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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

Crushed 15

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: Please scream at me!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

After an early morning phone call, your mother insists on coming to town for lunch. You couldn't bear to tell her everything over the phone and frankly, you don't know how much you should tell her. You remember in high school when you were sent home after Kelly Harris dumped mud in your lap, your mother was more irritated to have you home than empathetic.

You watch through the peephole before you sneak out. You haven't slept but you can't be sure Colin hasn't returned. There's enough noise in the building that it's hard to discern who's coming or going.

When you do emerge, you flit quickly to the first floor and dip out, looking over your shoulder for either Colin or his vengeful girlfriend. You get through the lobby without trouble but you're not in the clear. Surely the day holds nothing but trouble, regardless of where it comes from.

You check the time as you wait for the cab. You refer to the text your mother sent before she set out and give the driver the name of the restaurant. You've never been there before and you're certain it's well out of your price range. Another debt for the tally.

This is the last thing you ever wanted. It makes all this drama seem all the more ridiculous. You’re a grown woman and this is what you’ve come to. Back to square one.

You approach the restaurant doors and enter with a sheepish grin. You don’t know that you own anything that wouldn’t be underdressed for this bougie brunch locale. Once more, you look at your phone. Crap, she’s there first. That means you're late even if you agreed on nine.

The hostess shows you to the table where your mother waits. She has her compact out as she touches up her mauve lipstick. She doesn’t acknowledge you or the hostess as you sit. She snaps shut the mirror and sips from her stemmed glass of orange juice.

“About time,” she drawls, “oh, and nice to hear from you after all these months.”

Her eyes finally deign to land on you. You gulp. You should’ve taken the chance of talking to your father but ultimately you know it’s not up to him.

“You’ve been so busy with Geri’s wedding–”

“Don’t try to guilt me for your neglect,” she warns, “you should be happy for your sister. Her fiance is a charming man. You’ve met Colton, haven’t you?”

“Once or twice,” you grumble. Family get togethers weren’t exactly your favourite memories. “I’ve been waiting on my invite–”

“Invite? You’re a bridesmaid. Geri sent out that email months ago. Is this why you weren’t at the fitting?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t get an email.”

“You’re wrong. Certainly, you must be. You and the rest of the girls are bridesmaids. You have to be. And it might be good for you to be involved in a wedding at least once,” she tuts. You don’t miss the jibe. Yeah, not like you have much hope of walking down the aisle.

“I’ll… I’ll call Geri and clear things up,” you say, “how are the others?”

“Well, Maeve is graduating this year. Always exciting. She’s thinking of joining Audrey at her alma mater. And Livia is somewhere in Spain again.”

“Ah, yeah, she sent me some pictures,” you say.

“And you? What are you up to?” She challenges. She’s not genuinely curious.

“Well,” you take a breath, pausing as a server comes to ask what you’d like to drink. You get the same as your mother and peruse the menu.

“Well…” your mother prompts.

“Yeah, um, I…” you shake your head, you can’t even look at her, “I am on leave from work so… not much.”

“Leave? What does that mean?” She hisses.

You feel your eyes tinge. You look at her. Why is she so different to you? Your other sisters can spill all their worries and whims but you, it’s always judgment. You can never do anything right.

“Uh, I thought maybe it might be a good time to–”

“Ah, pardon,” you’re interrupted before you can sputter out the revelation of another failure. You cringe as you recognise Jonathan’s silky lilt. Why? How? Do you even dare questioning fate anymore? “I just, I had to say hello.”

You force a smile and look at him, trying not to falter in front of your mother’s all-seeing gaze. She sits up, and lets out a hum of surprise as she sees Johnathan. Her lashes give a telling flick.

“Hello?” She utters quizzically.

“This must be one of your sisters,” he says as he runs his hand up the sleek lapel of his blue jacket, “very pleased to finally meet you.”

“Sister? Oh, do not flatter me. I am her mother, Eugenia,” she introduces herself with a smug smirk, “and how do you know each other?”

“Uh, oh,” you stutter and send Jonathan a desperate look. Do you tell her you’re his disgraced former employee? Or maybe just business acquaintance. She’s going to know eventually, that’s why you’re here. “Jonathan is–”

“Jonathan Pine,” he introduces himself, “honoured to finally meet you.” He looks at you, arching a brow before turning his attention back to his mother, “you both must be so excited for your elder daughter’s upcoming nuptials?”

“British?” She intones with intrigue.

“You’ve caught me out,” he grins, “your daughter’s been rather helpful in getting me acquainted with this country. Very lovely…” he peeks at you again, “hardly as lovely as her. You’ve raised a rather endearing daughter.”

“You…” she blinks in confusion, sending you another flabbergasted peek, “you and my daughter…” she lets the suggestion hang. Jonathan does too as he gives you an option; come clean or take the bait.

“I was waiting to introduce you at the wedding,” you blurt out, “I… it’s new.” You say, each word jarring as the lies piece themselves together on your tongue, “and I thought,” you look at Jonathan pointedly, “he was out of town.”

“Business trip was canceled, rescheduled to a business breakfast,” he slithers, “I’m meeting Gerry soon,” he checks his watch, “but I will be sure to tell the hostess to put your bill with mine.”

“Oh–” you squeak.

“Oh my,” your mother trills, “you are too kind. That is…” she gapes at you openly, “you… you’re with my daughter. Her?”

He chuckles lightly, “why wouldn’t I be with such a beautiful woman?”

“I didn’t mean– I don’t– I’m very surprised,” she exclaims shrilly, “she never mentioned, but then again, she’s always been so private. So shy. And you seem like such a lovely man.”

“I like to think so, but please, she is not the lucky one,” he preens and steps towards you. He places his hand on your shoulder and bends, grazing his lips across your cheek, “go with it,” he whispers.

You turn your head just as his lips aim for yours. He kisses you and the air leaves the room. Your chest ties tight and your entire body tingles. Oh, wow. You’re too swept up in the sensation of his unexpected kiss that you can’t remember why you were so off-kilter a moment ago.

“Now let me not interrupt further. A mother-daughter reunion,” he puts his hand to his chest, “how sweet.”

He backs away and dips his chin. He turns on his heel and crosses the restaurant as you stare after him. The server approaches and sets your drink in front of you. You drink it in the silence of your mother’s disbelief.

“Well, you’ve done finely,” she says in a stunted cadence, “I… he’s so handsome. And tall. And blond!”

“Mom,” you plead as you nearly choke on the orange juice.

“Well. Even you must realise he’s very… dashing as they’d say in his home country,” she flutters her lashes dreamily, “oh, yes, you must bring him to the wedding. He’ll look wonderful in the photos.”

You wet your lips with your tongue and nod. You look down at the table, still buzzing as your lips warm up. You can’t stop thinking about that kiss. It nips away at the anger that kept you up all night, but hardly solves your anxiety.

You can’t tell your mother you expect to be evicted in the next month or that you lost your job. So what now? How do you untangle the knot that only grows bigger and bigger?

💗

For once, your time with your mom is less than torturous. She keeps her barbs dull enough to leave you only bruised. Her mood is a touch above neutral, which for you, is an accomplishment. You’re content but not entirely at ease. You have a lot to figure out.

You bid her goodbye just outside the patio seating and wave to her as she unlocks her luxury car. You watch until you see her get in and let out a sigh. Shit. Not only do you have Jonathan to worry about, but you don’t expect Colin to be AWOL much longer.

So what do you do? Go home and face the music or call Jonathan and try not to melt into a puddle of embarrassment. It was a nice favour of him to pretend but you don’t want to assume anything. High hopes and stupid girlish fantasies got you into all this.

As you walk along the curb, a short toot draws you to a stop. You turn as the whir of a car window steals your attention and you face the familiar car. Jonathan leans over the passenger seat to see you.

“You’re not going to run away again, are you?” He asks.

You twist your heel into the pavement and bend down. You furrow your brows as that big question needles between them. You can’t lie anymore, you can’t just wait for the truth to come out, you just have to ask.

“How did you know I was here?”

His brows lift and his eyes roll to the side. He gives a guilty grin, “I hope you don’t… misinterpret it but I… staked out your building.”

“What?” You puff out.

“Yes, I know, it sounds very bad. And I won’t claim it was entirely sane but I wanted to see the police take him away after I filed the report. To be sure you were safe and then… I sat stuck in my own head. Wanting to run up those stairs and knock on your door but also terrified you wouldn’t answer,” he shrugs, “and I followed you because I worried you might run into him, but that’s only half the reason…”

You swallow and step closer, “Jonathan, what are you doing?”

“Being crazy,” he lowers his eyes bashfully, “I know, you don’t need two madmen after you.”

You shake your head and reach for the handle. You open the door and get in. He sits back, watching you as you move your purse into your lap. You stare at the dashboard.

“What is going on?” You turn your head and look into his beautiful blue eyes, “what is this?”

“I don’t…” he begins.

“You’re my boss.”

“I was.”

“I never should’ve dragged you into this–”

“I’m so happy you did,” he murmurs.

“Jonathan, please,” you beg, “it’s not right–”

“You quit,” he insists, “so what isn’t right?”

You pout and sit back, turning straight and looking up at the upholstered ceiling of the car. You don’t know what to say. No, you don’t know how to say it. Except…

“I’m stupid.”

“What?” He scoffs.

“I’m stupid because… I’m scared and lost. And I can’t make you follow me through that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Feelings don’t just go, they just get complicated,” you explain, parsing through the stirring in your gut, “I hate Colin, I’m scared to hell of him, but I still… feel some of those things I felt.”

“Oh, but darling,” he reaches over and rests his hand above your shoulder, “I know feelings don’t just go. Mine certainly won’t.”

“Feelings? For me? Are you sure it’s not pity?”

“I only pity myself for how deeply I’ve fallen,” he breathes as you sense him leaning in, “the first day I saw you, I knew. I’ve never been much of a romantic but I have to confess something.”

“What?” You shy away, sensing how close he is.

“I knew how to use the coffee machine,” he admits, “I just needed an excuse.”

“You… did?” You look at him. He’s so much closer than you thought.

“Oh yes, if you hadn’t helped with the machine, I would’ve failed miserably in front of you at making copies. And if that didn’t work, well, I suppose I’d just have to make a mistake in my numbers,” he purrs, “you would’ve helped me, wouldn’t you?”

You quiver out a breath. You want to collapse into him, you want to let him make you forget everything but him, and yet, you’re so afraid. You’re afraid to believe that this could ever be real for you.

He doesn’t let your fear win. His lips are on yours again and that’s all you need. Nothing is left but that moment, the feeling of his mouth on yours, how his hand comes up to frame your jaw and cradle your cheek, his other creeping behind your head as he clings to you desperately. You can’t help by latching onto his collar, diving into his need.

You don’t stop until you're dizzy and breathless. He pulls back, hovering before you, thumb tracing your cheek bone as his other hand tickles your neck. His eyes search you, admire you, you’ve never been looked at like that.

“May I drive you home?” He asks softly, nuzzling your nose with his.

#colin shea #jonathan pine #dark colin shea #dark!colin shea #colin shea x reader #jonathan pine x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #series #what's your number #crushed #the night manager

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

Crushed 16

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: Surpreez!

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

All dread washes away as you're swept up in the rush. The drive home quickly becomes a fleet, entangled scramble to the front door. Jonathan pushes you against the front door, crushing his lips to yours as you desperately search your bag for your keys.

“Please,” you rasp as you turn your head, “I can't–”

“Sorry, darling,” he pulls away breathlessly, “I can't help myself.”

“Just…” you can barely tell him to wait. Adrenaline courses through you, you really think it’s going to happen. This is real, someone really wants you.

You grasp your keys and pull them out, jingling them in victory as Jonathan steps back. You turn to shove them in the slot as his hand tickles up and down your back. A shiver rolls up your spine and radiates across your muscles. You open the door and he grabs it above your head, trailing you closely as you hurry inside.

You giggle, unable to withhold your brimming giddiness. You scurry to the stairs as he follows, tugging at you, touching you any chance he has, like a game of cat and mouse. You can’t get a few steps ahead before he’s on you again.

As you approach your door, he covers your hand with his. He takes the keys from you gently and unlocks the door himself. You look up at him as he nudges the door open, flush to your back as he urges you inside. You turn to face him as you enter, pulling him in by the lapels of his suit.

He stumbles with you, the keys hitting rhe floor in a jangle as he kicks the door shut right before he scoops you up. You squeak and let him, giving a little hop before wrapping your legs around him. Your lips lock onto each other again, your hands roving over his shoulders and around his head. Your fingers comb into his hair as you’re desperate for more. More of him. All of him.

He staggers against the wall, shielding you with his arm around you. He crushes you against the platter as he moans into your mouth. A fire scourges over you. Not just your own need, but his. You can feel how much he wants you. A wholly intoxicating sensation you’ve never known before.

He parts, leaning his forehead against yours, breathless as his blue colour your existence.

“Darling,” he keeps you aloft as he nuzzles your nose with his, “shall I go on?”

You bite your lip and nod, drawing him back to you with a hum. He chuckles as your mouths meet once more. He moves you away from the wall, continuing his slow but deliberate advance into your apartment.

He carries you blindly with him, grunting as his leg hits the end table, jostling you as he angles around, entwined in you fully. He sidles along the couch and lowers you onto the cushions. You land with a gasp, pulling back from him again.

You gaze up at him as he holds himself over you. You keep your legs around him, your hands feeling the tension in his neck. In that moment it's as if you're both trapped in the same cloud of disbelief. You flutter your lashes and look away shyly, the words crawling from your throat without permission.

“I never…” you swallow as your cheeks burn, “oh, gosh, I'm sorry, but I've never…” you rolls your eyes back against your embarrassed tears and laugh at yourself, “Jonathan…” you murmur, unable to force the confession out.

“I don't mind if you don't,” he slides his arm under your neck, holding himself up on his elbow as he tilts his body over yours, “we don't… tell me if it's too much, fawn, I will hear you.”

You flick your hot eyes and look at him. His irises blaze as he admires you, his fingers tracing along your cheek. He leans in, his breath dancing on your lips, “I am in no hurry,” he assures you before closing the distance.

You dissolve into him as he coaxes you easily. His hand tickles along your throat, thumb pressing just so to elicit a razing heat across your skin. He delves further, plucking open the front of your blouse.

You tremble and his lips drag along your cheek. You hold your breath as he bares your chest, button by button. His lips graze your ears as his timbre rises in a silty rasp, “is that alright?”

You can only let out a squeak and nod. You swallow the lump in your throat and run your hand down his arm, “yes.”

He purrs and lets his fingers dance beneath the fabric, shyly exploring the thin pad of your bra, “and this?”

You hum and eke out another affirmation. He kisses your cheek and your jaw as he follows your encourage, gently cupping you as his thumb feels the tender flesh along the top of the cotton. You arch your back as your hand trails up his arm and you pull at the strained fabric of his jacket.

“What is it?” He nibbles your earlobe between words, “what do you want?”

“Off,” is all you can manage.

He laughs again. It isn't mocking or mighty, more so endearing. He slips his hand from beneath your shirt and lifts his shoulder. He raises himself on one elbow, awkwardly freeing one arm then leaning over to shed the other sleeve. His jacket drops to the floor as you eye his throat above his shirt collar.

“All of it?” He goads and you look him in the face as he winks.

Your breath escapes you as your lust mingles with horror at being caught, “your shirt…”

“As you wish,” he sits up on the edge of the couch, unbuttoning his shirt and stripping it from his broad shoulders. He lets it fall with his jacket.

He comes to face you again, lowering himself onto his side next to you as you roll to meet him. He balances on the edge as you hover a hand before his chest, marveling at the muscle. You feel suddenly very inadequate.

“Are you sure?” You peer up at him.

He smiles and strokes his finger under your chin, “are you?”

You close your eyes and take a breath, giving permission not only to him but yourself, “yes, I'm sure.”

He presses his lips to yours and you quickly sink back into the moment. You feel the world shift as he subtly moves you over him, laying flat beneath you. Your stomach meets his bare skin as your shirt slumps down your arms, restraining you.

You move your legs to straddle him and sit up, irritated by the shirts flapping tails. You shrug it away and swipe it over the coffee table. As you look down at Jonathan, his fingertips brush up your stomach as his eyes drink you in.

That look! It drives you crazy. How can he look at you like that?

You let your deepest yearning get the best of you. The years of longing, of loneliness, of curiosity. You run your hands up his torso and back down, taking in every inch of lean muscle. His hands frame your hips as he watches your exploration.

“I must insist,” he sits up suddenly as you slide your hands up to his shoulders, “ladies first.”

Confusion sparks but can't catch as he lurches you suddenly onto your back. He's on you again, his mouth following his hand as he dotes on you; cheek, jaw, neck, chest, a steady but patient descent. Your stomach clenches as he lingers along your chest, his hand crawling beneath you, swiftly, almost expertly unhook your bra.

You gasp as he lifts his head. You let the straps slacken and nod at him. Yes, please, keep going. He doesn’t need more than that. He frees your arms one at a time from the straps and unveils your chest. You resist the urge to hide. He’s the first to see you.

He bows his head and goes back to his worship. That’s exactly what it feels like. As if he’s enshrined in some sacred mission. He kisses between your tits, fondling one side, then the other, pecking along the soft skin, teething, teasing. You feel the plucking as the pressure pinpoints between his lips, drawing on your nipples.

You look down at his head, bent as his shoulders hunch. The sight is electrifying. He purrs as he drags his lips lower, down your stomach, once more nipping and kissing along his path. He gets to the top of your pants and bites the fabric with a growl. He tilts his head to peek up at you.

You watch him. He picks open your fly as you lay enshrined in his delight. He eases the fabric down, sliding his hand beneath your ass as he urges your pants lower and lower. He sits on his heels as he untangles your ankles, knocking your flats off as he does.

He’s quickly back to his mission. He buries his face against your pelvis, nosing your cotton panties as he feels along the scalloped trim. You shiver as his breath dampens the fabric and seeps through to your skin.

“More?” He asks, the movement of his lips stealing a moan from you.

“Please,” you gulp and brace the back of the couch, fighting to rein in your nerves. As much as you want it, you’re scared. What if there’s something wrong with you? What if you don’t taste right?

He rolls down your panties, peppering kisses along your pelvis as he uncovers you. You squeeze your thighs together. He lets his fingers wander down your legs and prods with his thumbs, easing them apart as you surrender. He hums as his eyes fall and he pushes himself back on his knees, bending to hover his head above your pelvis.

He kisses the tuft of hair and you wince. He does it again and you let out another moan. A third time and he lets his tongue glide down between your folds. You squeal at the cool sensation. It’s so different and new and strange, but wonderful. What’s more, you feel yourself, wet and wanting for him, mingling with him as he delves into you.

A growl rolls up his throat and through you as he tastes you. His tongue swirls around your bud, setting a new fire alight. You arch your back further, gulping as your arm shoots down unthinkingly. You tug at his hair, clutching a silky shank as you beg him wordlessly.

He laps you up. Slowly at first, then faster, more fervently, as if he is just as desperate as you. He breathes into you as his fingers tickle up your thigh. Your other leg falls over the edge of the couch and you’re splayed completely. Your hand drifts down and you grip his shoulder as you curl and whine.

You puff out as a sudden wave of hot and cold swallows you up. Your body quakes as an orgasm unlike any you’ve had before sweeps you into a tide of spasms and twitches. Your voice drones out of you uncontrollably as you succumb to the sheer pleasure coursing from him into you.

He edges along your lips with his fingers, poking and rubbing, spreading your ecstasy around. He prods a single finger at your entrance, dipping in just a little, then pulling back. He repeats the motion, in and out, each time a little further till he's buried to his knuckle.

He turns his hand, tongue still diligent, matching his own pace as he finds another knot to untangle. You moan and pant, shaking as another climax crashes down, muscles vibrating and veins fiery. You drift into the afterglow, eyelids fluttering as your head swims with joy.

He reluctantly drags his hand away from you and raises himself on his knees. You watch him dreamily as he grins and bends over you again. He kisses you on the mouth, leaving your own flavour on your lips. He groans, his hips jerking as if not of his own volition. He cradles your cheek and rests his forehead on yours.

“More?” He repeats.

You whisper, “yes” and pull him to kiss you again. A long, needful kiss to say ‘never enough.’

When you part, he rises over you. He stands, eyes stuck to you as he works at unbuckling belt. Once it's undone, he seems to disemble. He fumbles with his fly and staggers as he tries to untangle his feet. He laughs at himself as he stops to untie his shoes and kick them off. He peels away his socks before finally stepping out of his rumples trousers.

You can't help but giggle too. The thought of him being just as excited, even as nervous, as you is comforting. He stands in only his briefs, bulging with expectation as he looks down his body. Wow.

He hooks his thumb under the elastic and pulls it out. You watch, spellbound as he rolls them down and he springs free unrestrained. He's unabashed by his own desire as he lets the fabric fall free.

He kicks away his briefs and comes closer. You're surprised as he takes your hand, moving it to his dick as it bobs above you. It's not so much lewd as it is assuring. He lets you feel him, guiding you up and down as he shudders in response. You squeeze and shift on the cushions.

You let him go and he kneels between your legs. He brings his hand to your pelvis, rubbing your cunt, spreading your lips, stoking a new flow. He angles his body down over yours, keeping his fingers along your folds.

He looks you in the eye as as he tilts his hips, pausing as you stare back wideyed. He kisses your lips and lingers just above them, “still sure?”

“Yes,” you answer a bit too quickly.

He moves closer and presses his tip along your folds. He drags himself up and down, wetting his head before stopping at your entrance. You hold your breath as he pushes, just a little. He does just as he did before, inching in then rearing back, then deeper, not to much. Patient but fervent.

He sinks into halfway. You groan at the strain in your walls. He presses his lips to your forehead as his voice rumbles in his throat. He rocks, further and further. You bend yournlegs around him, an arm draped behind his neck as you stretch the other down, touching his hip as he bottoms out.

You hiss out and he tries to pull back, “less?”

You shake your head and grit your teeth, reaching further to grope his ass, holding him deep even as tears prick. It's not pain, though theres a dull weight in your core, it's something else. Fear. Of losing this moment. Of never feeling this way again.

“More,” you moan, “please, more.”

#jonathan pine #colin shea #dark colin shea #dark!colin shea #colin shea x reader #jonathan pine x reader #crushed #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the night manager #what's your number?#multifandom

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