#but even when he lies about his job he never pretends to be a different person than who he is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bbanghiitomi · 3 months

Text

| haerin sucks!

synopsis: not your average vampire — haerin lives a life working night shifts at an empty convenience store every night until before the sun rises up, she's also got her eyes on a girl whose favorite past time is to pretend she's a vampire's girlfriend.

— nonidol!vampire!khaerin × nonidol!highschool!fem!reader

/⁠╲⁠/⁠\⁠╭⁠(⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠)⁠╮⁠/⁠\⁠╱⁠\/⁠╲⁠/⁠\⁠╭⁠(⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠)⁠╮⁠/⁠\⁠╱⁠\/⁠╲⁠/

"hyein what the hell?" haerin slams her hand on the counter as she watches her younger friend walking to the exit of the convenience store with a box of chocolate in her hands, with a disbelief expression — haerin, as if this hasn't been happening multiple times still cannot believe her friend could do such a thing. "what's up?" hyein even gets the courage to turn her whole body around with a smile.

lee hyein is another employee of this store owned by mr. kim taehyung, but unlike haerin, hyein is not a vampire and actually gets to live her life like any other ordinary person, except maybe she's insufferable sometimes. haerin used to do so too, but it's been a long time since she's felt the touch of the sunlight, nor have drank anything other than blood. it doesn't even help the fact that haerin looked like she's never had a bed to sleep on, the bags under her eyes are evident, it's as if it's carrying all the weight in this world. not to mention her pale skin, her lips the color of her cheek, porcelain white and literally no signs of life on her body.

it's only been 5 months since that unfortunate incident she had in this very same convenience store, where her life flashed before her eyes and she came out of the storage room as a different person and a different kind of species that night.

haerin rubs her eyes and glares at hyein. "why are you stealing another box of chocolate?" haerin points at hyein with a frown, brows furrowing and her eyes are barely moving. hyein raises the box with a confused look on her face, as if she doesn't get the idea why haerin would be mad.

"i'm borrowing it..." hyein states, she's always like this, there are times after her shift she doesn't steal but more like take something off the store and promises that she'll pay for it through her salary. no matter how hair says she hates when hyein does that, she had never snitched and told mr. kim taehyung, instead she takes an amount of money from hyein's salary and brings it back to the shop's money.

haerin puts a hand on her face, rubbing her forehead before sighing. "hyein — " she stops, looking up at hyein with a glare. "just watch out, goddamn it. if mr. kim taehyung finds out about this i'm dead." haerin grumbles, thinking about how horrible the store's owner is. he's so selfish! not only is he a notorious gambler, he is also very evil and takes his anger out on his minions a.k.a. the innocent people he turned into vampires.

technically, it's not him who turned haerin into one of his kind — but his sister, kim minji, that evil prick. haerin remembers that night, in this same convenience store. she was just a hopeless teenager who is trying to find a part time job, with her papers she carried them with her soul in this convenience store only to get bitten by a rabies infested younger kim. that asshole lied about it being a requirement, saying it had to be done and haerin couldn't be more regretful about everything.

now she's stuck inside this hellhole forever. with a grumpy evil owner, and a tall teenage girl.

great, just how great it is.

"he won't! he's like always away and it's not like you'll tell him, right?" hyein clutched the door, looking at haerin with begging eyes that she couldn't say no to.

"damn it, alright. just go!" haerin looks away and grumbles, watching hyein flee with stolen goods and she watches the taller girl disappear under the dark skies.

then there's the annoying, good for nothing customers — for a bunch of people who purchase nothing but the cheapest thing in the store, they do sure talk a lot. haerin hates this the most about her job, other than being a weak, fragile, coward, and awkward vampire — she's also terrible at customer service, she hates having to spend time helping strangers with the most basic stuff. that's common sense!

oh how much haerin hates talking to people, let alone doing something for them but this was her only choice, other than old vampire men who abuse the capitalist system, there's no one else in this world who would hire a weakling like her. haerin's conscience couldn't even get her to kill a bird to eat, it's just too much.

she's lost everything after what minji did to her, she had to drop out of school — with her roommate's (danielle) help, it's too hard for her and it's almost as if there's no hope left for someone like her. luckily, danielle is helping haerin to get her signed up at a work from home job, which might benefit her considering she's quite smart and all they're waiting is the result of the interview.

seriously, haerin would be nothing without her kind roommate...

that girl is working overtime to look for hospitals that sell donated bloods, at this point the city probably thinks she's a maniac, all that just to help haerin cause the girl is too weak to actually kill someone. that's where her biggest problem lies, how is she supposed to keep living with literally just donated bloods? she's too weak for a vampire, most of the time she looks like someone sucked the life out of her (which is true) still, even vampires find her ridiculous.

"welcome..." haerin mutters as someone enters the store, haerin is too absorbed by her daydreams to even care who entered maybe until she hears the voice. "uhm, do you guys have any adhesive here? like super glue or something like that..." haerin's eyes shoot up and she looks up to see you standing by the nearest aisle, looking for any strong adhesive available. haerin's eyes focus on the girl just a few meters away, and it feels like she has nothing to say.

you notice the delay in haerin's response and take a peek at her from the aisle you were standing behind, your eyes met haerin and she feels like she's about to explode. "u-uh, i think we have them... here at the counter." haerin stutters, taking a breath with a small curse in her head — she doesn't understand why she's like this around you, even before she turned into a vampire.

you've always been giving her the worst types of emotions ever.

"oh, okay." you smile and make your way to the counter, reaching over to the adhesive and the lighter. "i should also get this." you whisper to yourself, as if making a small conversation. haerin feels her fingers shake, not knowing what to do and she stretches her arm a bit to reach over to the items in your hand — when she did she feels like turning into a block of ice, right at that moment she's freezing from head to toe.

you look at her, totally not realizing the severe effect you have on her. haerin shuffles to immediately scan the items, get the amount of money to pay and then the receipt — even though she's liked you for ages, haerin always gets the urge to ask you to leave; immediately! it's hard for her to stay still when you're out there looking so damn pretty, even after she's turned into a vampire her feelings for you have never changed.

to haerin's dismay, you didn't leave — instead you stay there and give her a worried smile. "how come i never see you at school again?" you ask, tilting your head a bit to see her face better. haerin feels like shrinking, or she's always felt small when you're in her sights.

it's bad.

you noticed her absence, even if you never talked to her — you're from another class, just one door away from her room... yet haerin had always made sure to get a glimpse of you, when you're busy working with the science club or when you're just existing.

it never occurred to haerin that you'd even notice her presence, let alone care enough to ask her about it. it's bad, it's really bad...

"uhm, i changed my schedule... i'm taking irregular classes." haerin puts her hand on her forehead, trying to find that familiar warm feeling on her skin yet there was nothing.

she tries to avoid your eyes but you keep looking at her. "oh really? no wonder, it must be a bit complicated for you." you tell her, yet you were quite hesitant if you were going to believe... you really haven't seen her at all in the past few months, that it started to worry you because you've familiarized yourself to haerin's existence when she visits your club which is located at the library.

"yeah... it is." haerin mutters, closing her eyes for a second, enough for her to snap back and for you not to notice. you don't want her to feel uncomfortable, so after paying you leave — feeling quite disappointed you couldn't talk to her more.

haerin curses when you leave, finally able to breathe properly again.

she's not a vampire, which means it must be hard for her to locate the usual emotions she feels when you're around. it's not the same anymore, there's no heartbeat, no blushing, and the same warmth isn't there anymore. it feels so different that haerin isn't used to it, still couldn't get herself to get used to it and it's starting to piss her off.

her shift finishes, she doesn't want to think about you again when she shakes her head and starts pedalling her bike before the sun starts peeking out of the sky.

when she gets home, danielle rambles about the current happenings in her life, which were — thankfully, interesting. danielle doesn't forget to remind haerin about the bags of blood and then to particularly the second best part of her day (first is seeing you again and finding out you actually care about her existence more than she does herself), haerin got the work from home job and can start next week, meaning she doesn't have to rely on her stupid convenience store job.

"that's great." haerin sits on the couch, looking up at danielle who nods and clasps her hands together. "i know right! i mean, god you don't have to keep worrying about losing your job under mr. kim taehyung!" danielle chirps, clearly happy about her friend's start of an actual good story.

haerin sighs, of relief for a second.

she really can't lose her convenience store job but not for the salary, rather than the fact mr. kim taehyung and minji might hunt her down for betraying a trust that's never been there from the start.

"still, i should stay for a bit until the big guy finds his next target — i mean, i can't risk being hunted down by them." haerin shrugs, danielle frowns and nods. "you're right, i mean — no offense but, you're not fit enough to defend yourself. not against minji and definitely mr. taehyung." danielle speaks, to which haerin agrees.

"for the meantime, let's not worry about that stuff... let's focus on the good things!" danielle points at the ceiling, causing haerin to laugh but she agrees again. "you're right." she says, a smile on her lips.

maybe it's the world playing tricks on her but, haerin sees you with niki — nothing too special about him except the fact he's lying about being a vampire. you work at a clothing shop, specifically catering to those who have gothic, emo or punk sense of style. he's a regular customer apparently, and he's always bragging about being a vampire — talking about how it's hard for him to stay at the sunlight, how he's constantly on the hunt for blood, those are tales you usually see in medias portraying lies about vampires.

and you're not usually stupid but for some reason — you believe him, heck, you were even amazed! haerin had always remembered your small interests in things like vampires, gothic church architectures and stuff like that — it is to no surprise you've watched a lot of movies about vampires, read conspiracy theories and imagined stuff...

this dude is gay... haerin curses herself for being mean, but it was true!

it must be just her vampire senses... but she's got this feeling niki is gay, aside from your obvious crush on him — how could you or how could he not notice it? he's always around boys and gets so giddy around guys, when he's with you he acts as if he doesn't care sometimes he's just gonna flaunt about his obviously fake vampire life.

it's super annoying that sometimes haerin has to witness you fawning over him in the convenience store late at night when him and his friends are getting ready with their illegal racing shit.

haerin receives a message from minji, to which she scoffed.

asshole

minji: hey when you start your shift later make sure to meet me outside the store.

minji: i need you to get me some stuff to my car.

and here comes minji, she's also part of the whole illegal racing stuff — funny but minji actually knows you too, haerin assumes it's because of the fact you're always on niki's tail and that niki has friends that take part in the racing community who knows minji.

haerin starts to wonder if you have ever had a conversation with minji, for sure that girl also knows about niki's whole facade.

haerin sighs and puts her arm on her face, regret sipping on her mind again, even hatred and bitterness comes at the tip of her tongue; there's an urge to curse minji as well as niki, but for some reason she couldn't say it.

"i hate this so much..." haerin grunts.

"come here!" haerin blinks and when she opens her eyes she's met with her worst nightmare.

kim minji.

who shouts from the entrance of the store with a demanding tone, gesturing haerin to get out of the store. minji stomps down to the parking spot and haerin follows, quite lethargically with a small frown. it's late at night, and it's only the two of them right now but haerin guessed that minji is probably waiting for her minions.

"my friends are arriving in less than 5 minutes," minji starts to talk and digs her large hand in her pocket to get a severely crumpled paper and shove it towards haerin. "go get me the things listed on that paper and put it on my trunk." haerin tries to remember what job she signed up for, did she sign up to be this gaint-sized toddler's maid?

although it would be nice to teach minji a lesson, haerin knows this girl likes to deal with things physically so it's not a good idea — it's not so ideal to get thrown by someone bigger than you, so all haerin could do was nod and go.

when haerin comes out with the box of beers, she squints her eyes to see you talking to minji — she had her eyes on you, like so focus! even leaning on her car as she speaks, suddenly turning into the nicest vampire around like she just wasn't bossing haerin earlier. this is bad haerin tells herself and she wants to smack her head somewhere, maybe the roof of minji's definitely not super cool car just to get her mad? oh no, that's not a very bright idea.

haerin walks around and carefully puts minji's junk on her trunk, acting like she didn't see you but you did see her! so you move away from minji's car and wave at haerin.

"haerin! hi!" you greet her with a very bright smile, haerin's eyes try not to shift away from yours but she starts to grow nervous — because of you or maybe because minji is staring daggers at her. haerin nods her head but says nothing until maybe she realizes it was better to greet you back. "ah hi y/n." haerin knows the more she stands there the more angry minji gets.

there's nothing worse than an angry bear slash vampire.

"oh you're working? sorry, i didn't mean to bother it's just — i was just happy to see you again!" you tell her, haerin smiles back before nodding.

"yeah me too—"

"okay now don't you have things to fetch there? why not go back and finish it first." minji cuts her off with her rubbish tone, causing haerin to get startled and run back to the store.

you look at minji and wonder what's gotten into her.

"are you okay?" you ask her and she looks at you with her round eyes and says.

"oh definitely, look why don't you head to the meeting place with my friends? i just have some stuff to pick up here but i'll follow."

you nod and immediately get inside one of her friends' car who she called for.

haerin comes back outside with a box of chips and yelps as minji pulls her behind by her collar. "woah! what's wrong with you!?" haerin clutches her collar and grunts, eyes glaring at minji who scoffs at her.

"what's with you and y/n?" minji asks, eager for an immediate answer.

haerin shakes her head, even though she hates minji of course she's still scared — she has no idea what this prick could do.

"nothing! we're schoolmates before, she knows my roommate... why don't you ask that to niki?" haerin talks back, but immediately feels minji letting go of her collar and she chokes back her breath.

"who now? that gay boy?" minji chuckles and clutches her before bursting into a fit of laughter — getting a startled stare from haerin.

"there is no way! what..?" minji looks up at haerin and continues to laugh.

"yeah, y/n likes him a little."

minji looks at haerin as if she can't believe what was said, haerin walks backwards a bit, feeling minji's taller figure approach her menacingly.

"i feel like you're lying to me just like how niki lies about him being a vampire."

haerin sighs, of course minji knows about that but haerin knows she's not lying because she is scared to face it. "minji, i swear. i mean, isn't it obvious with y/n's particular interest in vampires?" haerin tries to stand properly just in case minji tries to blow a punch on her, which thankfully she's never done before but haerin does not want that to happen.

haerin realizes minji must also like you, a lot. "you shouldn't be threatened by him." haerin mutters enough for minji to hear, minji pushes haerin by her shoulder rough but not rough enough for haerin to fall. "you're crazy if you think i'm scared of that clown." minji looks around and then back at haerin.

minji with her pride, she pushes her hair back and sighs. "y/n should be with me." she mutters before hopping on her car and leaving haerin standing like an idiot.

what the hell was that? haerin slams her head on the counter, sighing. she already has zero chance to have you now it's reduced to negative? how bad can her life get?

haerin ruffles her own hair and groans.

another night again, she's on her way to her work and she stumbles upon an alley that feels unfamiliar — she walked almost a hundred times here already but she's felt something weird here.

she continues to walk further and sees minji cornering a random man and in the corner of her eyes she sees you.

"minji!" she calls for the girl who had her hands on the man's collar.

"get out of here!" minji yells back causing haerin to step back. "b-but—! mr. kim taehyung!" haerin stutters and sees minji slam the guy on the wall.

you stood behind watching everything unfold, minji's unusual strength and your eyes meet haerin. "take y/n out of here or else i'm gonna punch you!" minji shouts and haerin immediately scrambles to reach for your hand and pulls you away.

"let's go!" haerin says and you turn your head behind to look at minji. "but how about her?!"

"just leave it to her! she can manage herself!" haerin says running until you both were somewhere in the middle of the main street. haerin sighs thinking about how screwed she is that she isn't at work yet.

minji really told her to take you. she's sometimes so stupid.

haerin takes her phone.

lee hyein

haerin: hyein! please... cover for me for a bit!

haerin: i'm going to be super lateee and i need you to stay there.

haerin: i'll let you take food with you and i'll pay for it!

hyein: thanks! i was about to say no but that's a nice deal!

"what's up with minji? she's so strong? i bid her goodbye and when i was being harassed she immediately knew where i was?" you ask haerin, as if she knew — technically she did but it's not like she's gonna say it. haerin wipes the sweat off of her forehead. "she's just like that — she knows every corner in this place and she's of course strong." haerin sighs.

you take a step closer to haerin, scanning her face all over. "are you okay? you look really stressed out." you tell her, taking a peek at her face. haerin closes her eyes and nods. "i'm just worried, ugh — she's so reckless, if she gets in trouble my boss will kill me."

it's not supposed to be some kind of exaggeration, she's serious about mr. kim taehyung comes for her ass once minji comes home with a bruise or gets tangled with the police officers roaming.

"are you worried she's not gonna come out okay?" you ask while putting a hand on her shoulder, haerin freezes, then she looks at your hand and to your face. not necessarily about minji well being, more on the fact that police are now on the hunt for vampires who are the reason why the town's currently in shambles.

"yeah, she's so reckless." haerin says and immediately looks away.

haerin scratches the back of her head and proposes an idea. "i should probably accompany you home, that's probably what minji wants me to do." you look at her with a confused expression.

"we're not gonna wait for her?"

haerin nods and gulps. "her pride can't take that, besides she's gonna ask me about you later."

haerin starts walking and you skip your way to follow behind her, it doesn't matter that the sky is pitch back, the stars are not visible from your view probably because of the air pollution — and the only thing you see is haerin's back under the street lamps.

haerin is still stressing.

"i did miss you."

you start talking and haerin looks behind you and stops walking.

"what?" she asks.

you stare at her and smile, chuckling a bit.

"why not? i always see you at school, i mean yeah we're not friends and barely had any conversation but i was kind of fond of your presence somewhere..." you roll your eyes playfully and shrug, haerin still is speechless.

"uhm, i didn't know that." haerin mutters, looking away and trying not to cower away.

you laugh awkwardly, walking past her.

"i guess you don't probably feel the same, which is okay — i never found you to be the type to bond over strangers and small things." you speak, walking slowly and haerin starts to follow behind.

"no! it's just, i didn't think you'd think it's a big deal. i left and that's all." haerin is now the one trying to catch up, there was not much of a gap but it feels like haerin is trying to reach for something she cannot get a hold of.

you hear her say she left and turned around.

"you left..?" you remember her saying she took a different schedule, guess maybe vampires don't have sharp memory.

"huh? wait what did i say?"

"you said you left? but last time you told me you changed schedule and is now an irregular student." you look at her with an accusing look, why does it matter so much? what if she really did leave school? why should you care about it?

you don't know too.

all you knew is that you cared for her, even just for a bit.

"i did say that... and it's true—"

"you're not that good at lying." you cut her off, staring at her and she stops walking to stretch her hands to try and reach but she stops to put it on her head, opting to fix her hair and sighing.

"can i... yeah — i did drop out." haerin puts her hands on her face.

"that's it. it's not that hard."

haerin slowly puts her hands down like a poor kitten.

"are you mad at me for lying?" haerin asks and you stare at her before laughing. "no, i'm just worried. you've been gone for so long and i started wondering what happened to you."

haerin shakes her head. "i didn't want you to have a different view of me."

you cross your arms and sigh. "no matter what happens, i'm never gonna change how i look at you!" you tilt your head and smile at her.

"even if i was a monster?" haerin asks.

you pause and stomp your feet, raising your hands. "even if you're a cockroach or a worm!"

haerin blinks and nods. "that's nice."

you turn yourself around and start walking again, haerin watches and sighs for almost a thousand time.

"sometimes i want to be a vampire, just because i think it's very cool..." you raise your hands to the sky, as if reaching for something that's not there — haerin continues to watch, almost forgetting how short her time is outside.

"like — i want to dress so elegantly, just the darkest colors out there, my closet so perfect... i want to live in a mansion, get serve by maids and stuff... i want to live for a long time like those vampires in the books and movies."

haerin blinks and you look up, closing your fist and eventually bringing them down.

"have you ever seen a vampire working on a minimum wage job?" haerin asks, you turn your head to look at her and laugh. "huh?" you chuckle.

haerin shrugs and continues to walk, you turn your head away again and continue walking.

"i don't even think i've seen an actual vampire." you tell haerin which surprised her. "what?" haerin mutters.

"yeah... i heard they were real and roaming around our town, it's kind of hard to believe but i guess the police are just making sure."

haerin opens her mouth, pointing her index finger at you.

"but i thought niki was..."

"a vampire?"

you laugh. "you think he's saying the truth?"

haerin immediately shakes her head with her brows furrowed. "no —!"

"— i just thought you thought he was..." she continues.

you shake your head and shrug. "you know niki is actually kind of funny, he has a cool sense of style... he's fun to hang out with and honestly i love how on character he is most of the time — that's all i think about him, why i like hanging out with him."

haerin puffs her chest and breathes out, as if trying to contain herself from saying something so unnecessary. "i agree —! he's also a regular at the store you work at."

now, does that mean you don't have a crush on him? haerin would love to dip her head somewhere cold.

you eventually stop in front of your house, and you turn around to look at her and smile. "it's almost 5 am..." you tell her and haerin's face contorts into an unknown expression. "what..?" she whispers.

"can i tell you something? i was thinking if we can go out —"

"i should go now!" haerin scrambles and starts running, leaving you confused on your own standing in front of your house.

haerin feels like her soul is about to fly out of her body, she's running so fast in order to get ahead of the sun that's about to rise.

no... no, no, no, no, no!

haerin chants inside her head, wishing for the sky to stop moving and the earth to stop rotating. it's so over for her once the orange starts peeking out of the clouds.

and there's a loud boom of engine and haerin almost trips when she stops and sees minji's familiar car.

"get in you loser!" she hears minji's aggressive voice and that made her immediately climb inside the passenger seat and close the door — taking a deep sigh of relief.

"your seatbelt." minji simply says and that has haerin putting the seatbelt around her immediately and leaning on the seat with a loud grunt.

the car drives around the neighborhood and it's quiet.

"god, are you okay? were there cops chasing you?" haerin asks, looking at minji — minji glares at haerin and scoffs. "no, so don't worry about being murdered by my brother —"

"he is so violent when he's angry!" haerin fights back.

"can we stop talking about him? be honest with me." minji looks at the road again, hands on the steering wheel.

"what?" haerin looks at the window, taking in the view of the sunrise. "do you like y/n?" haerin sighs when hears minji asking.

"no —"

"i said be honest with me." minji cuts her off.

"did you get rejected?" minji chuckles and answers. "you're bold, kang. she just happened to not be my type after some time talking to each other."

"'cause she wasn't fawning over you probably, wait — why are you even asking?" haerin grumbles, minji takes a look at the younger girl and shakes her head.

"you're so bad at many things — even lying." minji says.

haerin looks at the older one dead in the eyes, she doesn't fail to make fun of haerin's capabilities as if it wasn't her fault.

"so? this is all your fault."

minji sighs and then she chuckles. "i'm sorry, alright? i'm trying to make it up to you."

haerin looks at the lines of houses.

"whatever, why'd you ask anyway?"

minji takes a swift turn, talking so smoothly.

"i think y/n likes you."

that made haerin fall, literally — as the car stops abruptly causing haerin to lose her posture, figuratively — as she remembers what you told her.

going out...

y/n :)

y/n: did i say something wrong?

haerin stares at your message when she runs to their shared house and immediately closes the door.

y/n :)

haerin: i'm so sorry i ran away!

haerin: minji needed me.

haerin: and yes! let's go out together!

y/n: great! it's a date by the way...

haerin puts her hand on her face before sliding down the door, receiving quite a stare from her roommate.

she receives a message again but from hyein.

lee hyein

hyein: you asshole...

hyein: why'd you leave me here!!???

haerin lets go of her phone with a surprised look on her face. "oh my god, my shift!"

#female reader #kpop #kpop imagines #newjeans #newjeans imagines #girl group #danielle #girlgroup imagines #kim minji #kang haerin #haerin x reader #newjeans minji #newjeans haerin #newjeans x reader

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webslingingslasher · 3 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/webslingingslasher/739562902099492864/the-panic-attack-please-im-cackling-jdjdjdj-it

also he would feel so bad😭😭 the fetishise ask thing got me thinking. imagine she lies or pretends she’s not a virgin at first just bc guys are super weird when they find out ab it, so she does that just as a protection thing/to get weird guys off her back. so Peter doesn’t know & imagine they’re making out or whatever but he’s super quick with it and suddenly there’s a dick in front of her and she starts panicking JAHAHAHAAHA

I csnt stop laughing picturing this. he’d be so confused but so worried HABABA

*cleaning out my inbox* an: this is not our trouble/reader. this is an au with our peter!

you got a little too far into it. in your defense, your friends told you instinct would take over and you’d just fall into it and you’d do anything when you’re horny and in the moment.

but right now, in this moment, you’re panicking because someone other than you is taking your shirt off, and someone other than you is touching your breasts.

you got this, you can handle this. you’ve made it this close, what’s a little closer? you could finally get it over with, and with a guy that’s astronomically hot. god was giving you a chance and you weren’t about to fuck it up.

you can handle being tossed to the bed, you can handle warm palms cupping your ass, you can handle a brush of his core into yours. you can handle peter taking off his pants, you can handle peter… peter… he’s-

peter’s got a big dick, and it’s coming right at your virgin body, and you can’t handle this. how are you supposed to lie your way out of this? or was it into this?

it doesn’t matter, he’s going to know the second he tries to put it in. fuck, is he going to put it in? yes, that’s how sex works- okay, fuck, shut up!

peter’s got a gleam in his eye, how fucked were you about to make things? you’re the one that came onto him and now you’re freaking out because there’s a real deal penis and real deal sex situation happening and you have no idea what to do.

‘that’s a penis.’ your hands clasp over your mouth, it was the least sexiest thing you could say and it shows on peter’s face.

‘i’ve…’ you swallow hard and feel everything in you ignite, you’re praying to any god listening he just takes you out of your misery right then and there. isn’t premarital sex a sin? you should be burnt at the stake.

‘i’ve never seen one before.’

‘oh, jesus christ.’ a shuffle, it’s out of your sight and you can’t begin to explain the relief. you stare down at your hands, if you didn’t have to walk by peter, you’d be out of his room in a second.

you peek up at a flash in the corner of your eye, your shirt was outstretched and pushed into your hold. ‘if you can’t see mine, i can’t see yours.’ your chest doesn’t feel as tight, he’s not mad, just a little thrown off.

‘i’m sorry.’ you’re still shy when you meet his eyes, even if you’re fully clothed. ‘but like, i didn’t tell you i wasn’t a virgin.’

peter crosses his arms over his chest. ‘and you didn’t tell me you were until it got too real.’ he’s right, your shoulders slump, isn’t it just embarrassing? not even the lying, just the fact you’re in college and you’re still a virgin.

‘i just thought it could get it out of the way, i don’t know.’

peter scoffs, ‘well, you don’t do it like this.’

does that mean he’s off the table, did you shoot too high? ‘so, you don’t have sex with virgins?’

‘it’s not in my day to day schedule, no.’

‘you’ve never taken a girls virginity?’

‘did i say that?’

‘no.’ it’s unsettled emotion, it’s the only reason you huff and cross your arms at him. yes, make this his fault.

‘i thought you’d be the perfect candidate, but i guess not. i didn’t know frat boys actually cared this much.’ if peter wasn’t going to kick you out before, he would now. you offended him.

‘the fuck? sex is a whole different ball game when you’re a virgin. you don’t know that yet, i do. it’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable and have a good time, that wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t tell me.’

you started something, he wasn’t stopping.

‘i’m not saying there aren’t guys like that out there-that’ll do what you want, but it’s not me. if you want to get it over with like that, fine. but i’m not doing it in one night.’

you naw on your bottom lip, if you got this far what’s one more question? ‘so, would you?’

‘would i what?’ you chew harsher, it was easier to just pretend you weren’t a virgin. you shouldn’t never stopped him. ‘take my virginity.’ you spit the words, before he could try to repeat himself, ‘i mean, at your speed or whatever.’

peter has a series of emotions run through his mind, they all tell him it’s a bad idea. the heightened emotions, the awkwardness, the whole hurt thing, he just never really thought he’d have to go through it again.

‘you don’t know me.’ it should be more than enough, but you counteract him. ‘i know. that’s kind of why i chose you.’

a deep inhale, ‘you baited me? was this your plan?’ you try to clear the idea with your hands. ‘no, no, no! the plan was to not tell you but then i got scared. but since you already know… you know?’

‘no.’

you drop your head into your hands, everything is getting worse. you should’ve went through with it. ‘everything is awful and i want to die. i’m so sorry, peter. we can just forget this ever happened and if you see me around campus, no you don’t.’

you try to paint yourself invisible, instead you get a half earnest sigh from peter. ‘alright, look, you’re fine. it’s fine. you’re actually… strides ahead than i was when i was a virgin, okay?’

of course he says that, he’s already been through it. ‘but im too old to be a virgin!’

‘pft, what? no. have you seen 40 year old virgin?’ you cry out into your hands, ‘im not steve carell!’ you really had to pick a man? was that really the only option you had?

‘be honest with me, the pathetic virgin-‘

‘stop.’

‘- if i do this with another guy will he know?’ you hold on tight for the answer, it’s not long, it’s immediate. ‘yes.’ you’re not sure if he’s just saying that so you don’t throw off another guy.

‘no, seriously. would he-‘

‘yes.’ you exhale a ‘fuck.’ game over, if you really wanted this, you’d actually have to find someone to date you. that sounds like actual hell.

since you’re already in the pits, ‘peter?’ a hum, you finally blink up at him. ‘are you sure you won’t do it?’ you watch him take a solid breath, his next words chosen articulately.

‘when did i say i wouldn’t?’

you explode in a smile, you were right, you chose the right person. ‘you will? like, you’re gonna make me not a virgin?’

peter thinks- no, knows it’s a bad idea, but you’re going to do it regardless and he knows he’s better than a majority of guys on campus. he’d actually make sure you’re safe and comfortable. was he really about to do all the first steps with someone he didn’t know?

yeah. he was.

‘yes. i’ll take your virginity.’

#frat!peterxvirginreader #frat!peter drabbles #just in case- reader is not a loser and being a virgin in college is no big deal but these are her anxious thoughts. that’s all

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hrwinter · 8 months

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Question: if you were one of the Supergirl writers and had been tasked with explaining how or why Lena didn’t know Kara was Supergirl (given how generally obvious it would be when Lena— the world’s smartest woman— has interacted with both Kara and SG) would you have written something fundamentally different than what the show decided to go with?

i couldn’t sleep this morning, suddenly remembered this ask, and decided i desperately needed to answer it.

so my absolute favorite explanation for this was in "The Love of Forgetting" by KL Morgan. i know it would've been extremely difficult to execute on film, but i would've really liked if the explanation had been that kara used cloaking tech or the "image inducer" and that it slightly changed her face. i thought this was SO smart in the fanfic, and one of the few explanations i could actually buy; that lena doesn't recognize kara because they LITERALLY don't look the same. just both blonde, fit, and beautiful, but not the same faces. it would've been amazing if they'd just used her stunt double, but then you wouldn't have your star actress in the dramatic scenes, so. i get it.

the only other explanation i liked was for superman. i'd think i'd seen a post on here about it, but it was the idea that no one THOUGHT superman had an alter ego. no one imagined that he would pretend to be human in his downtime and hold down a job and have friends. no one was looking for superman in the real world, so no one saw the similarities between he and clark kent. that might get us to lena not recognizing kara, but my god... the evidence was abundant and insurmountable on the show which leads us to fanfic's most popular explanation...

denial. i think this one treads water a bit because we know lena's had a highly traumatic, dysfunctional upbringing. they even show us that her one other friend CANONICALLY GIVEN, andrea, lied to her and betrayed her. she just doesn't want to see it. we also see her, quite regularly, show a form of disappointment with this highly idealized concept of supergirl. she moved to national city for her. does quite a lot to get her attention and impress her. and then still believes that supergirl doesn't trust her, that she can't move past her last name. "never meet your heroes." i think maybe denial might stop her from thinking her only friend in national city and second in her life (maybe third if you cound sam) would be SO duplicitous for four years, even if lena did see all the signs (the most egregious of which to me was Supergirl SAYING HER NAME WAS KARA!) it's just extremely difficult for me to believe that a smart woman like cat grant would figure it out but not lena, so it really leaves the only explanation is emotional for lena, which sort of tracks (but not really.)

we know the show dragged it out for years because it was the most important (and only) emotional element to the show, which to me is a critique of how little they managed to build for kara than anything reasonable about lena being unable to see it. lena "finding out" was always going to be a seasonal arc, but they kept pushing it off while failing to make us care about anything else in the plot. then it's this massive amount of time that's passed but a genius hasn't guessed, but EVERYONE ON THE SHOW INCLUDING CHILDREN, have guessed kara is supergirl. it was never going to make sense. what i would've fundamentally done differently is known how to write a la ali adler in season 1 and given us real conflict, stakes, character development, etc. for kara that didn't weight her conflict with lena SO heavily that it had to be drawn out until the show was literally ending.

#hr's askhole #supercorp #that said i did enjoy the 100th episode #but what a joke that it took 100 episodes for kara to acknowledge what a lying ass the writers made her for that whole time #and melissa and katie acted the shit out of the reveal #it just made NO SENSE to wait that long #i love fics too that have lena be like 'yeah i knew already'#because she would

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natasha-in-space · 3 months

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Every so often, I can't help but think about all the dirty jobs Saeyoung had to do during his time as an agent. I'm not talking about the usual digital crime stuff he feels comfortable enough to mention openly. I'm talking of those missions he'd rather just shut up and never speak a word about. What about all the missions that went wrong for him, back when he was still young and inexperienced?

The fact that he has blood on his hands is apparent to us. But, do you ever think about whether or not he was forced to kill an innocent? Be it by some cruel accident or by direct order from the higher ups he had no choice but to obey? Have you ever thought of him having to make a quick elimination on yet another corrupt member of society, only to realize that his family, who has nothing to do with this, had seen him?

Have you ever thought about him doing everything he can to fix this: coming up with shaky lies on the spot, attempting to fabricate evidence, eventually resorting to pitiful begging that goes nowhere. But there should not be any witnesses. It's too late to turn back now. He got sloppy. His DNA is already on the scene of the crime. If he refuses, he not only puts his own safety at risk, but these people will get eliminated regardless. The least he can do is make it quick and painless. Have you ever thought of him still having to come back to his sad parody of a home and pretend like everything is fine? Like this was just another Tuesday, and not one of the most sickening things he had to do and witness?

Have you imagined him sitting down, staring at his bloodied hands with a blank and glassy look to his eyes, his weapon still in his grasp, and his ears ringing from every shot he has fired? Have you ever thought of him feeling so utterly disgusted and ashamed of himself that it almost seems like the silver cross on his neck that has always brought him a sense of security, is burning through his clothes and straight into his flesh? He won't take it off, no matter how heavy it feels. He wears it as a constant reminder of the sins these hands have committed. He knows that God has seen it all. He knows that, much like Lucifer, he will never be allowed to step foot over the Heaven's Gates. His soul is too sullied. Too dirty. Too sinful.

I feel like these are the days when he goes complete MIA. He tells everyone in the RFA later that he just slept through these few days.

He maintains contact with V, just in case. But, really, he spends these few days just... in a daze. Luciel has no remorse for selling his entire life away to guarantee his brother's happiness. He does not regret sullying his hands in the darkest sins this world had to offer, if only it means that Saeran's hands will get to do all the good things he has always dreamed about. He does not regret forsaking his own childhood, because he never thought of himself as a child in the first place.

But, in these moments... as the events of what he has done continue to unfold in his head over and over again, like he never even left, he feels it. Regret. Guilt. Disgust.

Luciel harbors a deep hatred towards his parents. He hates his joke of a mother, who has brought nothing but endless torment on her own children for ruining the life she foolishly destroyed all by herself, something he despises with all his heart. He hates his father for forcing them to live in constant fear and paranoia, just for the unforgivable crime of being born into this world. He hates every bystander who has done nothing to correct such an unfair act of pure cruelty unfolding right in front of their eyes.

But, as his vacant gaze keep drifting back to the equipment he has stashed away in one of his many drawers, a grim thought claws at his insides, tearing him apart piece by piece like a vicious parasite feeding on his flesh: is he... really that different from them?

Vanderwood ends up being the one find him, slouched in his seat, his hands still caked and crusty with blood. They just sigh, already knowing what happened. It's something they all had to go through. They just sit next to him, letting the younger agent know he's not alone. And, once Luciel's shoulders start to shake with choked, painful sobs, they don't say a word. They just let him break down into their arms.

It's one of the rarer moments of tenderness between the two.

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #saeyoung choi #choi saeyoung #mystic messenger 707 #luciel choi #i have.... thoughts.#this is something i definitely want to write a full drabble about #exploring saeyoung's trauma in the agency is something i think about a lot

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foli-vora · 10 months

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run to you: ch.6

A/N: and we're back! originally thought this would be out last week but i couldn't shake the feeling that it needed more so i delayed it a little and sure enough, an extra 4k words came out lmao. we get a lot more of marcus' POV with this chapter which is nice to write, and some more flashbacks that make my heart hurt. let me know what you think! enjoy angels! x

P.S i've been god awful at replying to reblogs and comments lately but i just want you to know that i treasure you all so damn much, and i read every bit of feedback left again and again and i swear i could cry with how much you all mean to me, so thank you for taking the time to read this story and leave me kind words - forever will appreciate you beauties ❤️

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and ‘You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: 6.6k (i hope this makes up for the wait lmao)

Warnings: angst (obviously), swearing, Patrick Jane is a warning, heartbreak, lots of talk of lies and the undercover job, a very brief moment of softness, talk of murder and descriptions about the circumstances, vague description of a bullet wound, talk of death, jealous!marcus is being birthed LMAO sir u have no right

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

The room is blurry.

You’re highly aware of how you pace like a caged lion outside his closed office door but simply can’t find it in you to still your anxious limbs. You catch the bright green eyes following your movements from across the room, but you struggle to hold his gaze longer than a second in fear of what you’d find swimming in them.

Surely Jacob must know now after the meeting. He’d know it’s your fault. Is he angry? Does he see you differently now? People are dead because of you and your mistake. You should’ve known better than to get caught up on the history you and Marcus share, and now you’re going to have to pay for it. You’ll have to carry those lives on your shoulders for the rest of your life.

It’s bitter.

The tears are hot when they spill over your lash line and track down your cheeks, but you’re quick to wipe them away and instead focus on the ceiling, blinking wildly in hope to calm the sting of more.

What are you going to say? What can you say?

There’s very little that would make up for this. A simple sorry wouldn’t cut it. There’s the promise of doing better next time, but would he believe you? Would he even let you stay on the case? You don’t know exactly when you started caring so much about it all—hell, you didn’t even want to be here in the first place, but now? You feel like you’re doing something, something good and worthwhile, and it feels nice after the hell ride the last couple of years had been.

You were on the right side now, but apparently you didn’t belong here.

God, what are you going to say?

You don’t get much more time to think about it. The door is wrenched open and the agents that had been speaking to him privately step out, giving you a small nod in greeting before wandering off and finally giving Marcus the opportunity to see you standing there waiting, glued to that spot on the worn carpet.

Frozen. You’re frozen, unsure of whether to say hello or goodbye, or skip straight to the apologies that are building on your tongue.

His eyebrows raise in obvious surprise as he falters in the doorway, obviously not expecting you of all people to be waiting for him, and you see the quick flutter of something unidentifiable through his eyes.

For a moment, nothing is said, but then the words fall from your lips in a panicked burst—

“It’s my fault.”

The expression of shock quickly gives way to confusion, and his eyes bounce between yours in an effort to follow your train of thought.

“What is?”

“The murders… it’s my fault, isn’t it? I did something wrong. God, Marcus, I—I’m sorry, I swear I’ll do better—”

He wordlessly steps aside during your little ramble and you take the silent offer of entering his office, anxiety growing with the click of his door closing behind you. You start to pace again, your heart beating thickly in your throat. Your mind races with the what ifs, and how he’ll go about dismissing you from the case.

Are you in trouble? How much? Have you pissed off the FBI higher ups? Are they sick of you? Is it enough for them to just throw you back into jail and forget about your silly little existence?

A chill creeps along your spine and you start to feel sick.

No.

No, he wouldn’t do that. Not again.

He said to trust him. He said he wouldn’t.

Would he?

“Please don’t send me back,” you beg softly, eyes filling at the mere idea of that tiny cold cell you called home for far too long and his face only creases further as you start to shake, “I promise I won’t make any mistakes again, I just—please, Marcus, I-I can’t go back—”

“Just… just stop,” he demands quietly, stepping forward with one hand perched on his hip and the other held out in an attempt to soothe your trembling voice, “I need you to sit down. Now, please.”

Sit down? How could you possibly sit down? You can’t, not when you’re shaking like this. You don’t think you’d even manage a single step with the fear running along your nerves like it is.

He obviously sees the state you’re quickly falling into and comes closer, hauling the visitor's chair out from beneath his desk and sliding it right up to you. He keeps a hand raised to your arm as you slowly lower into it, palm never touching you but lingering just a short distance away should you really start to break down and have your legs give out from beneath you.

Marcus drags his own chair out and slides it around his desk before stopping in front of you and taking a seat quietly. He gives you a moment, clearly studying the tears that run down your cheeks with a deepening frown before he leans forward, bracing his forearms along his thighs and looking up at you with a slight shine of concern.

“What’s going on?”

He must want you to say it, to own up to your mistakes and give him the satisfaction of watching you crumble. Didn’t he get enough of that the first time?

You sniff pathetically, looking at him with a slight scowl.

“You know what’s going on. I’m not an idiot, Marcus.”

He shakes his head, “No. No, you’re not. So, can you tell me what happened? Why do you think you’re at fault for the murders?”

“That guy out there,” you mumble, wiping your cheeks with your sleeve and recalling the pressed light grey three piece suit, “he said the buyers knew that the painting was a fake, and that’s why they were killed. They knew it was a fake, Marcus, so I didn’t do a good enough job to—”

He silences you again with a flash of his hand and you swallow the desire to snap at him for it. He presses further, eyes locked with yours and you almost feel like you’re in an interrogation with how focused they seem to be. Determined.

“What guy?”

“The consultant,” you mutter quietly, “uh… Patrick, I think it was?”

The change is immediate. He sits back in his chair and looks away, almost angry. No, he is angry, but it’s not at you. He glances at the door with a small roll of his jaw before he sighs sharply and shakes his head. The usual warmth in his gaze has turned molten hot with his irritation and you can’t seem to look away.

What the hell is his problem?

“Don’t listen to a single word that comes out of his mouth. He doesn’t get to just walk in here and start acting like he knows everything about this case because he doesn’t.”

The bitterness in his voice comes as a shock.

You feel it play across your face, your eyes darting over his tightened expression in search of answers. He clearly doesn’t like the consultant, but why? You’d assume the FBI would be tight with anyone they chose to work with, and Marcus seemed to be friendly with his co-workers. He’s a damn good agent, you know that for a fact, so what’s the issue?

Maybe it’s the case—he must be stressed. Is it dragging longer than he anticipated? Had there been a lot of bumps along the road? Was this Patrick guy making it difficult?

Marcus sighs quietly, shifting in his seat and dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Look, there’s a lot of reasons this could’ve happened, okay? It’s not your fault at all. They may have already had some issues, there could’ve been bad blood from a previous deal, they could’ve asked for more than what was arranged, they might've refused to go through with the deal… we don’t know, but I don’t want you to put this on yourself. It’s not your fault.”

Staying quiet, your teeth pinch and pick at the soft skin of your inner bottom lip. How can he say that if he doesn’t know? He just said himself that there are a lot of reasons, so how does he know for sure that you’re not the reason for this happening?

It has to be you.

"Look at me," he says softly, and your eyes fly up to meet his automatically. They’re cooler now, calmer. "It's not your fault, okay?”

It takes a moment, but eventually, you give a shallow nod.

The worry slowly eases, and as much as a part of you wants to keep placing the blame on your shoulders because that’s all you deserve, it’s not as strong as the pure sincerity emanating from him.

For once, you find yourself not doubting him. You’re not the reason people have been killed. You’re not in trouble. You’re not going back to prison.

Relief.

It’s comforting, sweet and warm, and spreads out from the back of your hand. It’s not relief, it’s him. You feel the rough surface of his palm on your skin, his thumb brushing soft reassuring strokes back and forth, and it’s only then you realise his hand is covering yours.

How long has it been there?

You study the way it looks, taking a moment to recall the past touch of something similar, something just as warm and reassuring and suddenly your throat feels thick. You hate that it feels nice, that it feels familiar, even after so long.

For a brief, brief second, you allow it, mind hazy and heart aching with the flood of memories and the ghost of fingers along your body, lips beneath your ear… but it’s not him. It’s not Alex.

You pull your hand out from under his and Marcus immediately recoils, hand clenching into a tight fist as he brings it to rest on his lap.

A chill creeps over the back of your hand from the loss of warmth and you pull your sleeve down to cover it.

“I’m sorry for anything Jane said. If I had known he’d say something like that, I would’ve spoken to you beforehand. I’ll uh… I’ll get Agent Wilson to take you home. I need him back at the office to dive into what evidence Teresa’s team has given us, and you can get some rest.”

“Sounds good,” you murmur, slightly thankful you wouldn’t have to return to your workspace with the slight ache building in your temples. You feel for Jacob, who’s probably about to endure a late night at the office, but something else piques your interest. “Teresa?”

That’s a funny coincidence.

Alex had an ex named Teresa he'd told you about. He’d worked with her, and apparently had fallen pretty hard and fast, too. She had left him for another man, leaving him broken and lost and… oh.

Oh, fuck.

Is it—?

“Patrick.”

You don’t need to say anymore.

Marcus, who had seemingly followed your silent thought process easily, gives a humourless huff followed by a nod, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. Suddenly it all makes sense—his exhaustion, the bitter feelings towards Jane. The pressure of the case, mixed with stress of not only working with your fake ex and ex-fiance, but also the man she had left you for? Shit.

The bags beneath his eyes make sense.

You should laugh, say he’s getting what he deserves and Teresa made the right fucking choice in picking another man over him because he’s nothing but a liar and a fake, but the thirst for a bitter jab is short lived. That would be a low blow, despite everything he did to you.

“That must be hard,” you mutter, reaching for the strap on your bag and readying it over your shoulder.

“It is,” he replies softly, “but this case is a lot harder for others.”

When you glance up you find he’s already looking at you.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer before you let your eyes drop and finally stand from the chair, thanking him quietly for the time he took to talk to you. He smiles, albeit sadly, and says anytime.

You risk a quick final glance over your shoulder when you close his door, and it’s no surprise to find that he’s watching you go.

—

The morning sun bounces off of his skin where it starts to seep through your windows, breaking through the night and alerting you to the early hour.

He’s asleep, face tucked into the back of your neck and warm breath fanning over your skin. You’re still cocooned in his arms, feeling much too hot to be comfortable enough to sleep with the temperature of his bare skin against yours, but reluctant to leave his embrace.

You’d endure the stifling heat for a bit longer, just to soak up the most of this moment. There’s never been someone like him before, never been a feeling like this. It hangs in the quiet stillness as the sun starts to wake, something new and sweet and promising.

His fingers are still intertwined with yours, his hold now looser since his breathing evened out. You study the way his skin looks against yours, how easily his hand overlaps the size of yours and how rough his palm feels on the back of your hand. You brush your thumb along his, heart running wild in your chest.

“What’re you doing?” He mumbles sleepily into your skin, pressing his lips into your shoulder.

The movement of you twisting and turning his hand must’ve disturbed his sleep. You tuck your hand, still tangled with his, close to your chest as a heat rises in your cheeks.

“Looking at our hands,” you reply quietly, slightly embarrassed that you’ve been caught, “sorry for waking you.”

The arm draped over you tightens, and you relish in the feeling of pure and utter safety. Nothing can hurt you here. It’s just you and him, and the growing morning light. There’s no work, no stress, just him and his hold. You want it all the time. You want it forever.

He hums, pressing himself impossibly closer.

“What’s interesting about our hands?”

You watch as he moves them back into view, feeling the way his lashes flutter against the skin of your throat as he adjusts his face to see them better himself. His facial hair rubs and tickles along your shoulder, and you squirm away from the pleasant feeling.

“Nothing,” you smile, turning your face as best you could to meet his eyes, “I just liked the way they looked.”

His nose runs along yours, his own grin soft and tired.

“Get some sleep, Scribbles,” he mutters, pressing a long kiss to your lips and you damn near have a meltdown at the tender fondness of it, “before that beautiful smile of yours keeps me up any longer.”

“Smooth talker,” you tease lightly, exhaustion finally starting to coax your eyes into closing, “goodnight, Alex.”

He sighs, burying his face into the side of your head.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

—

His hands are sweating.

He doesn’t move for a moment, willing his heart to stop beating so damn hard. The soft feel of his slacks rubs against his palms as he rakes them down his thighs before finally standing, smoothing down his tie and attempting to act like your sudden visit to his office hasn’t shaken every thought he has in his head.

You were an unexpected visitor, but not an unwelcome one. No, never unwelcome. He’d first thought he was going to have to chase you through the damn building to sit you down and talk to you about the developments of the case, but apparently the universe had other plans.

Leave it to Patrick fucking Jane to get to you first.

The slight rush of anger returns, and he feels his defences heighten—defensive over the case, over his team, over you. He doesn’t know exactly what had been said between you both, but clearly it had been enough for you to get the wrong idea. He’s not too sure if Jane was digging for more information about the case and coming up with his own theories, or simply trying to figure out who you were and what you were doing there.

Either way, he doesn’t like it, and he needs to ensure it won’t happen again, but he can’t talk to him. No, if he tells Jane to back off then his interest in you will no doubt only grow, and he doesn’t want that. You don’t need to have Jane picking away at your brain for his own sick pleasure on top of everything else.

He leaves his office just in time to see you and Wilson disappear, and he relaxes slightly knowing you’ll soon be safe at home, no doubt bundled under a blanket with a sketchbook. His eyes scan the bullpen until he sees her, and he quickly strides the distance between them until he’s right there and asking for a moment in private.

She hesitates, and he doesn’t blame her, but soon Teresa is following him just a few steps out of hearing range and he internally delights at the slight frown working its way between Jane’s brows from across the desks.

“We need to lay some boundaries,” Marcus murmurs, crossing his arms defensively across his chest when she merely rolls her eyes at his words.

“I’m sure you and I can both be professional, Agent Pike—”

Agent Pike? Is that what it’s come to now? Sure, he knew this was going to be awkward, but he didn’t expect for her to act as coldly towards him as she is. She was the one who left him, after all.

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Jane—”

“—is an integral part of my team, and won’t be going anywhere.”

He exhales sharply, fighting the urge to roll his own eyes at her interruption.

“Understood, Agent Lisbon, but if we’re going to work together, he needs to reel it in on the theories with people that aren’t fellow agents, and if he continues to upset the civilian members of my team, I’ll be more than happy to kick him off the case along with the rest of your team.”

“You’re talking about the artist,” Teresa deduces, nodding in understanding with a vague twinge of interest and remaining unbothered by the threat of getting booted out of the investigation. “I saw them talking. Jane says she’s the one responsible for the replicas.”

Marcus sighs, arms tightening against his chest. It’s not a question but he gives a nod of confirmation anyway. He highly doubts that would’ve been something you would’ve freely admitted to a complete and utter stranger, so he assumes Jane has already been playing his little mind games.

“How’d she end up forging paintings for the FBI?” The interest grows, he sees it play across her face. “Doesn’t exactly seem like a dream career path for an aspiring artist.”

There’s a slight tone there. He doesn’t know what it is, but he doesn’t like it.

“That information has nothing to do with this case,” he replies firmly—defensively, “and it will remain that way. She has nothing to do with this investigation beyond providing her skills. Keep him on a tight leash, Agent Lisbon. I won’t tolerate it happening again, understood?”

There’s a barely there smile playing at the edges of her lips as she answers and it does nothing to calm his unease, “Understood, Agent Pike.”

—

Some of the faces on the table are familiar, and it almost feels like deja vu.

Most of the suspects in this case are new and some fully identified, however there were a few faces he vividly remembers from before. The people you had worked with, some had been jailed—like you, only with a much longer, unforgiving sentence—while others had slipped through the cracks and were simply left to return to the work that had first landed them in handcuffs.

Those who are in that deep never fully climb out of the hole, so it was more than likely he’d see them again in time.

And sure enough, some of their pictures scatter the chaotic table top of paper and files smeared everywhere, only he wasn’t expecting the obvious bullet hole in one of their foreheads. No question about how they were murdered, but the execution style of it certainly seemed personal. Did she know whoever held that gun?

You hadn’t been close, but you had been friendly enough with her during the rare times he would see you in a group back when he went by another name.

He knew all about her before even shaking her hand. She was young and naïve, lured into the illegal art trade business by the prospect of good money and no debt… much like yourself. She was talented, smart, an Ivy League dropout once she couldn’t climb atop of those heightening tuition fees.

He sees the reflection of you in her, all that wasted potential.

Could this have been you?

The images assault him before he even knows what’s happening. You laying there on that cold stainless steel autopsy table; you laying there with that gruesome hole right in the middle of your forehead; you with no family to pick your body up from the morgue.

It’s gut wrenching. He feels sick.

The photo drops from his fingers and he clenches his fist, heaving a long sigh of exhaustion and letting his body slump tiredly back into the chair. Other agents around the table mirror his position and energy, and with that, he finally decides to call it.

“Go home, guys,” he instructs, cutting through the silence and the shuffle of paper, “get a good night's rest and we’ll look over it with fresh eyes in the morning.”

There’s a sigh of relief that runs through the room, and no one wastes any time. They leave with various farewells and soon it’s just him and Wilson in silence. The man hasn’t moved much except from standing and fiddling with his folded jacket that had been previously hung over the back of his chair and Marcus waits, lifting an eyebrow in interest to urge the man to speak.

“Am I needed here tomorrow, sir? What about Picasso?”

A brief smile tugs at Marcus’ lips at the nickname.

“Yeah, we need you here. I’ll send her a text and let her know not to expect you.”

The other agent shifts on his feet, almost like he wants to object, but eventually he gives a nod and slinks out of the room with a quiet goodnight. Marcus watches the door close and briefly wonders if you’d spoken to Wilson about your shared history.

It would explain the sudden coolness he was getting from the young man, when in the beginning it was nothing but excitement and gratitude at being hired.

Marcus doesn’t mind—you need a friend, and Wilson is definitely a good guy. Besides, he deserves every bit of icy judgement from his previous choices.

He slides his cell from his pocket and types a simple text telling you not to bother preparing for tomorrow because Wilson would be in the office, hoping the alert of his message wouldn’t disturb you in your sleep and sends it without another thought before standing and starting to gather the loose documents spread out. He’s surprised when a notification sings out not even a minute later.

Is everything okay?

Eyeing the late hour at the top of his screen, he frowns at your pixelated words and replies quickly—

Everything’s fine—just lots of things to do. Did I wake you?

No, I was awake. I can’t sleep.

And you can’t. You’ve tried. You’ve tossed and turned and fluffed your pillow, kicked off your socks, put your socks back on, flicked a blanket off, wrapped yourself back up… and still nothing. You couldn’t get comfortable, you couldn’t still your mind long enough to let dreams take over.

Marcus feels his brows narrow at your words, and concern starts to creep into his system. Are you rattled about today? Do you have whatever Jane said to you playing on repeat in your mind? He starts to type his response, pausing when he starts to feel like he’s crossing some kind of line.

He reads the words over and over, wondering if he should just leave it and say goodnight. There’s an urge to talk to you, a want to hear your tired voice seep into his ears and maybe just pretend for a minute or two that everything didn’t fall to shit between you.

Do you mind if I call you?

You frown, thumb hovering over the screen as you deliberate an answer. This won’t help you sleep. If anything, it would only stir your thoughts up even more.

Yes. Yes, you do mind.

You don’t even want him to have your number, let alone to start calling in the middle of the night. No, he absolutely can’t call you, so why can’t you get your thumb to type out that three letter word to get him off your back?

Marcus holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable denial. He wouldn’t blame you. Of course not, but he still has that small flutter of hope tightening his stomach. It was always there, always waiting.

I don’t mind.

The message is delivered and received almost immediately and you miss the chance to take it back. You appreciate that he asked, though. That’s a good thing, right? He was giving you a chance to lay a boundary, and you believed he would’ve respected it should you have said you did mind.

You don’t bother with a hello when the phone eventually starts to vibrate in your hold and instead just lift it to your ear, wondering when your heart started beating so fast, when your throat got so damn dry.

“Sorry,” he breathes, the sound of shuffling and movement crackling down the line behind his voice, “I’m not much of a texter.”

“I know,” you reply quietly, huddling deeper under your comforter and tucking it beneath your chin.

Alex didn’t like texting, either.

Neither of you make another comment about it.

“I hope you’re not still thinking about earlier,” he says, and you imagine the hand that would rake through his hair as he busies about on his side.

Is he still at the office? That’s a late night. How much work is there to do? Do cases usually take this long?

“I’m not.”

And that’s the truth.

You stopped placing the blame on yourself once you made a few comments to Jacob in the car. Talking with Marcus helped, but Jacob calling you an idiot and saying it wasn’t your damn finger that pulled the trigger eliminated any remaining doubt. You didn’t hurt anyone, and even if your piece did have a mistake that alerted them to the authenticity of the piece, they made the choice to hurt others instead of just running.

“Have… have many people died during this case?” You ask carefully, before rushing to reassure him, “It’s okay if you can’t tell me. I get the whole classified thing.”

He snorts quietly, and your mind paints the picture of that pretty smile, those small dimples creasing his cheeks before you can help it.

“‘Classified’? We’re not running Area 51. The details of the case aren’t out there, but the murders are hardly a secret, you just don’t watch the news.”

“I watch the news,” you defend, knowing it’s an absolute lie.

You hate the news, you hate the constant drum of negativity and lies, you hate the motives behind it and how easily it can sway one’s mind.

Marcus chuckles softly, “You hate the news.”

Your cheeks start to ache, and it’s only then you find you’re smiling. It drops from your lips the second you realise and you shift under the blankets, a small frown starting to deepen between your brows.

“Well, maybe I don’t now. It’s been a long time since you knew me—I’ve changed a lot since then.”

He’s quiet, almost thoughtful, and then, “Have you? No more orange juice out of martini glasses?”

You can’t help it.

A huff of amusement breaks free from your lips and you’re smiling again.

You blame it on exhaustion, on stress, on anything that’s not him. It’s too nice, it’s too familiar. You don’t want to cross into these waters. You want to keep the space between you, barely talking and staying far, far away from each other until you can live your life with him nowhere near. You want to be free of him.

“Yeah well, my martini glasses got taken with the rest of my stuff when I went to jail so I can’t do that anymore.”

The slight tinge of iciness to your tone does well to kill the light hearted mood slowly creeping over the conversation and you’re almost glad for it. Almost.

A small part of you wilts from the warmth leaving your system, the walls steadily building higher and higher. You shouldn’t feel bad, and yet that feeling stirs to life in the pit of your stomach.

No, he deserves worse.

You push those tiny feelings away, burying them as deep as possible in some hidden part of you until their ache couldn’t be felt anymore. You couldn’t allow yourself to lower the walls you had built because of him. He doesn’t deserve to know you as you are now, slowly healing and on a journey to find peace.

He clears his throat softly and the gentle sound of it crackles in your ear.

“Right. Look, about that… I just…” a sigh, “I’m—”

Don’t say it.

Please don’t say it.

You don’t want to hear it. It doesn’t mean anything anymore. An apology will never, could never, make up for any of it. He could say it a thousand times, again and again, and it will never fix it. The devastation left in his wake had been violent and cutting, and the scars left from it would never heal fully. It was just something you’d have to live with. It was all a part of you now, whether you wanted it to be or not.

He sighs again, and another moment of silence passes.

“I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll let you know when Wilson will be back, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, eyes following the dark lines of your bedroom furniture and the print framed on your wall.

A few more minutes pass and neither of you say anything, almost as if you’re both waiting for something else, something more. You don’t know what it is, and don’t care to find out, so you exhale softly and tuck yourself further in your bedding.

“Goodnight, Marcus.”

“Goodnight.”

—

This is dangerous.

It’s not good, it’s not professional, and yet, he just can’t fucking help himself. It all feels so normal, so natural. He wants it all the time desperately.

If only things had been different, if only he could’ve met you under different circumstances, where he didn’t have to hide behind a fake name and bullshit backstory. If only things didn’t have to be this way, maybe you two would stand a chance.

If only.

He’d soak it up while things felt somewhat normal. In the safety of your home, he can let his guard down a little. He can pretend. He can play the doting boyfriend madly in love to perfection, because that’s all he wants. For as long as he can remember, that’s all he’s ever wanted. Someone to be his, someone to call him theirs, and here, he has it.

He has it all with you.

His head tilts as he watches you from where he reclines into your kitchen counter, a smile slowly tugging at his lips as you sway to the music falling from the speakers.

“Why a martini glass?” He asks curiously, holding the stem of his own glass and swirling the bright yellow liquid within it.

You’re full of wonderful little surprises and quirks, and he takes them all in eagerly. He wants to know you, he wants to see the very core of you. He’ll soak in it all for as long as he can, ensuring to remember each and every thing about you.

The guilt lingers though, as it always does. It pushes through the warmth filling his system, bitter and unrelenting in its reminder of what he’s doing, what he’s already done. He used to think he was a decent person, good and true and fighting the good fight, but after this? No, he’ll never think like that again.

You’re the undoing to his entire being, and he both adores and resents it.

You grin, spinning away from the stove and sipping at the cold orange juice from the glass set beside you. “The question is—why not?”

He chuckles, giving a slow nod. “A fair point. Very fancy glassware for a simple breakfast.”

“Life is too short to keep fancy glassware in a cupboard—I’ve got to enjoy it all while I can!”

The self loathing triples.

God, you have no idea.

—

“Absolutely not.”

He’s adamant.

He doesn’t care how stubborn he seems, how defensive he must look standing at the head of the conference table with his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that Jane’s eyeing him up with a new spark of curiosity, he doesn’t care that some of his agents look at him with a mix of confusion and others with understanding.

He doesn’t fucking care.

“She’d know a lot,” Jane says finally, unbothered, “given her history. I’m sure she’d be able to assist in further identifying some potential suspects, maybe even fi—”

“Her ‘history’?” Marcus snarls quietly, glare landing on the consultant. “Her ‘history’ has nothing to do with this investigation, and she’s to be left completely out of it, Jane.”

The man smiles, and it makes Marcus’ skin crawl.

How does he know about your history? How does he fucking know? How does he know who you are, what you are? Have they been digging information up on you?

There’s not a lot to be found seeing as Marcus ensured to have your name left out of case files and merely left as an anonymous source in court documents.

Your own arrest and court files had been buried, along with most of your case details struck with a thick permanent black mark, unidentifiable to anyone reading over in the future, so what does he know?

Jane eventually yields with his hands playfully held up in surrender, and lets the subject of you drop. He wants you out there, walking the path of your other life to start asking questions about the murders and the thefts. Does he not realise how much danger that would put you in? You couldn’t simply just reappear one day and start asking about things you should know nothing about.

Marcus feels anger simmer under his skin.

The debriefing continues with no further mention of you. There’s more talk of the murders, more talk of which painting they’ll go after next and details ironed out in careful preparation, but still, Marcus can’t shake the thought in his head that maybe Jane was right.

He couldn’t entertain that thought, though.

The mere idea of you landing yourself back in with the wrong people after going through so much pain and healing, the image of you potentially getting hurt and, god forbid, killed… it set him on edge. It turns his stomach. It’s too much risk, and he doesn’t feel comfortable putting you in that position, especially after ensuring you that you wouldn’t be in any danger at any point during this case.

He wouldn’t lie to you.

Not again.

That was a silent vow he made to you and strictly to himself. Never again. Going forward, you’d only hear the truth fall from his lips and that’s that. No more lies, no more going behind your back—none of it.

It’s most definitely too little, too late, but still. He refuses to do it anymore.

He goes to the comfort of his office after the debriefing, intent on closing the door firmly behind him to have a minute of peace to gather his thoughts and emotions, but the body that had been tailing him from the conference room fills his door frame and he lets them in without a word, closing the door immediately after.

“Look, I don’t like the guy, but he has a point, sir,” Wilson says as he stands in the middle of the room, hands diving into his pockets, “and I know she’d want to help more if she could. She feels pretty useless just stuck in that room all day, even if she does enjoy the art.”

He’s shaking his head before his co-worker can even finish, striding across the office and taking a seat in his desk chair. His elbows meet the arms of it and he slouches in the seat, fingers rubbing at the bridge of his nose to will away the headache threatening to grow in his temples.

“It’s out of the question.”

“Look, sir, I get it. I get that you wouldn’t want to put her back in this shit—believe me, I don’t want her to be either, but don’t you think that’s a decision she should make herself? She’s stronger than you think, and she didn’t get a lot of choice the first time ‘round.”

So he does know.

Marcus heaves a quiet sigh, looking up at the younger agent and studying his features.

There’s a swirl of worry swimming in the green eyes gazing levelly back at him, and it’s what Marcus focuses on most. It was easy to see the connection you and Wilson had made within the month you two had spent together, so that makes sense to be concerned for your welfare, but is there more to it?

It’s not his business, but he can’t help the train of thought once it’s on the tracks. Does what you share with Wilson go deeper than what it appears to be? Is there something growing between you both? Is it mere friendship, or romantic?

Fuck.

Do you like the guy?

He swallows, eyes flicking away from the admittedly good looking, much younger agent as the hideous feeling of jealousy starts to sting at his system. He has no right, no right whatsoever, to feel this way, and a part of him understands that, but once that horrid green little seed plants itself in his heart, he starts to feel the familiar wash of inferiority.

Not that he stands a chance with you now anyway—he set fire to that bridge long ago, but still… it was that damn shred of hope in the centre of everything. God, now is not the time for this.

He pushes it all away, returning to the calm and cool headed agent he’s had to force himself to be lately. It’s usually not such a struggle to be confident with his experience and skills in this position, but you made it highly difficult by being a part of this investigation.

As much as he’s enjoyed seeing and talking to you again, despite how icy and indifferent you’ve been acting towards him, he’ll be glad to see the last of you once this is all wrapped up.

“I’ll talk to her about it,” Marcus finally relents, unsure of if he's making the right choice.

He’ll just have to ensure nothing bad will come of this, that you’ll be safe and remain unharmed because, god knows, his heart wouldn’t be able to take that.

tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist fic

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impossibledial · 4 months

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i hate the idea that being with the doctor made clara “lose her humanity”. she may have become more or less desensitized to death but she was still the kindhearted woman the doctor met in series 7. she always put others before herself, the only difference is the stakes got higher in series 8/9. the doctor didn’t “corrupt” her, he just made her believe she was invincible.

she convinces the doctor to “save the day” in every one of her series since she stopped him from destroying gallifrey in day of the doctor.

in series 8, she makes the doctor realize that earth is his home and it’s his duty to help protect it when it’s in danger. in series 9, clara stops the doctor from destroying the universe just to bring her back.

clara was never a selfish character. even when she lies to danny, she says it’s for *his* own good and i think she truly believes that - she just doesn’t realize she’s lying to herself too. much of series 8 is clara denying herself what she truly wants due to expectations she puts upon herself.

part of this is because she knows what to expect from a routine life, routine job, and a normal boyfriend but she doesn’t know what to expect when she’s with the doctor. it’s enticing like an addiction as clara puts it.

unlike other companions, clara is wholly aware of the risks of being with the doctor. she won’t let herself drop everything on a moments notice to fly off with him because she knows there’s a chance she won’t make it home for dinner. she tells him that they will only travel together on wednesdays. she doesn’t stand for the doctor putting her in danger without her knowledge. she doesn’t stand for the doctor treating her as if she’s second fiddle to him.

unlike other companions, clara knows that being with doctor can’t last forever.

one of clara’s greatest lines is, “nobody’s ever safe…tomorrow’s promised to no one doctor but i insist upon my past. i am entitled to it. it’s mine.”

and much of series 7/8 is clara putting distance between her and the doctor to keep herself safe - not just physically but emotionally too. falling in love with the doctor has the ability to wreck her. considering her reaction to eleven’s regeneration, it’s no wonder she put even more of distance between them in series 8.

she’s trying to move on and she gets herself a boyfriend. of course, twelve makes this difficult even though he’s doing his best to do the same thing she is. if they don’t put a label on what they feel for each other, they can just as easily pretend it isn’t there. clara can pretend that she isn’t hurting danny when she lies to him about where she’s been. the doctor can act like seeing clara with a new boyfriend doesn’t hurt him deeply.

the central conflict between clara and the doctor in series 8 is miscommunication not corruption. clara wants to believe that the doctor makes her worse just as the doctor does because that’s easier than admitting that they make each other better. it’s easier to think they were better off when inevitably one of them gets left behind.

their dynamic is interesting because of the role reversal.

for once, the doctor is the one forced to deny his feelings. the doctor has to wait (until wednesday) to see clara. the doctor forgets that this thing between them can’t last. the doctor is the one risking the universe for the person they love.

#most of my tumblr posts are now criticizing people for misunderstanding clara’s character arc. wow.#clara oswald #twelfth doctor #eleventh doctor #twelveclara #elevenclara #doctorclara #whouffaldi #souffez #whouffle #doctor who #doctor who meta #clara oswald meta #if you’re the person who replied to my earlier post - this is not meant to disagree with you.#you’re free to have your own interpretation #i just needed to ramble #belle’s ramblings™️

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shatcey · 1 month

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1st anniversary (Vic's epilogue)

William Victor Victor epilogue Liam Liam epilogue

I didn't expect that it would take me so long to read this. The story isn't that long, but this time the translator just didn't want to work properly. He gives me a completely different translation every time. And a couple of times my brain just shut down. But in the end, I got the meaning. Hopefully, I chose the right one)

The epilogue start with a letter from the Queen. The Queen has great faith in Kate and asks her to check if Victor is suitable for the Crown. So basically their roles were switched.

Victor was suspended from work as punishment for violating the Queen's direct order (not to tell Kate about the agreement). Kate thought he would be upset about it, but he spends his free time helping all the boys, even Jude. Vic did his job very quickly and efficiently, so Jude actually doubted that he was human.

Kate was watching all this with a smile when suddenly someone patted her on the back. William…

He said that Her Majesty herself was in the Victor's office and asked Kate to come for a private conversation. Kate is terrified. But William calms her down.

Well, she pretended to be her once or twice… who wouldn't be afraid to meet the original. Maybe she's not happy about it or (oh dear Lord) offended… And don't forget about the assignment. She hasn't written the report yet. What to do… What to do… Yes… I would definitely be horrified...

When Kate arrived at Victor's office, only Victor was there.

She was surprised that he lied, and he teased her a little.

Kate thinks she's never seen this side of him.

You know, girl, you probably don't know him at all… He was thinking about it at this event…

And that he himself looks like darkness. And somehow she starts to like it, and she even follows it (darkness = Victor) everywhere.

Victor asks what her opinion of him is. After all, she's been watching him all day. Victor shows the agreement he wrote as an example

I was right… they are all different.

And he pushes her to a chair, indicating that she should write. She sits down, but she can't write while he's looking at her.

Just the thought of it makes her blush (I presume, considering his reaction).

So she went to her room and wrote

And again, we see mostly Victor, whom we are used to seeing… Cheerful, helpful and kind. But his teasing, which is becoming more obvious, and his puchy side, which does not allow Kate to relax around him, lead us to think how controlling, overwhelming and aggressive he truely is. I'm not sure yet, but the picture called "Victor" has become less blurry in my eyes.

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🔝 Start page 🔝

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#cybird ikemen #ikemen series #cybird #ikemen games #ikemen villians #ikemen villains #victor #ikemen villains victor #ikemen victor #ikevil victor #ikemen event

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sweetlyskz · 10 months

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Awkward Silence|| SKZ

pairing: Han Jisung x Fem!reader

Summary: it's not like you chose to distance yourself from others. It just happened naturally. You always preferred looking from a distance anyway, always fantasizing about what could be. But when your forced to tutor you schools resident it boy, Han Jisung, it becomes harder to live in that fantasy world.

And now you just can't keep your distance.

Genre: High school au, oneshot, smut, annoying han lol

Warnings: language, oral (m receiving), slight masturbation

Word count: 1.1k

Your school was just like any other high school. It had the popular girls, the jocks, the nerds, the gamers. It had the annoying teachers and the most boring assignments.

But you couldn't complain, right? Any education is good education, you parents would always say. But you really didn't believe that was true, especially when you met Jisung for the first time.

"Hey, kid", he whispered to you is science class. "You got a pencil?"

You simply nodded, handing him a spare you hand lying on your desk.

"Thanks! I got you next time."

You rolled your eyes, knowing he'll probably come to class the next day, asking to borrow a pencil you will never see again. It's not like you didn't already know who he was. You had heard plenty of rumors about this guy, most of which proved to be true.

A spoiled rich kid, everything handed to him. The guy that goes for the extroverted girls, the ones with all the opinions. You've seen his type, copy and paste. But luckily, you didn't seem to fall in that category.

Or so you thought.

"Uh, hello? I said thank you."

"Oh, your welcome", you said plainly, not even bothering to look in his direction. He sat there, still staring at you with a confused expression.

"Are you new?" He asked you.

You shook your head. "Been here since freshman year, why?"

"Oh", he said. "Then you must not know who I am then, Han Jisung at your service!"'

"I know who you are, I just don't care. I gave you pencil, use it."

He scoffed. "What stupid rumor are the girls I've rejected spreading this time?"

Is his head so far up his ass, he can't realize when a person doesn't want to talk? You seriously thought he was insane.

"Can you just shut the fuck up and leave me alone? Pretend I don't exist! You did a great job doing it yesterday, what's so different today?"

He smirked. "Yesterday, you weren't wearing a skin tight crop top and booty shorts."

You kicked his chair, almost knocking him out of it.

"You're a fucking dick, Jisung."

"You haven't seen anything yet, princess."

"I'm failing?"

"You're failing, miss l/n", your science teacher told you. "Your doing amazing on all your test and classwork, but never turn in your homework."

"I do it, but forget to turn it in", you lied. "Is there anything I can do to bring my grade up?"

Your teacher pondered for a moment. "Well, there is one thing if your willing."

You nodded. "Yes anything." As long as it's not a blowjob, fucking perv.

"Since you've done well on the test I can only assume your retaining everything I've taught, correct.

You nodded, about to speak before a tall figure crept behind you.

"You asked for me, sir?"

Your teacher smiled. "Perfect timing, kid! I have found you a new tutor!"

"Oh fuck no!"

Jisung smiled. "Fuck, yes! We're gonna have so much fun!"

"Sir", you sighed. "Just fail me, I'll retake the class next year."

"tsk, tsk", your teacher shook his head. "Aren't you aiming for AP classes next year, miss l/n?"

"Y/n", said Jisung. "I solemnly swear, I will behave."

This is all a fucking joke to him, isn't it?

"Fuck it", you sighed. "What do I have to loose?"

It was awkward at first, just sitting in silence. You had never been to his house before. His room was neat, tidy.

"So, are you gonna tutor me or what?" Jisung asked.

"Oh, you actually want me to teach you?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, I just wanted to sit here and fucking stare at you."

"I figured you would after all that staring you were doing in class", you joked.

"I-I was not staring", he stuttered, a little taken aback by your boldness. "In class you acted like you couldn't speak! Now you've got an attitude!"

"You would too if you had to spend your weekend tutoring some nutcase who could probably afford multiple private tutors!"

He laughed. "Please! Like you had anything better to do."

"You're an arrogant little shit, you know that?"

He didn't respond, scrolling through his socials pretending like he didn't hear a word you head.

"Give me your phone", you instructed.

"What? No, I'm not-"

"Give me the fucking phone, Jisung", you repeated. "I'm not gonna ask again."

"What are you, my mom?" He teased. "I said no."

Fuck, you always attract the bratty ones.

"Okay, fine", you sighed, lifting up your shirt, revealing your tits, somewhat covered by your bra.

"W-what are you doing?" he slowly uttered, eyes now on you instead of his phone.

"Just showing you what I had planned to do if I wasn't stuck here with you."

You slowly unbuttoned your jeans, bringing your lace underwear down with them. "You know, if you weren't such a fucking brat, you could join me."

He quickly turned his phone off handing it to you. "I'm s-sorry, here! Take it."

You pouted. "Aw baby, you're gonna have to do a lot more than that."

"Anything", he whispered. You could tell by the lust in his eyes, he wasn't joking.

"Strip."

He quickly raised his shirt over his head, throwing it god knows where, pulling his sweatpants and boxers down to his ankles. You sat on the edge of the his, rubbing your clit to relieve a little pressure.

"Come here", you commanded. He obeyed, his semi hard cock standing proudly in front of you. You began to stroke him gently, rubbing your thumb against his bright red tip.

"fuck", Han whined. "M-more please."

"Aw, look at that", you cooed. "You actually do have manners, slut."

Still stroking his dick, you brought your mouth around the tip, sucking harshly. You took your other hand away from your clit, deciding to move it to his torso, holding on for support.

"Oh, fuck! I won't last, please", he moaned, hand finding its way to your hair.

You pull his tip out with a 'pop', gently fondling his balls. "Please what, slut? Hm? What do you want mommy to do, baby?"

"Fuck! I want mommy to use me, punish me please!" He begged you, bucking his hips, chasing the release he so desperately craved.

You smirked. "Punish you for what? For not listening when mommy is speaking to you?"

He nodded quickly, tears falling from his face, sweat droplets on his chest. "I've been s-so bad. Please punish me, m-mommy!" Fuck, he looked so good for you, so submissive. How could you ever deny him?

"Hands and knees on the bed, slut", you ordered, finally letting go of his leaking cock. He obeyed, ass in air, looking perfect for you, only you.

"How would you feel if the whores you fuck saw you like this, baby? Embarrassed?"

"No, no", he answered. "Only like this for mommy- only want mommy, please."

You smirked. "Good answer, slut."

————

A/n: I can write when I feel like it lol!! UNEDITED!

152 notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 1 year

Text

Boyfriend for Hire {Ezra x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 21.1k

Warnings: Modern AU, escort work, technically prostitution, oral sex (female and male receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, masturbation, angst, miscommunication

Comments: When you are instructed to bring your boyfriend to the company New Year's party, you have a problem. He doesn't actually exist. Hiring Ezra, an escort who provides companionship for those who can afford it, turns into something far different than what you imagined.

A/N: Happy late New Year!!!!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

Thank you @thewaythisis for finding the pic I wanted.

|| MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“I hope all of you have a wonderful holiday season with your families.” You stare down at your checklist for the end of year board meeting and halfway turn out, knowing you will be working through the holiday to get ahead on some projects that will be happening in the year to come. “That brings me to our New Year’s Eve party.” The CEO captures your attention and you look up as he smiles happily. “This year, I’ve decided to host a party for all of our execs and junior execs. I want all of you to be there.” He turns towards you. “We can finally meet this mysterious beau you keep talking about but we never see you bring to work functions.”

Panicking slightly but trying to remain calm, you shake your head. “Uh, we have plans for the New Year.” You protest, making him frown.

“Unless you are out of town, which you’ve already said you will be here, I expect all of my employees there.” He decrees. Shit….now you have to pull a non-existent boyfriend out of thin air.

Ezra looks away from his laptop when his phone begins to ring, his work phone. He takes off his glasses and sets them down before he pushes the green button to answer the call. “Hello?” He answers after clearing his throat.

“Um, hello. Is this Ezra?” A woman asks and Ezra smiles at how nervous she sounds.

“This is he.” He responds, tapping his fingers on his desk.

“I, um, I got your number from a friend. I have a New Year party to attend and I need a man to go with me…to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Ezra bites his lip to smother his chuckle at that, “that’s my speciality, little bird. Shall we meet for a drink and see if I’m a good fit?” He suggests.

“Ye-yes. That sounds good.” Ezra lets you pick the time and place and after telling you he will be there, he hangs up with a smirk. He has a job for New Year’s Eve. Perfect.

You fidget as you wait, choosing a high top table away from the rest of the bar, your drink in front of you medicinal to keep you from jumping out of your skin. You know what you are. What you are perceived as. A workaholic. A bitch boss who demanded too much of your team and only cared about your career.

It was true, you were career focused and you didn’t think it was a bad thing. However, when everyone started asking about your personal life, because apparently separation of work and home life doesn’t exist anymore, you had lied. Made up what sounded like the perfect man, at least not anyone you had ever dated. Now you need to produce this wonderful person and you have no clue how to go about it without hiring someone. You’ve not been on a date in years and you don’t really want to. Men are always insecure when they realize you hold more power or make more money, or whatever seems to emasculate them. “Shit.” You hiss, lifting your drink to your lips with a slight tremble to your hand.

Ezra spots the red dress you said you’d be wearing and makes his way over to the table, adjusting his jacket as he confidently strides over to you. “You must be my date for the evening.” He offers you the most charming smile he can muster as he takes your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “Ezra, at your service.” He declares and takes a seat opposite you, admiring you for a moment. You’re beautiful, not the usual elderly woman he is escorting to boring social events. You’re gorgeous in fact and he smiles, knowing this won’t be a difficult date for him unless you are an absolute bitch.

You introduce yourself and then lean back as the waiter comes over to take Ezra’s drink order, giving you a moment to observe him. He’s elegant, far more than what you expected. None of the greasy appeal you had assumed you would have to deal with. His date casual outfit looked like it would belong at any high class country club, although the blonde streak in his otherwise russet hair is shocking in its charm. “Ma’am? Another?” You break away from looking at Ezra and stare down at your ice.

“Please.” You murmur and wait for Ezra to speak as the man walks away to fulfill the drink orders.

“So…New Year’s Eve? A work shindig. Tell me little bird, what kind of man are you searching for to accompany you to the party? I am well versed in being whatever gentleman you require. You give me the details and I will play whatever part you desire.”

Twisting in your chair, you pull out your notebook, having written down everything you’ve told your colleagues about this fictitious boyfriend. Sighing as you open it and turn it around to hand to him. “This is what I’ve told them about my…lover.” Boyfriend seems so very juvenile to say and you swallow harshly, waiting for him to scoff at the unrealistic spin you’ve woven.

Ezra takes the notebooks, reading your bullet points and he bites his lip at the imaginative meeting between you and your “lover” until he reads what your beau enjoys, how he treats you. “Chérie, you might’ve discovered the most perfect man on the planet.” He jokes softly and you sigh, reaching for the notebook.

“I know I embellished but I- I wanted you - him - to sound good.”

Ezra pulls the book away from your reach, “I didn’t say it was impossible to create. I am a talented actor, I can assure you that this man will be attending your party with you. I can be this man but…I’m not cheap.”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to say that price doesn’t matter, but what kind of executive would you be if you gave away your negotiating power? “What would be your cost? Expenses? What would I be paying for?” You ask, tucking the notebook back into your large bag and looking over to see the waiter bringing the drinks back to your table.

Ezra smiles and thanks the waiter for the drinks, pausing the conversation, then he looks back at you while he lifts his drink. “Cheers, Chérie.” He smiles and clinks his glass against yours. “I’m not cheap. I am very discreet. I am good at what I do. I guarantee by the end of the night everyone will be convinced that I am in fact your lover. Three thousand. For the night.” He tells you his price, knowing it’s high but he’s good at what he does.

He is pricey, especially when you consider what the going rate for escorts is. You aren’t blind, you’ve seen the expense reports for some of your male counterparts, claiming it as ‘entertainment’. However, you aren’t looking for sex, you want a sophisticated man to be able to charm those around you and give a convincing performance. You take a sip of your drink, contemplating the idea. “Agreed, I will pay you half upfront and half at the end of the night. However, if you are not convincing, I will keep the other half.”

Ezra smirks, liking your moxie, and he shifts to lean closer to you, “oh don’t you fret, little bird. You’re gonna be thrilled by the end of the night.” He lifts his glass towards you and takes a sip of his drink. Leaning back in his seat, he’s excited to spend the New Year with you.

****

As part of the package, Ezra picks you up in the town car he hired for the evening. A friend of a friend has a company and he has a deal with them. A few hundred bucks isn’t much when he’s making thousands. He knocks on the door of your ridiculously posh apartment and waits for you to answer, adjusting his bow tie to ensure he looks suitable for your beau.

Putting in your earrings, you quickly walk to the door and open it. “I-“ stopping mid-sentence, you take in the polished suit and the way that his hair is even more carefully styled. “You look fantastic.” You murmur. “Let me get my purse and wrap.”

Ezra nods, hanging by your front door. He doesn’t want to intrude and he waits patiently for you to come into the hallway after you lock your front door. “You look exquisite, chérie. I will surely be the envy of every man in the room.” He reaches for your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss the back of it. “Shall we go? The car is waiting.” He extends his arm after letting go of your hand, excited to remember all the tidbits he’s been memorizing since your meeting a few days ago.

Nervous as you take his arm, you allow Ezra to walk you towards the elevators. “Have you memorized the key points?” You ask softly, the clicking of your shoes on the marble floors the only thing you can hear beyond your quiet conversation. “When we met, first date?”

“We met in that coffee shop over on Desmond Street. Brewsters. We bumped into each other during the morning rush and that was it. I took you to dinner at Le Mar and brought you roses. We kissed that night but nothing else. We’ve been dating for ten months. It’s been bliss. I took you to the fair and bought you that pretty bracelet you’re wearing for your birthday. I know your middle name. I know where you were born. I know the town you grew up in. Trust me, baby, I am a professional.” He pushes the button to call the car, turning to look at you. He reaches up to caress your face.

Suitably impressed, you wonder why your cheeks heat up when he touches your cheek. “You have a scar.” You just realize it, seeing the thin, silvery scar on the apple of his left cheek. “Where did you get it? In case anyone asks, of course.” You don’t mention that you think that it’s charming, giving him an almost roguish appearance that makes you think of old fashioned duals for honor with his syrupy accent.

Ezra chuckles softly, “serving this country. I was lucky that’s all I got. I nearly lost my arm. Was shot a few times but made it through. You should probably mention that I was an army man. Might win some of those bigwigs you associate with over. They always appreciate a man in uniform I’ve found.” He snorts, remembering the amount of times he’s seen lust in their eyes imagining him in a uniform while their wives stood beside them for appearances. You press the button for the ground floor and Ezra stands beside you after you drop his arm.

“Oh.” You murmur to him. “Sorry.” You don’t know what to say to that. Instead, the silence settles between you as your elevator car takes you down and you step out into the ground floor. You take a deep breath, wishing you could just stay on your couch in your leggings and work on reports while watching the New Year’s Eve program on TV and drink the wine you had bought and the nibble on the little charcuterie board you had ordered with your groceries on a whim.

Ezra shakes his head, stopping you walking for a moment. “Hush. You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t send me to my death. Those bastards did. Let’s make this an amazing night for you.” He cups your cheek and leans in to softly peck your lips. “Come on chérie, let’s go impress your coworkers.” He winks and takes your hand to guide you to the town car.

“Thank you.” Ezra helps you into the car and slides in beside you as the driver closes the door. You are impressed that he went to the lengths that he has with ordering a car. You had half expected to have to order an Uber. “Where did you grow up?” You ask curiously. “Is your accent authentic or…dramatic?”

Ezra smirks, “I’m not that good an actor. I’m from Louisiana. Born and raised until I joined the army and left for good. Moved here about five years ago after my - my incident. You like the accent? Or no?” He asks, watching you as the car pulls away from the curb towards the hotel your company picked out for the event.

“I like it.” You assure him, reaching over and patting his thigh before remembering yourself and pulling your hand back.

“Don’t.” Ezra grabs your hand and pulls it back. “We would be comfortable touching each other, chérie.” He reminds you. “You have paid a lot of money to be with your ‘lover’ tonight.”

You bite your lip, shyly looking away and clearing your throat. “You must think I am ridiculous, needing to hire you to pretend to be my lover.” You murmur. “I - I concentrate on work, not men.”

“That’s smart. Men fuck everything up. Men complicate things. You’re a smart girl, focusing on you and your work. The right man…he will come along eventually. I understand the pressure, the way people question you constantly. As a woman, you’re expected to settle down and marry, be with a man and have the American dream but not everyone is made for that. Some don’t want the man, some don’t want the kids, some don’t want the house. It’s 2022 for God’s sake, women should be able to do whatever they damn well want.” He says with conviction, “I’m - I mainly attend functions with older women whose husbands have passed.”

That catches your curiosity, wondering if he is some sort of a con man. Swindling sweet old ladies out of their money with sweet nothings and attention. “How did you decide to become an..an escort?” You lower your voice, not wanting to say it too loudly even though the window of the town car was up.

Ezra sighs, "um, it's a long story but the short version? I got out and back here I had physical therapy and therapy...lots of it. By the time I was healed, I couldn't find a job so I moved to the big city. When I got here, I got in touch with some friends who put me in touch with an older woman who wanted company - no sex just company - and from there, she referred me and so on. It pays well and no one cares about my résumé."

“Fascinating.” You truly mean that. It’s not like you are unaware of people paying for company, hell, you are doing it now. But his story on how he came to get into this is interesting. The things he must see and here while he’s providing entertainment are sure to be noteworthy. “Have you ever had disagreements with your clients?”

“Sometimes. Not everyone is a fit but as long as the terms are laid out, we don’t tend to have a lot of issues or complications. Communication is key so if you don’t like something, you need to tell me, chérie.” He orders softly, offering you an accompanying smile.

“I don’t understand why they wanted to do this on New Year’s Eve.” You huff even though you do know why. It’s an opportunity to get drunk and party, writing it off as a corporate expense. “I don’t like being out on nights like these.” You admit quietly, looking out the window at the crowded streets.

Ezra snorts, “I have always had a hatred for the new year. Another year wasted.” He sighs just as the car pulls up and he shifts to get out, holding his hand out for you to exit the car. He smiles at you, shifting into character as he prepares to face your coworkers and bosses.

Stepping out of the car, you’re nervous. All of this could be a disaster, what where you thinking? This was insane, you should have just told them you broke up with your mystery boyfriend but it’s too late now. Ezra’s hand is a lifeline and you cling to it, never really liking social functions. For work was fine, but you hate small talk and know that they will be judging you - and the man you brought.

Ezra squeezes your hand, noticing how stiff you have gone. “Relax, chérie. I’ll take care of you.” He promises, knowing it’s his job to take care of you but also, part of him wants to make sure this night goes well. You seem like a good woman despite your workaholic tendencies and he wants to ensure you impress your bosses. Walking into the ballroom, Ezra is impressed at the display and immediately a man approaches you, saying your name.

“Charles.” You smile warmly, reaching out to the CEO of the company as he stops in front of you. “You said to be here and here I am.” You chuckle and shake his hand, motioning to Ezra beside you. “And I have brought my significant other, as requested.” You introduce the two to one another quickly.

Ezra extends his hand after letting go of you, shaking your boss’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you sir. My chérie has told me good things about you.” He offers a charming smile and Charles chuckles, “all good I hope?” He asks and Ezra nods, taking your hand in his again. “Of course. My lady works hard for your company. Workin’ all hours of the day and away from me.” He pouts playfully and leans in to kiss your cheek.

You hum, tilting your head as if it is a kiss you receive everyday rather than this being the first time. “Well, you know I love my job.” You smile and look back at Charles. “The party looks like a success, everyone is having fun.” Code for quickly getting smashed but it’s not sloppy yet.

Ezra lets go of your hand and wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. “Yes. Yes. You should go have fun. Ezra…it was a pleasure to meet you.” Charles smiles and Ezra nods back, “come on chérie, let’s go get a glass of champagne.” Ezra guides you to the bar, gesturing for the bartender. “I think that went well.” He murmurs, leaning close to you so it looks like he’s murmuring sweet nothings in your ear.

“Yes it did.” You look around the room, already ready to leave. Allowing Ezra to order for you, you are happily surprised when he orders a good vintage of champagne. If he is hanging around older, wealthy women, he would most likely have developed good taste and you appreciate it.

Ezra thanks the bartender and hands you the flute, lifting his own up. “To 2023.” He smiles, clinking his glass with yours. “I think it would be appropriate for me to kiss you…if you will allow it.” He adds, not wanting to overstep however, he can feel eyes on him and he wants to make a good impression.

You bite your lip for a brief second before you nod. You’d be lying to yourself if you hadn’t wondered if he was a good kisser. The little crease in his bottom lip very distracting and you’ve glanced at several times. “I think a moderate kiss would be appropriate right now.” You murmur, knowing you don’t want to cause a scene.

There’s a part of Ezra that wants to kiss you, the way your lips part and the small furrow in your brow has him ready to kiss you silly. He doesn’t kiss during his usual bookings, most of the women are older and don’t require that of him. He gently grips your chin with his free hand, leaning in and his eyes meet yours for a brief moment until he closes them to press a soft kiss to your lips.

It steals your breath. Making your eyes glitter and your hand reaches up to grip his shoulder. Nearly overwhelmed just from the petal soft feel of his lips against yours. It’s not demanding, but you yield anyway, the softest moan echoing in your throat.

Your moan makes Ezra deepen the kiss a little. Sliding his tongue into your mouth for a brief moment until he pulls back and kisses the corner of your mouth. “Well, isn’t this adorable?” Cynthia, one of your department managers comes over to see you. “This must be the beau you’ve mentioned before. Though we never caught his name.” She clicks her tongue and Ezra extends his hand after lowering it from your chin.

“Ezra, pleasure to meet you.” He offers her a charming smile while keeping his posture aligned towards you.

You and Cynthia never really see eye to eye. She has some kind of grudge against you since you were promoted over her although she didn’t have the skill set for your job. “Cynthia.” You nod politely and smile. “Where is your husband? I’m sure Ezra would like to meet him.” Her husband is boorish, but you have to pretend to enjoy his company to play nicely.

“Oh he has a work meeting. He’s been so busy.” She waves it off and Ezra frowns, “work meeting? It’s New Year’s Eve.” He takes a sip of his champagne and pulls you close with his free arm. “It’s a shame he left his beautiful wife to see in the New Year alone.” He tuts, “I would surely perish if I wasn’t able to kiss my beautiful girl at midnight.”

You fluster, slapping at his chest lightly as you feel the heat creep up your cheeks. “You always say the most outrageous things.” You tease, like he is always showering you with praise. Your perfect man would, even though he is a figment of your imagination brought to life by paying Ezra three thousand dollars.

Ezra grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips to press a soft kiss on your skin. “I merely speak the truth, mon chérie.” He coos, nudging his nose against your hairline.

Cynthia narrows her eyes slightly, “I can’t believe we are finally meeting Ezra. I thought she had made you up. You seemed too good to be true.”

She raises her eyebrows when Ezra shakes his head, “she’s focused on her work and we like to keep our private life just that. Private.”

You don’t like the tone of Cynthia’s voice, but you bite your lip and lean into Ezra’s side. “He is my little escape from work when I need it. So I keep him away from our office.” You don’t like the accusation in her comments, especially because they are true.

Cynthia hums, “very well. We had better mingle. I know everyone is just dying to meet your Ezra. Come on, let’s go mingle.” She reaches for Ezra’s hand and he pulls away from her.

“I’ll let my partner lead tonight. We will need another drink before we continue our exploration around the room. Pleasure to meet you Cynthia.” He says a little sharply and she huffs before striding off. “I can see why you decided to indulge in a fantasy boyfriend.” He murmurs in your ear then kisses your neck when he catches the eyes of your coworkers now speaking to Cynthia.

“She is very competitive.” You snort, closing your eyes slightly in pleasure. “I’ve never seemed to understand why, but she wants to prove that I wasn’t the right fit for the position. She wanted it. Or wants it.” You indulge yourself and lean in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for being here. I know you technically have to be, but thank you.”

Ezra wraps his arm around you and gestures for the bartender to order you another round. “I might have to be here but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” He tells you truthfully, “you are a beautiful, smart woman and you deserve a perfect New Year’s Eve. You deserve your coworkers to know you are dearly loved and adored. You should be. You’re a good woman.” He murmurs, caressing your waist.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt such a strong attraction to someone. Your stomach clenches and you feel your pussy bottom out. “You are engaging and attractive, so I will take your words as the highest compliment.” You promise him, picking up your champagne glass when the bartender brings it and taking a small sip. You don’t like to get too drunk, but the bubbly is delicious.

Ezra grins, glad to hear that, and he looks over his shoulder as the band starts to play. He reaches for your glass, setting it down on the bar and he grabs your hand. “Let’s dance, chérie. I want to show you off to your coworkers.” He guides you onto the dance floor, pulling you close into his arms.

This is completely different than any other time you have been out with your coworkers. Often mandatory drinks where you have one and leave, or work dinners where the focus is work. This is an actual party. Letting yourself be pulled into his arms and smiling as the two of you start to move in time to the music.

Ezra has always prided himself on his dancing. His mother had taught him and after he came home injured, he promised himself that he’d learn to dance again. He promised his mom a dance before she died. Now, he’s swinging you around to the music, a smile on his face.

You know people are staring at you, but you don’t care. Too busy enjoying the moment and you let out a happy laugh when Ezra pushes you away to spin you around and pull you back close to him. “Wow.” You beam at him. “You are amazing.”

Ezra is pleased that you’re happy with him. “Not as amazing as you, mon chérie. Every man in this room wants to be me right now with how absolutely exquisite you look.” His hands slide lower, dangerously close to the curve of your ass. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asks, leaning in to kiss your neck.

“I am.” You confess breathlessly, feeling like this is some kind of hazy dream. It would be a fantasy, and you are enjoying every minute of it. His hand flexes right above the swell of your ass and you wish he would just squeeze it, but you won’t beg for that. “Ezra…”

He knows what you want from him and he usually would never indulge in the physical affection his clients desire but you are different. His stomach twists with how beautiful you are - inside and out - and he obliges your wordless request, cupping your cheek to press his lips to yours.

The two of you dance in your own little world, your heart pounding as his tongue flicks against your lips and you let him in without a second's hesitation. Feeling like it is the most natural thing in the world, you have come to stop on the dance floor and you don’t even realize it.

People watch you and Ezra, some with mirth, some with surprise, quite a few with jealousy. Ezra keeps you close and only pulls back when the song ends, applause thundering in the ballroom and Ezra pecks your lips before he turns to clap his own hands. “The best dance I’ve had in a while.” He winks and takes your hand to guide you to a nearby table. “Are you hungry, chérie? You want some food?” He gestures to the buffet of hors d’oeuvres.

“We should, since we are drinking…” You hum, enjoying the warmth of his hand far more than you probably should. You know his rules, sex is off the table but right now that is all you can think about. Blaming it on the champagne, you look over to him. “Should we share a plate? Try a little of everything?”

Ezra nods, leaning down to kiss your forehead then he makes his way over to the buffet to grab a plate of food for you to share. He sits back down beside you, handing you some napkins. “Here you go, chérie. I can get more.” He tells you, winking at you as the band continues to play.

Picking up a spinach and cheese tart, you hold it out to Ezra to try. Surprising yourself because you are not trying to talk about work or slip away since you have been seen by the CEO. You are actually enjoying yourself. “Have a bite, sweetheart.” You coo playfully.

He eagerly leans forward, taking the bite and he can’t help but let his tongue touch your fingers before he chews. You are too delectable. Sexy and independent. Two qualities he greatly admires in a woman. He leans in to kiss your jaw after he finishes swallowing, “delicious.” He murmurs, pulling back to look at you.

Your lip is between your teeth and you wish that he would never stop. Food play has never been an ideal fantasy for you but now you want him to eat everything off your body.

“So this is your mystery boy toy?” Jackson, another department head, strides over. His posture is cocky as he looms over you and Ezra. “You gonna introduce me? I’m her work husband. She’s never mentioned you.” He wrinkles his nose at Ezra. Jackson has always wanted you, flirted with you, and now he’s not happy that you brought your mystery boyfriend to the party.

“Yes I have, you just haven’t listened.” You roll your eyes and look back at Ezra. “Ezra, this is Jackson. Jackson, Ezra.” You manage to make it appear that you are smiling but your teeth are clenched together in annoyance. “He is a colleague and not my work husband.”

“I shouldn’t be jealous, I know I’m a lucky bastard to have this exquisite creature as my lover. It’s, uh, interesting to make your acquaintance, Jackson. She’s never mentioned you. My name is Ezra. Lucky to belong to this exquisite woman you have the pleasure of spending your work days with.” Ezra reaches for your hand, kissing the back of it.

Jackson narrows his eyes, unhappy that the so-called boyfriend exists. He had been sure it was a figment of your imagination, no man was that perfect. Embarrassed that you would call him out about your work relationship, he presses on. “Don’t worry, Ethan, was it?” He purposefully says Ezra’s name wrong. “I take good care of her while she’s here. If I didn’t bring her lunch, she wouldn’t eat!”

Ezra frowns at that, looking over at you. “Is that true, amor? You don’t eat lunch? We shall have to rectify that. I shall be making you a lunch from now on.” He promises, not even looking back at Jackson. “And the name she moans in bed is Ezra, just so you know.”

Your cheeks flame hot but not because he’s embarrassed you, but because you are imagining doing just that - moaning his name in bed while he pounds into you. You have no idea what his dick size is but you can just tell he would be an attentive and exhausting lover. It makes you squirm slightly, needing friction and your suddenly dry mouth needs some more champagne.

Ezra watches you take a sip of champagne, your neck extended, and he bites his lip, deciding to take the chance. He leans in to kiss along your neck and you softly moan. His cock twitches in his pants and Jackson stands there for a moment until Ezra pulls away from you to look at him. “Are we keeping you from mingling?” He inquires and Jackson shakes his head, huffing before he stomps off. With a chuckle, Ezra kisses along your neck and down to your clavicle, “I must say, you smell simply divine, chérie.”

You whimper, shivering slightly at the feather light kisses along your skin. “I- wanted to- to seem like- like someone you would be with.” You admit breathlessly, aware of your reputation as dull. The sexy perfume was an indulgence beyond the clean scent you would wear into the office. Something that made you think of sex rather than work meetings.

Ezra hums, pulling back to look at you with a frown. “Why wouldn’t I be with someone like you?” He asks softly, hating the insecurities he finds swarming your eyes and he cups your cheek. “You’re a beautiful, smart, successful woman. You’re far too good for someone like me.”

You know that he is a companion, that you are paying him, but you also know that he has to be very intelligent in order to move in the circles that he does seamlessly. “I’m not.” You protest quietly, reminding yourself you had to pay him to pretend to be your lover. “I doubt you would be interested in someone like me. I am a workaholic.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being dedicated to your work but you need to take time for yourself. For your pleasures. Indulgences. You only live once, mon chérie. Don’t waste your life working.” He tells you just as the band announces the countdown to midnight. “Come on, let’s see in the new year in style.” He stands up and extends his hand to you.

When the clock strikes midnight, Ezra pulls you close and presses his lips to yours. Cupping your cheek with one hand and his arm around your waist, he slides his tongue into your mouth with a groan and kisses you at midnight. Putting his heart behind it as he wants you to feel special.

It’s just for the night, you know this. Still, you cling to him, letting the streamers and balloons with the confetti fall around you. Noise makers being blown and others exchanging kisses. Although all you think about is Ezra. Making you whimper when he finally pulls away after half a minute of kissing into the New Year.

He grins when he pulls back, “happy new year, chérie.” He kisses your nose and pulls you close again, marveling at the display of balloons and confetti as the band begins to play “Auld Lang Syne.” He doesn’t ever break his rule of not sleeping with his client but you, pressed against him, feel marvelous and he leans down to kiss you again. This kiss is dirtier, sloppier, as he tries to wordlessly portray what he wants.

It shifts - this feeling between you. The spark ignites and you would be lying if you said you did not want him. Your own arms around him tighten and you press yourself against him shamelessly. If it wasn’t so rude, you would drag him out of here. Only when he pulls away to gulp down air do you dare voice it. “Should we leave?” You ask breathlessly. “Go back to mine?”

Ezra hesitates for a second, knowing he shouldn’t be doing this but he desperately wants you. He wants to make you moan his name, he wants to pull you apart piece by piece. “Let’s go.” He rasps, “do you have to say goodbye to anyone?” He asks, sliding his hand down to squeeze your ass.

You know none of them will miss you, you shake your head and whimper when he squeezes again. “Let- where is your driver?” You demand, ready to say fuck it and drag him to a bathroom. You don’t care right now.

Ezra nods, taking your hand after reluctantly letting you go, and he guides you to the exit. Practically dragging you through the hotel to the car he has waiting for you. He opens your door and helps you in before he gets in after you and slams the door. “Chérie, you are -” He surges forward to press his lips to yours, a rare display of speechlessness from Ezra.

This time the kiss is even more desperate, consuming. You moan louder now that you are in the safety of a vehicle and away from the prying eyes of your coworkers. Not worrying about what they will say about you. Instead you let your hands wander over Ezra’s suit, sliding under his jacket to the warmth underneath.

Ezra groans your name against your lips as your hands slide up his chest but when you touch his shoulder, he pulls back. “Sorry!” You rush out, wondering what you’ve done wrong and Ezra shifts away from you.

“It’s okay, chérie. Just - gimme a moment.” He rasps, shifting a inch away from you as he tries to catch his breath and compose himself. He turns his head to look at you, an easy smile now on his face and he leans in to kiss along your neck.

You want to push away, something not being right about the way he reacted but you can’t make yourself. You will ask later. Ezra kisses at your pulse, his tongue pressing against it and making you groan. “Ezra….” You whisper breathlessly, your fingers sinking into his hair and your movement guides him to kiss down your chest into your cleavage.

He licks along your cleavage, dipping his tongue below the material of your dress and the car comes to a stop, the driver clearing his throat. He pecks your lips and shifts to get out of the car, adjusting himself before he offers you a hand. After paying the driver, he shuts the door and wraps his arm around your waist. “Come on, chérie. It’s a new year. Let’s celebrate it in style.” He kisses your cheek while you grab your keys for your building.

There are several other couples making their way back to their units, spirits high. You and Ezra cling to one another in the elevator and giggle with other drunken couples. Only pulling away from each other when the car stops on your floor and you pull him out into the hallway. “Happy New Year!” You call back to the other two couples still on the elevator as the doors close.

Ezra is eager as you struggle to unlock your door, his hands caressing your waist and his lips kissing along the nape of your neck. You pant and struggle to open the door so he takes the keys, swiftly opening the door to your apartment and he pushes it open, letting you lead.

Normally you don’t throw things around, keeping everything in its place so you can know where it’s at, but right now all you want is him. Tossing your keys, clutch and wrap to the floor, you swing around and press your lips to Ezra’s the moment he steps inside your apartment as you back him up against the door and close it.

He loves how eager you are and he feels the same way. His hands trying to touch every inch of you he can reach. He groans into your mouth when you start to push his shirt off of his shoulders and he’s grateful he remembered to wear a t-shirt underneath. His hands squeeze your ass and he tentatively reaches for the zipper of your dress, not wanting to overstep so he waits for your reaction before he continues, pulling the zipper down.

Biting your lip, you nod. Eternally grateful that you have worn something sexy underneath the dress. You didn’t wear it for Ezra, you wear things that make you feel good. Especially when it clashes with proper business attire during the week. This is merely a coincidence that you have lace and sheer material under your dress. Letting him peel your dress down to reveal your body to him, you wait for his reaction.

Ezra swallows harshly when he sees what you are wearing. “Oh chérie. You are - you are the most exquisite creature I’ve ever had the honor of laying eyes on.” He coos, almost scared to touch you in case you disappear. He finally summons the courage and pulls you into his arms, his lips pressing against yours while his hands explore the newly exposed skin.

His hands feel like hot silk on your skin, caressing you and seemingly bringing you to life. This time your tongue flicks against the seam of his lips to beg entrance. Making you huff happily when he groans and opens to let you in. Your own hands move down to his belt buckle, ripping at it hastily.

Ezra groans, flicking open the lace bra and he pulls back so he can tug the straps down your arms, flinging the lingerie aside and he ducks down to take a nipple into his mouth, groaning against your warm flesh as he works the sensitive bud between his teeth.

“Ezraaaa!” You cry out, eyes widening before they close. You manage to get his belt open and then the suit pants. Shoving your hand down to wrap around a thick cock over his underwear, you moan sinfully when he twitches in your hand. “I- fuck, oh my god.” You whimper, imagining him inside you.

He hisses around your breast when you squeeze him and he swears he could cum then and there. “Fuck.” He curses as he switches to your other breast, his hands hooking in your panties and he pushes them down to your ankles. He pulls back and away from your grip, his breath hitching at how utterly devastating you are and he kneels, kissing your stomach as he lifts your leg onto his shoulder.

Your eyes widen when you realize what he is about to do. Unable to comment before he is nuzzling into your thigh, inhaling your scent right before his tongue swipes across your cunt with enough skill to make you cry out.

He is tentative, not in a hurry, but as soon as your tangy arousal hits his tongue, he’s ravenous. He growls, diving in to slide his tongue through your folds, flicking your clit and his hands grab your ass to pull you close.

Your knee threatens to buckle, but you stay upright. Looking down at the sharp curve of his nose as it presses into your mound. “Of fuck, shit Ezra-it’s-its been so long since someone’s done this.” You admit breathlessly.

He pulls back for just a moment so he can look at you. “A travesty, mon chérie. You should have this gorgeous pussy sucked and licked often.” He tuts and dives back in, doing just that and revealing in your cries.

The sounds you make are filthy, and loud. You know people passing by can hear and you don’t care. All you can think about is the way the tension in your belly is pulling tight and you’re going to cum. “Ezra, Ezra, Ezra!” You cry out, body trembling when you fall apart.

He keeps you upright, pushed against him, and he works you through it with lazy strokes of his tongue. He loves how he’s already pulled you apart and he kisses your clit for a moment until he offers you a lazy smirk, looking up into your hazy eyes.

“Oh my god.” Your entire body seems to melt under the pleasure of your orgasm. Panting as you look down at him and wonder how the fuck he’s going to top that. “I- wow.” You manage, a goofy grin on your face. “I don’t know if you can top that.”

Ezra smiles, “I can have a damn good attempt at it, chérie.” He stands, licking his lips and he kicks off his dress shoes and reaches for his pants, pushing them down along with his boxers. He shrugs off the dress shirt and you reach for the hem of his long sleeved t-shirt. “I, uh, that stays. I don’t want to take it off.”

Your brow furrows in confusion as you look up at him, but his eyes have almost a pleading expression so you nod. “Okay, no problem.” You wonder if he has some scar that bothers him, it would make sense. Instead of making it a big deal, you turn and walk towards your bedroom, looking over your shoulder. “Come Ezra.” You order playfully.

Ezra exhales softly in relief and lets you guide him into your bedroom. It’s sophisticated and warm and he only gets a second to admire it before you are pushing him onto the mattress. “You’re eager, baby doll.” He chuckles, caressing your waist when you straddle his thigh and his hands slide up to squeeze your tits.

For a moment, your own insecurities rear their ugly head and you wonder if you seem desperate. Not that Ezra lets you think of that, or anything for long with his hands on you. Instead of pulling back, you lean forward and bite his bottom lip. “I am eager.” You confess. “I want to feel you inside me.”

“Condom?” He rasps against your lip, his hands sliding down even more to squeeze your ass and rock you on his thigh. His cock is throbbing. It’s been a while since he’s had sex and even longer since he got to touch someone so utterly beautiful. His usual clients are older women who try to get him in their beds but he won’t sleep with them, no matter how much money they offer. He wants sex to be natural, something he desires, not just based on money. He loves the way you moan his name. “Condom, baby doll.” He repeats, needing to be inside of you.

“I- shit…” Your clit is grinding against his skin and it feels amazing. “I- I think they - I have some in the drawer.” You aren’t sure, it’s been so long and it’s on the tip of your tongue to tell him that you don’t need it, but you are strangers. No matter how natural and easy this seems, it wouldn’t be smart to sleep with him unprotected.

Ezra manages to reach into your nightstand, searching around for the condoms while his eyes watch you grind on his thigh, feeling how slick you are. “Jesus fucking Christ.” He growls, growing impatient but he manages to find a condom, ripping into it and handing it to you. “Put it on me, chérie and use my cock for your pleasure. I want to feel you cum, see you fall apart.” He orders, squeezing your hips when you take the condom from him.

Your hands shake as you roll the condom down his impressive length. Nearly leaning forward so you could take him into your mouth, but you stop yourself. Knowing that the two of you are too worked up for teasing. Once on, you are quickly moving over him, straddling his waist and lining him up to sink down on his cock far faster than what is probably necessary but you love the stretch of him.

“Fu-” Ezra’s words die on his tongue as you envelop him in your hot, tight cunt. His jaw clenches as you sink down onto him and he caresses your hips while his eyes threaten to close. “My - my God, chérie. You are - so delectable.”

Your own moan claws out of your throat while you circle your hips and press him deeper. “So good, Ezra.” You whine. “You feel so good.”

Ezra looks up at you, reaching up to grab your neck and drag you down towards his mouth so he can kiss you. He slides his tongue into your mouth and groans when you start to move, rocking on his cock. “Feel so good, chérie. So tight.” He murmurs, caressing your side until he can squeeze your ass.

It’s unusual, bracing your hands on his chest and feeling his shirt rather than skin, but you don’t let it stop you. “Been a-a long time.” You pant, starting to bounce on his cock a little faster and feeling a little rush of arousal to make it even slicker.

“Me too.” He confesses, watching you and he caresses your arms up to your shoulders as you bounce on his cock. He’s desperate to see you cum again but he can be patient. He grabs your ass, spreading your cheeks before he brings his hands down to smack them.

You squeal, rocking forward and clenching around him. “Fuck!” The sting of his hand feels amazing and you are immediately rocking back onto his cock even harder. “Again, more- fuck, please.” You beg, biting your lip as he twitches inside you and presses against something wonderful.

He repeats the action, loving your squeal of pleasure, and he loves your begging. Wanting to hear more, he grabs your hips and manages to flip you over onto your back without slipping out of you. He doesn’t waste a beat, pushing into you with a deep groan, he starts to fuck you.

Pulling your knees back, you gasp out his name. Loving how deep he surges into you with the harsh and steady slap of his hips. Rougher, just like you imagined. It’s thrilling to have a man who is polished outside the bedroom who knows how to fuck. Instead of touching his shoulders since he had tensed up, you grip his sides and moan.

He grabs your thigh, pushing it back against your stomach and he sinks even deeper, drawing moans from you both. “Fuck, chérie. You - you feel divine.” He moans and leans in to kiss along your neck. “Are you going to cum for me?” He murmurs against your flesh and he licks up to your jaw, biting as he steadily thrusts into you, adjusting the angle every other thrust until - “oh shit!” You squeal and he smirks against your skin. “There it is. That’s the stuff. Cum for me baby doll.”

It’s not hard to give into his demands. The hard pace coupled with the intensity of his focus on the angle that had made you squeal nearly makes your back arch up off the bed. “Ezra- gon- gonna c-cuuuuuuum!” You cry out, your entire body stiffening when your cunt clamps down around him and soaks his cock in your juices.

Seeing and feeling you cum around him has him groaning out your name, loud and wrecked as he thrusts into you. It’s true what he said, it’s been a while and he’s not sure if he’s going to last. “Fuck baby. I- I’m gonna - shit. Shitttt.” He hisses, barely managing to thrust a few more times before he cums, spilling harmlessly into the condom.

Panting, you nearly forget yourself and grab his shoulders but you manage to catch yourself. Lunging up, you press your forehead against his and kiss his lips for a long moment while he rides out his high. Collapsing back into the bed with a satisfied sigh.

Ezra grunts, closing his eyes as he revels in his high until he has to pull out. Gripping the condom, he pulls out of you and ties it off, tossing it onto the nightstand and he grabs you to pull you against his chest. “That was…absolutely indescribable.”

You relax against him, making sure you don’t touch his shoulder and smile. “Yes it was. Best way to ring in a new year.” You laugh and are shocked at how good you feel. You didn’t want to go work, or boot up your laptop. You wanted to stay right here. With Ezra. “It was wonderful.”

Ezra kisses your head, "I'm glad you enjoyed it." He is sad to leave you tonight. The first time he's truly enjoyed the company of one of his clients and he knows his next client will pale in comparison to you. He sighs, shifting away from you. He knows you'll want him to go and he feels dirty to think about the remainder of the money but his rent is due today. He needs it.

There’s a shift and you are sad to feel it. Now that you are both satisfied, it’s time to remind yourself that this was a business transaction. The sex hopefully wasn’t a part of it, but you owe him the money you promised. “Let me-“ you slide out of the bed and reach for your robe. “I’ll get the rest of what I owe you.” You turn and rush out of the room, wondering if he had slept with you because he wanted to, or to make sure he was paid the full amount. Picking up your clutch off the floor, you open it to pull out the small envelope with fifteen hundred dollars in one hundred dollar bills in it. Sensing that he would prefer payment in cash rather than risk a check.

Ezra is behind you, grabbing his pants and shoes to redress while you gather the rest of the money. He feels dirty. He has never had sex with a client before and right now, he feels like he’s being paid for fucking you even though he wanted you, not for the money, but because he likes you. He is tying his shoes when you hold out the cash for him, standing there in your rope with your hair a mess and mascara smudged. You look like a fucking angel that he has dragged down into his hell. “Thank you chérie. I- I had a wonderful time. I hope you are satisfied?” He asks once he stands up, shoving the cash into his pants pocket.

“More than I ever expected to be.” You admit with a smile. It’s slightly awkward and you wish you knew what to say, but you aren’t smooth with things like this. “Thank you Ezra, for tonight. I know that we went beyond some of your boundaries, but I- I really had a great time with you.” You want to lean in and kiss him, but you don’t want to push.

Ezra smiles, reaching out to cup your cheek. “Me too. I had a great time. Best new year I’ve had in a while.” He admits and unable to resist, he leans in to kiss you softly one last time. “Thank you chérie. Happy New Year.” He grabs his jacket and tie from the floor and walks towards your front door, looking back at you one last time before he leaves.

****

It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen Ezra. You tap his card that you have on your desk, contemplating your next move. It’s been a distraction you don’t need but you can’t get him out of your mind. Popping up while you are working and especially when you are in bed alone, your hand or vibrator between your thighs. Sighing to yourself, you pick up your phone and select his contact information and hit call.

Ezra frowns when he sees your name come up on his phone. He keeps all his clients in his cell phone and his stomach twists as he picks up the phone and hits answer. “Chérie, my dear, how are you?” He answers, leaning back against his seat with a soft smile.

“Ezra.” Your stomach flips and flutters at the sound of his voice. You wonder if he’s thought about you at all. You hope he has. “I was wondering if you had a free evening this week?” You murmur softly, feeling unsure of yourself now. “For a- a dinner.”

He opens his agenda, searching the week. He has a couple of events with his older clients but he has a free night on Thursday. “I am free on Thursday night. I, uh, won’t charge as much for a dinner.” He says, unsure if he needs to keep this professional despite the way his heart is thumping in his chest.

Of course he wants payment. Your heart clenches, the hope that he had felt something during your time together dying. You’re a practical woman and try to see it as having a need met. Men did it all the time, why shouldn’t you. “Thursday will be fine.” Your voice is stronger this time. “Let me know your rate and where to meet you.”

“One thousand. I’ll text you the restaurant. I know a great bistro. Private and delicious. See you soon, chérie.” He murmurs before he hangs up. Hating how he is taking your money when he enjoys your company so much but he has to keep up appearances. He needs to be professional and practical.

One thousand dollars. It’s a lot, but you want to see Ezra again. You know you shouldn’t do this, but you never felt as good as you did when you were with him and you crave that feeling again. Opening your calendar, you make sure to block out that night as unavailable. You will be busy having dinner with Ezra.

****

Ezra adjusts his tie as he waits for you to arrive. You told him you’d meet him at the bistro and he stands when you walk in, looking absolutely gorgeous in a black silk shirt and jeans. “Chérie, you look absolutely delectable. I doubt I will need dessert from this bistro if I get to have you.” He murmurs, kissing your lips softly before he pulls the chair out for you.

You fluster at the compliment, unable to stop yourself from melting into his arms. The kiss was too brief and you sat as he pushed your chair in. “That would be up to you.” You promise, staring at his gorgeous form as he sits down before you put your napkin in your lap. The bistro is intimate and you wonder which one of his clients brings him here. “How have you been?”

Ezra shrugs, “not too busy. I’ve mainly been working on my manuscript. I’ve been working on a play. A re-enactment of my time during the war and how my life went to it. My therapist got me started on it, said that writing things down is healthy and it snowballed from there. You? I’m sure you’ve been busy with the new quarter.” He offers you a soft smile and reaches for your hand to squeeze it.

“It’s been busy.” You nod but you want to focus on his comment. “A manuscript? Ezra that’s- I’m sure it’s amazing.” Your skin tingles where his hand is touching you and you swear that your heart skipped a beat. “Have you been writing for long? I feel like you would be amazing at it.”

Ezra bites his lip and shrugs, “I, uh, I’ve been writing it on and off for months. Pausing when I can’t figure out the next step and resuming when it comes to me.” He caresses the back of your hand with his thumb, “I haven’t - I don’t have any backers and no one has read it yet so it could be utterly shit.”

“I doubt that.” You assure him. “You are far too eloquently spoken and a story weaver for that to be true.” You want to offer to help him but you aren’t sure if he would take offense. “You could always test a chapter, see how it’s received?”

Ezra sighs, “I don’t have the contacts. Actually, there’s this client whose husband is a publisher but she can hardly ask on my behalf.” He shakes his head, knowing the husband turns a blind eye to her evenings with Ezra going to events he doesn’t want to go to. “Perhaps…you would read it? See if you like it?”

“Of course.” You immediately nod, eager to read his writing and offer any suggestions you can. “You can send me whatever you would like me to read and I’ll give you my honest opinion.” It does sting to learn that he accompanies married women but it is none of your business.

The smile he offers you is sincere and wide and he squeezes your hand before he brings it to his lips to kiss the back of the. The waiter comes over and Ezra orders a bottle of red wine, “and two of the special.” Ezra orders, turning to look at you. “You gotta try this cheese soufflé. You’re not allergic are you?” He asks, silently cursing himself for getting ahead. He doesn’t know if you are lactose intolerant or vegan or have other requirements.

“Oh that sounds delicious.” You moan, your stomach agreeing with you by giving a particularly loud rumble of hunger. Wincing, you are thankful the waiter has already walked away and didn’t hear it. “Sorry, I haven’t eaten since…” you actually don’t remember when you’ve eaten last, you had gotten roped into a work meeting at lunch and hadn’t been able to get something.

Ezra frowns, “you haven’t eaten today?” He asks and you shake your head. He tuts, “that simply will not do. You must eat, I insist on it. You must prioritize yourself, chérie.” His tone is low but intense as his dark eyes focus on you.

“I forget at times.” You admit. “Or I drink enough coffee that I’m not hungry.” Your life is caffeine, perhaps too much of it. You smile softly. “I do need someone to bring me lunch, I guess.” You joke, reminding him of his promise in front of Jackson.

Shaking his head, Ezra tuts, “I’ll come to your office and take you for lunch. Show that smarmy prick that you are treated right and I’ll make sure you get some lunch.” He remembers that he will have to charge but part of him doesn’t want to do that. He wants to spend time with you, find out more about you.

“No, you don’t have to do that.” You promise, knowing that it’s not his responsibility to take care of you. This is all pretend. “I will start having meals delivered to the office regularly and just have them say it’s from you. So no one suspects.” Why you didn’t think of it before, you don’t know. “I know you are a busy man.”

Ezra chuckles softly as the waiter comes over to open the bottle of wine. “I’m not that busy. Not too busy for you.” He says without truly thinking about it. He lets go of your hand and tastes the wine, nodding and thanking the waiter after he pours two glasses. “To us.” He toasts, a soft smile on his face as he looks at you.

“To us.” You murmur softly, wondering what he means by that as you take a sip of the wine. It’s delicious and you smile as you take another sip. “You seemed surprised to hear from me when I called.” You set your glass down and decide to be straightforward. “Did you not expect to?”

“I figured I’d had my use. Planted the seed about your boyfriend and you’d make the excuse that I work a lot, I’m away on business until you eventually reveal that I was too clingy and wanted too much from you - wanted you to cut back on work - so you broke up with me. You are sad but composed and me? I’m a wreck. You tell them I’m calling you over and over again to beg you to get back together but your job is more important. Impresses your bosses, confirms that you’re wanted and maybe, you’ll meet someone at work who can fulfill all your needs. This ain’t my first rodeo, chérie. I know how it goes.” He tells you.

You snort, impressed with his genius and shake your head. “No office romances for me.” You tell him firmly. “I’ve seen too many of them go up in flames where someone has to leave. No, I would prefer to have a lover outside of my profession. Even a competitor with another company is not for me.”

Ezra hums and nods, understanding more about you. You are a strong, independent, smart woman and he loves it. “I can understand that.” He nods and leans back as the soufflés are placed on the table.

You send the waiter a smile of thanks and groan at the incredible smell. “Ezra, it smells delicious.” You are nearly drooling as you pick up your fork. “Thank you for having dinner with me. I- this is better than eating alone in my apartment while I work.”

“Chérie, It’s always a pleasure to spend time with you. Never, ever think that I don’t want to spend time with you. You’re - you’re so beautiful and smart. I just can’t believe you don’t have a man to spoil you.” He doesn’t say that because you’re paying him but it’s the truth. Deep down though, he’d be here regardless of the money.

“No one would want to put up with my work schedule.” You scoff, remembering how it was frowned on that you worked the way you did. “Men put in hours and they are praised for focusing on their careers, being a real go-getter. Women do it and it's unbecoming.” You roll your eyes and bring a piece of the soufflé to your lips. “Oh my god.” You groan happily at the taste, closing your eyes at how perfect it is. “This is delicious.”

“Unfortunately some people still think women should be in the home.” Ezra rolls his eyes, “Neanderthals…every single one of them. I don’t subscribe to that archaic mentality. Women like you…they are capable, strong, independent. You pick a man based on how you feel about him, not based on what he can provide and that scares men. To have a woman not dependent on them? You have to be a strong character to enjoy a woman like you.” He winks and takes a bite of his own soufflé, a groan escaping his lips.

“Are you a strong character?” You ask flirtatiously, enjoying his outlook. “Why am I asking? Of course you are. You deal with women of all ages, some of them more independent than I am.” You hum, reaching for your wine again. “I am sure you have stories to tell. After your first book, you should write those stories down. Names changed for privacy, of course.”

With a chuckle, Ezra sets his fork down and nods, “oh there’s been some tales. Some women…they had lovers who they wished to make jealous. Some had occasions that I simply wasn’t prepared for…like a funeral as they didn’t tell me the event, just that it was a family function. Some wanted more from me than I was prepared to give.” He frowns at that one, remembering the way the woman groped him and offered far more money than they agreed. He doesn’t have sex with his clients…well didn’t…until you came along.

“Oh…..” you wonder if he counts you among those women now. You had assumed that he had wanted to sleep with you, but you had never heard anything from him and the only way you could spend time with him is if you paid him. “I’m sorry that you had bad experiences. You aren’t a piece of meat to be bought and treated how they want.” You offer, feeling slightly ashamed of the way you had practically begged him to fuck you.

“It’s nothing compared to what female escorts go through. Women don’t get nasty, they don’t threaten me or force me. I am lucky. I - I only have sex when I want sex and you…you’re the only client I’ve ever had sex with.” He reveals softly, his eyes flicking around the restaurant before they settle back on you.

“Ezra….” You reach out and touch his hand gently. “That night- I didn’t expect to sleep with you because I paid for your time.” You promise him quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear. “I wanted to be with you and it was amazing. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about someone everyday and replay something like I have with that night,”

Ezra inhales with a soft chuckle, squeezing your hand. “Baby doll, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment I left your apartment building. You are funny, intelligent, and devastatingly gorgeous. I- I want to spend more time with you.” He says and brings your hand to his mouth to press a kiss on the back of it.

Biting your lip, your stomach flips pleasantly. “I- I want to spend more time with you too.” You confess, smiling at him. “I broke down and called you because I couldn’t stay away.”

“I’m glad you called. I- I want to spend more time with you. It’s just - my rate-” He knows he should tell you he will be with you for free, he wants that, but he also will be sacrificing time he could be earning money from his other clients.

“I can pay.” You rush out, knowing you’ll spend whatever it takes to feel like this again and again.

Ezra bites his lip, knowing he shouldn’t do this but he wants you, “I can do a reduced rate so - so it’s not as expensive.”

“What would you think?” You ask him, feeling a negotiation coming on and you like that. It wouldn’t be fair to just demand his time for free and yet you know you don’t want to pay expensive rates every time you want to see him. Especially if it’s how you want to be spending time with him. “I think that it might be fair to say we might sleep together again, and I don’t want you to feel that I expect it - but there is chemistry between us…”

Ezra grins, nodding in agreement, “I feel it too. Rest assured, I feel this - this spark of chemistry between you and I, baby doll. What about…$500 a date? Nothing extra if we should happen to fall in bed.” He suggests, feeling dirty to take your money but he needs to survive.

You purse your lips and tilt your head towards him. “I was thinking $300 a date and I will pay for any dinners or activities.” You counter with a small smirk on your face.

He raises his eyebrows, cock twitching in his pants at the look in your eyes and he nods slowly. “$300? That’s a deal.” He reaches for your hand once more to shake it and he kisses the back of your hand. “I look forward to many more nights in your company, mon chérie.”

You make a little noise of pleasure, sure that your time together will result in you falling into bed together often. “I must confess something.” You slide your hand out of his delicately and pick up your wine again. “I want for you to come home with me tonight and let me pleasure you the same way you pleasured me last time.”

He can't stop the smirk on his face as you offer to pleasure him. "It is I who should be offering to pleasure you. You were...exquisite. I want to bury my face between your thighs and remain there until my dying day." He confesses, licking his lips as he remembers how you moaned his name.

You try not to take that to heart, knowing he is flattering you. Perhaps not like a paying client, that would be vulgar. More like a new romance. “Then I suggest you finish your dinner.” You tease, taking a sip of your wine and then picking up your fork. “I want to have you for dessert.”

Ezra dramatically picks up his fork, shoveling the food into his mouth and he downs the rest of the wine then he calls the waiter over. "Can you cork the wine and get us the check? My lady wants dessert at home." He winks at you and leans back in his seat.

You giggle quietly at how eager he is, knowing you’ve already soaked your own panties underneath your dress. Finishing your own dinner before you reach for your purse. “No, I will pay for tonight.” Ezra insists, making you pause, but you give in when he shoots you a serious look.

"I want to pay." He tells you, knowing he will feel guilty if you suck his cock tonight and he couldn't pay for dinner. He may be an escort but he's a gentleman first and foremost. He hands the waiter his card and signs the check when the waiter comes back over. "Are you ready to leave, chérie?"

“Absolutely.” You take his proffered arm when the two of you stand. It feels like you are a real couple, walking out after a fantastic meal to go home together. “Did you drive, or…?” You had taken an Uber, wanting to be able to drink if you wanted with no issue.”

"I took an Uber. I can't - I don't have a car." He admits and he bites his lip as he pulls out his phone to summon an Uber to take you both to your apartment. He wraps his arm around your waist while you wait for the car, leaning in to kiss your neck as you stand on the sidewalk.

Closing your eyes, you lean into him. “Ezra…” you murmur, feeling that pool of arousal in your core already. “Do you-“ You break off, hesitant to push but then you decide to ask. “Would you like to stay the night? Rather than going home? Or is that too much?”

Ezra bites his lip and looks at you, “I, um, I would like that. It’s not too much.” He assures you and leans in to kiss your neck, “I would surely be remiss to deny myself an opportunity to remain in your bed after our carnal pursuits.”

The Uber pulls up and you excitedly jump in, eager to get back to your apartment with Ezra. “I- god I wish we were already back there.” You whisper in his ear. “I have been thinking about you all week but my fingers haven’t been enough.”

“I’ve been thinking about you too.” He promises, his hand on your knee sliding a little higher as the Uber drives towards your apartment building. “Been jerking off thinking about that exquisite pussy.” He whispers in your ear before he nips it with his teeth.

Shuddering, you let out a tiny moan, shifting your knees apart so he can move his hand a little higher. “Should have called me.” You pant. “I would have told you to come over. Jerk off on me.”

Ezra smirks, taking the hint, and he slides his hand higher until he is pressing against your clit through your jeans. Your responding whimper has him aching in his pants and he wishes he could finger you in this Uber but he’ll receive a bad rating. “You’re a naughty girl, baby doll. Would you have licked up my seed if I’d asked you?”

Blowing out a harsh breath, all you can do is nod, making a small sound of need. You could imagine it, on your knees in front of him while he is jerking his cock and telling you to open your mouth before covering your skin in his seed.

The Uber driver hears whispers and looks back to see Ezra has his hand between your legs. With a snort, he speeds up a little, certain that you want to be out of his car as much as he wants you out before you start to get frisky.

Ezra chuckles at your squeak, his fingers rubbing you through the denim until the car pulls up outside of your building. “Thank you kindly.” Ezra says, withdrawing his hand and reaching into his wallet to hand a tip to the driver for your PDA. Once you’re on the sidewalk, Ezra wraps his arm around your waist to guide you towards the entrance, now desperate to feel you naked and beneath him.

This time the elevator ride is more tense, both of you not letting go of one another but there are others in the car. Making you nearly sigh in relief when the doors open to your floor. You smirk when the elevator closes again and rush towards your apartment, eager to have him inside you again.

Ezra reluctantly lets go of you so you can unlock your front door but he grabs your hips, kissing the back of your neck. “Hurry up, chérie. I want you to strip down and wrap those pretty lips around my cock.” His hands slide down to squeeze your ass and your hands shake until you finally get the door open.

Again, you are dumping everything and turning around to reach for him. Desperate to feel him. You feel him unbuttoning your shirt and push back so you can quickly strip down to your bare skin. Eager to get on your knees for him and watch him fall apart right against the door of your apartment.

Ezra groans at the skin you bare and his hands are immediately reaching for your bra. Last time was hesitant and new, now he’s hungry for you. His hands reach for your tits after you let him pull your bra down your arms and he pinches your nipple, wanting to be a little rougher.

“Fuck.” Your head rolls back and your chest pushes itself into his hands, loving how he’s being more aggressive. Still wearing your panties, you start to sink down to your knees but Ezra catches your arm, shaking his head. “No, chérie, I want your pussy to leak onto your floors.” He growls, making your cunt clench and you hastily follow his orders to remove your underwear before you kneel down in front of him,

He watches you as you kneel down and reach for his belt, expertly unbuckling it and he groans when you pull his throbbing cock out of his pants. “Fuck chérie.” He hisses which turns into a low moan when you take him into your mouth. “Shit.” He curses, eyes fluttering but he refuses to close them as he looks down at you.

You can feel him react. His cock throbbing in your mouth and you love it. Taking him deeper until he hits the back of your throat. It’s going to be hard to take all of him, so you wrap your fingers around the base to start pumping while you get used to his girth.

“Fuck. Oh Jesus Christ. Chérie, your mouth- it’s heaven on earth.” He compliments breathlessly, trying to keep his hips still so he doesn’t choke you but fuck, it’s hard to not want more. You whimper and he caresses your cheek.

Humming around him, you already have spit sliding down your jaw and your eyes are watering but you don’t care. All you want is to see the wrecked look on his face. You hollow your cheek and press deeper, swallowing when you feel you are going to gag.

“Fuck baby.” He leans over slightly so he can squeeze your tit and he closes his eyes when you take him deeper. “Oh shit. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me- you want - face? Mouth?” He pants out, not wanting to cum down your throat unless you want it. It’s been too long since someone sucked his cock.

You pull off for him for a split second. “Down my throat.” You gasp, taking him back into your mouth and looking up at him through your watery eyes. Letting go of the base of his cock, you grab his hips and pull him towards you, encouraging him to let go and use you.

Ezra hisses, rocking his hips and he groans when you swallow around him. A few thrusts of his hips, he is cumming down your throat in hot spurts, your name pulled from his lips.

You try to swallow it all, but it’s not something that you can manage. His cum spilling out from the edge of your lips to slide down your jaw while you gulp the rest of it down and let him ride out his pleasure, watching him as your cunt throbs.

Ezra pants, struggling to keep his eyes open as you let him drop from your mouth and he hisses, caresses your cheek before he scoops up his cum from your chin and pushes his fingers into you. “Jesus Christ, chérie. You - you are - fuck. Are you dripping?” He asks, shifting to kneel down and he cups your cunt, wanting to see if you are wet enough.

Whining, you grind against his fingers, wanting to feel him. You are soaked and ready to cum even though you know he is not going to be able to fuck you right now. “Fuck, Ez…” your eyes close and you lean forward to rest your forehead on his shoulder.

He rubs your clit, wanting you to cum while he recovers. You lean against him and he slides his fingers back to push two inside of you, groaning at how fucking wet you are. He presses his thumb against your clit, “want you to cum for me.”

You don’t care that you are still on the floor, his fingers inside you feel amazing. Thicker than your own and able to curl against that spot that makes your entire body light up in pleasure. “Fuck!” You gasp out, grabbing his arm to steady yours as your hips jerk towards him.

Ezra hisses when your walls flutter around his fingers, showing how close you are to cumming. “Yes baby doll.” He feels you gripping his arm and he tries to not flinch but he leans in to kiss your cheek. “Cum for me?” He asks, not telling you but asking you to cum for him.

His gruff request works, asking you to come apart for him does the trick. The clever fingers curl and press up against your g-spot again and you wail his name. Cunt spasming around his fingers while you soak them, thighs shaking in pleasure.

“Yes. That’s it chérie. Such a good girl for me.” He murmurs, working you through it and he groans when you lean forward to press your lips to his. “Are you going to let me fuck you?” He asks, cock hardening once again.

“Yes.” You whine breathlessly, lashes fluttering and you finally realize that you are holding onto his arm. Letting go without trying to draw attention to the fact that you feel him wince. “Here or in the bed again?”

“Bed.” He rasps, wanting to fuck you from behind. He groans as he helps you stand and he pushes his pants down, pulling off his shirt and he remains in his under shirt. “I want to fuck you from behind.”

You have no problem with that, leading him into your bedroom and you look over your shoulder as you kneel down on the bed. Smirking, you shake your hips at him invitingly. “Come fuck me.”

Ezra can’t help but reach out and smack your ass, loving the way the skin jiggles and he chuckles at the squeal that escapes your lips. “Condom?” He asks, his cock now aching with need and he grips his length, pumping himself a few times.

“Same drawer.” You bite your lip, wanting to ask if he would get screened so he didn’t have to wear a condom, but you don’t want to pressure him into something like that. You watch him open the drawer and pull out another foil packet, cunt clenching when you see his cock bobbing as he moves.

He rips it open and rolls it into his length, groaning as he pumps himself before he kneels behind you, gripping his cock to position himself at your entrance. “Fuckkkk chérie.” He hisses as he pushes into you. He leans over you, kissing along your neck as he pushes deep and gives you a moment to adjust around him.

He feels so deep in this position. Making your head fall to hand down and hips to push back against him as you moan. “Fuck Ezra, you- you’re so deep.” You whimper, walls fluttering around him as you enjoy the way he fills you. “God, I- be rough.” You beg, wanting to feel him for days after this.

Ezra follows your order, grabbing your hips and he sets a harsh pace, pushing into you with soft grunts escaping his lips. He wants to be rough, he wants to push into you hard and make you feel him for days. “Fuck baby. You feel so good.”

Gasps and whines are all you can manage through his harsh pace. Gripping the sheets in your fists while he pulls your hips back as he slams into you. His hips slap your ass and it feels like his cock is spearing up into your throat. You love and show him by clenching down around him every time he hits that perfect spot inside you. “Ez-Ez-Ezraaaaa!”

Your moans spur him on and he leans over you, cupping your tits and massaging them as he rocks into you. “Fuck baby doll. You feel - you feel like heaven.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck and nipping, careful to not leave a mark.

Every thrust of his hips pushes you closer to cumming. That heat and tension curls in the pit of your stomach and makes you arch your back when he pinches your nipple harshly. Gasping out his name and closing your eyes. “Fuck baby, so close.” You pant, collapsing down to your elbows and laying your cheek against the bed. “Harder.”

Ezra slides his hand down to rub your clit, wanting you to cum around his cock. He hisses your name, rocking into you. “Cum for me, mon chérie, please.” He begs wanting you to cum for him, to clench around him.

Within another dozen thrusts, you are doing just that. Almost a delayed cry of pleasure as you suck in a breath of air, you squeal out when you exhale. Your entire body responds to the overwhelming punch of his cock against your g-spot and you swear you feel him jerk to a halt, unable to move for a split second while you lock down around him.

When you cum, he stills, unable to move and he kisses along your spine as you shake beneath him. He withdraws after a moment, shifting to kneel on the floor and he leans forward to lap at your clit, sensitive from your orgasm, and he pushes you into another one, wanting you to cum again. His hand squeezes his condom covered cock while his tongue pushes into you.

“Fuck, fuck!” You moan, unable to believe that he hadn’t just continued to fuck you. Making you pant and squirm under the broad strokes of his tongue. He’s relentless, not allowing you to settle down before he’s demanding your body give him more. Your stomach clenches and heaves when he curls his tongue deep and that sharp nose presses against your other hole and nearly breeches it, making you cry out again as another orgasm rushes over you.

He works you through another orgasm, loving how responsive you are. He hisses your name and shifts to kneel behind you, pushing back into your fluttering cunt. “Oh Jesus Christ.” He groans and starts to fuck you, hard and fast as he seeks his own pleasure. “Fuck chérie, You are heaven sent.” He is close but he wants you to cum one more time so he starts to rub your clit, his cock pushing deep.

“Ezraaaaaa.” You whine shifting forward to lay down on the bed, Ezra following you where you are flat on your stomach. Turning your head, you watch him out of the corner over your eye. His fingers are trapped under you, rubbing your clit and you moan again.

He straddles your thighs, one hand grabbing your ass while the other continues rubbing your clit. He desperately needs you to cum, his cock aching as he pushes deeper than before, punching into your guts as he pants your name. “Cum, one last time. Cum for me baby doll.” He pleads, so close to his own orgasm and he needs you to cum one last time.

You scream his name, clenching down around his cock and soaking him in your juices. Panting out while he furiously rocks into you and seeks his own high. “Pl-please c-cum!” You beg, desperate to feel him cum, even if he’s wearing a condom.

He can’t hold back even if he tries, he pushes into you, gritting his teeth, and he thrusts a dozen more times before he’s burying his cock deep. Spilling into the condom, he groans, unable to say your name as lights flash behind his eyes, the pleasure consumes him and he slumps on top of you without pressing his weight into you. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He pants, kissing your neck.

“Godddddddd.” You groan, laughing quietly as you pant. “That was so, so good.” You murmur, wishing you can kiss him. It’s strange to feel his shirt on your sweaty skin, but you understand that he has some kind of hang up about being shirtless. “Wish you had filled me up.” You slur, almost unaware that you had said it.

His cock twitches inside of you and he swallows harshly, “yeah? You want that? I’m clean. Always - always get tested monthly just in case. Shit, baby girl. You want me to fill you full of my cum next time? Make you drip?” He rasps, biting down on your shoulder.

Whining softly, you nod against the sheets. “Fuck, please Ezra.” You try not to think about why he gets tested monthly. It’s not your business and it’s not your place to feel possessive of him. Your cunt clenches around his softening cock and he hisses against your skin. “I want that.”

“Me too.” He murmurs, kissing your neck again and he grips the base of the condom before he pulls out of you. He sighs and shuffles off of the bed, tying off the condom and disposing of it before he lays down on the bed next to you again. “So good.” He murmurs, turning onto his side and cupping your cheek, leaning in to kiss you softly.

Turning, you lean into the kiss and enjoy it. Your eyes closing and humming against his lips until he pulls away. “Let me go get us some water.” You murmur, moving to shift off the bed. “Worked up a thirst and I know you must have too.” You want him to be comfortable. Especially since he’s staying.

Ezra watches you go with a soft smile on his face. You’re an incredible woman and he’s lucky to be in your company. He feels dirty for having you pay him but he has to pay his bills. When you come back into the room, he has his underwear on and he is sitting on the edge of the bed. “Thanks, chérie.” He says before he gulps down half the bottle. “I, um, I need - I want to show you…all of me.” He says, gesturing to his shirt.

You can feel the anxiety rolling off of him in thick waves, making him seem a little green around the gills. You set your own bottle of water down and move over to where he is sitting. “Only if you want to.” You promise, touching the back of his hand that’s resting on his thigh. “Just because we are spending time together and in bed together doesn’t mean you have to do anything you don’t want.”

“I want to. I- it’s just - you might be disgusted by my monstrous appearance. I- I was injured, as you know, and upon my return from war, I had surgeries and therapy and - I - my ex hated how I looked. Said I repulsed her and if you should happen to feel that way, I understand. I just - I feel like I want to show you all of me.” He swallows harshly and reaches for the hem of his shirt, slowly pulling it over his head while his heart pounds in his chest.

You don’t say a word. Your eyes map the scars that crisscross over his torso and shoulders. He apparently almost lost his right arm, the deep scar tissue around it nearly cutting the meat of it in two. “Ezra…” standing, you slowly move towards him. You want to reach out and you do so ever so gently, not wanting him to flinch away. “I see a man who survived horrors and I’m glad you did.” You promise, touching his bare skin and caressing one of the marks on his body.

“You- chérie - You’re not repulsed? You - you don’t think I’m a monster?” He asks softly, his entire body sparking as you caress skin that hasn’t been touched in years. “You didn’t pay for a monster. You deserve more.”

“You are not a monster.” You want to scream at the bitch who planted that idea in his head. “You are a man who has seen war, and been marked by it. But that does not change who you are here.” Your hand drifts up to his heart and you press your palm there to feel his heart pounding. “I want what I see right now.” You promise him, leaning down and kissing his shoulder, one of the scars on his skin and look up at him. “You deserve more than to believe you are a monster.”

Ezra sighs, cupping your cheeks and he leans forward to press a kiss to your lips, unable to believe how fortunate he is to have you in his arms, with him. “Chérie…you are magnificent.” He murmurs against your lips and his heart pounds in his chest. He knows the lines are blurring for him between client and lover but he can’t seem to stop himself.

You sigh into the kiss, closing your eyes and you let your hands slowly caress his skin. Tracing the scars gently and reverently, wanting him to feel appreciated. When the kiss ends, you smile at him. “You can leave your shirt off around me. I don’t mind.”

Ezra swears he nearly cries when you kiss his shoulder and he knows in that moment, he falls for you. He swallows harshly and caresses your waist, “thank you chérie. Are you- are you thirsty? Let me get you some water.” He wants to look after you, he wants to care for you.

You smile at him, wondering if he has forgotten that you brought him water. “I’m good.” You promise. “If you need to do anything, the bathroom is through the door right there.” You offer.

Ezra was so caught up in his emotions, he forgot you brought in water and he nods, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “You wanna watch a movie? It’s still kind of early.” He caresses your spine, just breathing you in.

There’s something incredibly domestic in the idea of watching a movie with him. Nodding, you smirk and send him a small wink. “As long as we don’t wear clothes.” You compromise teasingly, knowing that if he wants to get dressed, you won’t stop him. You don’t want him to be uncomfortable. “Here or in the living room?”

“Here. I want to keep you in my arms.” Now that Ezra has had skin to skin, he wants as much as possible. He was terrified you’d reject him, think of him as a monster but you haven’t rejected him so he wants to spend as much time as possible with you. He wants to feel you pressed against him.

“Perfect.” You kiss him again and stand up so you can pull the covers back and pile the pillows in the middle so you can cuddle together. You slide into bed and pat the spot next to you. “We can turn on something and just relax.”

He lays down, pulling you against him after you grab the remote. You’re both naked but he’s never been more comfortable. He kisses your neck while you scroll through Netflix. “What do you want to watch?” You ask and his hand caresses your waist before his fingers slide lower until he’s cupping your cunt.

“Whatever you want to watch.” He murmurs, sliding his finger between your folds to slowly rub your clit.

“Ha.” You pant, the slow press of his finger against your bundle of nerves is incredibly distracting and you can already tell that neither one of you is going to pay attention to the TV. You quickly select a movie, not even aware of what it is and throw the remote down so you can give him the same amount of attention, your hands caressing his chest gently and your lips pressing against every scar you can reach.

His heart pounds in his chest as you caress skin he’s kept hidden since he left Louisiana and he adds a second finger, rubbing your clit with soft movements, in no rush to make you cum. He wants you to savor this, just enjoy the pleasure without any urgency. “Good movie choice.” He jokes, voice raspy as his cock starts to harden as the little whimpers and moans that escape your lips.

You moan, lips against his skin and your eyes flicker up to meet his. He’s someone you are paying for his time, but this feels like more. It feels real and for the first time in forever, you wish you were in a relationship. You wish you were with Ezra, that this was just a normal night. Continuing to kiss every mar and imperfection on his body, your other hand slips beneath the sheets and wraps around his half hard cock, holding him firmly.

Ezra hisses when you grip him, his fingers rubbing your clit a little harder and he shifts his hand, pushing two fingers into you, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You are perfection, mon chérie.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck before he presses his lips to yours, loving how breathless you are as you slowly work his cock.

It is the height of decadence. Lazily stroking a gorgeous man’s cock while his fingers pump into you just as slowly. Giving and taking pleasure as the movie plays and neither of you pay attention to it. “It is so easy with you.” You admit, almost afraid that you might say something stupid and break the spell over this moment.

Humming in agreement, Ezra works his fingers deeper into you, pressing his thumb against your clit a little harder as he wants you to cum again for him. “It’s because you’re so - so fucking perfect.” Ezra admits with a groan when you twist your wrist just right to make him moan your name.

You aren’t perfect. You know you aren’t. It’s not like every man you’ve tried to have a relationship with hasn’t pointed that out. You work too much, you don’t have time for them, you don’t mother them. Instead of focusing on that, you twist your wrist again when he curls his fingers deep. “Always easy with you.” You moan.

He loves hearing you say it even though you both know you’re paying for him to be here. He hisses your name and thrusts into your hand, pumping his fingers a little faster while the movie continues to play. “Are you going to cum for me, chérie?” He asks, leaning in to kiss your neck, biting down gently on your earlobe.

You groan out his name and your eyes flutter shut. “Eventually.” You tease, a small smirk on your lips. Squeezing his cock, you’re rewarded with him twitching in your hand and you pump him a little faster. “Only when you cum with me.”

He groans, loving the way your fingers feel wrapped around his cock and he hisses when you swipe your thumb over the edge. “Shit. You’re gonna - I need you to cum with me.” He pleads, continuing to pump his fingers despite his balls pulling tight to his body, warning him of his incoming orgasm.

“I’m going to, baby.” You pant, feeling your cunt start to flutter around his fingers deep inside you. “I’m gonna cum for you. Gonna cum all over your fingers.” You whine, turning your head and pressing your lips to his. Your moan pouring into his mouth while stars bust behind your eyes.

He groans when you clamp down on his fingers and you grip his cock just right in your hand, squeezing him so that he grunts into your mouth. His tongue slides against yours while his cock pulses in your hand, spurting his cum onto his stomach and chest, dripping onto your hand.

It’s beautiful, both of you coming apart together. Groaning into each other and riding out your pleasure panted out with every breath. “Ezra.” You whimper, kissing his lips again and again until his cock softens.

He withdraws his fingers, pushing them into his mouth with a groan to taste you and he cups your cheek with his wet hand, sliding his tongue back into your mouth. He has never felt this sexually charged. He’s almost ready to go again, certain that he would be if he was younger. “Fuck, my baby doll, you’re - you intoxicate me.”

You chuckle breathlessly, knowing that you feel the same but it has to be usual for him. Maybe he’s a little vulnerable because he’s exposed himself, but any number of women would give anything to have his attention and his touch. “Hopefully that doesn’t change anytime soon.” You murmur, shooting him a grin before you duck your head down and lick up some of the cum splattered on his skin.

“Jesus Christ.” Ezra hisses, caressing your cheek, and he surges forward to press his lips to yours, tasting his own cum on your lips and he smiles against your lips when you pull back. “Shall we restart that movie?” He jokes and you giggle, nodding as you snuggle into his side.

****

The next morning, Ezra watches you get ready for work with a grin on his lips, loving this routine you go through. It’s unbelievably sexy to watch you get ready and he sits there in his pants, watching you as you put on your underwear. He knows he could easily watch you do this every morning and that scares him a little, how easy it is.

It’s been a long time since you’ve gotten dressed in front of anyone, but you don’t mind Ezra watching you. There’s something in his gaze that makes you feel warm and you like it. Humming to yourself as you rub lotion into your skin, you think about the outfits you haven’t worn in awhile and walk into your closet to pull out the business attire.

When you come out of your closet, Ezra groans at how beautiful you look in the blazer and skirt. He shifts, standing up and he walks over to you, kneeling down on the floor. His hands run along your legs and he pushes your skirt up. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He murmurs, looking up at you and he hooks his fingers in the panties he watched you put on, pulling them down. “I want breakfast.” He teases, lifting your leg onto his shoulder before he slides his tongue through your folds.

“Ezraaaa.” You whine, thankful you don’t have your shoes on as your fingers tangle into his hair. You had expected him to leave first thing, or to not be interested in anything intimate, but his tongue proves you wrong. “Fuck- I- I’m going to be late.”

“Be late. For once in your fucking life.” He winks and dives back in, flicking his tongue against your clit until he sucks it into your mouth, groaning when you buck against his mouth. He grabs your ass, encouraging you to rock against his face. Once he’s made you cum, he will leave even though he’s going to hate it.”

“Oh fuck!” You cry out, his tongue flicking over your clit with expert precision. You vaguely think about calling in sick and staying like this with Ezra all day but he has places to be as well. “Fuck, fuck, you’re going to fuck me, right?” You gasp out. “Oh fuck, fill me up and let me ruin my panties all day?”

He groans into your pussy, wishing he could spend all day buried in your cunt but you have to work and he needs to spend time away from you before he gets even deeper. He slides his tongue into your cunt, his nose pressed against your clit and he fucking loves the way you rock against his face.

Your body loves the attention, primed for another orgasm by his skilled tongue or cock through most of the night. You hadn’t slept much but you feel invigorated. “Fuck Ez,” you whine, tugging on his hair until he groans into your cunt again and it sends you over the edge. Crying out wordlessly, you flood his tongue with your juices.

He laps it up, working you through it with his tongue while he savors everything you give him, his cock now aching and he caresses your legs as he pulls back to look up at you. “Chérie, you want - you want me to fuck you?” He rasps, chin glistening with your cum.

Despite the fact that you need to leave for work, you are nodding. Turning around and pulling your skirt up more as you bend over the bed. “Fuck me. God, I want to feel you all day, baby.” You beg, closing your eyes so you don’t ask him to be here when you get home.

Ezra doesn’t think about the condom, too focused on pulling his trousers down to pull his hard cock out, positioning himself at your entrance and pushing inside of you with a deep groan. His hands grip your hips and he doesn’t allow you a moment to adjust before he starts to fuck you hard and fast.

Rocking up into the balls of your toes, you cry out when he punches deep. Loving how it feels like his cock is kissing your womb and hitting perfectly inside you. Mewling every time his hips slap against your ass, all you can do is take it and you Fucking love it. “Ez- oh-oh fuck!” You squeal when he pushes deep and hits your g-spot.

To feel you without protection has Ezra thinking he’s been allowed into heaven. He hisses and continues his hard pace, eyes fluttering closed with how wet and tight you are around him, so fucking hot. “Oh shit, baby doll, you feel - it’s so good. So goddamn fucking good.” He smacks your ass, loving the squeal that echoes in your bedroom.

Every thrust of his cock pushes you closer, legs starting to shake and you feel like you are about to combust. Pushing your hips back and where he roughly drills into you again, you shatter. Toes curling and back arching, you practically scream his name. Creaming all over his cock and you realize he’s not wearing a condom and it makes it even sweeter.

“Can I - fuck. Can I cum inside of you, chérie?” He asks, panting as he leans over you. His eyes fluttering closed as he bites down on your neck, trying to control himself as you squeeze his cock, soaking him and his entire body shakes as he tries to control himself and not cum inside of you without you saying yes.

“Yes! Fuck yes, Ezra cum inside me. Please cum inside me.” It’s borderline pathetic how desperate you sound but you reach back to grab his hip. “Fuck baby, fill me up.”

He can’t deny you anything, thrusting deep as he cums, painting your walls as the deep groan of your name bounces off of your bedroom walls. “Oh my fuck-” He chokes, cock pulsing as he slumps over you, filling you up with his hot seed.

The whine you let out is low, pleased, as he fills you up. Loving the slow rolls of his hips while he pumps every last drop into your cunt. Knowing you will be leaking him for hours while at work. “Fuck-I, no more condoms.” You pant. “Just like this, every time.”

Ezra kisses along your neck, unable to believe you trust him enough to cum inside of you. He’s never had that with a client but the line is blurring. You are no longer a client, you’re more than that and it terrified him. “Fuck yes. So good.” He murmurs and pulls out of you with a hiss. He grabs your panties, helping you step into them and pulls them up to keep his cum inside of you, stopping it from dripping on the floor. “You need to get to work, baby doll.” He smacks your ass before he pulls your skirt down.

Turning around, you press your lips to his again. It’s crazy how deeply you feel for him but you know that his time is money. As it is, you feel like you’ve taken advantage. “Let me know when you’re free again.” You murmur, straightening up so you can fix your appearance for work. “I would like to see you again soon.” Like tonight, but you don’t say that. You don’t want to be clingy.

“Me too.” Ezra murmurs, knowing he needs the $300 rate you agreed but he wants to say fuck the money and continue kissing you. However, he has obligations and when you step back to grab your purse, he feels dirty, he feels like he’s taking advantage of you. “Maybe tomorrow night. I have…I have an appointment tonight.” An older lady, a widow, who wants him to attend a function with him. He knows he will just be there to impress her friends but the money is too much to pass up. Maybe he can work on his writing this afternoon.

Taking out the bills, you fold them over and for a moment - fear that he is fucking you to make sure you come back floods your system. Making you falter for a moment before you press the bills into his hand and kiss his cheek. “I- I should leave.” You murmur, not sure of how to ask him to get dressed and leave with you. You aren’t together and you shouldn’t leave him in your apartment by himself.

Ezra nods, pulling up his trousers and tucking his shirt in before he shoves the money in his pant pocket. “I’ll see you soon, mon chérie.” He murmurs, kissing your cheek and he grabs his jacket while you lead him to the door. He knows you need to leave and he follows you out of your door. The elevator ride is silent and he watches you as you stare at the numbers on the screen. He wants to say something but what can he say? You want him for company and sex, he needs to push his silly feelings aside.

The doors open and you look up from your phone, stepping out into the lobby. “Thank you for last night.” You offer, wanting to kiss him but you aren’t sure about what you can do now that you’ve paid him for his time. Your phone beeps and you sigh, looking down at it. “I’m sorry, I am so late. Ask the doorman to get you a car if you need one.” You flash him a smile and turn around to hurry toward the doors that lead to where your car is waiting.

Ezra watches you go with a sigh, knowing you just want him when you aren’t working. He needs to control his emotions and be professional. That’s what you are doing and he must follow suit.

****

You snuggle into his chest, the morning light shining through the window and Ezra caresses your spine as you sleep against him. He didn’t get a lot of sleep, too busy thinking about work. Too busy thinking about you. You’ve been paying him to stay at your place for the past month, going out for dinners, you even took him to a work event. Three hundred dollars for every night he spends with you and you’ve spent a lot of money. He hates it and today, he’s going to end it. He can’t keep taking your money. You stir against him and he kisses your hair, “morning, chérie.”

A soft, sleepy smile starts on your face as you turn your head. Mornings with Ezra are amazing and you have slept better and been more relaxed than you ever remember being. It’s sad that you have to pay for a man that you’ve fallen in love with, but you understand it. Time is money and you knew that the first time you slept with him. “Morning.” You hum, scooting up to press your lips to his. “Hmmm, what time is it?”

“It’s ten. You slept in. Someone must’ve kept you up all night long.” Ezra teases, pressing his lips to yours once more until he remembers that he has to end this. He sighs, shifting off of the bed. “My damn arm has gone dead. Let me - I need to piss.” He says, pulling away from you as he shuffles into the bathroom. He doesn’t know how he’s going to end this, it’s going to destroy him but it’s for the best. When he comes out, you are sitting up in bed, still sleepy and yet so gorgeous. “I’ll make you some coffee.” He says as he grabs his pants, pulling them on so he can have this conversation with you.

You rub your eyes, a little confused at why Ezra is rushing out of the bed. Although it’s late, you have been spending hours in bed on the weekends before you finally get up and venture out to get brunch. There’s something odd about it and it makes your stomach flutter nervously as you slide out of bed and grab your robe to tie around you before you make your way to the kitchen. “Do you want to go out and get coffee? Some breakfast?” You ask, coming over to kiss his bare back as he stands in front of your coffee maker. His back tenses and you slowly pull away, thinking he is having some pain this morning. Sometimes his scars ache.

Ezra doesn’t respond as he works on fixing you a cup of coffee. “No. I, uh, I can’t go out for brunch today. I have…other obligations.” He lies and you frown, stepping back from him.

“Oh. I, uh, okay.” You swallow harshly and he bites his lip as he watches you walk over to your purse on the counter. “I can pay you now. Let you leave and we can - we can see each other tomorrow.” You aren’t happy but what can you do? You can’t force him to stay.

“No.” Ezra says, his voice almost wavering but he manages to remain strong. “I don’t - I don’t want your money and I can’t - I can’t see you again.”

“Oh.” Your heart breaks with his words and immediately you are trying to fight back tears. It’s stupid that you had gotten in so deep with this man when it was only supposed to be one evening, one stupid New Year’s party. “I see.” You manage to keep your voice steady and you turn to pull out the crisp, three one hundred dollar bills and you lay them on the counter for him. “Take the money, you spent last night with me.” You insist before you set the bag down. “I- I need to - excuse me.” You rush back towards your bedroom, needing to lock yourself in the bathroom for a moment so you don’t do something stupid like begging him to stay.

Frowning as you rush off, Ezra looks back towards the door you just slammed. He shakes his head, suddenly pissed that you are just dismissing him without even talking about it. He knows he’s the one ending this arrangement but that’s because of his feelings for you. You just seem to not give a fuck. That makes him furious. He stomps over to your door, banging on it. “You can’t just lock yourself away. I- is that it? We’re done?” He asks you through the door, leaning against it as he sighs, his heart breaking.

Inside the bathroom, you cover your mouth with your hand, tears pouring down your face. “What do you want, Ezra?” You sob. “Is this- I don’t understand.” Your heart feels like it’s about to explode and all you want is to be left alone so you can wallow in your misery. “Is it a shakedown for more money?” You didn’t think it was all fake, but maybe he had just been using you. Maybe this was to try to get you to offer him more.

He hates hearing you cry and he’s so mad that you think this is because he wants more money. “More money? Are you fucking joking with me, baby doll? I don’t give a shit about the money. I- I can’t keep taking your money when I- it’s not just work anymore. It never was. Not since the moment I met you. It’s never been an arrangement for me. Chérie, it’s always been for pleasure, because you’re incredible. I - I can’t keep taking your money when I’m in love with you. It’s not right and it’s best that I walk away now. I know you just wanted company and I’m the moron who caught feelings and it’s not fair to push that onto you.”

His confession just makes you sob harder, confused and hurt by all of this. Especially the suddenness of him not wanting to be with you anymore. “Don’t lie, Ezra!” You shout, curling your arms around yourself to try to provide some small comfort. “I know- I know that you were just doing your job. I know that the only way I would get to be with you was if I paid you. Why-” You voice breaks and you gasp out a sob of heart wrenching pain. “Why do you think I kept paying you? It’s the only way I could spend time with you! Stop making fun of me.”

Ezra frowns, “what - what the fuck are you talking about? Please. Please can you come out of there so I can talk to you properly? I’m not making fun of you, my love. I - I want to be with you. I just - you kept paying me and I - I’m a scoundrel and shouldn’t have taken your money. I’ll give every cent back to you. Just - just please, let me see you one last time before I go. I can’t - I know you don’t love me. I’ll go.”

You don’t want to, you don’t want to confront him. You’ve never been good in relationships, never wanted to fight or deal with the heartbreak associated with it. You would rather just leave, let him go but he’s in your house right now. Stumbling to the door, you know you look horrible with tears running down your cheeks and your nose running but you can’t care right now. You open the door and you can’t even look at him, staring down at your feet. “Please stop.” You beg him softly. “I know- I know I’m stupid but stop pretending.” You hiccup and try to wipe away your tears. “You don’t want to be with me, I know that. So just- go if you want.”

Ezra’s heart breaks at your confession and he can’t stop himself from reaching out to cup your cheeks. “My love, oh mon chérie. You are - please - seeing you cry has me damn near ready to beat myself up.” He tenderly wipes your tears with his thumbs, forcing you to look at him. “I don’t want your money. I want you. I love you. I’m - I’m a fool to let this arrangement have carried on for this long but I need you to know that I am madly in love with you and if you don’t feel the same, I will walk out that door. I will return your money. I cannot take it. I did not need to be paid for a single moment of this time together.”

Your chin trembles and wobbles while new tears spill over your lashes. Wanting so badly to believe him but why would he say he couldn’t see you anymore? “I- then why can’t you see me?” You ask. “I- I always want you here. I love you, Ezra. It’s why I’ve wanted you here. Everyday, I - I’ve wanted you. I paid you because I- I thought it was the only way I could have you.”

He’s dumbstruck when you tell him you love him, taking a few moments to respond to you. “Why would you love me? I- I’m a monster. I- I don’t have a proper career. I spend my nights as a date for elderly women and I am not good enough for you.” He admits with a whisper, wiping away the new tears. “You deserve better than me.”

“I hate whoever told you that you’re a monster.” You hiss, shaking your head still cupped in his hands. Your own hands find his sides and you pull him closer. “You're not. You are a man who gives older ladies companionship and friendly banter, letting them feel young and wanted again.” You know he’s not sleeping with anyone else, you’ve actually met a few of his clients when you’ve been out to dinners. They are all sweet, lonely women who can pay for his company. “You are a writer, and a good one. Your book will be a bestseller, I know it.” The conversation has shifted focus and you find yourself defending him to him. “Why do I deserve better than the man I love?”

Ezra swallows harshly, tears stinging in his eyes, and he leans in to press his forehead against yours. “Can you forgive me, mon chérie? For talking about leaving? I didn’t want to leave. I- I love you. I love you and I don’t want to go. I want you. If you can accept me as I am, I want you.” He murmurs, kissing your nose.

“There is nothing to accept, Ezra.” You close your eyes and try to catch your breath. “I love you, just as you are. I- you are perfect to me.” He never got upset at you when you worked at home, always let you finish up while he lounged beside you on his own computer or watched TV. Never tried to get you to change. Why would you want to change him?

He smiles, exhaling shakily then he presses his lips to yours, sweet but passionate as he breathes you in. He pulls back after a moment, “I love you, chérie. I love you more than life itself. I thank whatever deity is above that you called me for that New Year party. You’ve - you make me feel whole and accepted and loved. I could spend a lifetime repaying you for that.”

“I love you.” Now that you’ve said it, it’s almost second nature to repeat it. Addicted to the way it sounds when you tell him. “I- God, you don’t know how much you mean to me.” You promise, hugging him close and hiccuping again.

****

Ezra keeps his arm wrapped around your waist, smiling as you enter the ballroom for your company’s annual New Year party. Last year, you hired Ezra to come with you and now, he stands proud beside you. His book is now published and on the bestseller list like you predicted and he’s given up his escorting, now deciding to spend his nights with you and only you. “Have I told you you look gorgeous tonight, chérie?” He asks when you are standing at the bar, waiting on your champagne.

“Only when you tried to convince me to stay home and allow you to peel off my dress early.” You tease, leaning in and stealing a kiss. He’s officially moved in and every morning you wake up in his arms feels like a miracle. The second bedroom has been turned into his office, allowing him space to write and create. Often when you come home from work, you will sit on the sofa there and go through your emails while he finishes his self imposed writing limit. “But it pales in comparison to how handsome you are.”

Ezra bites his lip, staring at you and unable to believe how lucky he is to have you. You accept all of him, scars and blemishes, all of him. "Marry me." He blurts out, his dark eyes fixed on yours while you lean against the bar.

Rocking back, your eyes widen in surprise. “Ezra- what?” You forget how to breathe for a second and all you can hear is a slight buzzing in your ears. “I- you’re joking, right?” Ezra shakes his head, knowing it wasn’t the most articulate proposal in history, but he’s not joking. “You-you want me to marry you?” You whisper, unable to believe that this is actually happening.

He clears his throat, reaching for your hands, and he turns you towards him. “Mon chérie, I- I adore you. I wake up and am beyond grateful that you are in my arms. I never thought I’d find someone like you. I never imagined being with a woman like you after coming back from the war. I love you, I want you to be mine. I want you to be my wife. Marry me.” He requests and lets go of your hands to reach into his pocket. “I planned to do this later but I- I can’t wait.” He opens the small velvet box, displaying the simple yet impressive diamond he had purchased for you.

Gasping softly, your hand covers your mouth as you stare at the perfection that Ezra has picked out for you. Making tears spring to your eyes as you imagine marrying this man. Something that you never thought was in the cards for you. “Yes!” You cry after a moment, laughing and flustered. “Yes, I will marry you.” Lunging forward, you throw your arms around him and kiss him fervently. “I love you.”

He wraps his arms around you, the ring box in his hand and he grins against your lips until he is pecking them over and over. “I love you.” He murmurs your name and takes the ring out of the box, sliding it onto your finger. Others have noticed the scene and are applauding, including your bosses who orders a bottle of champagne for you and Ezra.

“Congratulations. Who would’ve thought you’d be getting engaged tonight?” Your boss winks at Ezra who chuckles, having emailed your boss to ask for the band to play your favorite song - the song that was playing during your first dance a year ago.

The song begins to play and Ezra takes your hand, guiding you to the dance floor. “I want to show off my beautiful fiancée.” He smiles, pulling you into his arms and he begins to sway with you to the music while your entire company watches, the ring on your finger glistening. You have tears in your eyes when you rest your head on Ezra and he kisses your hair. You had hired him a year ago to pretend to be your boyfriend and tonight, you’ll be leaving with him as your fiancé.

#pedro pascal #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra x f!reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect smut #ezra prospect imagine #ezra prospect fanfiction #ezra smut

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anamericangirl · 9 months

Note

Actually, gender reaffirming healthcare is not child abuse; you're just a transphobic piece of work who doesn't even know what real child abuse is. In fact, the real child abusers are actually transphobic assholes who abuse their kids for being trans. When parents give their kids gender-reaffirming healthcare, they're not abusing that kid; they're just letting that kid make their own choices for themself and actually loving them for it. As for abortion, nobody is killing babies, you absolute halfwit! There is a difference between an unfeeling fetus and an actual baby. Oh but of course, you just want to advocate forcing rape victims to give birth to kids they don't want against their will. Also, abortion actually saves lives, unlike your precious guns; guns just kill people and that's it. Yet you just want to prolong gun violence forever. Seriously, be careful what you wish for!

There you have it! Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

Wow you managed to be wrong about everything great job.

Gender affirming care is child abuse because healthcare is not supposed to "affirm" things it's supposed to diagnose a problem and treat it. Having a boy say "I'm a girl" or a girl say "I'm a boy" and responding "That's right honey you're whatever you say are here take puberty blockers" which will permanently change their bodies in ways they can't possibly comprehend is abuse.

If a person walked into a doctor's office with two arms and said they only have one and the doctor chopped off one of their arms that would be abuse but I bet you would call it "limb affirming care."

There are choices kids should not be allowed to make for themselves. We don't let kids choose to smoke or drink or get tattoos but an 11 year old boy should be allowed to "choose" to permanently mutilate his body because someone convinced him he's a girl because he likes to play with dolls and put on a dress once? Nah fuck you dude.

As for abortion it is killing a baby. The only difference between an "unfeeling fetus" and an "actual baby" are the ones you arbitrarily assigned to it. Abortion has never saved a single life and has killed millions more people than the holocaust did.

And for real, you are a disgrace for using rape victims as a prop for your morally bankrupt and ignorant opinions. Rape victims account for less than 1% of the women who get abortions and you using them to pretend pro-lifers just want to hurt rape victims is disgusting, especially when you're the one hiding behind that weak, pathetic and thoroughly debunked talking point. Shame on you.

It's very sad to me that you would actually believe any of that. You are a perfect example of how deep the propaganda in this country runs and the extent to which it is successfully brainwashing people. I hope you learn how to think for yourself, see through the lies and follow the truth.

#anon #answered

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rocknrollbabe14 · 8 months

Text

Stuck In The Middle (Joe x Reader) (Part One)

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: My spin on the enemies-to-lovers trope, cursing, drinking, vomiting, Joe being a little bit arrogant and assholish at times, hate sex (p in v sex, no protection), coercion to have sex (but secretly reader wants it too!), if I forgot anything, let know!!

**Special thanks to @josephs-quinns for making my header!! ❤️**

It seemed like yesterday that your best friend, Melanie had moved to the UK—London specifically for her job. It was an offer she couldn’t refuse. It hurt like hell to see your best friend go, but you tried to understand. Every now and then, you’d go to visit her in London and stay at her “flat” as she called it—she said that’s what they referred to an apartment as. It made you laugh, picking up bits and pieces of their lingo the longer Melanie lived over there. The time difference was one of the biggest hurdles you both had to overcome.

You were still awake while she was asleep and vice-versa. In the beginning, it was exhausting to try and wrap your head around. But as time went on, it got a little easier. You all made time to talk to one another, working around each other’s schedules. It’s like you all never skipped a beat—you always picked up right where you had left off. Both of your lives continued to change even if you all lived on two completely separate continents.

Melanie had found someone—a British man. All you really knew was his name was Wesley and he was a really nice guy. You had met him a few times along with his annoying friend, Joseph. Wesley was always very nice and inviting, making sure to make you feel welcome and included. Sometimes, you felt like the third wheel. It was like watching a sappy Hallmark movie—hearing them laugh and giggle, going as far as to even rub noses together. It was so cute that it was nauseating.

You’d order drinks, downing them quickly to try and get drunk and forget the entire thing. They told you how lonely you looked as if you needed reminding. You scoffed lightly laughing and they smiled at one another before telling you they had a solution. Their solution? Inviting Wesley’s friend Joseph along. You were told you’d love him and you both would hit it off, no problem. The idea was nice at first, but your delusional mind believed that may really work out.

But your delusion was quickly shot down. The first time time you met Joseph, he came off as a pompous asshole who obviously thought a lot of himself. Even telling Wesley about all the girls who were in his dms. Not a great way to start a conversation. He appeared to be glued to his cellphone, barely making any conversation with you when you asked him questions specifically about his acting career and how it had taken off. He seemed bored as you tried to make a small conversation.

He would look off, seeming to eye the girls in the bars or restaurants where you all ended up with Wesley and Melanie. It was hard to talk to someone who seemed like they cared less about you or getting to know you. Wesley would apologize for his behavior if he went to order a drink or went off to the bathroom, saying he had just been overwhelmed since becoming famous. You’d just nod with a small smile, pretending like you believed him.

You’d count the hours or minutes until the night would end, returning to Melanie’s apartment. When asking you how you liked Joe, you lied. You hated to lie to your best friend, but she and Wesley acted like you all would just have some fairytale romance and that wasn’t going to be the case. Melanie smiled at your response, telling you she felt like you and Joe hit it off. Was she blind? Where the hell had she been? Or was she too busy in her little love-drunk bubble to realize?

Either way, you were not excited to see him again and honestly dreaded it. You’d seen him a few times after this but did your best to just tolerate him for Melanie.

“So……”, Melanie began, the smile evident in her voice while on the phone.

“So what?”, you smirked back, lying down on your bed.

“Um, you wanna come to London and see me? Wes and I have some really exciting news.”

You sat back up abruptly, your heart dropping down into your stomach. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

You heard Melanie laugh on the other end of the phone. “No—no. But it’s great news and I’d love to tell you and show you in person.”

“Um—okay.”, you began. “When do you want me to fly in?”

“Monday?”

You blew air, thinking about taking more PTO off from work, but you wanted to see Melanie.

“Yeah—okay. Um, question?”

Melanie giggled. “Sure, what is it?”

“Joe’s not gonna be there, is he?”

There was genuine concern in your voice, evident you wanted to avoid him at all costs if you could. He was not your favorite person and that was clear.

“At some point—but Wes and I can pick you up from the airport—just us. I don’t get what you have against Joe. He’s really nice once you get to know him.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Was she talking about the same Joe that you were? Because you didn’t think so.

A deep exhale escaped your lips as you rubbed your furrowed brows. “He thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

Melanie laughed. “Well, he was GQ’s man of the year.”

“Melanie.”, you deadpanned before groaning.

She laughed. “Well, just saying. You know, he still isn’t seriously dating anyone.”

“And I care why?”

There was slight venom in your voice as you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. To be honest, you couldn't care less who Joe was dating and what kind of girls he was dating. You knew you didn’t match his type. He had been seen with a couple of women, the model kind. You didn’t fit that mold. And you were okay with that.

“Maybe—just maybe you all will hit it off.”

“Doubt it.”

“You never know.”, Melanie sing-songed.

“Promise me it’ll be just you and Wes at the airport, please?”

“It will be, Y/Nickname. I promise, okay?”

Her answer satisfied you, and you hung up. Laying in bed, all you could think about was being forced to see Joe. It was going to be daunting, but whatever Melanie’s news was, you wanted to know and had to be there for her. She was your best friend, after all. You called your supervisor asking for time off and thankfully she didn’t seem to have an issue with it. You apologized for it being such short notice.

The weekend passed and all you felt like you accomplished was packing clothes. Your flight left early at five thirty tomorrow morning and the flight was a long one to London. Laying in bed, you decided to scroll on your phone. Instantly, his face popped up. You groaned, throwing your phone off to the side. Could you not have one last night of peace? Everywhere you looked, Joe seemed to pop up. You knew he was famous and all, but it was becoming really annoying.

Your phone dinged, causing you to pick it up again.

-Can’t wait to see you!! X

Melanie.

-Same here! Text you when I board the plane. :)

Setting your alarm, you closed your eyes and attempted to go to sleep. It felt like you barely closed your eyes when they shot open, hearing the alarm go off. You groaned, reaching for your phone on charge and unplugging it before shutting off your alarm. You blew air as you sat up and grabbed your robe, heading off to the bathroom to start getting ready. It was four in the morning. You fixed your hair quickly, put on some makeup, and got dressed in record time.

Grabbing your suitcase, you made your way downstairs and loaded it in your car. You closed your trunk, releasing a sigh. Nothing to do now but prepare yourself. Once you arrived at the airport, you texted Melanie that you were getting ready to board the plane. Here went nothing. What craziness would find you on this trip? Would you finally go off on Joe? Would you be able to hold your tongue? It was all a mystery. It all depended on what kind of news Melanie and Wes had to share.

The flight was long and exhausting. Your hips hurt from sitting in the seat for so long. When it was announced that you all were finally going to land, you couldn’t have been happier. The process still seemed to take forever as you waited for your luggage in baggage claim. Yours finally showed up, grabbing it and finally feeling excited to go see Melanie and Wesley. Your eyes panned the crowd of people, finally noticing Melanie who was waving widely with a smile on her face. Wesley was waving lightly beside her as you rushed over to them both.

“Oh my God, I’m so happy to see you.”, you smiled as you and Melanie embraced one another.

“Same here. Look, Y/N, there’s something—”

“Wesley, you look so good.”

He chuckled as you all shared a hug.

“Welcome to London.”, Wesley laughed as he shared a nervous look with Melanie.

“Y/N.”, Melanie persisted.

“Yeah?”, you smiled easily but your heart dropped into your stomach as he came into view.

“Is she here yet? She’s taking forever.”, Joe didn’t look up from his phone, making his way back over to the group.

Your smile instantly turned into a frown as you crossed your arms, debating a smart-aleck response.

“You know I don’t control the airline.”, you rolled your eyes, finally getting his attention.

“Joe came with us.”, Melanie smiled through gritted teeth.

“I see that.”, you narrowed your eyes.

They promised you that Joe wouldn’t come with them and now, here he was. You felt overly annoyed and frustrated, wishing you could have five minutes to ask her what the hell she had done by bringing him with them.

“I thought just you and Wesley were coming.”, you said, a hint of annoyance in your voice.

“Well, there is something we’d like to tell you and Joe. You’re our best friends.”, Melanie smiled, her eyes beaming.

You mustered a fake smile before Wesley offered to grab your bags. Joe stayed on his phone, never looking up as you all continued through the airport. The car was parked out front, and Melanie got in the front passenger seat, leaving you and Joe in the back seat. From your understanding, ever since Joe’s acting career went off, he had been hard to relate to and thought he was better than everyone. He thought he could pull any woman he wanted to— the thought alone caused you to roll your eyes.

“How was your flight?”, Wesley asked, closing the door.

“Long.”

Joe chuckled from beside you causing you to instantly glare at him. Who did he think he was?

“What’s so funny, Joe?”, you crossed your arms.

“Your flight was long, that’s a bit of an understatement.”

You rolled your eyes. He was so insufferable. What right did he have to push your buttons like this? You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms defensively. Even his presence annoyed you. Everything about him—from the way he fixed his hair to the shoes he wore on his feet annoyed you.

“How does dinner sound?”, Melanie smiled, trying to break up the animosity.

“Fine.”, you and Joe answered together.

Silence took over the car ride as Wesley continued to drive. You knew you hadn’t been here long, but you already wanted to go back home. Especially if Joe was going to be part of your visit. Wesley and Melanie began talking amongst themselves, leaving you and Joe silent in the back. The car ride to the restaurant was agonizing, punishment enough already. You could only imagine how horrible dinner was going to be. What a disaster it would be. You’d have to drink. No, not just drink—get drunk to get through this night.

Then maybe after, this trip wouldn’t be so bad. You could only hope. That was all you could manage to hold onto right now. Wesley finally parked, pulling you all up to a fancy restaurant in Soho. Nothing like you usually had in the States. You all carefully got out, Wesley opening the door for Melanie before handing his keys to the valet, ushering you all to follow him inside.

Inside, quiet jazz music played as the waiter asked how many you had. Wesley told them he had reservations for a party of four. The waiter quickly grabbed menus and told you all to follow him. Weaving in and out of the crowd, you finally found yourselves at a table. Melanie sat on the other side of Wesley, unfortunately leaving Joe and you sitting together. . You both ended up beside each other, you trying your best not to look at him or make accidental eye contact.

You eyed the menu, trying to decide what you wanted. Wesley asked if you had any questions but you told him you decided on steak tartare, also ordering some wine to get started on your way to forgetting this night. After you all ordered, the waiter took the menus. Your drinks were served and you got a funny feeling while Melanie and Wesley were smiling at one another.

“So….”, Melanie began as she grabbed Wesley’s hand.

“So….”, you repeated.

You grabbed your wine glass, bringing it up to your lips.

“Um, Wes and I have some news…..”

This caught Joe’s attention, causing him to look at Wesley with a confused look. Your mind instantly went to the thought that she was pregnant by him.

“We’re engaged!”, they said together as Melanie flashed her ring, causing you to almost spit out your sip of wine.

You heard Joe take a deep breath as you grabbed a napkin to dab your lips.

“Congratulations.”, you finally choked out before coughing easily.

Deep down inside, this felt a little sudden.

“Yes, congratulations.”, Joe agreed, clearing his throat.

“And…..”, Melanie smiled as she looked back at Wesley, he nodded encouraging her to continue. “We want you and Joe to be our maid of honor and best man.”

She was smiling so wide, she was showing all her teeth. She laughed easily, giddy as ever. You were stunned by her even suggesting that you could be a maid of honor with Joe—being the best man. What was she thinking?

“You’re our best mates.”, Wesley smiled before he and Melanie shared a kiss.

You debated for a moment if you should agree to this—you knew what the maid of honor and best man did. Most of the wedding stuff was up to you all. Like bachelorette and bachelor parties, organizing a rehearsal dinner—you’d have to be in constant contact with one another. Did you really want that? But you didn’t want to let Wesley and Melanie down either.

“Um, sure—I’d love to.”, you spoke up finally.

“Yes, of course, I will.”, Joe agreed.

You met each other’s eyes, almost as if you all were thinking the same thing.

“Brill! Can’t wait.”, Wesley smiled.

“So when is the big day?”, Joe asked, sipping his wine before tearing into his oysters.

“The 15th of August.”

Joe coughed abruptly. “That's like—two months away.”

Melanie nodded. “We can’t wait any longer.”

“So I need to stay two months?”

“Actually, we’re planning to have the wedding in Italy.”, Melanie smiled.

“Yes, we’re planning to leave next Monday for Italy—but don’t worry—you and Joe are coming too, we hope.”, Wesley looked into Melanie’s eyes.

You and Joe exchanged looks for once, seeming to be thinking the same thing. Making a mental note, you knew you’d have to ask for an extension on your time off.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”, Joe smiled easily before bringing the wine back up to his lips, making a small face as if it was bitter.

But it wasn’t the wine that was bitter. It was the thought of you all having to be in the same place together for two months. What were Wesley and Melanie thinking? They knew you both clearly didn’t get along well. And now you all were going to have to work together to plan a wedding for your best friends. This was clearly going to be the hardest thing you ever had to do.

“We’re so glad. And we got tickets to see the Arctic Monkeys tomorrow night at the music festival, try to relax and clear the air before things really start up.”, Wesley smirked to Melanie.

“Fun.”, you smiled easily.

“Cheers to that.”, Joe raised his wine glass.

You all made a small toast before you and Joe began downing wine as fast as the waiter could refill your glasses. The rest of the dinner ended up being a blur. You didn’t remember getting in the cab or Melanie and Wes helping to carry you inside Melanie’s apartment and getting you in the bed in her spare bedroom she had prepared just for you to come stay.

“How much did she drink?”, Wesley asked, your brain barely registering his voice inside a haze.

“I don’t know, several glasses. How’s Joe?”, Melanie asked.

So that idiot got drunk too. That made you feel a little better in your drunken state.

“Drunk off his ass.”

“Do you think you’ll be okay getting him inside?”

Their voices were low, barely audible through the door.

“I think so. If I need reinforcement, I’ll call some of our other mates.”, Wesley laughed lightly.

“Okay. Call me when you get home, I love you.”

“I love you too, babe. I will.”

There was the soft sound of Wesley’s footsteps departing along with the apartment door shutting quietly. You heard Melanie sigh before opening your door to peep in on you.

“Are you okay Y/N?”

“Fine—sleepy.”, you responded. “Can you help me out of my clothes?”

You knew you weren’t being yourself. This reminded you of your college days when you and Melanie would hit the clubs, partying. But this felt even worse than those days did. Was it because you’re older now and your body couldn’t handle that stuff anymore? Melanie attempted to help you stand up, most of your weight leaning on her.

“Okay, let’s get these clothes off.”, Melanie said as she tugged at your shirt.

It went up and over your head as she tugged at your dress pants, helping slide them down your leg. She fought against the fear you’d fall over.

“Y/N, can you help me some?”

“I’m trying, Melanie.”, you groaned.

After several minutes of fighting and frustration, your clothes were off leaving you only in your bra and panties before Melanie wrestled to get you in bed, covering you up.

“Goodnight, Mel.”

“Goodnight, Y/Nickname.”, she sighed as she flipped out the lights and shut your door softly.

Your head was pounding as you flipped over in bed in an attempt to get comfortable. It didn’t take long before you drifted off to sleep. Unsure of how many hours passed, you were awakened by that familiar sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. You shot up out of bed, throwing the door to the guest bedroom open and desperately looking down the hallway for the bathroom. Thankfully, you found it before throwing yourself over the toilet, emptying the contents of your stomach.

Silently, you prayed your best friend wouldn’t find you in this state. Hanging your head over the commode, you tried to wrap your head around what happened last night. All you remembered was going to dinner, Wesley and Melanie announcing their engagement and wedding, and you having to be in contact with Joe for at least two more months in Italy before this wedding. Apparently, all that information had been too much and that’s why you felt like wine was the appropriate answer, drinking yourself into oblivion.

You heard the door creak open softly. “Y/N?”

“I’m good, Mel. Go back to sleep.”, you groaned. “And no need to gloat on your way out.”

She chuckled lightly. “Hard to sleep when your best friend is puking her guts out.”

“I know—it’s my fault.”, you groaned.

“Was dinner really that miserable?”

“No. I’m happy for you and Wes, I really am. It’s just putting up with Joe.”

“Joe really isn’t that bad. I’ve had to put up with him a lot—he and Wes are kinda a packaged deal, you know.”, she crossed her arms playfully.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t hate you.”

You felt the nausea coming back on just thinking about him.

“He doesn’t hate you either.”

“Unless you wanna see me throw up again, can we finish this conversation later?”

“I’ll go make tea. Want some?”

“No thanks.”, you grabbed your stomach.

“Suit yourself.”, Melanie shrugged her shoulders playfully before closing the bathroom door.

_________________________________________________________________________

Several hours and a couple of tylenols later, you were finally beginning to feel like yourself again. You were lying on Melanie’s couch, staring at the white ceiling and debating your life choices. The only reason you had agreed to do this was for Melanie and Wesley. You had come to like Wesley a lot and you were happy to know he and Melanie were getting married. He was a good guy and seemed to genuinely care about her. You never expected her to find love in London, but you were happy she did. She deserved it after her last relationship.

“Wes and I are going to taste cake flavors today.”

“Sounds exciting.”, you responded lightly before turning your head to look at her.

She was putting her small hoop earrings in as she tried to simultaneously put on her heels.

“Who doesn’t love cake? Are you feeling any better? Think you’ll be up to the concert tonight?”

“Yeah, I think so. The room doesn’t seem as swimmy, so that’s a plus.”

Melanie chuckled in response. “Good. You and Joe really need to try and bond. It’s important to Wes and I. You’re our best friends and this is our big special day. We can’t have you all getting drunk in the bathroom, trying to avoid one another.”

“He’s the one who comes off snarky and like a pompous asshole.”

“Y/N, please. Just try. For us.”

“Fine.”, you groaned, crossing your arms.

“Alright, I’ll be back later. Go explore London or something.”

You gave a slight smirk at her as she grabbed her keys, and exited the apartment.

You turned on the television in an attempt to find something to watch, eventually leaving on the BBC channel and drifting off to sleep. The time difference was really fucking with you. Your phone’s annoying tones started you out of your sleep as you searched for your phone that you were sure you laid on the coffee table.

“Hello?”

Your voice was groggy.

“Hey. Can you do me a huge favor, please?”

Melanie. Her voice was desperate, she needed a huge favor.

“What’s up?”, you stretched easily, yawning.

“Have you been asleep?”, Wesley chimed in.

“Maybe. Look, the time difference is fucking with me. I’m jet-lagged. What’s up, Mel?”

“I forgot our wedding planner at Wesley’s apartment. We really need it.”

Your brain was trying to catch up.

“And risk running into Joe. No thanks.”

“Please.”, Melanie pleaded.

“Joe won’t bet there, I promise. He’s out for a run. Said he had to pick a few things up.”

You sighed, knowing you were gonna give in. But for the record, you were only doing this for them. No one else.

“Fine. Can you send me the address?”

“Thanks so much Y/N. It means so much to us. I’ll text it right over. See you soon.”

“Uh-huh, you’re welcome.”, you nodded through her endless appreciation.

You got up and threw on your shoes. For the weather, you had decided on jeans and a tank top. You had read that London’s weather could change at the drop of a hat. So far, it was warm and beautiful weather as you locked the apartment. You looked at the address to Wesley and Joe’s apartment, noting that it wasn’t very far from Melanie’s. You decided the walk couldn’t be that bad, right? Hopefully, you would avoid Joe’s running route. What psycho went running in the middle of the day?

You passed a lot of Londoners, feeling like you stuck out like a sore thumb. It felt like everyone’s eyes were on you as if they knew you didn’t belong here. Some people were riding their bikes, running, walking with friends and you silently prayed one person you wouldn’t pass was Joe. You were not in the mood to deal with him today. Not right now, anyway. He was like alcohol, you had to build a tolerance.

After a brisk twenty-minute walk, you arrived at the apartment numbered 213, knowing this was their apartment. Wesley had texted you, telling you there was a spare key under the mat in the event that he or Joe had forgotten their keys or locked themselves out. Looking around, you made sure no one was watching you as you pulled the mat up and grabbed the spare key. One step closer to getting in here, finding the planner, and getting out. That was your goal, that was your mission.

Clearing your throat, you slid the key into the lock. It opened with ease. You braced yourself as you entered their apartment, hesitant of what the smell would be or what you’d find but to your surprise, everything was fairly neat and in order. Shoes were lined up neatly at the door, the smell of bourbon filling your nose. You slid your shoes off, making your way into the apartment, feeling like you were in the clear.

Their apartment was posh-looking, especially for be two men living there. It was neat and classy, but honestly you didn’t expect much less from Joe.

“I wonder where she left that stupid planner.”, you sighed as you began to look in the living room.

“Well hello to you too, love. What planner?”

You jumped, not expecting to hear another voice in the apartment—much less from the person you loathed. Your eyes shot over to the kitchen to find a nude Joe in the kitchen, the counter covering his cock and balls. He had a huge cheeky smirk on his face as he lit a cigarette. His curly hair was sticking to his forehead, his arms glistened in the kitchen light. You cursed your body as your stomach twisted into a pretzel.

“Oh fuck—oh my God. I didn’t think you’d be home. Wes told me and promised me you wouldn’t be here.”, you stammered, covering your face.

Instantly, you could feel the blood draining from your face and your cheeks heating up.

“I came home from my jog a little early. It’s hard not to stare right?”

“Um no I just came here—for Melanie and Wesley’s stupid wedding planning book. Where is it?”

Joe smirked as he took a puff from his cigarette as you flipped over pillows on the couch, turned over magazines, and moved anything that you thought could be in the way of you finding this planner so you could get the hell out of here.

“I could tell you where it is—if you wanna do a little something for me in return, you know, help one another?”

“And what’s that?”, you snapped back, opening the cabinets to the entertainment system.

You were too focused in the living room to notice Joe coming out from behind the counter, his cock on full display. He chuckled softly, causing you to turn around and recoil.

“Maybe give me a little something of yours?”

You knew what he was implying, your eyes narrowing.

“Your sexy little cunt. God, it’s been a while since I had sex.”

“Please. You could have sex with any girl you want.”, you rolled your eyes. “And besides, I hate your guts.”

“Have you ever had hate sex? I mean you’re not looking away or telling me to put clothes on. It’s so big, it’s hard not to look, right?”

“Fuck off, Joe.”

He chuckled tauntingly like he was trying to make you mad. “Aw come on, you’ve never had one this big I bet. Have you?”, he asked, taking his cock in his free hand while he stroked the length of his shaft.

“I’ve had one bigger.”, you lied as you turned your attention to the bookcase.

“Really? Then you’ll have no problem taking mine, will you?”

“And just why should I?”

You skimmed through the bookcase, searching and hoping you’d find this planner. But it wasn’t looking to work out in your favor.

“Because I’m sure you got the speech where we need to get closer, didn’t you? Wesley gave me mine this morning before I left on my run.”

“So sex will bring us closer?”

Your tone was condescending, making it sound like his proposition was the dumbest thing you’d ever heard of.

“Maybe it just makes us hate each other a little less?”

“Where did she put this fucking book?”, you groaned, feeling like you wanted to pull your hair out while completely ignoring Joe’s question.

He watched you for a minute before putting his cigarette out in the ashtray, able to comfortably stroke himself now. You bent over looking in every place that you thought this planner could hide. Were you trying to entice him? It was like dangling a piece of meat in front of an alligator and expecting it not to bite. He bit his lip while watching you intently, thinking of all the things he could do to you. He’d make a mess of you, he just knew it. All he needed was the okay and he would.

You stood back up, running a hand through your hair and debating ripping some out in frustration.

“Fuck me.”, you sighed.

“I’d love to if you’d let me.”, came his snarky response.

You glared at him. “You really know where the planner is?”

“Of course I do. Wes and Melanie always work on it here.”

“And if we do this, you’d tell me.”

“Of course, I would. I’m not a total dick, Y/N.”

“I’ve already been here fifteen minutes.”, you eyed your Apple Watch.

“Fifteen minutes we could have utilized, hm?”, he hummed as he came closer—so close his breath was on your neck.

You could feel his eyes staring at you, studying you. You swallowed hard, closing your eyes. You were not about to give in to Joseph Quinn, were you?

“You’re a pretty girl, you know that? It’s just that fucking bratty attitude of yours.”

You turned to meet his eyes, him continuing to steadily stroke his cock. You couldn’t help it—your eyes wandered down to his cock. You pursed your lips, close to saying something in response but the words weren’t forming. It was like your brain was mush and you hated feeling this way. You hated allowing a man to make you feel this way. Feminists everywhere would be so ashamed.

“So what’s it gonna be, love?”

“Where?”, you sighed, gritting your teeth.

“The couch. Gotta make it quick and fast. You gotta get that planner to Melanie and Wes.”

“Thank you Captain Obvious.”, you rolled your eyes.

“Just shut up and let’s fuck.”, he breathed as he pulled you closer, crashing his lips into yours.

Your brain was running a million miles a minute, trying to think of every reason that this was wrong. He gently backed you up into the living room, beginning to tug at your jeans making quick work of unbuttoning them. You felt the button come loose, him tugging your jeans down so hard you were afraid he might have ripped one of your favorite pairs of jeans. Another reason you could hate him. He broke the kiss, allowing you to steady yourself by holding onto his shoulders as he bent down, helping you out of your jeans. Why was he being rough but nice? It didn’t make sense.

Closing your eyes, your brain was trying to convince you this was stupid. You hated this man. But you weren’t listening to your voice of reason, trying to bury it as one of his hands brushed over your cunt.

“Let’s just see how wet you are for me.”, he breathed as he pulled your panties to the side, immediately inserting two fingers causing you to gasp and dig your nails into his shoulder blades.

He smirked up at you, brown eyes burning with desire and lust. Not those little puppy dog eyes all the girls claimed he had.

“Fuck. You’re soaked.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to look at anything but him. “Am not.”

He laughed at your attempt to convince him otherwise. “Oh you’re soaked, love. This turns you on—I turn you on.”

“It isn’t you.”, you laughed bitterly as his fingers traced your wet folds, going deeper.

“No?”

“No.”, you argued more confidently. “Any human is gonna get turned on when sex is mentioned. Basic sex ed.”, you scoffed as you choked back a moan.

“I suppose.”, he agreed. “But you’re just a little too eager for this, aren’t you?”

“Fuck—you.”, you choked as he buried his fingers deeper. “Thought this was gonna be fast.”

“You want it rough and fast?”

“I’m sure Melanie and Wesley will be blowing up my phone any second.”

“Fine, we’ll fuck fast.”, he groaned as he slid both fingers out of your wet cunt, causing you to whimper before he picked you up and tossed you on the couch, grabbing your tank top, pulling it up and over your head fast and in a hurry.

All that was left was your bra and panties. Grabbing one side of your panties, he jerked them down your legs and kept only one leg in so it would be faster to put them back on or so you imagined. Climbing on top of you, he pulled the cups of your bra down and exposed your breasts just enough so he could play with them. There was no need to take it completely off when you all had to rush through this, right?

Wasting no time, he quickly lined himself up with your entrance. You inhaled deeply, bracing yourself for him. It had been months since you’d had sex and you weren’t going to lie, you were a little eager. Or your body was at least.

“Fuck.”, you hissed as he split you wide open, burying himself deep in your cunt.

“Thought you had one bigger than mine.”

You glared up at him. “It’s been a few months since I’ve had sex, okay?”

“Aw, you’ve been deprived, haven’t you?”, he feigned as he began to move his hips.

You closed your eyes and tried to ignore him, feeling him working himself deep inside of you. It stung slightly, but you knew it was because you hadn’t had sex in a while.

“Fuck you’re so tight.”, he groaned as he quickened his pace, the burning sensation intensifying.

Fighting the urge to crinkle your face, you hoped this pain would soon turn to pleasure. It always did. You didn’t respond to him, choosing to ignore him.

“M’ can tell you haven’t been fucked in a while. How long’s it been?”

“I don’t know—exactly.”, you moaned as you turned your head to the side.

“Sure, you do.”, he moved one of his hands to twist and pinch your hard nipple.

“I don’t know…six months.”, you breathed in a moan as he hit the spot that made you forget your name, instantly turning the pain into pleasure—finally.

“Six months.”, he repeated, breathing beginning to hitch. “I’m gonna give it to you so hard.”

You opened your eyes. “What are you waiting for then?”

He chuckled, a smile spreading across his face. “Be careful what you wish for, love….”

Without warning, he picked up his pace causing your eyes to widen and your senses to heighten. He was putting a lot of force behind it, pounding you into the couch so hard you could almost see stars.

“You—just—might—get it.”, he groaned out.

“Fuck, Joe.”, you moaned as you gripped his shoulder tighter, sinking your fingernails in.

“Your cunt takes my cock so well....”, he hissed as he grabbed one of your legs, slinging it over his shoulder, allowing himself more leverage.

How did you end up in this situation? It wasn’t by chance. Would it happen again? Your brain couldn’t hypothetically answer those questions right now, much more focused on something else—someone else.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah—fits like a glove.”, he grunted as he rutted himself into you.

You closed your eyes, trying to focus on a climax. You needed to cum and at least get something out of this for yourself other than Melanie’s stupid planner. You deserved it for having to put up with his dumb ass. It was happening, you were climbing that hill and fast. Joe could read it on your face, he could almost see your heart beating out of your chest. Your pulse was skyrocketing, you just knew it.

“Close?”, He breathed.

You didn’t respond. He was going to get an answer out of you—one way or another. Smirking, he pulled out abruptly causing your eyes to shoot open, a gasp leaving your lips.

“What—the—fuck, Joe?”

“You never answered me.”

You sighed, clearly annoyed. “I was close before you fucking pulled out.”

“See? Was that so hard?”, he asked.

You groaned. “Can you please just shut up and let’s finish?”

He grunted as he continued to fuck himself deep inside you. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on your own release. You needed this. Your stress was through the roof and you owed this to yourself to get through these next two months. Melanie never explained that you’d be coming to London for a wedding. It was just supposed to be catching up. Joe wasn’t supposed to be in the equation, not for the full length of time.

“It’s easily been thirty minutes.”, you groaned.

“It’s hard to cum when you’re complaining, love.”

“You probably jerk off thinking about it—about my bitchy little mouth, don’t you?”

“I’m not letting you get in control.”, he gritted his teeth, clearly becoming close.

The fight for power kinda of turned you on, helping you become closer to an orgasm. Anything to get you through this. His expression eased when he noticed the signs coming back—the signs you were becoming close to an orgasm again. He decided this time he wouldn’t be too mean. His curls were sticking to his forehead, sweat beading up on his forehead and face. One thing you learned in a short time during your stay here was that Londoners didn’t use air conditioning.

His single chain was dangling as he aimlessly fucked himself into you. What a grade-A douchebag he was. You knew he thought he was God’s gift to women. Hell, he’d probably have another one tonight at the music festival. All you were was a notch in his belt.

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum.”, you hissed.

“Oh fuck—cum all over my dick.”

His words sent you over the edge instantly. You tightened your grip, sinking fingernails into his shoulders as your eyes rolled back in your head, toes curling as you felt your cunt tighten around him and your juices began covering his dick.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck….”, was all you could hiss out during your orgasm.

A proud smile spread across his lips as he watched you come undone right in front of him. He wasn’t going to coerce you through your orgasm, you were a big girl.

“Shit, you squirted all over my dick. You’re a squirter, aren’t you?”

You didn’t answer him.

“Fuck, you are. And that’s sexy shit. Porno shit. Every man’s fucking wet dream.”, he laughed as he continued to fuck himself inside of you, only intensifying your orgasm.

Interrupting your moment of euphoria was your stupid cell phone. It took a moment for your brain to even register what it was. It was Melanie’s ringtone.

“Joe.”

“I’m working on it.”, he hummed. “Almost there if you’ll shut your bitchy mouth.”

“You have to fucking cum or get out of me because this means I’m taking too long.”, you rolled your eyes, squirming under him.

“Just relax. Gonna—cum—hold still, fuck—here it comes.”, he threw his head back. “Gonna fill you full.”

You feel his hips stutter as you held onto him haphazardly, instantly feeling his hot, sticky cum coat the walls of your cunt as you stretched just enough to answer your phone.

“Hello?”, your breathing was quick and sounded like you had run a marathon.

“Hey Y/Nickname, did you find our planner? The baker is kinda waiting on us.”, she laughed nervously. “What have you been doing? It sounds like you’re working out or something.”

Joe held back a laugh only snickering as he finished cumming deep inside of you, holding himself there and making sure none was wasted.

“Uh—just nerves. Can’t find your planner and freaking out. I was hoping not to have to call you but I can’t find it.”

Joe slid out once he was sure he was finished, causing you to wince as some of his load seeped out behind him. He disappeared into another room, leaving you on the phone with your best friend, practically naked.

“It’s in Wesley’s room. Just open the door and it should be on the bedside table or in the drawer one, I can’t remember.”

Joe came back with a towel and the planner, holding it like it was some prize.

“Uh, I found it. Be there asap. Send me directions to the bakery. Thanks, love you, bye.”, you hit the end button quickly.

“Clean yourself up and go. Here’s the planner.”, he tossed the towel at you and laid the planner on the arm of the loveseat.

“Really? What a gentleman.”, you rolled your eyes.

“And yet you could have just called Melanie from the beginning to ask her where her planner was, but you fucked me so I would tell you.”, he smirked. “Who really wants this worse than the other?”

You were lying there in disbelief, trying to process this. No way you wanted this more than he did. The only reason you considered this was because you hadn’t had sex in a while. That was the only reason—wasn’t it?

“You’re a dirty girl, Y/N. I’ll see you tonight.”

With that, he turned to go and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You groaned as you quickly wiped yourself off and fixed your underwear and bra before sliding your jeans on. You tossed the towel on the floor, leaving the remnants of the mess you made behind. You quickly looked at yourself in the reflection of the cabinet before grabbing the planner, you looked okay but you definitely needed a shower. In the bathroom, you could hear the sound of water cutting on.

You looked down at the address on your phone, opening the door to the apartment to leave. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful day. Closing the door and eyeing your watch, you knew you had to be fast. That took a little longer than you were expecting especially since you had run into some…obstacles. Deciding quickly to hail a cab, you knew this would be the faster route. You had to make up time and it felt bad to know Wesley and Melanie were waiting on you. You couldn’t tell them the real reason for your delay.

Ten more minutes passed before you arrived at the bakery, quickly paying your fare and exiting the cab, holding onto the planner for dear life. You threw open the door to the bakery to see Melanie and Wesley sitting with the baker, looking at designs and flavors while they apologized for the delay.

“Sorry, it took me so long. I looked everywhere.”, you laughed nervously.

“It’s fine, thank you for doing that for us.”, Wesley smiled as you handed him the planner.

“Yes, thank you so much Y/N.”, Melanie chimed in.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed causing you to pull it out of your back pocket. The number wasn’t in your contacts but you instantly knew who it was upon reading it.

-Thanks for earlier. We should do it again sometime. X

“No problem. I’m gonna grab some lunch and head back to the apartment and grab a shower before tonight. Have fun picking cakes.”, you smiled nervously, causing Wesley and Melanie to sense something was off with you but they couldn’t put their finger on it.

You rushed out of the bakery, feeling like you were about to suffocate. The fresh air with the breeze didn’t seem to quail your issues in the slightest. You needed to come to terms with what you had done and quickly. Reality was hitting you full force as you felt something between your legs. This really happened and there was no undoing it. Your phone buzzed again, reminding you that you hadn’t opened or responded to the text message. And your dumb-ass self actually looked again. It was going to be a long two months.

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson #joseph x reader #eddie imagines #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #enemies to lovers #Spotify

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