experiencing, love. You’ve got this!!

Song for Pile 3: Now is the Hour - The 1975

DM me for personal/private readings or if you’d like to dive deeper into one of these piles! Until next time -xo

#pac reading #pick a card #tarot reading #intuitive #energy reading #tarotblr #tarot cards #baby witch #message from spirit #motivation #intuition #Spotify

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adventuringblind · 1 year

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Drive with you Forever

Chapter Nine: Find me at your doorstep

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader

Chapter summary: summer break is interrupted, Guenther is exasperated, Seb is a father to four kids who can't communicate, and the reader reveals an interesting piece of information

Warnings: kidnapping, medical abuse, physical abuse, drugging, lack of communication, throwing up, sickness, blood, mild gore, Jos Verstappen and his great parenting skills, mentions of SH

Notes: Listen, Y'all, this is probably one of my favorites so far. It's definitely not as comical as others, but it's dramatic and has some action.

Previous <-

Masterlist

She probably shouldn't have been alone. She got comfortable in the safety of their apartment. Her newfound willingness to not let her father get to her.

She shouldn't have left that day as she walked down the streets of Monaco. Pascale had invited her over for lunch, and although she could have driven, she wanted the fresh air.

It was stupid to leave the house, she thinks, as her body refuses to work. Her useless visions apparently don't show what happens to her directly, just what happens around her.

Now she's in a strangers car, her phone broken, and the energy that had doubled since her dad stuck her with the needle not working.

Her healing had gotten better, and she'd discovered how to make new things out of old things. Her visions are clearer and more consistent, and the telekinetic abilities made her feel more like a Jedi from Star Wars every day.

Again, it's all useless now.

"Has anyone heard from y/n?" Shouts Charles from the living room where he had been lazily lounging on the couch.

"No. Why?" Max pops his head out of the kitchen. It's grown on Charles to see the Dutch being domestic. He's protective of his kitchen and Charles being the number one threat is not allowed anywhere near it when he's cooking.

"She was supposed to be at my mom's house by now, and apparently, she's not there."

"She did walk there, so maybe she just took the scenic route?"

"But an hour late feels like a lot for that." The anxiety in Charles’ voice is evident.

"Let's not worry about it for now. She knows how to take care of herself."

Nobody had heard from her that night. Or the next morning.

The boys couldn't sleep. On the phone with anyone who might know where she is.

Nothing. It's like she disappeared off the planet.

"Do you think it's her dad?" Pipes Lando. The Brit had been pacing a hole in the floor, and both Charles and Max had made him slow down to breathe properly multiple times.

None of them wanted to consider the possibility, but it could be a likely option.

"god I hope not."

Her room hadn't changed. The small window is still letting in a cold draft at night. The only thing telling her how long she'd been here.

Five days. Five horribly long days.

The ties around her wrists ached. Her body hurt from being repeatedly drugged and tossed around like a sack of potatoes.

There were more people here now. More then she remembers there ever being at least. She knew there were people, men, who would come in and out but she was never allowed to speak with them.

For what it’s worth, whatever they were doing to her was making her stronger. She’d been able to transfer the wounds from one person onto herself. It’s keeping her captor at ease for now but she knows he wants more.

It’s not ideal and it’s painful. It’s like she can’t get past a mental block that will allow to simply heal. She can feel it somewhere deep within. She knows she can.

Bringing someone back from the dead however, that’s not healing.

Maybe if she’s able to bring back the corpse of her mother, they’ll trade places. Her soul finally giving into the peace of permanent unconsciousness. At least then her boys wouldn’t have to worry. They could move on without her. Find solace in each other.

Maybe, she thinks.

Sebastian is going to lose his mind. His daughter is missing and it feels like the only thing the journalists are writing about is how she probably ran off to be a slut for a different group of guys. He was going to have the heads of whoever wrote that if he ever sees them.

The boys had been staying in Germany with him. It hadn’t taken long for the authorities to determine she’s not in Monaco. They’d come here in hopes of reevaluating. Though they were at each others throats when they got here.

Seb had practically forced them to sit down and communicate. They started working together after that.

Hanna had been forcing them to eat proper meals. Seb made sure at least one of them slept at a time. Lando had recovered from four separate panic attacks over two days. Max is trying to look strong but his puffy red eyes give him away. Then there’s Charles; the monegasque had been blaming himself for not walking with her when he could’ve.

Seb had a feeling they were going to find her. She’s a fighter. The when part is much harder to figure out.

And for all their sakes, he hopes it’s soon.

Two weeks.

Two weeks of this nonsense.

She wonders if everyone is racing again. Or at lease getting ready too. This was not how she intended on spending her break.

She was getting closer to giving her father what he wanted. She was pulling herself to the edge of no return every time she worked in that rotting corpse of her mother.

Tonight, though, may be her only chance at escape.

They’d forgotten to drug her before leaving her in her room. The alcohol in their systems already taking effect.

She’d been able to slide off her restraints with ease. Her abilities strength coming in handy at the current moment.

Now she quietly is pulling out her window frame. It have never been sealed but she can’t help but feel satisfied when the screen pops out with a satisfying click.

She could care less how far the drop is. She’s two stories up with grass beneath her. She push herself out the window, her body facing the wall and hand gripping the ledge.

She swings herself outward and hits the ground with a soft thud.

Then she runs.

She had a destination in mind. Someone at the gas station she stopped at was nice enough to let her use their gps to see how far away she was under the guise of hers being stolen. Technically, she didn’t lie.

The walk to the Haas headquarters was six hours. But she didn’t stop until she got there.

Now she can’t help but lean herself against the front door, hoping someone notices her.

Guenther whistles a tune to himself as he arrives at work for the day. The sun is out and the birds are chirping. The definition of a great morning to him.

The familiar female figure slumped on the ground in front of the front door completely changes his tune. He quick to get her inside and find some fresh Haas shirts lying around for her to change into.

Once she’s awake and refreshed he sits her down in his office.

“Are you going to tell me why you spent the night outside the front door?” He sounds like a stern parent. She curls into herself. It’s reminiscent of how she was when he first got her when she was fifteen. Scared, shaking, and so quiet.

He’d known she went missing a little over two weeks ago. It was the reason the summer break had been extended. The FIA had been trying to get more security measures set in place.

“I need to call Seb, please.”

The boys were there the next day.

Guenther had taken her to his house despite her adamant refusal. The girl had been to tired to fight and eventually gave in.

It’s not long before she padding softly down to the dining room, halting in her tracks when she sees everyone. She doesn’t say anything. She can’t say anything. The boys don’t either. They don’t know how to approach her.

He led the four males inside and sat them down at his dining room table. “She’s sleeping right now.” Questions come flying at him from the three younger men. Seb shoots them all a look that says shut up and let him explain. “I’ll warn you that she’s a bit of a mess. Her father did a number this time around.”

after an hour of sitting, the anxious boys see the female peek her head around he corner. none of them know what to do. They don’t want to scare her away after what she’s been through.

Seb goes to her first. He approaches her slowly taking her in his arms. Then everything in her snaps. It’s just like when she had night terrors and was finally able to wake up from it. This time however, it had been real.

She spends the night in bed with Max. The house they're staying in lacks a bed big enough for all of them.

They had played a game of rock paper scissors, which Max won. He claimed his spot next to her with his signature winning grin.

Charles and Lando decided not to take a different bedroom and are curled up at the floor at the foot of the bed instead. Their soft snores confirm that they are, in fact, asleep.

Max holds her close. Every second with her precious. She'd been crying since they arrived. No matter what they did, she seemed to have a never ending supply of tears.

He'd been the first to assess the damage done to her body.

Diagnosis: terrible. He had half a mind to get Guenther to show him where the hell her father is staying so he can personally drag him to hell.

The cuts and incisions along her torso and chest are still red and puffy. The bruises that littered her skin are awful shades of blue, black, and yellow. Her eyes are dull with dark circles beneath. Her body seemed just as fragile as the day he first met her.

He felt himself slipping back into memories from years ago. Gentle touches so he didn't scare her, slow movements because she flinched away from anyone who moved fast.

Quiet until someone tried to say something mean to him or Seb.

Now she lays on his chest. Tears still fall onto his lightly colored t-shirt. And he finds himself wishing he'd have found her years before he met her, if only to tell her he'll be there for her. No matter what anyone says, he'll always find her.

Seb watches carefully as she picks at her piece of toast. According to Guenther, she hadn't been able to keep much down since he found her.

She protested eating anything, but Seb is a good negotiator. He promised that when she could keep food down that they would go home to Germany. Not back to Monaco yet because people are aching to get pictures of her.

"At this rate, I'll be old and wrinkly by the time you finish."

She shoots him scowl. "Aren't you retiring? Dosen't that mean you're already old?"

"Old is a state of mind."

She takes another bite. The taste could be that of a brick, but she's so hungry it would still taste delicious.

"I can't stop thinking about the car that got me."

"What do you mean?" Seb asks gently. She hadn't talked much about the whole ordeal yet. Little bits of information here and there but nothing to help him get a picture of what went on.

"The man driving the car. I knew him."

"But he wasn't your father? Or the man at your door?"

"No, he was older than my father and larger than the man at the door." She rubs her tembles in a struggle to remember.

"No need to think about it now. They're not going to get you again. Mostly because I think your boys might start a war if they do."

Their soft conversation is interrupted by Max speaking to his phone in angry Dutch. A clear sign of Jos being on the other end.

"je doet raar." (You're being ridiculous)

Her head perks up at the phrase. A familiar one Max uses with Charles when he is oblivious.

Max hangs of the phone in a huff amd site down with them at the table.

"Can you say that again?" She looks at Max. Her request odd to him, but he obliges. "je doet raar."

"He was on the phone speaking Dutch. He used that phrase." Her head gets a shooting pain, and lights dance through her eyes as she finds herself receiving the car ride.

This time watching scenes unfold in that past. This is new. Both with her and in the context of the situation.

She's in the passenger seat, and next to her is none other than Jos Verstappen.

Charles has never seen Max so angry. Which is saying something because Max is angry a lot.

The scene him and Lando walked into had been nothing short of catastrophic.

A female body tucked into Seb on the couch, the German attempting to get the attention of a specific Dutch. Max obviously is not listening and is letting the most foul things he's even heard him say about his father ring through all their ears.

It's interesting in a sense. The other three had never hesitated to show their distaste towards Jos, and Seb had managed to call him a poor excuse of a father to his face on more than one occasion.

There had been a time that Max had a tire malfunction and ended his race in the wall. Jos had gotten more aggressive then any of them would have liked and he is very lucky that nobody aside from Seb had been around to see it.

Seb has a sway with words. He knows how to make them stick. So when he saw Jos' hand land on Max's cheek, he didn't hesitate to step in.

The German gently tucked Max out of the way and faced the older Dutch with fire in his eyes.

"Didn't know a tire failure was deserving of a slap."

"This is between me and my son."

"As far as I'm aware, he's dating my daughter, which makes him mine also. Touch him again, and I'll take legal action."

It was one of the only times Seb had to hold Max comfortingly in his chest. Reassuring the boy that he did not deserve any of that even as Max explained why he did.

Lando is the fastest to act. His arms encircled around Max's body. He can visibly see him relax into the Brits hold.

"Jos was the one who took me originally." The female explains. Her knees tucked up to her chest, and her head rests on sebs shoulder. Charles makes note of how she looks more exhausted now the the last time he saw her.

The words didn't register with him. Not entirely anyway. It didn't make sense. How is it even possible that Jos is in kahoots with the devil?

It would seem they are both devils that somehow raised angels. Charles will only thank them for that, and only after he's killed them.

It's terrible really, the way they look at him. She is teary eyed and apologizing while Max looks clueless. And for the first time since Charles started dating him, Max is pleading with his eyes for help. The Dutch is clueless on where to go from here.

"Knowing that, Max, if you want to leave your dad out of this, we can." Mentions Seb. He knows that the way Jos brought up Max left him confused. His dad praised him and rewarded him one second, then hit him the next. It made thinking fuzzy for him, and since his father was never all bad, he told everyone that it was a good thing. He was attached to him regardless of the circumstances.

This was different.

"If he's going to kidnap my lovers, then he needs to be put away."

"That makes this easier. Know that my home is your home as it always has been, in case things get ugly."

Max nods his head at the German. Really, Seb had been his father figure since he was seventeen. Jos didn't have much say in his life anymore

After a third attempt at eating toast, she was finally able to keep it down. It was forced, and she had gagged multiple times, but it was still in her stomach after an hour.

They left soon after that, thanking Guenther profusely for , once again, rescuing her at her worst.

The perks of dating a world champion is that he now owns a private jet. They got home sooner than she expected because of it.

Hanna greeted them at the door and gently latched herself to her daughter. The relief coming in the for of salty tears.

She likes being at home in Germany. Seb had made sure to keep her old room clean. He even got a bigger bed once he heard Lando joined them.

The room feels comfortable and familiar. She's even able to fall asleep when she sits on top of the soft covers.

That is how the boys found her. Snoring softly, draped over the bed with her shoes still on. They carefully slip her shoes of and reposition her where she'll be more comfortable.

Then, they leave the room and shut the door behind them. Their conversation nothing but whisper right outside the door.

"Will she be able to drive next week?"

"I hope so. Maybe Charles will have a chance if she can't, though." The Dutch snickers. Charles hits his shoulder playfully. "I'm not sure how to move forward now. It seems like anything we do only prolongs the inevitable."

"We take it on day at a time then."

She managed to get herself to the race track. Driving may not be an option yet, but at least she was there. Christian wasn't going to let her drive until he got her physical report back.

Really it was Max telling him the truth about how she still can't keep down a full meal and is now dropping weight because of it.

She did eat some crackers and was fine. She's proud of herself for that one.

Despite Sergio driving the second redbull, she was happy to be back. The paddock felt similar to home in some ways.

The only new thing is that she's never alone. When free practice 1 comes around, Max dutifully places her on the pitwall next to Christian. She dosen't move until somone comes to get Her.

She feels mildly like a nuisance to them since they have to pay extra attention to her now.

She's stays in their hotel room the rest of the weekend until right before the race. Everyone in the garage is shocked to see her walk in alone.

All her boys end up on the podium, and it's the first time she's celebrated since she came back.

Three quarters through the season, and she's still not driving. Still training in more ways than one, but not driving.

She doesn't feel like she can. Her body is still physically decimated. She's able to keep down more then just toast now, but that's on a good day.

Her powers are at the strongest they've ever been. She's managed to learn more about self-defense in case someone tries to nab her again. But with that comes sticky note threats in Jos Verstappens' handwriting.

It's starting to look desperate.

Despite the state of her uncooperative body, she still went to every race. Attempting to be as supportive as possible from the sidelines.

It didn't feel as painful as when she felt as though she lost her spot the first time. This time, she still had purpose. She is doing her best to learn how to keep her family safe. That's all she could ask of herself.

All of them were glad she wasn't pushing to get back in the car. They all know about her aptitude for pain. Christian is amazed by how she's coping and fully supports her decision. Seb seems to be cheering her on in the pits even though he's the one driving.

She doesn't even bat an eye when Jos makes a vaugly threatening statement towards her. Because if she wanted, she'd have his head through the wall in a second.

She doesn’t let herself get comfortable this time. The nagging feeling that something worse is coming a constant in the back of her mind.

Next ->

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak

@chanshintien

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mirrorbvllhoon · 2 months

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COFFEE a P. SH. written series: chapter one Coffee every morning

Masterlist

WC: 1k

Cafe owner!reader x idol!Sunghoon

or... when Sunghoon, a famous kpop idol, enters inside your cafe to hide from his crazy fans and ends up falling for you.

It was seven am when you had arrived at your cafe, almost nine months had passed since you opened it, in hopes to accomplish one of your life long dreams, which seemed not so far away now, with the dim light of the morning caressing your skin as you skimmed through your bag searching for the keys to open the cafe, not to the public, but you had work to do, you put the closed sign, in case someone saw the opened door and decided to enter.

You had to clean and mop the floors first so you kept the door and windows open so the air could ventilate and dry the wet surfaces, after that you had to prepare the batches of pastries baking them or taking them out of the oven or fridge and setting them on the showcases and cabinets so people could see them, finally you had set the espresso machines and cleaned the rest of the instruments and measuring cups, this way once the rest of the crew arrived the day could start and the waitlist for the items wouldn’t be as long, after all it was the start of the weekend which meant a heavy workload of a day.

You decided to eat something since you haven’t had breakfast as well as preparing yourself the first coffee, which had become a small tradition you had developed since opening the café. You decided to turn on a small TV in the rest room reserved for the employees as well, deciding to listen to the news hoping to listen to the weather forecast and partially because the silence of the mornings stressed you out a little bit.

You were preparing an iced latte for yourself, however as soon as you were pouring the espresso shot over the milk inside the tall glass, when you heard the door shutting and quick nervous steps and a dog barking?

“We haven’t actually opened…” you started, not even looking to face the person, hoping it was someone drunk that needed a drink, or an absent-minded wanderer who didn’t bother to look at the “close” signs, things that had already happened to you, but your mind was far from the reality occuring right beside you.

“I know, I’m sorry, I just need to hide, can I just stay under the counter, I- please” the guy beside you pronounced, you could see the look in his eyes and quickly nodded, he hid just as he told you too and hid the dog he carried as well, petting it while trying to regain his breath.

you started to see lots of girls walking, carrying cameras and backpacks, their faces were covered with facemasks and long hoodies or caps, one of them stared into your small cafe but even before the girl could arrive you quickly moved from the counter and signed to the “closed” sign outside, the girl nodded quickly and went with the rest of the girls, you decided to lock the door after the weird start of the day.

You went back and saw the milk on the counter, the espresso shot still untouched.

“How do you like your coffee?” you asked the guy, he hummed in response.

“You still look anxious, if you don’t like coffee I can make you something else… I’m guessing your day has been a little weird, so the least I can do is make you something to eat”

“Oh… you don’t have to, you have been kind enough to let me in”

“An iced vanilla latte sounds good?”

He looked at you and smiled sweetly, this time the moles adorning his nose and face were visible as well as the messy hair he had and the coat that barely covered his trembling body, either because of the stress or the cold.

“Do you need anything else? or do you need me to call someone?”

“No, this is weird to explain already… is someone looking from the outside?”

“No, but there are a lot of girls walking with big cameras…they almost look like… oh fuck… are they sasaengs?” you asked, consciousness hitting you back, there was a handsome looking guy that wanted to hide and a bunch of girls with cameras outside…the guy hiding behind the counter was an idol of some kind, you were sure of it.

“Are you an idol?” You asked obliviously, he let out a sigh before nodding. “I won’t give your personal information or whatever you’re thinking, If I even confess I’m not that familiar with all of that culture, I recently started living here”

He could feel the genuinity of your voice, after all in your head you knew he was just a human following his job, he didn’t deserve whatever was happening right now, you handed him the latte and also made a small paper cup filled with whipped cream for the dog that was with him.

“Her name’s gaeul” he said still petting the small dog, “She’s pretty” you answered, “Can I pet her?” he nodded and you petted gaeul for some minutes, before going back to work, your fingers grazed him for the smallest of seconds and a smile appeared on both of your faces.

“I think most of them have left, you can leave through the back door whenever you need” You said looking through the glass that divided your reality right now with the guy in front of you and the empty streets outside.

He nodded and while you went into the employee room, the broadcast had changed into a kpop presentation of some group. The song was catchy and beautiful, however what stood out more from you was one of the members, who looked just like the one who had arrived at your café.

You turned off the broadcast, hoping he didn’t hear it, maybe it could make him uncomfortable or stressed, you wanted to tell him his vocals and dance skills were mesmerizing and that you apologized for letting him alone for some seconds, however when you arrived to the counter, there was no one there and the backdoor was now half open staring at you. He had left the same way he had arrived, without advice and unnoticed but changing forever the course of your life.

#enhypen #mirrorbvllhoon #enhypen au #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon x reader

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loslentesdepedrito · 1 year

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I'm Your Wife- Chapter Two

Bottom left gif by: @binary--sun , bottom right gif by: @interstellarflare

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Previous Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter One

Next Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Three

Word count: 5.1k+

Chapter summary: Nine years later, unexpectedly, Jack hears from you.

Rating: 18+ no explicit content but I'd rather not have minors read these types of subjects. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut, but if you don't want to read them, the story starts after the Whiskey bottles.

Warnings: Angst, language used by the characters is harsh and contains strong emotions, mentions of cheating, pregnancy, divorce, and childhood disease. (I hope I didn’t forget anything, it’s been years since I wrote this.)

A/N: I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to everyone for the overwhelming support on Chapter One! I didn't have much time to work on the graphic for this chapter, so it took me a while to upload it. I have ADHD, and it's currently unmedicated, so that's also a factor. I find that I work best when the house is quiet, but with children around, getting them to sleep can be quite hard, haha! Again, I wrote this years ago, so I apologize for any and all mistakes because if I read this over, I’ll overthink and not post. So, thank you for your understanding, and I hope you enjoy the story!

As Jack's footsteps carry him back to his apartment from the Kingsmen agency, his mind is consumed by the weight of his day's work. An hour before he intended to go home, he found himself inexplicably overwhelmed by a sudden urge to rush to his apartment. It wasn't a foreboding feeling, but rather a strong sense that something good was on awaiting him. If anyone happened to catch a glimpse of Jack's somewhat clumsy dash out of his office, barely avoiding a slip on the freshly mopped floor- no one commented.

Now, in the lobby, with each step closer to his sanctuary, a glimmer of anticipation flickers within him, a faint hope that there might be a respite from the pain that has plagued his heart for years.

Reaching his mailbox, he pauses, his hand steady as he retrieves the day's mail. Among the advertisements, his eyes catch sight of a familiar return address adorned with the emblem of the firm that handled the painful dissolution of his marriage. The sight sends a jolt through his veins, instantly sharpening his senses. He feels a surge of joy and curiosity that threatens to overpower his cool demeanor. This, this is what I’ve been waiting for, he thinks.

With the letter clutched tightly in his hand, Jack climbs the staircase, his heavy and rushed footsteps echoing through the empty building stairway. As he reaches the sixth floor, he pauses for a moment, catching his breath and steadying his racing heart. Fuckin’ hell, I’m really starting to get old.

His apartment building's signature aroma, a mix of aged wood and Reed Diffusers, drifts through the air and the illuminated corridor, offering a soothing moment. With renewed determination, he strides towards his apartment, the key ready in his trembling hand, eager to discover the message held within the white envelope.

Taking the letter inside, he fumbles to close the door behind him, his focus solely on the contents of the envelope. It feels like an eternity as he tears it open, the sound of the paper ripping echoing through the room. Throwing away the torn envelope, his hat, his phone, and his keys on the coffee with disregard, his gaze locks onto the words that lay before him, ink etched upon the pristine white surface.

With each sentence, the gravity of the situation becomes clearer, the weight of the words pressing against his chest. His heart beats faster, his breath growing shallow. The letter, written in a professional tone, contains the invitation he had never anticipated but always hoped for. She wants to meet me. The delicacy and urgency of the matter are subtly emphasized, practically begging Jack to meet you.

Jack's eyes scan the lines, his mind working swiftly to decipher the unspoken pleas hidden within the formal language. He can almost hear your voice, strained and vulnerable, begging for a chance to talk.

The letter extends an offer of legal representation, a reminder that the cold machinery of the law can mediate their meeting. But Jack's resolve is unwavering. He wants this to be personal, as personal as it can get. I can finally clear everything up with her. Tell her what I never said. The opportunity to talk face to face with you without the barrier of attorneys fills him with a mixture of hope and anxiety, like a tightly wound spring ready to unfurl.

A surge of emotions floods his being, the years of longing and unanswered questions vying for attention. He clings to the flickering flame of possibility, for within this letter lies the chance to reclaim what was lost, to confront the lingering ghosts of his past, and maybe, just maybe, you could love him once more. Throughout the past nine years, when Jack basically pushed you out of his life, he lived in constant regret. He promised himself if he ever got a second chance with you, he would take it and do everything in his power to ensure you never felt the same pain as you did during your marriage.

Jack can't help but feel a glimmer of optimism as he sets the letter down. The future is uncertain, but the mere fact that you have chosen to reach out stirs hope deep within him. It's a fragile hope, like a flickering flame in the darkness, but it burns nonetheless.

As the weight of the letter lingers in Jack's hands, his gaze drifts toward his phone. Resting on the table beside the torn envelope lay a familiar device—Jack's unchanged phone, a device that held precious moments. He had never upgraded it because it carried countless memories. It was the very phone into which you had entered your number when you first met. It was the same phone that had kept him up on calls until the sun peeked over the horizon, the same phone that had exchanged texts with you at all hours of the day. It was the very phone where you introduced him to the world of sexting, etching those intimate moments into his memory. Jack found himself continually revisiting these cherished memories, and he never changed his phone number. Perhaps, in the recesses of his hopeful heart, he believed you might someday reach out. Even though the years following the divorce had passed without your contact, he couldn't bring himself to give up hope.

He reaches out for his phone and picks it up, his fingers gliding over the familiar touchscreen. With a deep breath, he dials the number to the firm, his heart pounding in sync with each number pressed.

The sound of the dial tone echoes in his ear, and before the receptionist has a chance to utter a greeting, Jack's voice resonates with urgency, cutting through the silence, "Good evenin’. This is Jack Daniels. I'm callin' for Mr. Raul Santos."

The receptionist, taken aback by his directness, responds with a polite tone, "Good evening, sir. Please hold while I transfer you." The hold music fills the air, a symphony of anticipation mingled with the echo of distant voices. Jack's mind races; moments feel like hours while he rehearses over and over what he will say.

Finally, the ringing ceases and is replaced by a voice on the other end. It's Raul, the person who holds the power to give Jack his biggest wish. Jack wastes no time, the words escaping his lips before doubt can creep in, "Raul, it's Jack. When can I meet with her?" His voice carries a blend of longing and urgency.

"Jack, can you meet tomorrow at St. Andrew's Hospital at 10 AM?" The words hang in the air, filled with anticipation, as Jack's breath catches in his throat.

Why the hospital? Jack's mind questions. Summoning his resolve, Jack finds his voice and responds, "I'll be there."

"Perfect," Raul replies, his voice a lifeline in the abyss of uncertainty. "We'll be waiting for you on the tenth floor of the East Tower. When you sign in on the first floor, tell them you're meeting Dr. Navarro." Jack nods to himself, memorizing all the instructions as if his life depends on it.

Jack's emotions simmer beneath the surface as the call comes to an end, a torrent of hope, nervousness, and a glint of renewed longing. The image of St. Andrew's Hospital burns in his mind, a symbol of new beginnings and the coming together of their separate lives.

With apprehension and excitement, Jack sets the phone down, his hands trembling ever so slightly. Tomorrow assures a reunion, a chance for Jack to apologize for all of the suffering he has caused you. It is a moment he has dreamed of, yearned for, an opportunity to correct all his errors.

As he gazes into the distance, the fading daylight casting long shadows across his tired face, Jack finds solace in the glimmer of hope that glows in his heart. The road ahead may be filled with uncertainty, but at this moment, he dares to believe that the fragments of their broken bond may find a way to heal.

Despite his initial doubts, sleep had managed to find its way to Jack, offering him a few hours of rest. When he wakes, a surge of excitement courses through his veins, fueled by the knowledge that he will soon be reunited with you. The morning light filters through the window, casting gentle rays of warmth upon his face; as he rises with a renewed sense of purpose.

Determined to make a good impression, Jack steps into the shower, the hot water cascading over his body, washing away the traces of sleep and leaving him feeling refreshed. He carefully removes the stubble with each stroke of the razor against his skin, his fingertips tracing the sharp contours of his tanned face, ensuring a clean and polished look. The mustache, once untamed, is now meticulously trimmed, framing his pink lips.

Moving to his closet, Jack sifts through his collection of clothes; a rain of fabric and colors fall on his full-sized bed. He changes in and out of various combinations, looking for the perfect outfit. His fingers glide over the texture of his dress shirts, searching for the best one. Jack eventually settles on a deep blue dress shirt, a charcoal gray blazer, tailored pants that hug his frame just right, and a tie with subtle patterns.

Next, Jack turns his attention to his footwear, opting for a pair of polished black leather shoes. Would you examine his shoes with a magnifying glass? No, but that doesn't stop Jack from meticulously brushing off any lingering specks of dust, ensuring they shine in the morning light. As a finishing touch, he retrieves a felt Stetson hat, a prized possession that holds sentimental value because you gifted him with it. He tenderly cleans it, erasing any signs of wear, and proudly sets it atop his head.

Ready to see you- Jack leaves his apartment, the door closing behind him with a soft click. The crisp, chilly morning air greets him as he exits the lobby. I remember I met my sugar on a day like this, Jack thinks. He pretty much runs towards his car and turns the key making the engine roar to life. With each mile that passes throughout his two-hour drive, his mind remains focused on the meeting ahead.

When Jack arrives at the hospital, he hands his keys to the valet while scanning the surroundings for the reception area. He spots a man in a gray uniform and approaches him, his voice full of eagerness, "Good mornin’,” Jack begins, "I have a meeting with Dr. Navarro at 10 AM."

"May I see your ID, please?" The man asks politely, extending his hand.

Jack hesitates for a moment and reluctantly hands over his ID, watching as the man's eyes scan the name. There's a brief pause, and then the man looks up at Jack, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Jack Daniels." The man says with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow at the name on the identification.

Jack, sensing the unspoken question, clenches his teeth and responds with a touch of irritability, "Yes, it's real." The man understands the tone and directs Jack toward the appropriate elevator.

Jack complied eagerly and made his way toward the elevator. With anticipation, he reached out and pressed the button, making it glow orange. A ding echoed behind him in a matter of seconds. He hurriedly stepped inside the elevator and quickly jabbed at the close button, unwilling to wait for another passenger. Jack kept repeating a mantra of hurry, hurry, hurry in his mind. Without wasting a second, he confidently pressed the number 10.

Jack grows impatient inside the elevator, his fingers tapping restlessly against his hips as he paces back and forth. The rising numbers on the display screen get his attention, frows burring with each digit slowly increasing- reminding him of precious time slipping away. "This has to be the slowest fukin' elevator in the world." He growls in the empty elevator. Frustration lingers in Jack's thoughts; You should've taken the stairs instead of the goddamn elevator, his inner voice cursing the choice that delays the meeting with you. And when the tenth floor finally arrives, Jack leaps into action, his boots hitting the clean baby blue floor with a resounding thud.

Startling the receptionist, Jack raises a hand in apology and walks toward the front desk. He provides his name and appointment details, receiving a buzz of approval before being directed to his destination. Jack rushes forward, his heart pounding. Unbeknownst to him, the receptionist shakes their head, silently cautioning him to be careful, a concern in the receptionist's head so he won't stumble and falls on his ass because of his hurried run.

The instructions echo in his mind, and he checks them off as he goes; walk to the automatic white doors, check, press the buzzard, check, walk to the end of the corridor, check, make a left, check, take one last left, chec-

And there you are, seated on a gray leather bench outside the meeting room, your eyes locked onto the black screen of your phone as if you’re waiting for it to light up, lost in a world of your own. Jack's breath catches in his throat as he takes in the sight of you, and his eyes well up with tears. Time seems to stand still as he stares at you, overwhelmed by the flood of memories and emotions that surge within him. Despite the passage of years, you still possess the power to make his heart flutter, your presence stirring a mixture of awe and love. She's still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, he thinks.

However, Jack's expression falters as he realizes the missed opportunities, the unspoken words, the love not fully cherished. Regret taints his thoughts as he reflects on the path that brought the both of you to this moment. He wants to make amends for the pain he caused you, but Jack knows that this meeting has a different purpose; he doesn't know why the exact reason, but after everything he put you through, there must be a reason you need him. He's not going to let you down, not again.

Summoning his courage, Jack calls out your name. Your head immediately turns towards the voice, one that hasn't graced your ears in years, and for a quick moment, he sees a flicker of reluctance in your eyes. Seeing Jack again, admittingly, stirs up an overwhelming desire to hide from him. All you can see are the haunting memories. A flood of painful flashbacks that would bring you to tears in privacy. The temptation to approach him surges within you, but it's not for a hug or a kiss, no. Instead, you imagine the crimson mark your hand could leave on his cheek. But you take a deep breath, reminding yourself of the reason you reached out to him after all these years.

"I didn't think you were going to show." You finally say, your voice tinged with relief and guarded vulnerability. Rising from the bench, you stand before him, your hands tucked inside the comforting embrace of your black hoodie's pouch.

Jack's heart aches at the sight of you, knowing that the pain he inflicted has left an unforgettable mark on you. Though he craves to erase the memories of hurt, he understands that redemption lies in actions, not words alone. Taking a deep breath, he suppresses his own desire to close the distance, touch you, and maybe taste your lips again. He mentally shakes his head, focusing instead on the reason for your reunion.

"Hi, Sug-" He stumbles for a moment, realizing he no longer has the right to call you by the affectionate nickname. "I mean, hello. I'm here."

"I'm glad you came."

Jack nods, his throat tight with emotions he struggles to put into words. "I knew I had to be here," he says, "I couldn't let this opportunity slip away."

"There are things we need to address, wounds that need healing. I want to make things right, to find a way to move forward together."

You want to interrupt, to rip the bandaid off, but Raul's advice rings in your ears, urging you to let the meeting room be the place to lay everything on the table. So you hold back and let Jack do the talking.

Jack takes a step closer, the distance between you shrinking. His heart pounds in his chest as he gets closer. "I know I've caused you so much pain," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm here today because... because I want to make things right. I wanna understand, I wanna listen, and try to heal the wounds I've caused. I wanna be there for you, to support you, to love you, and do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness. And if you'll let me, I wanna be a part of-"

Just as Jack was about to request something that has always been on his mind, a door opening from behind you interrupts him. Raul with one foot inside the meeting room and the other in the corridor, calls out for both your names.

"We're ready for you," Raul announces a sense of urgency in his voice. He holds the door open, his gaze shifting between the two of you.

You exchange a quick glance with Jack, seeking reassurance, a silent confirmation that he'll follow through and both of you follow Raul into the conference room. The door shuts softly behind you, filling the room with the only sound. Your gaze sweeps the room, and you take in the white conference room with its black and white marble table in the middle and the soft glow of natural light.

Feeling a wave of emotions crashing over you, you instinctively shut your eyes for a few seconds to compose yourself. This is a lot harder than I expected... the thought lingers in your mind. Dr. Navarro's words echo in your memory, urging you to relax through the simple act of breathing. Breathe in, breathe out, you repeat silently, allowing the rhythmic inhalation and exhalation to steady your racing heart.

Choosing your chair carefully, you opt to sit with your back facing the window. It provides a sense of security and shields you from external distractions allowing you to solely focus on Jack. Your hand reaches out and lands upon one of the gray roll-on chairs, its smooth leather headrest cool against your fingertips.

On the opposite side of the table, Jack is reluctantly guided by Raul to his designated seat. Oh, I can sit wherever I damn well please, he scoffs silently, but I suppose I can play by the rules for now. Just think about all the appointments with Dr. Reynolds and what-if scenarios. Don't mess this up. He takes a seat, begrudgingly accepting the arrangement, while his back deliberately faces the door. The positioning serves as a physical reminder of the boundaries and emotional distance that have grown between the two of you throughout the years.

Raul takes a seat at the head of the table. Clearing his throat, he breaks the silence. "Thank you both for coming today. As you may already know, the purpose of this meeting is of utmost importance. Mr. Daniels, the reason my client-"

Jack interrupts, his voice filled with a mix of urgency and vulnerability. "Stop. I don't want this to be an official meeting. I just... I want," he glances at you, his eyes searching for understanding, "I just want you to do the talking, please." He knows he has no right to make demands, but he wants to talk with you directly, to bridge the gap between you, if even it's just for a moment.

Raul looks at you briefly, to see how you're doing. "My role is simply to facilitate the conversation," Raul responds, his voice assuring and tinged with a hint of anger. Maldito inútil malparido (Fuking useless bastard). This asshole hurt her so much. How dare he make demands? Raul is well aware of the pain Jack caused you. He was one of the first people you confided in about the divorce, and he naturally helped you with the process. Raul cashed in many favors to expedite the process which would usually take time. In fact, he stayed up all night to ensure that he could serve Jack the papers the morning after you left him.

Truth be told, Raul initially liked Jack when you first introduced him to your friends. However, as time went on and you grew more serious, Jack's repeated slips of the tongue and thoughtless actions made Raul's opinion of him sour. The final straw for Raul was when Jack couldn't even give you the wedding you deserved. Raul knew how much you loved Jack, so even though he could see through your forced smile when discussing the wedding details, he congratulated you both and sent a gift.

You meet Raul's gaze, conveying your appreciation for his support. "Raul, está bien. (Raul, it's okay.)" You say softly, recognizing his concern and knowing that you need to have this conversation directly with Jack.

With a nod, Raul settles back in his chair, allowing the focus to shift solely to the two of you. The room is filled with a charged silence. As you prepare to speak, you take a moment to gather your thoughts and decide how you want to phrase everything.

"My baby... my baby has Fanconi Anemia and needs a blood donor." You explain, your voice trembling with desperation. "No one in the family has been a close match. Even among friends, no one is a match. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that almost everyone I know has been tested, but a donor hasn't been found."

You pause, the weight of the situation making your heart hurt. "Just a month ago, we were hopeful. A match was finally found through the National Marrow Donor Program. We finally felt like we could breathe, but then she was involved in a severe car accident. She was T-boned by a drunk driver, and her car fell into a ditch, causing a traumatic brain injury. Thank God she's going to be okay, but unfortunately, her condition disqualifies her from being a donor."

Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. "Now, we're back to square one, searching for a compatible donor, but it's going to take a long time again. Jack, I know you didn't love me or care about me, and I understand that you didn't want me to have the baby. But please, I'm begging you to get tested to see if you're a match. If you are, please consider donating."

A rush of emotions floods through you, a mixture of fear, vulnerability, and a glimmer of fragile hope. You gaze into Jack's eyes, desperately searching for a spark of compassion, a willingness to help. "I understand you still resent me for everything. If you do this, I promise it will be the last time I'll contact you. I won't ask for anything more. Please, Jack."

Jack takes a moment to absorb your words, his eyes flickering with a complex mix of emotions. "What's their name?" He asks, his voice filled with curiosity and a hint of longing.

"His name is Ángel." You reply softly, feeling a bittersweet ache in your heart.

Jack's eyes widen, and a myriad of emotions passes over his face. "Ángel." He repeats and although he can't quite replicate your pronunciation thanks to his accent, it's still beautiful to him. "I have a son." He whispers, his voice barely audible.

A flood of thoughts and emotions washes over Jack, overwhelming him. He shuts his eyes momentarily, attempting to process everything. This newfound knowledge stirs something deep within him, a sense of responsibility and a longing to be a father. I lost a son before he was born, I missed out on Ángel’s life when I said I didn’t want him, but I won’t lose him again.

With determination in his voice, Jack looks at you. "I'll donate. I’ll do whatever it takes to help Ángel.”

He’s going to do it, you let out a sigh of relief. The alleviation that surges through you, washes away some of the anxieties that had been weighing you down. You're grateful that Jack is willing to take this step, to offer his help for the sake of your son. However, before you can express your gratitude, Jack's questions pour out in a rush.

“But... what is Fanconi Anemia? How bad is it? Is the procedure going to hurt him? Does he need surgery? What if I’m not a matc-" his voice trails off, uncertainty and concern etched on his face.

Realizing his anxieties, you reach out and gently interrupt him, calling his attention. "Jack," you say softly, trying to soothe his worries. "Breathe."

"I'm sorry. I forgot to explain Ángel's condition. His doctor was supposed to join us, but I can explain for now."

You take a deep breath, grateful that Jack is willing to help. "Fanconi Anemia is a rare condition where the bone marrow doesn't produce enough blood cells." You explain, your voice filled with sadness. "Ángel was diagnosed fairly recently because he didn’t have any physical abnormalities. But then, he started experiencing frequent nosebleeds, which was weird to us. We took him to his Pediatrician, who ordered blood tests. The results showed abnormally low blood counts, and that's when we knew something was wrong."

A twinge of admiration and pride fills your words as you continue. "He underwent a bone marrow needle biopsy to confirm the diagnosis. It wasn't an easy procedure, even though they numbed the area. I could see the discomfort in his eyes, but he never complained. In fact, he saw that my eyes were red and swollen, and he reassured me that he didn't even feel it. I knew it was a lie, but he just wanted to protect me."

Your voice trembles with a blend of love and admiration as you speak of your son's strength. The memories of his bravery since before his official diagnosis fills your heart with both pride and a deep ache. You pause for a moment, to regain your composure.

You are about to explain more about his condition and the procedure when the door behind Jack opens. Jack's gaze is solely focused on you since he assumes his son's doctor is the one coming in. Suddenly, you have a smile on your face when you look over Jack's shoulder, and he's confused until he hears the voice of the man that has given him nightmares ever since he got served with divorce papers.

“Cariño, Danny, and Heidi are staying with Ángel now,” Javier says as he makes his way to you, his presence a comfort for you and unease for Jack. "Sorry I'm late, I wanted to stay to see if he could keep his food down." He hovers over you and kisses the top of your head.

He pulls out a chair next to you, and that's when Jack sees it – a wedding band on Javier's left ring finger.

Fuck.

Unconsciously, you pull your hand from underneath the table and place your left hand on Javier's for comfort.

You had your hand covered the entire time, and that's when Jack notices it- your rings.

Fuck.

You’re married to him? Jack seethes in his head.

“Jack.” Javier nods but Jack can’t respond. How can he respond when another man is married to the love of his life?

In a moment of anger and hurt, Jack blurted out, "Did you cheat on me with him? Is that why you wanted a divorce?" Jack asks, the pain and jealousy bubbling to the surface.

Just like that, some of the gratitude for Jack shatters.

The response from you was immediate, “Jesus, no, you asshole,” you spit out, offended. “How dare you ask that?”

“You didn’t love me. That’s why I divorced you." You retort, feeling the anger resurface.

At that moment everything he discussed with Dr. Reynolds, all of the progress was gone. He did just find out so much within the past few minutes, and his usual coping techniques seemed to fail him in this moment of overwhelming emotions.

“Wait, if you cheated on me with him, that means he could have been the one to knock you up. How do I know Ángel is my son?” Of course, you remarrying was killing him, but if that on top of having his son snatched when he just got him back, it would end him.

“I never cheated on you, Jack.” You spit out, offended. “You were the one that was involved in another relationship, even if it was emotional. Not me. Don’t make me the villain.”

"You’re Ángel’s biological father, Jack." You emphasized, hoping to dispel any doubts he had. But he seemed stuck in his head.

Biological, the word echoed in his ears. It was a harsh reminder that he was just the man who contributed to Ángel's DNA. He hasn't been his dad, and if he keeps this up, he will never know his son like he wants to.

"You want a paternity test? Done," you offered, wanting to rid his doubts. "But if you don’t want to take my word for it, Fanconi Anemia is an inherited disease. Ángel has the FANCR gene, which is autosomal dominant. I got screened for it, and I’m not a carrier. Autosomal dominant means that a gene from one parent can cause the genetic condition. If I didn’t pass the gene, that means you’re the carrier. That’s how Ángel got the disease."

The reality hit him like a ton of bricks. I did this to my son. He’s sick because of me.

The room falls silent, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air. The pain and guilt wash over him, and Jack is overwhelmed by his emotions.

"Querida, calm down. This isn’t good for you. Te va ser daño. (It’s going to harm you.) This isn’t good for the baby," Javier tries to soothe you, his voice gentle and caring. Javier's dark eyes bore into Jack with rage. Jack can feel the anger emanating from your husband. Javi leans forward, his body language asserting his presence. His jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck visibly tense, and his hands grip the edge of the table as he struggles to keep his emotions in check.

The baby? Jack thinks.

The hospital is always cold, which is why you always have a sweater with you, but right now, you feel like you're burning up. You lean back from the table and unzip your hoodie, instantly feeling cooler with your sweater out of the way.

Jack's eyes are drawn to your swollen and round stomach, and he's speechless.

Extended note: Just as I thought, Jack is more popular than Dave, so in the meantime, I'll be working on the graphics for this series instead of Eres Mía. Dave is one of my top 3 favorite Pedro characters, and I think he's highly underrated, but I get the love for the cowboy!

I'm slowly adding titles of fics that I plan on sharing, so if you see something without a link on my masterlist, I'll get to it (eventually). After this series is completed, I think I'll post another Whiskey one-shot (he's been to therapy in this one :), but I'm not too sure yet.

If you've read this far, thank you, and have a great day 🤎

Please feel free to comment and reblog! I truly do love reading them!

Tag list: @kchavez666 @ttupelohoneyy

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madi-writes-things · 4 months

Text

Nobody Pt. 8

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 627

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), Blood, Hurt Comfort, Panic Attack, Crying, Nightmare (basically the scene from chapter six, but Y/N actually dies 😈…), Not Edited

A/N: I promise it will get happier at some point... sorry it’s short, part nine will be longer 🤭

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

Chris’s POV (possibly triggering content)

I finally manage to bust the door down, the sight before me brings me to my knees.

nononononono…

Y/N is slouched over in a sea of red, is she breathing? Please be breathing…

I finally crawl over to her, pulling her face up towards me. Her glazed over eyes stare past me. “Baby, please don’t do this… don’t be gone… you don’t have to go… please-.” I pull her lifeless body into mine as I beg her to stay… I can’t do this without her. Every time I try to scream for help my voice fails me… so I just sit with her, praying this isn’t real. This can’t be real.

“”“”“”“”“”

My eyes shoot open when I feel someone shaking me gently. "It's ok... just a dream, it's not real."

I hear her voice before I see her face. When I finally register what is happening, it hits me like a truck. My hands quickly find their way to Y/N's face, making sure that the girl on top of me is actually real... she looks into my eyes like I'm some sort of a hurt puppy. I pull her into my chest, whispering sweet nothings into her hair as tears stream down my face. Once my breathing is under control, I readjust us so that we can go back to sleep.

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N's POV

Chris's alarm wakes me up, I quickly throw my hand over to turn it off. When I finally allow my eyes to open I see Chris staring down at me, his arms wound tightly around my waist.

“What?” I giggle out, seeing his heart eyes.

“Nothing… just thinking about how lucky I am to be holding you right now.” I can tell that he means it, but a part of me still refuses to accept that anyone could actually love me… especially after what I’ve done. “What going on in that mind of yours?”

I sit up, trying to decide whether or not to bring it up. He just keeps staring, and I can’t stop myself from opening my mouth. “I know that the nightmares are my fault… you don’t have to lie about it.”

The look in his eyes changes from one of unconditional love into something more like horror. I watch him sputter and try to defend himself, and that’s when it hits me.

“I’m not angry…” His head snaps up to meet my eyes. “I just wish that you felt like you could talk to me.” No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop a few tears from rolling down my cheeks.

“Baby… it’s not that I don’t feel like I can talk to you, I just don’t want you to feel like any of this is your fault.” His hand quickly wipes away a tear, before returning his lap.

I burst into tears. “But it is! There is nobody else to blame. Matt can barely look at me, you are having nightmares multiple times a week… and it’s all my fault!”

“Hey!” I’ve never heard Chris raise his voice like this before. “You don’t get to talk about my girlfriend like that… none of what has happened to you is your fault. You have been dealt a shitty hand in life, but you are trying to make the best of it…”

Chris pulls me into his arms, rubbing my back. “Me, Matt, and Nick all have our own shit going on too… but you didn’t cause any of it. Matt has always struggled with his anxiety, and I’ve always struggled with nightmares and processing the things that I’ve gone through.”

I pull back to look into his eyes. “Do you really mean that?” He just nods, the hearts returning to his eyes.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi @stasiesturn

@h3arts4harry @slutforsturniolos

#madi writes things #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris x reader #sh!reader

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smutinlove · 11 months

Text

Masterlist

Dedicated to my dirty whores <3 @jas2010 @carlsdarling @taylormarieee @loveforcarl @hiro--aoki

A cute masterlist showing ALL my dirty smut, fluff, and angst <3

I'm UselessBitch4205 on Wattpad <3

rules for requesting

I write for:

-Carl Grimes

-Dick Grayson

-Jason Todd

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Suggestive—Eyes apparently don't lie

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Fluff—Reader writes a love letter/appreciation letter

Fluff-Cabin—Carl Grimes asks to marry you

Fluff—CHRISTMAS SPECIAL

Fluff—NEW YEAR SPECIAL (2024)

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Angst—Carl, Rick, and Glenn notice that the reader hasn't been eating/sleeping. They force an intervention.

Angst—Reader cries about Carl's death

Angst—Reader dies. Carl cries. (Lineup)

Angst—Reader hurts herself. Carl comforts her.

Angst —Carl comforts an insecure reader. SH WARNING

Angst leading to fluff—Carl goes on a scavenging trip but gets lost. The reader goes to look for him.

Angst—After Negan kills readers father figure, Glenn Rhee, she and Carl start to fight a lot. One day, after an intense fight, Negan suddenly arrives to Alexandria. He manipulates the reader to Carl.

Angst/fluff—Dad figure Glenn. Carl hangs out with Enid a lot, making the reader jealous. !argument

Angst/fluff—Shy/sensitive reader. Carl and reader fight because she sneaks out and Rick scolds Carl, making him apologize.

Angst/fluff—Dad figure Glenn. Reader runs away because she hates Enid and her father figure adopted her. Carl finds her.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

WORDS BURN HARD: CARL GRIMES X FEM!OC

Chapter One: The Woods

Chapter Two: Undetected

Chapter Three: Solitude

Chapter Four: a secret

Chapter Five: I watch as you're leaving

Chapter Six: Meddlsome

Chapter Seven: The Journal

Chapter Eight: A caged boy

Chapter Nine: Lavenders

Chapter Ten: Little Blue light

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

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Small Series

You were my light part 1 —The daughter of the now dead Negan Smith is walking in the woods. She thought she was alone. But she wasn't.

You were my light part 2

You were my light part 3

You were my light part 4

You were my light part 5

You were my light ALTERNATIVE ENDING—The daughter of Negan Smith wakes up from what she thought was real but was a dream. She wants to find him. Y/N Smith wants to find Carl Grimes.

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Dick Grayson

NSFW Alphabet—for the ladies who noticed the lack of dick grayson content.

King of my heart—You and him cannot be together. You two are from different worlds. !Fem!Knight!reader x !Prince!Dick Grayson.

SFW Alphabet—for the ladies who know dick grayson is just another softie <3

Breeding Kink—Dick sees how good you are with Roy's daughter and wants to put a baby in you.

Dick Grayson: first anniversary headcanons—this is cute. dick grayson is a gentleman. !gender neutral reader

College!Dick Grayson headcanon—he would do it to your fav song. he's snarky, he's THE shit. and he's mine <3

In the shower—Sex in the shower. What's better than that?

Safeword—Dick and Jason headcanons to you using the safeword.

Wayne Gala with a twist—Dick sees men staring at you but he wants them to know that YOU are HIS. (Basically hot sex in bruce's office)

Missed me?—an injured nightwing comes home... he's in a teasing mood.

Belt loops—Dick is a little handsy sometimes. PDA? That's his thing.

Insecurities —Fem!reader

Mission gone wrong—A simple mission. How'd you two end up married?

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Jason Todd

NSFW Alphabet—you know what this is, love.

Training Room—sweaty jason todd is a NEED.

The Rooftop—You convince Jason to not jump.

size k!!!nk—jason "size kink" todd headcanons. ugh, he's scrumptious.

Notebook—You're a journalist, he's Jason Todd. Do I need to say more? fem!reader

Trinity—Jason and Carl Grimes don't fuck. They fuck you. (Threesome)

Random Headcanons—a bunch of silly little headcanons

Safeword—Dick and Jason headcanons to you using the safeword.

Amusement Park—fluff. You and Jason and a few friends are at an amusement park. Jason spots a haunted house. Things turn interesting.

Wayne Gala Headcanons—Jason taking you to the Wayne Gala.

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Draco Malfoy

Smut —Sex with the Slytherin prince.

Smut—Your secret boyfriend is Draco Malfoy.

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Glenn and Maggie

Fluff—It's some cute fluff. (Glenn and Maggie are badasses in this too)

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WORDS BURN HARD - BY UselessBitch4205 on Wattpad <3

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iyeonjuni · 2 years

Text

TILL DEATH DO US PART — p. sh

pairing: king!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: contractual marriage, modern royalty!au, slowburn, e2l, s2l, social media au + written, fluff, angst

synopsis: kicked out by her step sister, y/n begins working small jobs to chase her dreams. what y/n never would have thought was that she would get tangled up in the affairs with the king of decelis. nevertheless form a contractual marriage with him— each for their own benefit.

warnings: sunghoon is an asshole (sorry), profanity, will mention more in each chapters

featuring: rest of enhypen, lia from itzy, ningning from aespa

note: this is a remake of my smau of the same title! kind of inspired by the kdrama ‘the last empress’ minus the illegal stuff and the cheating 😭😭 kinda cinderella inspired too if i really reach there 😭

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS FICTIONAL! none of the characters represent the idols in real life nor associated with them in any way.

start date: november 21th, 2022

status: ongoing

taglist: open (SEND AN ASK PLEASE)

profiles: #teamhoon / victims of debt + others

one. till it begins

two. till we meet

three. till i see through you (written)

four. till he’s trouble

five. till they meet again (written)

six. till the world knows

seven. till he rebels

eight. till it blows up

nine. till it gets messy

ten. till one reasons

eleven. till one desires

…

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sweetprfct · 4 months

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Permanent December

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Sara have been best friends for a while now and when Sara had started dating Wes, you realized he also had a best friend. Joe. But somehow, you and Joe tend not to get along all the time.

Author's Note: I never realized how long these chapters were. I can't believe I wrote this much. LMAO. Anyway, here's part 2 and I apologize for the loonnggg chapter. I hope ya'll enjoy anyway!

Wordcount: 6K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

Time flies when you are busy. Time flies when you have occupied your mind all year about the December trip that was coming up. You had to remind yourself that you weren’t going to Germany this year. Instead, you would be flying to London. It felt like it was just yesterday when you were walking around the Christmas market in the freezing cold winter air, and Joe had just insulted you again. Calling you old and raggedy like the doll you were holding. He had apologized to you twice that night, but you didn’t even bother listening to it because you knew it wasn’t genuine. It bothered you all year long that those words had repeated inside your mind over and over. You didn’t even know if you were just being dumb or sensitive, but it just bothered you so much.

“So, Joe offered that we could stay at his place when we arrive in London.” Sara said through the speaker phone.

You were standing on your tiptoes in the middle of your closet, trying to reach for your suitcase hidden on the top shelf. You had a few days to finish packing for your London trip, and you were just glad that your boss let you go for a month. It wasn’t like he had a choice. You have been working your ass off all year long just to collect enough PTO for this trip.

“Oh, no, thanks.” You grunted as you finally reached your suitcase and set it down on the floor. “I could just pay for a hotel.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You staying at Joe’s house? Seeing his face every morning for the whole month of December was the last thing you wanted to do. Plus, you get to have your own privacy if you stay in a hotel.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to pay.” Sara tried to convince you.

“Yeah, I’m okay with the hotel. You could stay there though or with Wes. I don’t mind.”

You started throwing random clothes on your suitcase. Just thinking about the thought of seeing Joe for a whole month was making you feel frustrated.

“Okay, I’ll stay with you in the same hotel.” You could hear Sara chuckle through the phone, and you swore you could imagine her shaking her head on the other side of it.

You still haven’t told Sara how you really felt about Joe and how much you just wanted to punch him on the face. You would ask Sara questions about him sometimes just to see if he really acted like that towards other people, but it seemed like he only acted like an ass towards you.

You sent the details of your hotel to Sara that night after you finished packing. Besides the thought of Joe, you were actually pretty excited to see London. You haven’t visited there yet, and Sara had talked about how beautiful the city was, so you let your thoughts stay there. You let the positive thoughts occupy your mind and focus on the good instead.

Your flight arrived at the same time as Sara’s in London and of course, you two had planned it out like this. As you waited for your luggage at the baggage claim, you were greeted by Sara’s cheerful voice from a distance. You turned to see where her voice came from and saw that she already had her suitcase and the two men tagging along behind her.

Oh, great. He came.

She was all bundled up in her heavy winter coat and scarf, and it made her look so tiny next to Wes and Joe.

“It’s so cold, but I’m glad we’re here.” Sara hugged you tightly.

“Welcome to London!” Wes had pulled you into a hug also.

“Thank you. The city looked beautiful through the plane’s window.” You smiled, your eyes shifting towards Joe behind them.

You weren’t surprised when you saw that he was busy on his phone. He didn’t even gazed up once towards you. Did Wes just dragged his ass to the airport, and he didn’t have a choice but to come?

“Well, you’re going to love it.” Sara added. “We’ll take you around to see the best places and eat the best food.”

“That sounds heavenly.” You laughed softly before grabbing your suitcase from the baggage carousel.

“Hey, mate. I have to go.” Joe chimed in, patting a hand on Wes’ shoulder.

You and Sara exchanged looks as Joe whispered something in Wes’ ear and immediately, Wes’ expression turned into some kind of understanding between them two before Joe turned to you and Sara and gave both of you a tight lipped smile.

“Welcome.” He muttered before walking away.

“Just don’t forget tonight, mate!” Wes called out to Joe who looked back over his shoulder and nodded his head before directly heading out towards the two sliding doors.

You guessed it right. Wes had dragged his ass to the airport because they were two peas in a pod but since he had greeted both of you—not even a warm welcome— he had done his job and decided to go home.

“What’s tonight?” You asked Wes.

“Oh, Wes is throwing a little welcome party for us. Just a few friends.” Sara explained as the three of you walked out of the double doors.

The winter air immediately greeted you as you pulled your winter coat closer to your chest. The hotel wasn’t too far from the airport and popular places to go to. You figured it would have been easier to walk to places when you booked it, and you were right. It was smacked down right in the middle of the city.

Luckily for the both of you, Sara’s room was just next to yours. You settled into your room and sliding the curtains open, you were welcomed by a beautiful view of the city.

It was unreal.

It was like how you saw in the movies. The sunset was just setting above the horizon, and you admired every building that was in front of you. Each had a different style of architecture, and you knew some of them were very old. Older than you probably. You knew some things about the city since you spent some time reading about it before the trip. You even tried learning some British slang that totally failed on you.

You were so deep into the British slang hole that you started texting Sara some, and she couldn’t take you seriously at all, especially whenever the both of you would talk on the phone. She would just keep laughing, and you couldn’t help but laugh with her as well. You sounded like an idiot.

“Stop it!” Sara would say, giggling so hard. “It’s like you are a whole other person.”

“I’m just preparing for this trip.” You would give her an excuse and then you would start using it just to annoy her sometimes, and it would just make you laugh when she got all cringey over it.

You weren’t going to lie though. You were starting to actually enjoy it.

“We’ll take the tube to go to my flat.” Wes had said later that night.

You couldn’t help but chuckle and nudged Sara, making her roll her eyes. She knew exactly why you were teasing her because you definitely had used those words to her before.

The tube was crowded that night and so the three of you had found yourselves getting squeezed by each passenger left to right all the way to where your stop was. Walking out of the station, you tried your best to memorize where you were and the name of the streets because that was just how you were. You wanted to know where you were and how you were able to reach a certain destination, so you could never get lost.

You saw colorful Christmas string lights covering the exteriors of the buildings as the three of you walked down the pavement and towards Wes’ building. Wreaths or garlands hung on the front doors. It was all cozy and beautiful.

You had seen a bit of Wes’ apartment before whenever Sara would facetime you when she was in London. Once the three of you entered his flat, your eyes studied the place and couldn't help but think how it was exactly how you imagined.

You saw there were several people in his apartment already.

Jesus, how many friends did they have?

One stuck out of the crowd, and it was Joe sitting on the sofa, talking with two men and all of them holding a bottle of beer in their hands. Wes and Sara had pulled you around the room and introduced you to their friends, and they were all really nice and welcoming with you.

“Here. To get your mind off of you know who.” Sara whispered, nudging your arm with hers.

Ah, that you know who.

That stupid jerk you dated for the last two months, thinking he was nice and ended up to be a narcissist asshole. Sara knew about it because on the day you decided to ghost the guy, you were on the phone with her ranting about how much of a narcissist he was and while you were talking to her, he was trying to contact you. You shook your head at Sara, chuckling softly and took the bottle of beer from her. You didn’t even like the guy that much anyway but still, he was a jerk.

“Please. He’s out of my mind already.” You rolled your eyes and clinked the beer bottle with hers and both of you took a big gulp from it.

You watched as Wes grabbed Sara away from you and turned up the volume of the speaker and danced with her, making you laugh as you watched them together.

You never really told Sara, but you were really happy for her. You were so happy that it was Wes that she had found, and you hoped that they were the ones for each other in the end. Wes was such a nice guy, and you could see how much he loved her. You knew he’d do anything for Sara. That was why you never understood how he was friends with someone like Joe. Sure, they have known each other since primary school but really? Joe was such an ass.

Speaking of him, your attention was caught later that night when you were standing in the corner of the room and heard all of their friends laugh at some joke Joe just told. You were on your fifth bottle of beer, and you weren’t going to lie, you were a bit drunk already, and you have been staring at Joe for a while now. You haven’t even noticed until now that your eyes were planted at him all night. You saw how he would mingle with everyone, talk to everyone, and make jokes with everyone. Not once had he laid an eye on you, and you stood there, seeing the exact person that Sara had described many times to you. It was almost like he was a totally different person in front of them.

“Honestly, I think he just hates me.” You had told Sara one night through the phone. “He never talks to me and when he does, he makes some stupid jokes.”

Sara would laugh through the phone and said, “He doesn’t hate you. He’s just reserved but once he gets more comfortable around you, he opens up.”

“Yeah, well… I’m sticking to my theory that he hates me.” You argued.

And you were right. That theory has stuck for four years now. It was a shame. You thought as your eyes trailed down to his shiny black chelsea boots then up to his fancy trousers and brown corduroy button up shirt where the top two buttons were opened. Your eyes then trailed to the two chain necklaces that were around his neck.

He was cute and handsome but what an ass.

Maybe you were really that drunk that you were having these thoughts all of a sudden. Your eyes then traveled to his bum and you pursed your lips softly.

Yeah, what an ass.

You finished the rest of your beer and ran your fingers through your hair, feeling hot all of a sudden. You were getting drunk, and the room was starting to spin a little bit through your vision. You grabbed a hold of the edge of the table that was next to you for a moment before you let your feet walk you towards the balcony to give yourself some fresh air.

It was freezing, but the cold air was helping you sober up a little bit and your rosy cheeks were thanking you so much for the small breeze that was hitting your skin at the moment. You closed your eyes and smiled, feeling the breeze and enjoyed it for a minute before you were interrupted by the sliding door opened behind you.

You fluttered your eyes open and looked over your shoulder to see Joe standing by the doorway, a cigarette tucked between his lips and a lighter on his hand.

“Um… I’ll come back later.” He said, ready to slide the door closed.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “It’s fine. You can come out.”

Joe stared at you for a moment and you could see the hesitation in his eyes. What? Was he scared of you? Did he really hate you so much that he wanted to wait until you leave to have a smoke break?

Eventually, he stepped out and closed the door behind him. You stepped aside to give him some room since the balcony wasn’t that big either. Joe lit up his cigarette and blew a puff of smoke into the air. You pulled your coat closer and folded your arms in front of your chest when a strong cold breeze hit both of you. There was that awkward silence between you two again and you could feel the tension in the air. It was thick.

“How was your flight?” Joe asked, breaking the silence.

God, you were going to do small talk now? Your head was already spinning from all the alcohol.

“Fine.” You shrugged.

Another silence took over, and you tilted your head back to gaze up to the sky just to distract yourself from whatever awkwardness that was going on between you two. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for you to agree for him to join you out here. You pushed those thoughts elsewhere as you focused your attention to the stars, but you were so caught up and dizzy that you leaned back, lost your balance and almost stumbled towards the chair that was right behind you. Joe was quick to drop his cigarette and reached his arms behind you, ready to catch you. But you were able to hold on to the steel railing, stopping yourself from completely falling backwards.

Your eyes widened, and you froze for a moment, feeling the blood rushed to your cheeks from embarrassment.

“I’m fine.” You cleared your throat and stood up straight, showing Joe that you didn’t need him to help you out.

Shoulders back, chin up.

Your hands, however, held onto the railing tightly, making sure that you were able to balance yourself. Suddenly, you heard a small laugh coming from Joe, and you glanced towards his direction.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, voice ice cold and obviously offended that he was laughing at you.

“You know, if you can't hold your alcohol too well, you shouldn’t be drinking this much.” He smirked as you gave him a cold glare again.

Good god. Can he just shut up for once?

You bit your lower lip, stopping yourself from saying something that you would regret later on when you were sober. Of all the people in this apartment, he picked you out of the crowd to pissed you off, didn't he? Same old Joe, just different country. You just never understood how Sara and Wes liked him so much, especially when they always said that he was kind and nice because obviously, he wasn’t.

“You know, Joe. You don’t need to lecture me on what I can and cannot do because obviously, you don’t genuinely care anyway. You just like to piss me off.” You blurted the words out, a hint of frustration and anger seeping through your voice. “For fuck’s sake, waste your time on someone else.”

You shook your head and walked around him, making your way back inside. Joe had kept his distance from you for the rest of the night, and you were sort of glad because you just needed some peace tonight. First night in London, and he already had pissed you off.

Later on that night, you found yourself looking for Sara, but she was busy in the kitchen with Wes, eating different snacks that he had brought out from the fridge. You could see that she was a bit drunk too but not drunk enough that she didn’t know what she was doing.

“Hey.” You went up to them. “It’s getting late. I think I’m going to head out.”

Sara was sitting on the kitchen counter, munching on some piece of sourdough bread as she held up her index finger indicating for you to wait as she swallowed the bread that she was eating.

“Wait. I’ll come with you.” Sara jumped off the counter, gazing up to Wes. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to go with me. I think I can find my way back.” You suggested.

You didn’t want to be a bother, especially if she still wanted to spend more time with Wes. You just wanted to go home because you were obviously tired and you literally had a long flight before this.

“No, don’t be silly. I’ll come.” Sara stood on her tiptoes and kissed Wes before saying goodbye to him.

“Thanks for tonight.” You smiled, giving Wes a hug before heading out of the kitchen to grab your coat.

You heard Wes called out for Joe that you and Sara were leaving but all he did was nod and waved at Sara. You didn’t even bother expecting anything from him. You said your goodbyes to the rest of their friends and headed out to the door first, waiting for Sara to finish her goodbyes. As soon as Sara walked out the door, she immediately linked her arm with yours and both of you walked out of the building.

“‘Twas fun, right?” Sara giggled.

Oh, she was definitely a bit drunk.

“Yeah, it was. I didn’t realize how many friends Wes and Joe had.” You giggled as you both walked down the pavement.

The alcohol in both of your systems was helping warm both of you up from the cold. It was a good thing both of you were linking arms together because you both could barely walk straight down the pavement as you two just giggled together. By the time you reached the corner, Sara had dragged you to the opposite side away from where the tube station was.

“Wait, the tube is the other way.” You said, but Sara was quick to shush you. “Where are we going?”

“There’s this cute little pastry shop down the street that is open ‘till late.”

“It’s 10pm?”

Before you could even argue anymore, Sara had pulled you inside the shop. There was a couple inside eating pastries and one worker that was sitting behind the counter, looking bored from the magazine that he was reading.

“Hmmm.” Sara slipped her arm off from yours and studied the variety of pastries in the glass case in front of her.

It took about a few minutes for the both of you to decide and order. Soon after, you both had found yourselves sitting on one of the small tables, eating the delicious pastries you two had picked out.

“It has been a while since we both hung out together alone.” Sara mentioned.

Matter of fact, Sara was right. You have been so understanding with her relationship with Wes that you just now realized that it really had been a while. Wes or Joe had always been there, and it was not like you saw each other all the time. For the last few years, every time you visited Germany, Joe and Wes were there too. It didn’t bother you at all. You were fine with them being there because you knew it made Sara happy but thinking about it now, it did make you miss all those times when you two would hang out together and have a girls’ night at the Christmas market.

“Well,” You laughed softly. “You have been pretty busy.”

“I’m sorry I have been so caught up with Wes.” Her lips had started pouting again.

“Oh, no! Don’t ever be sorry. I totally understand.” You gave her a reassuring smile, realizing that Sara was starting to get emotional.

It kind of made you laugh a little bit because she was always like this when she had a bit too much alcohol in her. She would get emotional and affectionate, and she would start spilling out some things that she had been keeping inside of her. You were always there for her to comfort her, listen to her or sometimes, just teased her that she was being emotional again.

“We should have at least one day just us girls from now on.” Sara stated. “Promise, we will start doing that!”

You couldn’t help but grin at her idea and agreed with her. It was a good compromise, and it was a good balance at least. When you both had finished your little snack, you headed towards the station to take the tube back to your hotel. It was already past midnight when you two had arrived back, and you immediately crashed on your bed.

The first night in London wasn’t bad at all. You already had met some new people at Wes’ little house party, and you were able to actually see the things you had studied about London for the last however many months. The next morning, it was snowing a little bit in the city, and Wes had come to pick you and Sara up for some little sightseeing around the city.

To your surprise, Joe wasn’t there. Did he actually reject Wes’ invite this time? Either way, your day became a bit more peaceful with just the three of you. Honestly, you didn’t mind Joe’s presence. Even though it looked like he minded your presence. That was why it bothered you so much. If he hadn’t been such an ass, making some stupid little comments or jokes, you thought maybe you two probably would have gotten along well.

Even if he didn’t speak much to you, you didn’t mind him being there because you knew he was best friend’s with Wes. Sara had always brought you along and so, Wes bringing Joe along was completely normal. You tried your best to be understanding for the last few years but sometimes, Joe just knew how to push your buttons.

However, Joe wasn’t there with you today, was he? So, you focused your attention on the things that actually mattered. Wes and Sara had taken you to ride one of London's infamous big red buses that you always see in pictures and movies. The three of you sitting on the top deck, taking pictures together, and Wes would volunteer to take yours and Sara’s together.

You were pretty surprised how much history you had learned from Wes that day. He and Sara had shown you around London and pretty much the whole tourist spots that they could think of, and you were nothing but thankful for the both of them because London was beautiful. It was gorgeous. You now understood when Sara had told you all about it. You understood why she was so excited to show you around. Then, the rest of the afternoon was spent at one of their favorite restaurants in SoHo.

“You know this is where Wes first took me on our first date here in London.” Sara smiled at her boyfriend that was sitting next to her.

“Well that means he knows you well because from the looks of it, the food they serve here are your favorite ones.” You grinned, looking up from the menu that was in front of you.

“Technically, it was Joe who suggested this restaurant. He loved this place, and he took me once here. Then, I decided to take Sara because I know she would love it.” Wes added.

For someone who was such an ass, you could give credit to Joe for having good taste in food at least. You weren’t sure if that was because he was just into some expensive fancy shit all the time, or he genuinely just knew how to pick a good restaurant. Night fell when the three of you had exited the restaurant and the neon signs around SoHo had lit up the streets.

“Okay, who’s up for a little pub drinking?” Wes wiggled his brows excitedly to Sara.

“You know I’m always up for that.” Sara replied, a playful grin was tugging on her face.

“I could go for a drink.” You shrugged, looking at Sara as she linked her arm with yours, while Wes led you both down the block to the pub he had chosen.

You stared at both of your friends with brows furrowed. That wasn’t the normal reaction you usually would get from them. They were both overly excited with the idea and before even questioning your friends, you had received your answer the moment you entered the pub.

Joe.

He was sitting by the bar with a pint of beer in his hand and another extra one that was sitting in front of him.

“Hey, mate!” Wes greeted him, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “Look who’s here.”

Wes turned to you and Sara with a big playful smile on his face, and you glanced at your best friend who was giggling. Something was going on, and you had a bad feeling in your stomach. You raised an eyebrow at Sara who just gave you a shrug, acting like she didn’t know what was going on.

Oh, that was such bullshit.

You knew Sara too well, and you knew when she was faking it. What were these two doing? You narrowed your eyes at her as she grabbed your hand and followed behind Wes where Joe was at the bar.

“Thanks, mate. I owe you.” That was all you heard from Wes before turning to face you, that playful grin was still plastered on his face.

“Come, sit.” Sara said, pulling the stool next to Joe and handing you the extra pint of beer that was in front of him.

“What?” Your eyes shifted back and forth at Sara and Wes, waiting for them to tell you what was happening.

“I have a little surprise for Sara and so, we are gonna go ahead, but Joe here…” Wes turned to his best friend, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “...could keep you company.”

Oh, absolutely not.

Your eyes widened at Sara. Did they really just set you up? Did Sara really just set you up? What was going on?

“I’m okay. I could go back to the hotel.” You jumped off from the stool that you were sitting on and tried to pass your way between Sara and Wes.

“You don’t want to waste a good beer.” Joe’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

You froze for a moment and bit your lower lip. You knew Joe was only doing Wes a favor, and you knew that he actually didn’t want to be here if he had a choice. Well… fine. Joe was going to be an ass? You were going to be a pain in his ass tonight then. You put a small fake smile on your face and nodded your head at your friends.

“You’re right.” You said, sitting back on the chair. “I don’t want to waste a good beer.”

“Great!” Wes exclaimed. “You two have the best time, okay?” He pointed his index finger to the both of you and said, “Not too much though.”

You gave Wes and Sara a fake smile, taking the glass of beer and holding it up in the air before taking a big gulp from it. You remembered that promise you gave yourself last year back in Germany. You would torture Joe with your presence since he always wanted to make stupid jokes with you or make stupid little comments. You could already see how bored he was because he just stayed silent the whole time. After finishing your first pint, you had a little courage to finally break the tension between you two.

“So, are you going to pay for my drinks tonight or Wes is paying for this?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Joe just finished his glass also and shook his head. “I’m paying for it.”

“Great.” You smiled and turned to the bartender behind the counter. “Can I get four shots of tequila please?”

Joe watched you slug down those four shots right away and then ordered another round. He didn’t say one word. He never did anyway. So, you just kept going. He never said anything nor complained about it and throughout the night, it was starting to piss you off that he just never reacted in any way.

Was he a fucking robot?

He just sat there and watched you all night. You even tried to offer him a shot of tequila but he refused.

“No, that’s okay.” He had told you. “I’m good with my beer.”

You hummed disapprovingly, shaking your head before taking the shot. It looked like the plan to piss him off wasn’t working at all. You paused for a moment as you started to feel your head spin, but you weren’t there yet. You could still handle yourself. Joe had excused himself to go to the restroom later that night when the bartender had handed you a drink that you didn’t order.

“It’s from that gentleman.” He said, pointing at the man across the bar from you.

He was cute, and you were kind of getting bored with Joe just staring at you all night, so you waved the guy over. He sat on Joe’s empty chair and introduced himself to you as Theo. You both started talking, and he had asked you where you were from since he could tell you weren’t from London at all. You didn’t know how much time had passed because you two were having a good conversation and the sight of Joe had disappeared. You didn’t even realize that it had been an hour because until now, Joe hadn’t come back from the restroom.

He probably went home.

That’s what you thought until your little conversation with Theo had turned bitter. He had mentioned how he knew about Joe and thought he was a bad actor. He mentioned how actors were fake and arrogant people before he started trailing his hand up on your thigh.

“Is he bothering you? You look a little bored, darling. I can make your night better.” Theo’s hand slowly slid up your thigh.

You pushed his hand away from you, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Joe may be an ass to you, but he didn’t know Joe. He was a stranger. Sure, you may think he was an ass from his little stupid jokes, but him saying shit about Joe when he didn’t know him at all just to make himself look better? Just so he could take you back to his place? And the audacity he had to touch you? You could literally knock him out right now.

“We should go.” You heard Joe’s familiar voice.

You turned to see Joe standing next to you, his sharp glare only at Theo, his gentle hand on your back. You could tell Joe looked pissed. You weren’t going to lie, you were kind of glad that he was here, but you weren’t going to show him that. You weren’t going to let his ego win either.

“She doesn’t want you, mate.” Theo declared.

“Fuck off.” Joe barked at him before turning his full attention to you. “Let’s go.”

“She doesn’t want to be with you, mate. She was still talking to me.” Theo chimed in again, and you could see Joe’s nostrils flared in anger.

You have never seen him like this. This was the first time you saw Joe like this. You could see the blood rushing up to his neck and face then you watched as Joe turned to Theo again and moved his face closer to him.

“I said fuck off before I have someone kick you out.” Joe growled, slowing his words down to make sure Theo understood every word of it.

Alright, you had enough of this. You jumped off from the stool and tugged on Joe’s arm. He was still giving Theo a death glare but as soon as he felt your hand on his arm, he turned to look at you, brows furrowed and face slowly relaxing.

“Let’s go.” You murmured and walked out of the pub.

The last thing you wanted was some trouble. You didn’t even wait for Joe to follow behind you. You just wanted to go back to the hotel, so you started walking down the pavement without even looking back.

The cold winter air was blowing on your face and hair, and you pulled your coat closer to your chest. Then, you heard heavy footsteps behind you that you only figured it was Joe.

You were pissed.

You were pissed because Joe could push your buttons so easily and your little plan to give him a taste of his own medicine had backfired. Instead, you listened to some man talk shit about him just so he could get to you. You were pissed because you just didn’t understand what you did to Joe just for him to hate you so much. You were pissed because men kept treating you like shit.

“Are you okay?” Joe asked, his fingers softly curling around your forearm to stop you from your tracks.

God, you wanted to cry. Why? You didn’t even know. You were just tired of being so understanding and being so nice. Maybe the alcohol was making you a bit emotional too, but you were just exhausted. You were pissed and you were frustrated. It wasn’t like you to really act like this, but you had too much to drink tonight, and you would probably regret it the next morning but nothing or no one was stopping you at this moment.

“You know what, I didn’t need your help!” You yelled at him, turning to face him with an anger expression on your face. Joe froze from the reaction he received from you. There was a few inches of gap between you two and Joe’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I don’t even know why you act like you care when you don’t! You just like to piss me off all the time for no damn reason ever since you met me!”

“I don’t—” Joe shook his head, stunned at what you told him.

“I know you hate me, and I don’t know why, but can you just please stop pestering me for once? Just leave me alone for fuck’s sake!”

You felt the tears welling up in your eyes and you immediately turned away from him, making sure he didn’t see you break down. Your cup had overflowed, and you didn’t know where that came from but at the same time, it felt good to let out all the emotions you have been hiding for the last few years.

“Just fucking leave me alone.” You muttered before continuing down the pavement and leaving Joe still frozen in his place.

*******

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