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sparkledfirecracker · 1 year

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Guilty Pleasure

Request: Andy fucking his sister in law while Laurie is out of town for a week.

Word count: 5262

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit sexual content, explicit language, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), cheating but not really, spanking, fingering, penetrative sex, sibling rivalry, semi-bullying by a sibling, mention of re-marrying, porn without a real plot. If I missed any, let me know.

A/N: This contains cheating, do not read or interact if you're sensitive to familial betrayal. Jacob does not exist in this story. Anything you read is fictional and not based on actual events. This is not beta’d. Happy 2023, nonnie! May it be a great filthy and panty-wetting season. Tumblr ate your ask and I’ve tried to post this 3 times now. Hopefully this meets your expectations and thank you for dropping off the request (I’m sorry it took me so long) 😘. Enjoy!

I do not give permission to repost, publish or use any of my stories, that counts for media entertainment too. Reblogging, liking, commenting and ghost reading on the other hand is all allowed.

By clicking ‘keep reading’ or ‘read more’ you agree to be 18 or older.

Your relationship with your sister had never been loving, it always contained rivalry. Having wanted to curse your father for remarrying. Laurie was always being picked as the favourite in your eyes.

That is why it had surprised you the minute she had asked you to check in on her husband. Stating she was going to be out of town for the week. As a good sister you had agreed to her request, it also came in handy that you enjoyed spending time with Andy. He was generally nice and on top of that, good company.

Since you both worked together at the district attorney’s office, it immediately eased the awkwardness. With a slip of the tongue, you had offended Andy during lunch. Stating that you never had seen ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’. Andy practically had demanded you to come over for dinner and watch the film together.

As the day came to an end. You had declined his offer to give you a ride as you still had some errands to run for Neil. Andy had huffed at the mention of his name. Muttering that Neil hadn’t been worth all the extra hours so that he could get praise for the work you had done.

It had been almost two hours later than initially planned. “Andy, I’m home.” You yelled excitedly through the house as you stepped through the front door.

His muscular frame appeared in the opened-up arch of the kitchen. With a wide smirk, he placed his hands on his hips and scanned you from head to toe. A comforting warmth wrapped around you like a blanket preventing the cold from creeping in.

You weren’t prepared for the intrusive thoughts to flood back the way they did. Laurie had won the bet between you both all those years ago. It wasn’t so much a bet, it was more a way to give you stick for not going after what you desired. Your heart shattered the moment she told you she started to develop feelings for Andy.

Seeing Andy like this made all the old feelings resurface. The doting husband waiting for his partner to come home. A soft yearning for his touch or those lingering eye contact moments. Mentally rolling your eyes when you looked straight at his wedding ring. Wanting to curse yourself for having allowed their relationship to go on this way.

Their marriage was based on a lie. Laurie didn’t love him the way you did, all this yearning had stopped the moment they said “I do”. Only to find out now that those feelings never had been gone. Just stuffed and locked in an imaginary filing cabinet.

Insufferable reminders of what could’ve been clouding your head. That’s where Laurie thrived, your discomfort. And it had become her running joke, teasing you for fawning over the man that she fucked at night.

“I hope you like pizza,” Andy let out a heavy sigh, “I’ve ruined the pasta.” He confessed, supporting an embarrassed look. Leaning back against the counter of the kitchen island. His hands gripping the edge so tightly it almost seemed like it drained the blood.

Was he nervous? He couldn’t be, he had never been nervous when you were around in the past. Though the tension between you both could be cut by a knife.

“I brought beer.” You smiled, holding up the six-pack in your hand breaking the slightly awkward silence.

“You didn’t have to.”

“It’s not polite to come empty-handed.”

“You’re family, you’re not obliged to bring anything.” He gave you a smile grabbing the six-pack from your hands. Making his way towards the fridge, opening the door, and looking back at you. “Want one?”

“I prefer a cold one.”

He nodded, grabbing two bottles from a shelf while sliding your six-pack into one of the empty spots. He cracked open both bottles, handing you one.

A polite conversation followed as you settled yourselves in the living room. With the amount of pizza ordered, you suggested doing a taste test. Andy admitted that he didn’t know what you would like and had ordered multiple choices while he handed you a notepad and pen to scribble down your ratings of each slice.

He had started playing Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and you were so invested in the film. Almost blocking out where you were, losing track of your surroundings as the television sucked you into the story at least so you had hoped.

Your your mind wandered to other things. What would life look like if you and Andy had started dating? What if Laurie never had acted upon her impulses? He kept it neat and groomed, the bristles must be so soft. His beard would surely feel great on your skin. Those hands were large and probably very skilled. The way he gripped his beer bottle with precision and delicacy. The motion made you swallow hard, shaking your head slightly to gain back focus.

The thought of those fingers deeply buried inside you made you clench. How the curl of gesture would send you over the edge with much skill. His perfect lips wrapped around your clit, licking and sucking your core. Pleasing you in any and every way no man had ever done before.

You blamed it on the way he walked around the office. He truly must be very well hung. The way his bulge had once been shown and on full display. Remembering the way he had looked back at you through narrowed eyes. As if to tell you that you had been the reason his pants got awfully tight.

With a choked breath, your chest warmed at the sound of his laughter. Clamping a hand over your mouth when you let out a squeak from the slight shock. His eyes burned holes into your skin as you felt him watch. Though it was hard not to do the same every time he laughed at a funny part, either taking a sip of the beer in his hand or taking a bite from his pizza.

“You know you can sit on the couch, right?” The question sounded more like a demand, but you tried to avoid his gaze at all costs.

“I know, but I like sitting on the floor.” It was a swift reply, gulping your beer. Nervous feelings grew in the pit of your stomach.

“When your ass gets all stiff and tingling, you know where you can get comfortable.”

You almost choked on the gulp of beer you had just taken. Coughing and laughing as you tried to breathe. Andy slid over, softly patting and rubbing your back.

“Don’t say things like that Andy, I could’ve killed myself.”

“As long as I’m here, you’re free from harm’s reach.”

“How noble, my knight in shining armour.”

“Is that how you’ve been seeing me for all those years?”

His gloating face said it all. He knew about your crush on him. How? Did Laurie tell him? Was it all those stolen glances in the office or the ones here on his couch in his own home? Maybe even all the tortuous looks and hurrying out of the room whenever he was near in your college days?

You felt your face heat up, trying to hide your embarrassed expression. Blood pumped through your veins like it was about to blow your eardrums.

“I’ve known for years.” Andy confessed, “I must say I’m amazed and angered at the same time. You have denied yourself to try and win me for you. Were you too shy to ask me out for that sorority party?”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. There was no turning back. Lying to him or yourself wasn’t going to help either of you.

“Yes.”

“I need a little more words than that, sweetheart.” He inched his way closer to you.

“Yes, I was shy.” The lump in your throat felt uncomfortable.

“Why did you let Laurie treat you the way she did? Why did you let her win?”

“I don’t know. I should go home.” You rushed, trying to get up and run away from this mess that was unfolding. Instead, you were slammed back down, air left your lungs as you collided with Andy’s thighs. One hand kept you pinned down on his lap. The other massaging and squeezing your ass.

“It’s always been you that I truly wanted,” a warmth flooded your chest again. “Imagine my disappointment when you didn’t object during our wedding. Making me feel miserable and stuck in this marriage for years.”

Andy’s hand rubbed the globe of your ass, you gasped when his hand smacked your ass. Your muscles contracted under the impact but melted into the obtained position over his lap. The realization of him punishing you for all your past mistakes went straight to your core. Biting down on your lip to stifle the moan from breaking free.

“I’m sorry, Andy.”

“Are you really, sweetheart?” Andy asked, leaving another imprint on your ass.

“Yes.” A desperate cry for him

“How about you being exceptionally quiet and showing me how well you can take your punishment.” The question was laced with a promise. A firm one at that. “I’d like to hear how sorry you really are.”

You simply nodded bracing for impact, but it faded to surprise when he lifted your skirt. Andy hummed with satisfaction as your lace panties and garter set became exposed.

With each collision of Andy’s hand, your ass became more and more sore. Every harsh slap felt more raw than the previous one. Making you bite your lower lip, trying to keep the sounds muffled and still.

“Are you going to be good for me?”

“Yes.” You replied,

“I think you can do much better than that.”

Another smack burned on your skin. You nodded your head, crying out an “I’m sorry, Andy.”

You were surprised when Andy helped you sit back on the couch. Hissing at the burn of your ass on the fabric. Your mascara had stained your cheeks from the few tears that had slipped from the arousing pain.

His fingers softly brushed your cheek. Gathering the melted makeup or maybe even smearing it further. There was no telling in his movement.

“You look beautiful.” The whisper was barely audible and spoken with true admiration. Without thought, you pressed your lips against his. Feeling him smile into this moment. Probably because it had been the first time since you took charge of what felt right.

“Tell me you want this.” Andy breathed against your lips, as the kiss broke. Your eyes flickered open, meeting his gaze. Worry and hope both dancing in the blue hue of his eyes.

“More than anything.” It wasn’t a lie, but it would be wrong to act upon these feelings. “We can’t.”

“Laurie won’t mind. She doesn’t love me the way you love me.”

“But-”

His lips interrupted the speech you were about to recite. Guilt clearly wasn’t on Andy’s mind. The way his tongue explored every part of your mouth like he was on a scavenger hunt. Stroking, teasing, pleasing and obscenely filthy. He made you hungry for more.

Not even your wildest dreams could’ve prepared you for the searing passion. His large hands cupped your face guiding you to lie down. The moment he had you underneath him, his hands ripped your silk shirt with haste. Neither of you cared enough for the pearl buttons that flew across the room.

With a darkened hunger he glanced back at you. Toying your nipples through the laced fabric of your bra between his fingers. You arched off the couch as he pebbled and tugged on your breasts. Swiftly pulling the delicate lace down, taking one of your boobs into his mouth. You whined at the erotic swirl of his tongue, nothing but lustful precision.

His hands found the zipper on your skirt. Tugging the item off, discarding it on the floor. Running his hands over your garter belt. The look on Andy’s face said it all, he hadn’t seen anything like it in a long time. Making you his shiny new toy, ready to be devoured and owned.

You leaned up, cupping his face and pulling him into a desperate kiss. Feeling his hand smoothly moving over your panties. Your body had now become his playground, making you desperate for him. With a pout he broke of your kiss, searching for your approval as he pulled aside the material of your panties. A softened smile was enough for him to slide his fingers through your heat, coating them in your juices.

Andy brought his finger to his mouth, groaning loudly as he licked them off. You tried to look for that one moment where you would both find a reason to break this off. Yet all you found was a deepened craving to need one another.

You watched Andy lean down. Kissing his way around your thighs. The soft hair of his beard tickling and teasing your skin. Gasping at the tender lick from the tip of his tongue against your clit followed by a gentle kiss. Another lick gathered more of your soaked core. Sucking on the pulsating nub. His tongue explored every crease and crevice of your cunt.

The throbbing ache builded between your legs while Andy gently licked through your folds. Circling the tip of his tongue over your clit, making sure to tease you enough until you let out a soft whine. With every sound you made from his touch, he sucked down and placed a kiss.

He spread your legs wide, needing more space than you currently allowed him. For a moment shame coursed your body, closing your legs as far as he allowed you to. You covered your face with your arms as if to shield your emotions from him. Andy’s hands squeeze your thighs harshly, making you inhale sharply.

“Don’t you ever dare hide from me.” He warned, peeling your arms off your face. A fiery kiss pressed against your lips. Your moan seemed enough for Andy to start more exploration. Leaving your lips, pecking your jaw. Nibbling your ear, tracing your neck. Sucking, licking and teasing in order to make you focus on the sinful pleasure.

The suck of his mouth on your breasts made you arch further into him. The way he played your body like a fiddle. Making you sing a different tune. Allowing you to float on cloud nine when he had barely done anything yet.

The softness of his hands stroked your legs. Comforting you in this odd situation. Making sure to let you know it was okay to give in to him and enjoy this just as much as he did. Your panties were hooked around his fingers. Letting them be pulled down and thrown into the room.

The grip of his hands was a little rougher when he pulled your legs apart again. Coming face to face with your soaked cunt. You tried to read his face, a certain glow of admiration spreading across his features.

“Beautiful.” He praised. The whisper of his voice penetrated your mind. He clearly longed for you just as much as you longed for him.

His large palms held your ass, while the tips of his thumbs explored the outer edges of your pussy. For a moment you stopped breathing at his gentle touch. Juvenile play as if he was exploring what stroke would give him a reaction.

You watched Andy lean forward, feeling his tongue toy with your clit. Flat swipes, gentle circles and a rhythmic change between a slow and faster pace was enough to make you cry out for him. Your hands found the strands of his fluffed-up hair. Making sure he knew you appreciated his delicate touch.

His tongue swiped back and forth through your lips. Sucking his lips around your clit as he reached the top. Lewd noises filled the air as he drank up your juices.

His possession became clear when you tried to shift into another position. His large hands held you in place. Making sure you felt every bristle of his beard and movement of his mouth. His tongue sank deeper and with more pressure like a deprived man who had been kept from his dirty little secret.

You tugged his hair at the eliciting feeling building in the pit of your stomach. His beard rubbed your sensitive cunt as his tongue worked its magic. The feeling too overwhelming making your hands try to stop him. Andy hadn’t waited long to stop his actions. He furrowed his brows in annoyance.

“When I’m down here, you don’t get to interrupt me. Understood?”

“Yes-yes.” You stammered out under his gaze.

With a single nod, you felt his tongue deep between the lips of your pussy again. Delicate kitten licks toying with you and with each moan it spurred him on to fasten his actions. Burying his face for a deeper taste of you.

With a harsh suck, he popped your clit from his mouth. You felt him smiling against your pussy. Happy to be between your legs. Allowing you to play and tug his hair as long as you didn’t interrupt his meal.

His tongue flicked your pulsing clit while his thumb rubs up and down your hole. Gathering all of the dripping nectar with his mouth. Feeling the pressure of his other finger digging into your ass. Your hips bucked for a second and he pushed his thumb in.

Sobbing at the assault on your cunt only allowed for his tongue to rapidly flick and swirl your clit. The thrust of his thumb didn’t feel big enough. Only making you whine and whimper for more of his touch.

Another finger joins as you feel two fingers sliding up and down your pussy. “Yes!” You exclaimed at the relief of the soft stretch. Whining when he slid them back out.

Andy’s explored every inch of your soaked core. One of his fingers teased your entrance, making your body writhe under his touch desperately. Feeling two of his fingers slide inside felt like a gift. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he scissors them inside. Pulling them in and out to draw more of your juice out.

No man had ever given your cunt this type of attention. Not with this much precision. He hummed at the taste of everything you were giving him. Your moans increased as he made you feel so good.

“Oh fuck.” Your head craned backwards as you pulled his face closer to your cunt. Not wanting him to leave.

With a twist of his wrist, he curled his fingers against your sweet spot. Everything was happening so fast, you couldn’y even think about wrong or right anymore. His hand was covered in your sweet nectar, lapping it up with his hungered mouth. Drawing everything out that you’re giving him.

Your orgasm builded quickly, nothing but gasps, moans and whimpers leaving your body. Bucking your hips against his face was punished with his strong arm holding you down. Clearly sending you a sign that he would do all the work.

The burn of his beard had subdued due to the ecstatic feeling that rose. The squelched noises filled the air as your cunt drenched his fingers.

“Andy, please.” You screamed at the erratic pumps. Your legs clamped around his head. The spasms of your body erupted from his assault. “Please, stop, Andy.”

Shuddering around his fingers made him still his fingers and pull back from your pussy. His bewildered gaze met yours. He was a man on a mission. The grip on the couch eased up, as he let you have a moment to catch your breath.

Drawing his fingers from your core, he plunged them back in. Clearly sending you a sign that he would be the one making all the decisions tonight. Your trembling body assaulted another time as his mouth worked your core. Soft kisses and strokes helped you through your high. Working with you to come back down from the heavenly state he had put you in.

Andy got up without a warning. Holding out his hand for you to grab. Your cunt still pulsating from the mindblowing orgasm, making it hard to stand up. Rolling your eyes at this uncharming moment as he guided you up the stairs.

As he opened the bedroom door he turned back at you. Suddenly everything was starting to become too real as you stood in front of him vulnerable and naked. Guilt clouding your mind once again. Andy grabbed your waist, pulling you closer and swiftly turning your bodies, making you walk backwards. His lips teasing yours with soft pecks.

“You’re overdressed, Barber.”

He threw his head back laughing at your words. Releasing you from his grasp, undressing quickly. You glanced down your body, noting you still were in your own lingerie. Unclipping your bra, letting it fall to the floor.

Your fingers hooked under the garter belt around your waist. Andy stopped your hands from acting any further as you tried to slide it off. He raised an eyebrow, giving you a warning, watching him slide down his boxers. Gulping when his cock springs free as he pulls his boxers down.

Andy was bigger than any other man you had in the past. One thing was clear, Andy Barber wanted you more than anything. He was going to be yours for a night. Fuck Laurie and her stupid comments that still had haunted you.

You would devour him one time and then cut all ties. A way of getting him out of your system. Your hands wandered over your ass up your hips and waist. Gliding over your breasts, tweaking the nipples between your fingers.

“You’re so gorgeous, sweetheart.” Andy praised, stepping towards you. His hand settled at the base of your neck while the other cupped your cheek. His lips were hungry, searching for an entry. A filthy swipe of his tongue against your lips. Caressing your palate and dancing with your tongue. He guided you back towards the bed until you could take no more steps.

His cock pushed against your stomach, making the excitement shoot through your veins. Andy ground into you, making you clench around nothing. Humming at the strokes of his tongue, yelping when he suddenly pushed you down on the bed.

Taking advantage of your surprise he flipped you over. Climbing behind you with his knees settling on either side of your body. His hands resting beside your head, pressing loving kisses on your cheek, down your shoulder while tracing wet and sloppy marks down your spine. With every move, he slowly sat back up.

His hands caressed your ass, admiring the view underneath him. Slightly tilting your hips so your ass would spread a little, granting him more access to your pussy.

Andy ran his cock through your soaked core. Coating himself while working your excitement up again. He tapped your pussy with his length before sinking in his tip in to tease you. You gripped the sheets letting out a muffled moan.

“Please, Andy, I need more.”

“So desperate for my cock.”

“Please, fuck me.” You begged, feeling him pull out of you.

Andy repositioned himself, spreading his knees wide, making sure he all leverage over your body. A darkened smile held his face. With a single deep thrust, he nearly splitted you in half. The allowance to get used to his size was short lived when he bottomed out.

“So tight for me, sweetheart.” Andy husked, taking in every expression you displayed as you tilted your head to look back at him. He was looking for discomfort, but all you returned was a smile when he pushed back inside your walls.

His hips rocked in and out, stretching your cunt and easing off the burn. He pulled out, slowly dipping in and out of your dripping cunt. Your hands reached back to spread your cheeks for him while he slowly kept sinking in further and further.

Your hips kept lifting as he kept plunging in and out of your hole. He grabbed your hands, stopping the spread of your ass, guiding them upward above your head. With a rough grasp on your hips he impaled you deeply. Driving his cock inside your wet walls eagerly.

Soft whines escaped when he pounded you from behind. Working up your orgasm as he slided into you over and over again. Clenching around him when he angled his cock just right against your sweet spot.

He drew your body close to his when he rolled you both sideways. The pumps of his cock added more and more pleasure in this newfound position. Your foot rested on his thigh. Feeling his lips marking your neck. His large hand kneading your breasts, pinching your nipples and making you sob at the pleasure swirling in your veins.

You squeezed around him, suddenly releasing more frantic ruts from him. The muscles of your body tensed at the spearing motion. Andy’s hand circled your waistline finding your swollen clit. His flat fingers rotated your overworked cunt. Making you squeeze him even harder as you couldn’t withhold from cumming. You trembled in his hold as he kept you close.

He slid out and laid back, his cock still throbbing as you turn your body towards him. You licked your lips at the glistened length.

“I want to admire your view. Ride me, sweetheart.” Andy ordered

It was a different request than what you initially had in mind, but it wasn’t one you were going to deny him if it meant more pleasure for you both. Soaking up every inch of love Andy was willing to give you before you had to part ways.

Throwing your leg over, he holds his cock for you to sink down on. Your mouth fell open at the renewed positioned feel of his width. Halfway there he let you take control. Sliding his own hands up your body playing with your nipples and kneading the squishy flesh of your breasts.

“So good.” You gasped, bouncing gently up and down his cock. Watching Andy’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. Upon impulse you respond by leaning forward as you keep riding him. Your lips meeting, kissing him fiercely.

With your hips circling his cock his hands were free to roam and caress your body. His hands stroked the small of your back down to your ass, helping you push down further on his cock. Pulling you back into him when you lift a little too high. Meeting the slow rocks of your hips while your mouths desperately fuck one another on their own rhythm.

His arms circled your waist, holding you down, fucking up into your drenched cunt. Breathlessly you break off the searing kiss as he fucks you deeply. His eyes watch you closely, admiring your beauty as you work up to another orgasm.

Andy flipped your bodies, making your legs fell open. He sank back in deeply, resting his arms beside you. Your needy body right where he wanted it. You’re vulnerable while he was in total control. He slowly rolled his hips into you. The friction was deep and loving. Your legs circled his waist, holding him within close proximity.

His ruts deepen with every pound, making it harder for you to breathe. Every inhale was met with a cry of pleasure. Your sobs only made him pump you harder. Fucking you harder into the mattress. You were about to reach another high when he swiftly pulls out and pumps himself on your stomach. His white ropes painted your flesh.

“I want to pump you full of me.”

“Then fuck me, Andy.”

A consensual agreement, not one of you had thought of a condom. Too busy drinking up one another. Without another word, he slid back inside your walls. Opening one leg while resting the sole of your foot against his shoulder. Slowly you fell apart as your muscles tensed up again.

A rough pounding as he fucks you deeply. Taking him to the hilt, creaming his cock with your arousal. His hand took a hold of your ankle and he pressed his lips against the inside. You watch him lean his head back, feeling his cock twitch inside you.

Andy chased his own high with a guttural growl. The orgasm rippled through you, trembling underneath him. Your body screamed for him, feeling his hot cum filling you, squeezing him dry, needing every last drop as if he was your antidote to the venemous bite.

Freshly fucked dumb and pleasured. You were taken by surprise when Andy dove back down between your legs.

“You’re going to give me one more, sweetheart,” Andy stated, clearly not having gotten enough of your sweet taste.

The swipe of his tongue feels glorious, making you sob at the feeling. He hovered back over your body, kissing your lips and letting your taste your mixed pleasure.

His beard scraped your folds, while his greedy fingers pump your filled cunt. Andy drank from your pussy like it was his last drink. The swirl of his tongue circled your clit. The perfect suction on the pulsating nub. Dragging his flat tongue over your soaked hole. The sweet nectar with his cum dripping generously.

Your hands entwine themselves in his crazed hair as he vigorously pumps you with his digits. The sweet moans filled the room, as you felt the perspiration covering your body from being overstimulated.

Andy worked your pussy like a professional. His mouth not leaving your clit while his fingers did all the pounding. Curling and twisting them inside you. Your body started to spasm against his tongue when he penetrated your hole.

Drenched for just Andy as he licked you clean. Exhausting your body to the limit. Squeezing every ounce of liquid from it, like it was his mission.

Your throbbing core had pushed out all of his cum by now. The thought of him cleaning you out from his own cum made you even more aroused. Your muscles tensed up, making the ache of another orgasm even more pleasurable.

“Please andy, don’t stop.” You whined, feeling his thick tongue licking your clit.

Andy continued until your body stopped writhing. Fully saturated when your final orgasm had taken over. He pecked your cunt with his lips. Admiring it in its whole, while watching it pulsate around nothing. The ache was still there, but it was worth it.

“You did so well for me, sweetheart.” Andy smiled, leaning upwards. His body was on top of yours, pressing his lips against yours, stroking your hair as you willingly circled your legs around his waist. Locking him into your grasp with your ankles linked.

An intimate and vulnerable moment of just you and Andy. A moment that should’ve happened years ago. But now, it was too late. The damage was already done. Guilt overtaking your body.

“She’s seeing someone else.” Andy whispered softly as if he could sense your thoughts. Your eyes grew at the spoken words. How did he know that? “I’ve known for a while. She wasn’t ready to tell the family yet.”

The heavy weight on your shoulders immediately lifted your mood. His arms circling around your waist, holding your body tightly against his.

“Why didn’t you start with that news earlier?” With a balled fist you hit his arm.

He laughed and without answering he kissed you passionately like he had waited his entire life to do so.

#lilos writing #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x female!reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #chris evans smut

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absurdthirst · 5 months

Text

Mafia Love {MobBoss!Joel Miller x PlusSized!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 21.8k

Warnings: Drinks, murder, abduction, drugging, forced marriages, mentions fat phobia/fat shaming, insults, body image issues, food/eating, dirty talk, rough sex, oral sex (female and male receiving), safe words, choking, degradation/dirty talk, multiple orgasms, miscommunication, angry Joel, confessions of love

Comments: Assistant District Attorney, witness to a crime, you are forced into marriage with the head of the Miller crime family, Joel Miller. Hating how you are forced to save your family and tied to a man who could kill you, or worse, make you fall for him.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Joel Miller 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.

"God, it's so good to just relax. I finished that big case and now I can let loose." You tell your friend Gianna whose birthday it is. She picks up her glass, clinking it against yours.

"Cheers to that." She grins, knowing how work takes over your life. It was inevitable, being a lawyer is hard work and you rarely get time to enjoy your personal life.

You finish your drink and stand up after grabbing your clutch, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom." You tell Gianna.

"Do you want me to go with you?" She asks and you shake your head, "no. Enjoy yourself." You tell her, offering her a smile before you make your way through the gyrating crowd. It takes a few minutes but eventually, you find the bathrooms. Huffing at the ever present line for the ladies, you wait and check your emails. Eventually, you use the bathroom and check your makeup. Once exiting the bathroom, the line has disappeared and you frown, suddenly feeling a little sick. The exit door is right there and you need air. You stumble out of the heavy door and that's when you see the man drop to the ground, blood splattered everywhere and you try to scream but nothing comes out. The man holding the gun is surrounded by a few others who move fast to rush after you but you manage to catch your nails in the exit door before it closes and you fling it open, rushing through the crowds, pushing your way through until you run out the front of the club. There's a taxi passing and you grab it, getting in and exhaling shakily, tears stinging in your eyes. You just witnessed a murder. It's too much to handle and you cover your mouth to silence the sob. You've seen a lot during your cases but nothing firsthand like that. You fumble to grab your phone from your clutch so you can call the police. "Fuck." You choke when you discover the battery is dead. "Shit." You tilt your head back to rest it on the seat, knowing you will have to phone the police tomorrow.

****

The next morning, you wake up with a headache, both from the booze and the horror you witnessed. The way the man's brains scattered on the concrete will stay with you forever. You grab your phone, biting your lip, and trying to decide if you should phone the police. You work for the DA's office after all. Surely they will believe you. You falter, knowing your story is ridiculous. You had a lot to drink, so was it real? Or part of some booze-induced nightmare? You aren't sure. Deciding to go for a walk to clear your head and get some coffee, you get up and get dressed. The air is cool and fresh and you are walking through Boston Commons when the car pulls up beside you. Two men get out and you try to run but it's too late. They grab you, dragging you into the black SUV and before you can scream, the needle is pushed into your neck. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you wonder if you're going to die.

****

“Goddamnit Tommy.” Joel growls, curling his hand around his bourbon glass so hard it’s a wonder that the crystal doesn’t shatter. Glaring at his younger brother and wondering why his mother cursed him by making him promise to look after him on her deathbed. “I’ve fuckin’ told you about keeping that shit private.” Tommy’s latest incident is his most reckless yet and now they are in hot water. “She’s a goddamn D.A. This wouldn’t have happened if you had kept it to the warehouse like I fuckin’ told you to.”

Tommy shakes his head, “we were tryin’ to track him down. He’s a goddamn state senator. He owes us millions. He didn’t give a fuck when he was benefiting from our networks, gettin’ drugs and weapons.” Tommy reasons, “I was impatient. He owed us too much.” Tommy growls and Joel hisses.

“This is the fuckin’ shit that sent us runnin’ from Texas.” Joel growls, knowing he’s spent years trying to establish the new network in the north east after leaving Texas once his mama had died and left the estate to him.

“She won’t be a problem. The guys are getting her now and there’s a solution.” Tommy says and Joel snorts, “we ain’t killin’ someone else. Especially a D.A. We will be raided before you can say lawyer.”

Tommy shakes his head, “marriage. A spouse can’t testify against their husband.” He says and Joel scoffs, “last I remember, brother. You’re married to Maria.” He says and Tommy shakes his head, “not me. You. You marry her.”

Joel is speechless, staring at Tommy like he’s lost his mind for a few moments and expecting the bastard to start laughing like it was some kind of joke. He doesn’t. “No.” He spits, hating the mere idea of marriage and being tied to someone again.

“Think about it.” Tommy jumps in again, leaning over and clapping him on the shoulder. “She can’t testify about something that happens with her husband. She can’t be coerced into giving them anything.”

Joel snorts, “but she can be coerced into marriage? Tommy, I swear our mother dropped you on your head.” The bad thing is that it would make his problem go away and that makes him frown even deeper.

“She’s pretty. I looked her up. She’s your type. She - she has a sister and a niece. We could threaten them. Coerce her into marrying you and then when the case is dropped, you can divorce her. It’s a great idea, even you gotta admit that. She won’t be able to testify against our family and we continue doing our shit. The fuckin’ Firefly assholes in New York would love to see us in the clink.” Tommy growls just as Tess walks into Joel’s office.

“You have a delivery waiting for you in the garage.” She says, confused and suspicious when Tommy looks back at Joel.

“Come on.” Joel gruffs and the younger Miller brother follows him through the house.

“Go away.” Joel growls at Tess when she tries to follow.

****

Your head aches, your eyes feel heavy and you try to open them, hearing male voices and you suddenly remember what happened. Grunting, you try to move but your hands are tied behind your head and your eyes are blindfolded. “Wha- where- I” You rasp, throat so dry that you can’t even speak.

Joel stares at you, his dark expression not giving away his inner thoughts. Hands crossed over his chest, he knows he looks imposing. Or he will look imposing when your blindfold is eventually taken off. You are pretty. Just on the other side of plump, you are curvy and lush in all the right places. He admires you for not crying immediately when you stiffen, realizing that you are being held captive. He nods at Tommy, giving him permission to remove the blindfold.

You blink rapidly when the blindfold is removed and you look up to see the man you witnessed kill someone and the other is broader, his eyes dark and intimidating and his arms crossed, making his muscles bulge. He has gray hairs weaving through his locks, a scruffy beard, and you know he is capable of killing you with a flick of his wrist. You swallow, throat so dry with fear and you look between the men. “I- are you going to kill me?” You gasp, terrified about what’s going to happen to you.

The naked fear in your eyes gets to Joel. He doesn’t have a problem killing, he’s done plenty of it. Except he’s having a hard time imagining you laying there lifeless. Tommy steps forward. “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He tells you apologetically, pulling his gun out from behind his back.

Joel knows his impatient brother will pull the trigger. “You’re gonna marry me.” Joel announces. “Or I’m going to kill your sister and your niece.”

You are shaking, the gun pressed against your temple is still there as the older one declares you’re going to marry him. “You- you - oh my God. Why- why marry - why do you want to marry me?” You ask, voice shaky and your lower lip trembling as the one you saw kill lowers his gun and you inhale deeply, still scared but relieved the gun isn’t aimed at you.

“I- I wouldn’t be married to you. You are the one who I witnessed murder someone.” You huff at Tommy, not wanting to be lectured about the law.

“It’s still family and if I go down, so does Joel. You won’t be able to testify against the family.” Tommy argues and you look up at Joel when he growls, “enough of the law bullshit, yes or no? I have men outside of your sister’s place in Maine. 1256 Florence Lane. Your niece goes to Bellview Elementary?” Joel rattles off and your eyes widen, knowing that these are dangerous men. You can’t risk your family. You will figure out how to escape. For now, you just need to comply.

“Fine.” You spit at Joel, “I’ll marry you. If you kill me, there’s no guarantee you won’t go after my family anyway. I need to make sure they are okay.” You barter, knowing that this is your reality until you figure out your next moves.

He watches you for a moment and then nods. “Fine.” He agrees, straightening slightly. “We will get married in two days. I will have my men pack up your things and bring them to the house.” He tells you without any emotion in his voice. “Tommy, take her to the blue suite and let her clean up. Get her some breakfast.”

You are in shock, reeling from the news that you are going to marry a man you don’t even know. Nothing beyond his name and his job. The younger one, Tommy, unties you and grabs your arm. “Maybe not so rough.” You huff as he guides you out of the garage and through the house. It’s beautiful. Not what you expected at all and you know you aren’t in the city. You stumble as he drags you along the halls until you are shoved into a room, it’s blue like the name dictates and you take a moment to admire the decor. There’s no way two men decorated this home. “Can I call-?” The door is slammed and locked and you slump against the wall as tears sting in your eyes. You’re trapped.

“Goddamnit.” Joel huffs, walking into his office and dropping down into his chair and rubbing his eyes. The fucking Fireflies are all over his ass and FEDRA was breathing down his neck.

“What’s wrong with you?” A sarcastic snort comes from a chair off to his left and he sighs, opening his eyes to find Ellie staring at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Bored.” Ellie shrugs, spinning one of the chairs he has in his office. Her legs kicking out as she grins. “What’s died and crawled up your ass?” She asks him, tilting her head with teenage curiosity that tends to drive Joel insane.

“Nothing you need to worry about.” He grunts, looking at the girl of one of his former Lieutenants. He had gotten killed, and Joel had taken responsibility for the girl. He sighs, knowing he should warn her about you. “There’s a woman gonna be living here. Don’t bother her.”

Ellie’s eyes widen. “A woman? For what? For who?” She asks, ever curious and wondering if she’s going to be with one of the girlfriends or if she is going to be a worker. “Me.” Joel says and Ellie can’t help it, she throws her head back and laughs. “You? You? Please. Don’t joke like that Joel. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.” She sasses and Joel rolls his eyes.

“She’s going to be my wife.” He explains and Ellie nearly falls out of her chair. “Wife?”

“Yes, wife.” He hisses irritably, wondering how the fuck he could get her to shut up. He should have never said a word. “It’s a temporary thing, so don’t get attached.” He warns her, knowing that despite his warning, Ellie will do what she pleases and he can almost guarantee that as soon as she leaves his office, she will go find you.

Ellie shakes her head, “you? With a wife? Oh boy.” She stands up and slaps her knees. “Well, I’ll see you around.” She says, determined to find you and discuss the fact that you are going to marry Joel. Joel grunts and she swiftly exits his office, running through the house until she hears sobbing. She knocks on the door and you shuffle back, stopping your crying to worry if someone is going to kill you. “Who- who are you?” You ask the teenager, confused by her appearance.

“I’m Ellie.” She announces, walking in nonchalant and dropping into a chair to face you. “And you’re the woman Joel is going to marry. Why? He’s so fucking old? And he’s…..Joel.” She thinks you’re pretty, even though it’s been obvious that you’ve been crying. “That doesn’t mean you have to cry about it though.” She looks at you curiously, waiting for you to answer.

“Joel is…your dad?” You ask and she shakes her head, “no, oh hell no. No. He - he was my dad’s boss. My dad was killed in a car accident when he was chasing someone. It - my mom died when I was born so yeah…tragedy kid. Joel felt sorry for my orphan ass and took me in.” She shrugs, “not a bad place to be taken in.” She gestures to the bedroom, “although I’m not Sarah.” She murmurs and you frown, “who’s Sarah?”

Ellie curses, “oops. Said too much. Maybe ask Joel. Yeah so, uh, why are you marrying Joel?” She asks and you sniff, wiping your eyes.

“Because he’s gonna kill my family if I don’t.” You whimper and Ellie snorts, “Joel might seem like a bear and sure he’s dangerous, he’s killed, but it didn’t used to be that way. His uncle was actually in charge of the Miller household and Joel used to be a contractor but when - well, ask Joel about Sarah and Helen, uh, and yeah, he wasn’t always this way according to men I’ve spoken to.” Ellie explains and you realize you have even more questions.

“I - I can’t risk my family. Even if I have to sacrifice myself.” You murmur and Ellie nods in understanding. “Well, welcome to the fam.” She grins, “I like you already.” She declares and you offer her a soft smile, “thanks. It was nice to meet you.” You tell her and she nods, backing out of the room.

You sit there for another few moments before you decide that if you can get to a phone, you can phone your sister and warn her then maybe you can escape. You creep to the door, listening and when you don’t hear footsteps, you make your way into the hall, figuring there must be a house phone somewhere and your guess is the kitchen. You sneak downstairs, trying to find the kitchen in the ridiculously large house and you grin in triumph when you find the kitchen is empty and there’s a phone on the wall. Picking it up, you dial your sister’s number that you have memorized for emergencies and it starts to ring.

The light on Joel’s desk phone lights up and he sees that the kitchen phone is in use. He had expected you to try to call your sister. He picks up the handset and speaks into the phone. “If you tell her, our deal is off and she becomes a liability.” He growls into the phone, listening to it ring once more and then the sound of your sister’s voice comes over the line, answering.

Your heart pounds when your sister answers and the urge to call for help is on the tip of your tongue but Joel’s growled warning echoes and you greet your sister. “This isn’t your cell?” She asks and you clear your throat.

“It died. I just - I, uh, I’m using a friend’s phone. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” You say and she is suspicious.

“Whyyy? I love you but you’re so busy with work. You never call.” She says and you hate that she’s right.

“I was thinking of you guys and wanted to see if you’re doing well.” You lie slightly and your sister smiles against the phone, “we are doing good. The brat has a spelling test tomorrow so she’s been studying.” She says affectionately and you grin against the phone. Your niece gets everything she wants but she’s a good kid, brat has been her nickname since she was a baby.

“Good. I’ll, uh, I’ll have to take some time off to come see you guys.” You say, tears stinging in your eyes because you know that won’t be likely, especially if Joel kills you.

“That sounds good. Just let me know. Oh shit. I gotta go. The cat just got out.” She curses and you smile, knowing the kitten always tries to escape from the photos she texted you.

“I’ll talk to you later. I love you.” You tell her and she snorts, “love you too. Talk later.” The line goes dead and you lean against the wall, inhaling deeply and glad that your family are alive. You have to keep them safe. They are all you have left.

“Come to my office.” Joel hangs up the phone and then stares at it for a moment. He knows you are upset. He knows you would rather do anything but marry him, and he really doesn’t want to marry you. But he will in order to make sure that Tommy doesn’t go to prison. He leans back in the chair and waits for you to arrive, not exactly sure what he is going to say to you.

Your hands tremble as you set the phone down. You don’t know where Joel’s office is and try a few doors until the double doors open and Joel stands there, face like thunder. He gestures for you to walk inside and you do, silently praying to whoever will hear you that he won’t kill you right now. You decide to stand tall when you’re in his office, not wanting to die a coward if he does kill you. “Ellie unlocked my room.” You declare, wanting him to know how you got out, “and I wanted to make sure you kept your word that my sister is safe.”

He knows that silence intimidates, so he doesn’t say a word, just watches you. Waiting until you squirm slightly and start to speak again. “After we are married, you can have your phone back.” He decides. “Call her everyday. You keep your end of the bargain, I’ll keep mine.”

You cross your arms, “how do I know you won’t just kill me anyway?” You ask and Joel steps closer to you, looming over you and you inhale sharply as his dark eyes meet yours.

“I may be a monster but I am a man of my word.” He promises and you nod, swallowing harshly.

“Are you- do you expect us to have - once we are married, do you expect sex?” You ask, wondering what he wants from you.

Joel snorts, insulted by the horrified expression on your face. “No, darling.” He sneers, rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to fuck me. I’ll make sure that I satisfy my primitive urges so I don’t drag you off by the hair to fuck you.” He knows he’s being harsh, but it’s better that you just steer clear of him rather than trying to get to know him.

You blink, tears stinging in your eyes as you feel unexpectedly rejected by the gruff mafia boss. You understand, he probably has a line of beautiful women waiting to fuck him and you’re…you. “Right well, I guess we both know where we stand. I’ll head back to my room. You’re having my things brought here? How do you- wait, dumb question.” You stop yourself with a humorless chuckle as you step away from him to head towards the door. “I need to call my work too. Tell them I’m sick or - or something.”

Joel considers telling you no, but he is aware of how seriously you are taking his threat. “Fine.” He motions towards his desk as he wonders why you suddenly teared up. You should be jumping for joy that he promised not to touch you. “Make the call right here.” He demands.

You nod, walking over to his desk and you pick up the phone to dial the D.A’s office. “The line is untraceable before you try anything.” Joel tells you and you nod. The receptionist answers and you ask to be put through to the office. You tell your team that you have to go to your sisters. Family emergency and you don’t know when you’ll be back. The excuse is flimsy but you’re hoping Joel and his family will let you go once enough time has passed. Your team wishes your sister well and you put the phone back in the cradle.

“I didn’t tell them anything.” Your eyes meet Joel’s, your back straight in defiance as you ponder your future here. You won’t let him walk all over you.

“I heard.” He assesses your fatigued look, the puffy, red rimmed eyes and the way that your eyes narrow when you think he’s not paying attention. He strides over to his desk and pulls open a drawer, pulling out a bottle of aspirin and setting it down before opening another drawer and pulling out a crystal glass to take over to his bar and get a bottle of water out of the fridge. He pours you a double whiskey and brings it and the water over to set down beside the aspirin. “Hair of the dog.” He tells you. “Helps with the hangover and the drugs they used on you.”

You are suspicious of him suddenly being so nice but then you realize that he probably doesn’t want you to hate him when you’re going to be living in his house. You’re going to be his wife for the foreseeable. “Thanks.” You open the bottle of aspirin, knowing you should be concerned about the pills, but the man could’ve shot you. You don’t think poisoning you is his style. You grab the whiskey, downing it as the reality of being his wife crushes you. You always imagined you’d marry for love, not to keep alive. “Thanks.” You say again as you set the crystal glass down.

“Are you hungry?” He had given his housekeeper, who normally cooks for him, the day off since he didn’t know how you would react. But if you are hungry, he won’t let you starve. There are plenty of nights he makes himself an egg sandwich when he works late. Or the kid wakes up hungry and demands he make something.

You bite your lip, “I, uh, I usually skip breakfast. I can just grab a granola bar or an apple.” You shrug, not wanting to put him out and you shouldn’t eat a lot if your wedding is in a couple of days. You’re certain he wants a beautiful wife, even if it’s a fake one.

Joel frowns, and the silence between you is enough that he can hear your stomach growl. “Right.” He huffs, shaking his head. “Follow me.” He demands, striding towards the door of his office and throwing it open so he can take you back to the kitchen.

You follow him through the house, downstairs and you see several men roaming the estate. When you enter the kitchen, he gestures for you to sit down. “Seriously Joel, I don’t need a big lunch. I- I should be making you something. Seeing as I’m supposed to be your wife in a couple of days.”

“You can cook for me then.” He tell you shortly, turning towards the large stainless steel commercial fridge. “Unless you plan on poisoning me.” He huffs, looking over his shoulder as he opens the door. He’s joking, but his voice is still pitched down and gruff.

You shift to sit down at the counter and watch him. You never imagined that a man like Joel would be able to cook anything. You watch his muscles move under his button down and you know you shouldn’t find him attractive. You should be revolted by him but you aren’t. He grabs some things out of the fridge. “Any allergies? Anything you hate?” He asks and you shake your head, “no. I’m pretty easy to cook for.” You tell him and he nods, walking over to the pantry. “You have a beautiful home.” You tell him, trying to make some conversation.

“It’s a house.” He offers, pulling out some things and then turning back towards you. “It’s safe. It’s imposing.” He adds, smirking slightly. He doesn’t mention that it’s not really a home. Not in that traditional sense. He hasn’t had a home for a long time. “Pasta is good for a hangover.” He tells you. “That okay?”

You bite your lip, knowing you shouldn’t but you are starving. “Sure. That sounds good.” You offer him a small smile, grateful that he doesn’t seem to want to kill you anymore. “I met Ellie. She seems…a handful.” You chuckle softly, already sensing that he doesn’t seem like a man who has patience.

He rolls his eyes. “She’s a pain in my fucking ass.” He grumbles, even though he would kill for that kid without any hesitation. It doesn’t mean that she doesn’t annoy the shit out of him every chance she gets. He pulls out a cutting board and a knife to start chopping garlic and onions.

You can hear the affection even if he grumbles and that calms you a little. A bad man wouldn’t take in an orphaned teenager. “She said you seem like a bear but you didn’t used to be this way.” You tentatively ask, “she loves you. So…so I don’t feel as in danger as before. I trust her.”

“You trust a little brat you met for five minutes?” He asks, raising a brow as he pauses in the mincing. “Interesting. Is that a skill you picked up in the D.A.’s office?”

You snort, “I’m a good judge of character. I’ve dealt with the worst of the worst cases and I have a good gut instinct.” You defend yourself and Joel turns to look at you, knife in hand.

“And me? Do you trust me?” He demands with a frown.

You lean closer, refusing to be intimated. “If you wanted to kill me, you’ve had several changes including now. I don’t trust you but I know you’re not going to kill me. Otherwise why would you marry me?”

You have a point and he nods once before he looks back at his task. Sautéing the onions and garlic in olive oil, he adds crushed tomatoes and fresh basil from the garden that Ellie decided to grow in the backyard. It was more accurate that the gardener grew it, but she likes to take the credit for it. “It would save me a lot of headache if I did kill you.” He tells you, his back to you at the stove.

You stare at him, watching him cook and finding it horrifically sexy. You should not be attracted to this man, this self proclaimed monster, but he’s so capable and you find yourself trying to reason with kicking out every moral you have. “I- I agree it would.” You don’t argue that point. It would be easier to kill you. “However, the Boston PD aren’t dumb. They will find evidence of the state senator's murderer. It’s a big case, high profile. They won’t let it slide.”

“They won’t have an eye witness.” He reminds you, turning towards you and cocking an eyebrow at you in challenge. “Might even be a good thing that my wife is a D.A.” He chuckles roughly.

You huff, crossing your arms on the counter. “They will check cameras.” You counter and Joel snorts, “you think we aren’t professionals, darlin’?” He asks and you bite your lip.

“What’s the end game here? Keep me hostage as your wife until when?” You ask and Joel turns to look at you.

“When enough time passes and we know they have dropped the case.” He says, “maybe you can even help with that.” He raises his eyebrows and you scoff, “I can’t do that. I- I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I dismissed a case without cause.”

“There is cause.” Joel reminds you. “Tommy got rid of a piece of shit. Who cares? He was embezzling money from the state. He deserved to die for lying to the people he claimed to serve.”

“And he deserved to die for that?” You counter and Joel scoffs, “well and the human trafficking. I deal in drugs and weapons. People decide to use those things whether I smuggle them or not but I draw the fucking line at little kids, at women. No way. I’ll kill anyone who deals with that shit.” Joel growls and your eyes widen, unaware of the senator’s dark side.

“Shit. I- I didn’t know.” You whisper, staring across the room.

“Now you do.” He tells you bluntly, salting the pasta water and humming when it starts to boil. “What you do with that information, that’s up to you.”

"Well, nothing I can do if I'm married to you, is there?" You counter but you decide that you could tip off a journalist, expose the senator. You know it's bad to speak ill of the dead but the people deserve to know the truth. You watch Joel continue cooking until a bowl of pasta is in front of you. "This looks - wow." You blink rapidly and look up at Joel who sits beside you with his own bowl. "It looks amazing." You compliment him just as a woman walks into the kitchen, her eyes immediately narrowing when they land on you and Joel.

“Joel.” Tess frowns slightly but her lips twist into an insincere smile. “Who is this? And why is there a D.A. Attorney sitting in your kitchen eating pasta?” She knows who you are, she just wants to know why you are here.

Joel says your name, and then points to Tess. “This is Tess. She’ll be here sometimes.”

You can see from her expression that there’s more than that between them. You set your fork down and stand up, offering your hand to Tess who narrows her eyes at you and doesn’t shake your hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” You say, your smile falling a little and you step back towards the counter to sit back down.

“We are getting married.” Joel says nonchalantly and Tess sputters, “married? What the fuck, Joel? What - when - why?” She asks, confused by the announcement.

“Two days.” Joel flicks his eyes up to Tess and then back down to his food. He cares about her, how could he not care about a woman who had been with him through his brutal assumption of power? Still, things are easy with Tess, uncomplicated in the way he likes although he knows she’s always wanted more. “Tommy.” He tells her, as if that will explain the reasoning behind the marriage.

Tess scoffs, “he got you into this? I should’ve known. Fuck me, Joel. She’s a D.A. She’s gonna - this is bullshit.” Tess shakes her head and Joel sighs, not wanting to get into this.

You clear your throat, “I witnessed something I shouldn’t have. I- I am marrying Joel so I can’t testify against the family. This is to protect the family.” You reason for Joel, knowing you’re still struggling to come to terms with it but you don’t want Tess to be angry with Joel when he could’ve killed you.

“To protect the family.” Tess snorts and shakes her head. “Right. This is going to go well.” She says and arches a brow at you. “Do you know what you are getting into with him?” She asks, hooking her thumb towards Joel. “What he’s done and what he’s capable of?”

Joel grunts, narrowing his eyes. “Tess.” He growls, annoyed that she’s trying to scare you off of this.

You straighten your spine, “I don’t, but I think I can imagine. I know the Millers aren’t good men but my family is on the line and I can’t allow them to be hurt because of me. Whatever he has done or who he is, we are getting married and that’s that. I- I understand if you’re hurt but this isn’t my choice. I have to do this.” You plead with her to understand where you are coming from.

Tess’s gaze slides towards Joel questioningly and he shakes his head. “It’s done.” He tells her. “Don’t ask any more questions.” He grunts and nods towards you. “Finish your dinner.”

Tess can’t help but lash out, “fine. Marry the fat bitch. Don’t come crying to me when it all goes wrong.” Tess hisses and you are about to take another bite of pasta when you pause, setting the fork down as Tess spins and makes her way out of the kitchen.

Joel sighs and shakes his head. “Don’t listen to her. She’s pissed because she is the one who spends nights in my bed.” He reveals. You nod but you don’t pick up your fork to eat. It pisses him off because he knows that you didn’t eat enough to assuage that hunger. Cursing under his breath, he spins your chair around and reaches for you. Hoisting you out of your chair and onto his lap.

You squeak when he drags you into his lap. “Joel!” You gasp, shifting to move off of his lap but his arm wraps around your waist, keeping your back against his chest. “You need to eat.” He says and you shake your head, “I’m sure someone in your position wants a perfect wife. You don’t - I can grab an apple and go back to my room.”

Joel picks up the fork and spears some of the pasta and holds it up to your mouth. “Eat.” He grunts at you. “I don’t care about having a perfect wife. You are fine just like you are. Soft and lush.” His cock twitches underneath you.

You are shocked at the compliment, your eyes darting to his as you take the bite from the fork. His hand rests on your thigh and you swallow obediently, eyes closing for a second. The very act of him feeding you has your stomach twisting with arousal. It’s wrong. So wrong, yet you start to get wet as he feeds you bite after bite, his hand squeezing your thigh every now and then.

“Good girl.” He tells you when the plate is empty and you’ve finished every bite. He squeezes your thigh and pats it once he drops the fork back onto the plate. “Don’t ever starve yourself. You eat and eat what you want.”

“Yes sir.” You murmur, your eyes meeting his and you see the years of anguish in them. You want that to melt away. You wonder what he’d look like if he was happy, what he looks like when he smiles. You get so lost in your thoughts you don’t even realize you’ve leaned in to kiss him. The man you should hate for taking everything away from you yet he just showed you more kindness than most.

He sees that you want to kiss him. Lost in the moment, the intimacy and he knows you will regret it. Joel pulls back and pats your leg again. “Good.” He tells you gruffly and watches you pull back in shock at yourself. He knows it was the right move to pull back, to not take advantage of the situation. Of you.

You blink, shocked he didn’t kiss you back. You feel sick with embarrassment. He must think you’re pathetic. Trying to kiss the man who has kidnapped you and is holding you hostage. You shift off of his lap, clearing your throat. “I’m gonna - I need to - oh God.” You gasp out and rush out of the kitchen, face burning with mortification and you know he could take advantage of that moment. Any hand you could’ve played is gone and he holds all the cards.

Joel sighs as he stares at the doorway that you disappeared through. He knows you are upset now, apparently he had been supposed to kiss you. He doesn’t know why you are upset since you had appeared horrified about sleeping with him. He stands and starts to clean up, wondering if he will see you again tonight.

You keep in your room for the rest of the day, surprised when your things are placed in your room. Boxes and suitcases. It seems to be everything you own except your furniture. You sigh and start to get out your essentials, placing them in the en suite bathroom. Dinner is left at your door after you made it clear you weren’t coming to dinner and you eat in peace, contemplating the fact that you’ll be Mrs. Joel Miller in 48 hours. You think about why you wanted him to kiss you. Sure, he’s attractive with his gruffness and the gray scattered throughout his hair and beard. You shouldn’t want him to kiss you. You should hate him. The confusion has your head hurting until you fall asleep on top of the sheets, too exhausted to even get under them.

Joel wakes up early. Groaning slightly at the stiffness in his joints and the aches and pains that come with getting older. He sits up and looks over his shoulder at the empty bed. Tess didn’t come back last night, so he had slept alone. Actually preferred it that way considering he didn’t know what to do with you. He opens the door to the bedroom out onto the back patio and decides he will take a swim to limber up before getting to work.

You wake up, back aching from sleeping in the same position all night and you glance around, disorientated until it hits you what happened. You sigh and shift to sit up, stretching. You realize how trapped you are here and you groan when you remember the way you tried to kiss Joel. Today, you’ll stay in your room. You shift to look out of the window after opening the curtains and that’s when you see Joel about to get into the pool. Your jaw drops at his broad shoulders, the way he rolls them and stretches his strong arms. “Shit.” You hiss, understanding why Tess was so pissed off at you becoming his wife. You wouldn’t want to give that up either. Not that she’s giving it up. You know Joel will still sleep with her even after you are married. With that thought, you head into the bathroom to get ready for a day of unpacking.

After Joel showers and dresses, he heads into the kitchen, seeing Ellie sitting at the counter but you are nowhere to be found. His housekeeper is cooking breakfast and he huffs. “Make enough for another tray.” He tells her, knowing that you will skip eating if he allows you too. He will bring you the food himself and make sure you eat.

You get dressed and ready and decide to stay in your room. Just because you have to marry him doesn’t mean you need to be with him constantly. You sigh when there’s a knock at the door and open it to find Joel there with a tray. “I brought you breakfast.” He says awkwardly and you step ahead so he can enter the room.

“Thank you.” You murmur, watching him for a few moments.

Joel sets the tray down and corrects the small flower vase that had tipped over with a single flower on it. Wondering why the housekeeper had added it. When he looks up, he sees that you are watching him and drops his hands to rub on his pants. Almost nervous and hating how you make him feel that way. “I’m sorry for yesterday.” He grunts. “I should have- I know you just - that you regret that. Just don’t worry about it. I’m not going to touch you since you seem so worried about it.” He wants to punch himself for sounding like an idiot. “Anyway…eat.”

You don’t say anything, you just nod and watch him as he shuffles towards the door. “Joel.” You murmur and he turns to look back at you, “I don’t regret it. I regret how you reacted and that’s it - I made a fool of myself.” You confess and he nods, not saying anything else as he exits your room and shuts the door behind him.

Joel strides down the hall and stops a few steps from the door and sighs. His shoulders dropping and his head hanging slightly. You didn’t make a fool of yourself, and he wanted to kiss you. But he doesn’t want you to kiss him, touch him, if you are doing it because you think it will keep you safe.

****

You exhale shakily, glancing at Ellie who is standing near you outside the courtroom doors. You are dressed in the only white summer dress you own and you are nervous to marry Joel. You phoned your sister this morning to make sure she was okay and you reminded yourself that you are doing this for them. No one else. You are doing this to keep them safe. You inhale deeply when the doors are opened and you walk fast down the “aisle” to get to Joel. There’s no music, no flowers, nothing fancy. Just you and Joel alongside Ellie and Tommy as your witnesses.

The magistrate obviously knows you, his eyes widened when he had seen your name on the marriage license and Joel is worried. He might ask you something and you tell him that you are being forced into the marriage. He frowns as he waits and when the door opens, he turns to see you walk down the small path to him, looking lovely and perfect in a white dress that sways when you walk and he thinks you are beautiful.

You recognize Garrett who is officiating the wedding and you offer him a smile as you move to stand beside Joel. Your sister and your niece flash in your mind and you greet Garrett. “It’s good to see you.” You offer and his eyes dart between you and Joel. “I- I didn’t know you were planning on getting married.” He says and you swallow, giving him a shaky smile, “life is unexpected. It has been a whirlwind.” You confess and he nods, looking down at the paperwork.

Joel shifts slightly, taking your hand and squeezing it. Both in warning and because he wants to touch you. “You look beautiful.” He tells you quietly, although he knows the magistrate can hear him. “I’m a lucky bastard.”

You know he is acting on Garrett’s behalf to make this seem real and you swallow harshly, “you look good too.” You murmur, liking the way his hair is slicked back and the button down he is wearing. You turn back to Garrett who begins the service and you stare at Joel, trying to figure out what he’s thinking about.

Joel wants to rip that dress off your body and see if you are as soft and sweet as you look. If your thighs are pillowy when they squeeze his head as he feasts on you. If your ass jiggles as he slams into you again and again. If you would look as wrecked as he imagines as he fucks you. His jaw clenches, reminding himself that this is a wedding in name only, although there is a bridal set in his pocket that easily costs more than your last five years as a D.A. “You ready?”

You nod, knowing you have no choice. You have to protect your family. You need to do this no matter how much you hate getting married to a man you don’t love, a man you don’t know. “Yes. I’m ready.” You whisper and Garrett starts the service. You repeat the vows, the words feeling heavy on your tongue, and you listen to Joel gruffly repeat the vows. You aren’t expecting a ring so you’re surprised when he pulls the box out and hands it to Tommy after taking out the ring he slides onto your finger a moment later.

Joel repeated his vows, remembering another wedding a lifetime ago and he concentrates on getting the ring on your finger so he doesn’t hurt you. The magistrate tells him that he can kiss his bride and Joel doesn’t waste any time pulling you into his arms and bending you back while he kisses you with a passion that surprises even him.

You gasp into his mouth and your palm is on his chest, feeling his beating heart as he steadies you and you are breathless, lips tingling from the kiss. Garrett clears his throat and offers you his congratulations. “Thank you.” You murmur, glancing back at Ellie who sticks her thumbs up to you. Tommy offers you a stiff nod and your hand shakes a little as you sign the marriage certificate.

Joel bends down to sign the certificate after you. “I want this filed as soon as possible.” He tells the magistrate with a small wink. “Want it legal and for her to be able to change her name.” As customary, he slides the man a large payment for his services, and turns towards you to pull you to his side. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

You smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Yes baby. Can’t wait to be a Miller.” You lie, knowing this will end badly. You hope Joel will let you leave before you get too deep into this. Garrett nods, taking the envelope and pocketing it in his jacket. “Yes sir. I’ll get it filed as soon as I leave here.” Joel shakes his hand and you bid Garrett goodbye, letting Joel escort you out of the room and through the courthouse.

“Congrats.” Ellie says with a grin, coming forward to hug you and you can’t deny the teenager you’ve already grown fond of.

“Thank you.” You smile and Tommy approaches, leaning in to kiss your cheek, “welcome to the family.” He gives you a pointed look and you clear your throat, “perhaps we can have dinner. I’d like to meet your wife, Maria.” You say, wondering what she’s like to be married to Tommy.

Joel grunts and wraps his arm around your waist. “Next week.” He tells Tommy, making it an order. “This week, I’m unavailable. We have to have a ‘honeymoon’, so you’re in charge.” He pins his younger brother with a cold stare. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

You’re surprised to hear that he wants a honeymoon. “But I thought - we weren’t going to - can I go home? I mean, we are married now. On paper. It doesn’t mean that I can say anything to anyone legally. Can I go back to my life?” You ask Joel softly, his grip tightening on your waist.

“No.” Joel shakes his head, hating how hopeful you sound. “A lot of people would try to hurt you to get to me.” He tells you. “You stay at the house, safe and secure. But you can have your phone back. Go anywhere you want to go, as long as you have someone with you.”

You deflate but at least you can regain some of your freedom. “Can I go back to work?” You ask and Joel sighs, “yes but you cannot take the Senator's case.” He orders and you nod, excited to somewhat get back to your life. “Fine. I can do that.” You promise, “but you want a honeymoon first?” You ask and he nods.

“We are married, I’d like to know you a little better.” You weren’t expecting that but you reach for his hand to hold it in yours, “okay. We can do that.”

Joel leads you out of the courthouse and towards the dark SUV that is waiting. He turns to Ellie and smirks at her. “Ride back with Tommy.” He orders her, making her whine and roll her eyes as he opens the door for you.

You shiver at his tone and let him guide you into the SUV, the ring sitting heavy on your finger, and you dread to think about how much it cost. “You didn’t have to get such a beautiful ring, Joel. We aren’t married for real.” You remind him after you settle in the swat.

“Doesn’t matter.” Joel grunts. “You’re my wife. One day, ten years, you’ll have a ring that is appropriate for a woman who is standing beside me.” He explains. It’s not about the statue, he could honestly give a shit less. However, he plans on letting you keep the ring, as a way to apologize for this mess, so you deserve something pretty.

You nod, knowing that he might be a smuggler by trade but to the rest of Boston society, he’s a wealthy man who has social standing, even if he doesn’t want it or desires to attend the events. He would never be turned down if he wanted to go. You glance at him then at the ring. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” You admire it, feeling the strange weight on your finger. It’s unusual and you aren’t sure how to feel but you place your hand on your lap and look out of the tinted window.

“As far as the honeymoon,” Joel tells you, pulling out his phone. “I know you don’t want to fuck me, and I don’t expect you to, but if we don’t have a couple of weeks where you and I are alone, people will question.” He explains. “We can stay at the house, just not receive visitors and I will let Tommy handle the business. That way we can say we just spent the entire time in bed.”

You bite your lip, wanting to admit that you wouldn’t mind fucking him. Crazy how 48 hours can change everything. His gruffness and his innate strength make your stomach twist with desire but you know he doesn’t want you. He has Tess. That much was made obvious. “Sure. I- i can take a couple of weeks off. I already told work I’d be away. What about…I’m sure Tess will want to be in your bed so how are we going to handle people possibly seeing her leaving your room?”

“The staff will be sent home.” Joel reveals. “And Tess is still pissed at me, so I might just be sleeping alone.” He had tried to have her come over, and she’d refused. Making some snarky comment that he had ignored and she just decided to leave him hanging. It’s been a few days and will be a few more until she decides to come back. He will just have to deal.

You feel a little relieved that the staff won’t be there to watch your every move and the fact that Tess won’t be around relaxes you even more. She clearly hates you for being with Joel, even if you aren’t actually with him. “I can cook tonight…if you want. Since the housekeeper will have been sent home.”

“Whatever you want.” He isn’t too concerned about it. “We can order in if you don’t want to cook or whatever.” He is actually looking forward to a couple of weeks to relax and not worry about things. Maybe he can swim every morning. “Think of it like an at home vacation.”

You turn to look at him again, “I don’t see you and vacation going well together.” You tease and he snorts, “no. I- I haven’t taken a vacation in so long.” He confesses and you lean a little closer, “then let’s make this a vacation. I’ll cook tonight. I want to cook for my husband.” You say, wanting to find a middle ground if this is your reality until he decides to divorce you.

He nods, “whatever you want darlin’.” His nickname makes your heart pound and you lean back in your seat, watching Boston pass by as you exit the city.

****

You bite your lip as you mash the potatoes, the chicken rests after you roasted it, and you wonder if Joel will like the white wine you have chilling in the fridge.

In his study, Joel shuts down his computer and sighs softly. He’s married. Again. The narrow golden band on his finger feels foreign and yet he remembers the first time he had one on his hand. It had been such a happy time for him, quickly turning to heartache and sorrow. Pushing back from his desk, he exits the office and follows the delicious smells towards the kitchen, wondering if you were enjoying cooking or if you were trying to stay on his good side.

You glance up when Joel comes into the kitchen, putting the final touches on the dinner as you set it down on the kitchen table. He has a formal dining room but you refuse to sit there miles apart at opposite ends of the table. “It smells delicious.” He compliments you and you smile, “good. Come sit. I - I hope you like white wine. I wasn’t sure which one I should get and the cook left the chicken in the fridge so I- yeah.” You finish lamely when he doesn’t interrupt you.

“White wine is good.” He doesn’t care for wine most of the time, but you seem so nervous that he won’t pour himself a glass of bourbon like he usually would. “You didn’t have to do this.” He reminds you quietly. “Although I’m eager to see if you decide to poison your husband on your wedding night.” He teases.

You chuckle, setting the gravy down and you look at him after you sit down. “What a story that would be for a Lifetime movie.” You tease and notice his glance at the wine. “You don’t like wine.” You state and want to hit your forehead, “let me - what else do you want?” You ask, standing up from the table.

“I’ll drink the wine.” He tells you but you shake your head, “what do you normally drink with dinner?” You ask, making him sigh. “I normally have a glass of bourbon with dinner.” He admits. “I like the burn of the whiskey better than the tartness of wine.”

You want to please him, as ridiculous as it sounds since he essentially blackmailed you into being his wife, yet you still want to win him over. Perhaps it’s the years of insecurity, wanting him to want you so you don’t feel like a total failure at love and relationships. You see the bar over in the corner of the kitchen and you stand up, touching his shoulder as you walk over to grab a crystal glass and pour him a healthy measure. “Here you go.” You say as you set it down and sit back in your seat.

“You didn’t have to get that.” He insists, even as he takes the glass and immediately takes a sip. “But thanks.” He motions towards the plate in front of him. “It looks delicious.” He’s already noticed that your plate is much smaller than his and he wants to call you on it, but he doesn’t.

“Thank you. I love cooking. I don’t get to do it too often between work and living alone. I usually grab something on the way home. It’s nice to have something homemade and this kitchen - it’s a dream. Every spice. Every utensil. Anything a cook could want or need.” You compliment him.

“It’s yours to use.” He promises you. “If you enjoy cooking, indulge. Use this time to do whatever you wished you had time to do. I hope to spend a lot of time out by the pool.” He admits as he forks up a bite of the mashed potatoes and groans when they hit his tongue.

You shift slightly in your seat at the way he groans. The way his eyes flutter closed makes your chest swell with pride and you wonder when this started to feel real, like you really are married. You start to eat and imagine him swimming like you saw him earlier. You’d love to join him but you doubt he’d want that, to see you like that. “I will. I have missed cooking a lot and the pool sounds like fun. You don’t seem like a man who takes any time off.”

“I don’t.” He cuts into his chicken and there is another groan at the roasted poultry. “I work long hours and have little time for pleasure.” He agrees after he swallows. “Perhaps this is what I needed. A couple of weeks lounging by the pool with my new wife. Tell me, do you sunbathe nude?”

You snort, unable to stop yourself and he stares at you. “Oh you’re serious? Shit. I - really? I- I don’t think anyone would want to see me sunbathe nude. I can barely get into a swimsuit without crippling anxiety.” You chuckle, trying to make it appear like a joke when it’s anything but for you.

“Why?” Joel frowns as he looks up at you from cutting another piece of chicken. “You have great looking tits from what I can see and your ass is nice and round.” He tells you. “I bet you’d make a dead man’s cock hard.”

You are shocked as he nonchalantly tells you what he thinks and your heart pounds, your stomach twists with pleasure. "You - you think that I - my ex...he dumped me because I gained too much weight. He tried to force me to the gym, tried to give me a raw vegetable diet like I was a goddamn rabbit. I- I just - it's been a while since anyone was interested in me."

“Then you were dating a boy, not a man.” He grunts, shaking his head. “There’s not one inch of you that isn’t sexy, darlin’.” The slight Texas twang comes out when he tells you that and he points towards your plate. “So don’t you dare not finish your food because you think I will be repulsed.”

Your jaw drops slightly and you stare at him in surprise. His words have you wet, turned on by the twang and the way he essentially orders you to eat. You’ve never known a man like him. “Thank you.” You whisper, a soft smile on your face as you pick up your knife and fork. You start to eat, watching Joel eat his own meal and you realize that there’s more to him than the criminal killer you assumed he was when you were tied up in his garage.

The meal is finished in companionable silence and when he’s done, Joel drains the last of his bourbon. “That was amazing.” He admits honestly. “I don’t remember the last time I had a home cooked meal like that. Don’t get me wrong, Kathleen is a good cook, but there’s something about your cooking that just….adds to the flavor.”

You smile, “that’s the love.” You tease, knowing you aren’t even on a friendship level let alone anything else. “I made dessert too.” You hum, standing up and grabbing the empty plates. You set them on the side and walk over to the fridge to take out the small cake you had made while waiting for the chicken to cook. You slice it up and set the plate in front of Joel.

“Cake?” His brows shoot up in surprise and he can’t help but smile. “It’s been a long damn time since I’ve had cake.” He admits, reaching out and taking hold of your wrist. “Stay right here and share this with me.” He orders you. “It’s our wedding cake after all.”

You are touched by his sentiment and you let him pull you onto his lap. “I didn’t think of it as a wedding cake but - it’s vanilla and raspberry.” You tell him softly, watching as he picks up the fork and brings the cake to your mouth. You take the bite he offers, wrapping your lips around the fork as he feeds you for the second time since you arrived at his home.

Joel grunts, watching your mouth and your tongue when you swipe it over your lips and imagines you with your mouth wrapped around his cock. Something you wouldn't want, but it makes him twitch. He smirks at you. "How is your cake, sweetheart?" He asks curiously.

You hum, nodding, “it’s good. Even if I do say so myself.” You smirk and reach for the fork so you can cut off a bite and lift it to his mouth. “Try it.” You tell him softly and he leans in to wrap his lips around the cake.

The richness of the vanilla and the tart sweetness of the raspberry melts on his tongue and makes him close his eyes as he groans. It's a simple cake, made even better by its simplicity and he can't help but think that it is a lot like you. You are rich and sweet and complex in your simplicity. "Perfect."

You enjoy his reaction, feeling warm from his dark gaze when he opens his eyes. “Good. I'm glad you like it.” You shift to get him another forkful and you bring it to his lips, enjoying feeding him.

His hand slides down and he squeezes your hip, enjoying the generous flesh and the softness under the pretty white dress you are still wearing. It makes him think of pushing the plate off the table and setting you up on it and having you for dessert.

You lean closer, letting him take the fork from your hand as he cuts off a piece and brings it to your lips. “Thank you.” You murmur after you swallow the bite, leaning in to kiss his scruffy cheek. He grunts and you lean back, “I don’t want to do something stupid but I want to make this work.” You reveal, looking at him.

His dark eyes seem to look into your soul and he presses his lips together. "You don't know what it's like." He warns you. "I'm not gentle. I don't do gentle. I fuck. Hard. Until you can't walk and your cunt aches for days after I'm done with you." He sets the fork down. "You should go back to your room. Stay away from me so I don't hurt you."

You swallow harshly, your eyes focused on his and your chest heaves. “I- I-” You choke, unsure of what you want. Part of you wants him to wreck you. Another part of you wants to stay away so he doesn’t hurt you. He’s not soft, he’s made that clear time and time again. “I’ll go.” You manage to choke out, shifting off of his lap and you glance back once before you scurry out of the room and away from the man you suddenly want more than anything else but you don’t know if you’d be able to handle him .

****

The water is cool and the shade keeps everything at a pleasant temperature. Joel’s sunglasses protect his eyes and he is able to keep his eyes on you as you float on top of the water with a frozen drink in your hand and a smile on your face.

You can’t believe how your life has changed within a week. You’re married. To Joel Miller, Boston elite and a notorious yet - unknown to most - mafia boss. You had some anxiety coming out to the pool wearing your bikini but no one is here apart from Joel and you can feel his eyes on you even behind his sunglasses. The evenings since your wedding day, you’ve cooked or ordered in and he’s talked to you, told you what his favorite movies are. Surprisingly it’s not The Godfather, and you have watched tv together like a real married couple. It’s hard to believe how different he can be when he doesn’t have to be the boss, the big brother, the father figure to Ellie who has eaten dinner with you a few times before sleeping over at her friend’s house. “What are you staring at?” You ask him playfully, knowing he thinks you don’t notice his eyes on you.

Joel’s lips twist into an amused frown and he pulls his glasses down his nose to look over them. “I’m staring at my wife’s tits.” He confesses with zero shame. Tess has come back around and he’s fucked her since he’s been married to you, but he still craves you. Reaching down and adjusting himself as he smirks at you.

You see his motion and chuckle, shaking your head as you take another sip of your drink. You want to believe his attraction to you but you’d seen Tess leaving yesterday morning and you’re not dumb. You know he is still fucking her. It makes your decision to not sleep with him the first night you were married validated. “At least you’re honest.” You hum, shifting off of the floaty after you set your drink on the side and you dip under the water before appearing again. “I’m gonna get another drink, do you want anything?” You ask Joel.

“A beer would be nice.” He says and you nod, walking up the steps to exit the pool, water running down your body as you reach for your towel.

“I didn’t know you were turning the pool into an aquarium, Joel.” Tess appears under the shade of the porch, a mocking expression on her face that has Joel immediately pissed off.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He growls, seeing you scramble to cover your body when you had just been so confident as you waved your ass towards him when climbing out of the pool.

Tears sting in your eyes as you rush into the house but not before you hear Tess say “wanted to see if the fat bitch was still here or if you killed her.” You choke on a sob as you walk into the kitchen, dripping water on the floor but you don’t care, knowing that Tess will be Joel’s number one. You’re only married on paper and these past few days don’t change anything for him. He wants her.

Joel growls and slides into the pool so he can wade angrily towards the steps. “The fuck is wrong with you?” He demands, shaking his head. She laughs as he climbs the stairs and he grabs her arms and shakes her. “Go the fuck away.” He growls, furious. He’s spent the last week with you and has grown to like you a lot. Not just physically, but he likes spending time with you. “Get the fuck out of here if you can’t keep your bitchy thoughts to yourself.”

“You know you don’t actually want her. It’s me who’s in your bed, baby. Why- why wasn’t it me? Why can’t you ever say it back?” Tess asks, her eyes growing watery as she stares at the man she loves, has loved for so many years. “Why can’t you give yourself to me like I have to you, time and time again.”

Joel sighs, closing his eyes and he can’t say the words. He cares about Tess, but he doesn’t want to love her. He frowns and looks into her watery eyes. “You knew the score when you hopped into my bed.” He reminds her. “It’s physical. If you don’t like that, you’re free to walk away.”

Tess rears back as if Joel just slapped her. Hearing the words she’s always known to be true but hoped they weren’t is painful and she shakes her head. “Whatever. Go fuck the whale. See if I care. I’ll go call Jack.” She scoffs, mentioning one of Joel’s men who has always flirted with her. She steps back from him and walks back into the house, passing the kitchen and she storms out of the house. You sniff and grab Joel’s beer, composing yourself after you hear the garage door slam and you are surprised to see Joel standing in the doorway. “Tess left before I could say goodbye.” You murmur, wanting to be the better person, even if you want to go to your room and sob at her insults.

“Yeah.” Joel frowns and steps closer to you, taking the beer and setting it down on the counter to grasp your chin, making you meet his eyes. “She’s jealous.” He tells you. “Don’t listen to her.” He knows you will take her insults to heart and he wishes you wouldn’t.

You scoff, “jealous of me? Why would she be jealous of me? I- I saw her the other morning leaving your room. I know you are fucking her and it’s none of my business but I thought- I thought we were getting a little closer. Even if we aren’t married for real, I’d at least like to be friends. I know you don’t want me like that. I know I don’t - I know you don’t want me.” You finish with a shaky inhale.

Joel chuckles, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “She’s jealous because I do want you.” He reveals. “Because I’ve had to fuck her since you haven’t wanted me to touch you.” He takes your hand and brings it down to his crotch, letting you feel his hard cock. “Don’t tell me that I don’t want you when this is how I stay. I’ve been hard since you walked out in that fucking bikini.”

Your eyes widen when you feel how hard he is and your eyes meet his, seeing the desire in his dark gaze. Fuck, he wants you. You swallow harshly and remove your hand from his crotch. He moves to step back, thinking you don’t like that he’s hard but you reach up to remove the towel you have wrapped around your body. “I want you to take me to my room. I want you to fuck me. I want you to wreck me and leave me aching for days.” You tell him, knowing that you need this, you need to feel all of him. Your hand finds his crotch again, squeezing him through his wet swimming trunks.

Growling and twitching against your hand, he grabs your wrist and drags you closer to him. “One last chance to back out.” He warns you, his lips almost brushing yours.

You whimper and shake your head. “I want you, Joel.” You tell him and he groans, pressing his lips to yours. Your hands slide up his damp chest, wrapping around his neck to press yourself against him as his tongue slides into your mouth. It’s rough and messy but it has more than your bikini dripping wet. His hands slide down to grab your ass, squeezing the supple flesh and you moan into his mouth.

Joel presses you into the counter. The beer is forgotten, swimming forgotten. All that he cares about is touching you. One hand slides under your bottoms to squeeze your bare ass and grip it roughly, while his other hand moves to tear your top off your body, eager to see your tits.

His obvious hunger for your body makes you feel like you’re on fire and he tosses the wet bikini top to the floor. It hits the tile with a plop and his hands are cupping your tits after he pulls back to look at them. “Joel.” You gasp when he pinches your nipples. There’s no tender touches, he’s all in and he’s rough like he warned you.

“Fucking great.” He moans, leaning down and biting the top of one tit before sucking harshly on the skin. Determined to lean bruises under your skin to remember him by. “I knew they were great tits.” He moves down to pull your nipple into his mouth and bites down on it harshly before soothing it with his tongue.

“Baby.” You whine, tangling your fingers in his wet hair. “I - oh God.” No one has ever treated you like this, so roughly, but you fucking love it. His hands are squeezing your tits, tilting them so he can wrap his lips around your nipple, alternating one then the other until they are hard and sore under his touch. “Oh God. I need - take me upstairs.”

“Yeah?” Joel confirms it once more, smirking as he pulls off your tit with a wet pop. “You need me to fuck you, sweetheart? Destroy your little pussy until you can’t walk? Then maybe you’ll believe that you’re sexy.” He lets go of your breasts and brings his hand down harshly on your ass, making it jiggle when he slaps it. “I want you naked the second we get in that room. And I want you to spread out on the bed so I can devour your pussy.”

Your body feels like it's on fire and yet you feel like you could melt into a puddle at his words. That twang comes out and sends your heart pounding. "Fuck. I - Joel - oh God. Yes." You pant, unused to such dirty words. Your previous partners were tame and didn't smack your ass or treat you like this. You step away from him on shaky legs, needing a second to catch your breath and you turn to look back at him, channeling a more confident version of yourself. "Come on then, Miller. I want you to destroy me." You order, walking through the kitchen to the second set of stairs that lead to the bedrooms above.

Watching your ass shake in front of his face makes him reach out and slap it again. Grunting as his cock twitches and he can’t wait to have you on your knees while he’s pounding into you. He knows you’ve probably never had someone fuck you roughly, but he feels like you could take it. He hustles up the last few stairs and reaches out, grabbing you to pull you back so he can grind his cock against your ass, throbbing hotly. “I can’t wait to see how well you take me.” He growls in your ear.

You shiver, feeling like he’s hunting you down and you love it. To feel so desired. It’s more than you’ve had before. You force yourself to continue the last few steps to your assigned suite and his hands are on your waist as you open the door. He gropes your ass and you bring his hand to your bikini bottoms. “Take them off.” You order, wanting him to see all over you despite your stomach twisting with nerves that he might not like what he sees.

The strings seem to dissolve between his fingers and he flings the fabric away from your body. One hand grabs the extra skin around your stomach, groaning as he sinks his other hand between your thick thighs and pushes his fingers between the curls covering your cunt. “Fuck, you’re so hot, so wet.” He grunts, sliding a finger through your slit and back until he’s pushing a thick finger inside you.

You gasp, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders as he starts to finger fuck you. Quickly adding a second finger and you whimper, leaning your weight against him. “Oh God.” You pant and he shifts to walk you back towards the bed. You willingly lay down and groan when his fingers slip out of you. You close your legs, suddenly self conscious to be on display for him like this.

“Open them.” Joel’s voice is rough and he is impatiently pushing his wet swimming trunks down. His hard cock springing free and bouncing as he kicks them away. “I want to see your cunt, every inch of you.”

Your eyes widen at the sight of his hard cock, thick and leaking pre-cum and you are shocked at how turned on he is. His cock throbbing and an angry red. You swallow harshly, spreading your legs to show him every inch of you. Your fingers tangle in the sheets as your heart thumps.

“Fuck.” Your cunt glistens with arousal and he can’t help but twitch, making his cock bounce again. Kneeling down on the bed, he spreads your legs wider and pushes the two fingers back inside you when he lowers his head to bury his face in your folds.

“Oh shit!” You yelp when he sucks on your clit. You never imagined Joel would be a man willing to give oral and you are pleasantly surprised. His fingers curl inside of you on each pump and you moan, unable to stop yourself from reaching down to tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper locks. You bite your lip, trying to keep quiet and soon his free hand is gripping your jaw, his tongue leaving your clit throbbing and slick with his saliva. “Why are you biting your lip?” His rough voice demands and you lick your lips.

“My - I’ve been told I’m too loud. I- he said it was like a banshee.” You confess, knowing your exes have done a number on you.

Joel turns his head and he bites your thigh until you yelp out in surprise. “Every goddamn sound belongs to me.” He growls, his dark eyes fixed on yours. “I will hear them.” This time, he spits on your pussy, watching it slide down through your folds and the dives back in with the vigor of a man starved.

You cry out, cunt gushing at the way he spits on your flesh like he owns you and in a way he does. "Joel!" You squeal when he sucks on your clit, his fingers pumping even faster and you can hear the squelch as your pussy weeps for him. "Oh God. Oh God." You pant, getting closer and closer.

Joel flicks his tongue, sucking his saliva back into his mouth and groaning when you roll your hips down onto his face. He loves how soft you are, how tangy and sweet you are on his tongue. His fingers curl and press deep, stretching you out for his cock.

"Fuck, baby." You pant, chest heaving and you reach up to squeeze your own tits, shifting onto your elbows so you can watch him. Seeing that dark gaze, knowing that his fingers - ones that are capable and have killed - are curled inside of you, making you feel only pleasure...it all sends you over the edge. You cry out and clamp down on his digits, your pussy gushing as you cum fast and hard on his face.

Joel groans as you come apart for him, his tongue slowly working you through it as the pressure around his head is perfect. He throbs against the bedsheets and watches you in rapture.

You slump back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as your chest heaves and you absorb the pleasure racing through you. You haven't felt like this before. You close your eyes and feel Joel shift after withdrawing his fingers. His wet fingers caress your hip and you open your eyes to look up at him. You offer him a lazy smile and he chuckles, "it ain't over yet, darlin'." You nod, shifting to sit up and you reach out to wrap your fingers around his cock.

Hissing at the pressure, Joel resists the urge to rock his hips forward. Letting you explore his cock since he had just done what he wanted with your body. “Fuck.” He groans when you squeeze him. “Give me a word.” He demands, making you frown, “what?”

“A word, a fucking safe word.” He demands. “In case it’s too much.”

You haven't dealt with this before but you've read about it in those smutty books you'd stay up at night reading. You pause your movements as you consider the safe word. "Apple." You tell him, glancing over at the painting on the wall of the fruit bowl. "Apple." You repeat, looking back at him and resuming your grip on his cock.

“Apple.” He nods once, knocking your hand away from his cock and lunging over you. Your legs are hooked under his arms as he presses into you and folds them back. His hand guides his cock towards your wet entrance and his tongue slides into your mouth as he pushes forward and fills you in one harsh thrust.

You gasp around his tongue, his cock pushing deep and hard enough to take your breath away and you can't believe how thick he feels inside of you. Your hands come up to grip his shoulders, covered in healed scars, and you moan into his mouth when you adjust and he starts at a quick, but harsh pace.

“Shit, shit, darlin’.” He growls as he fucks into you with strokes that are meant to punish just as much as pleasure. Your soft body cradles him and absorbs the pressure with a beautiful jiggle. “Knew you could take me, fuck that pussy is tight.” He huffs. “Like a vice, god, you feel good.” He groans.

"Y- you too." You whimper, closing your eyes as you let him fuck you hard and fast. You feel like you're on fire with pleasure and it's only the beginning. "Pu-pussy is yours." You murmur in your haze of lust. His ring on your finger, his cock inside of you, you feel like you belong to him and for the first time since you arrived, it feels right.

Joel growls, your words just making him rock his hips faster. Wanting to pull more words from you. Wanting to hear what all you will give him as his cock shreds up inside you. “Mine.” He agrees. “My pussy, my soft, curvy girl.” He hisses, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth to keep from blowing his load at how sexy and fucked out you look below him as you hang on and take everything he gives you.

Your mouth hangs open, moans escaping your lips without any filter as he thrusts into you hard enough to push your body further up the bed. You reach for his hand, "Joel. I want - I need you to - to choke me. My ex - never wanted- I want you to." Joel stops thrusting, so shocked at your request. You bring his hand to your throat, "I don't want you to just grab my throat. I want to feel you fucking me, I want to feel my own heartbeat. I need you to own me."

A shudder rolls through him, his cock twitching deep inside you as his fingers wrap around your throat. He had never expected you to say something like this and he is eager to see how you react. “Filthy little slut.” He coos mockingly, tightening his grip until you gasp and then slowly pulling his hips back. “Couldn’t get what you need from your loser ex?” He smirks darkly. “I’ll give you what you need.” He promises.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he fucks you hard, his hips slamming against your ass as he bends you over even more and his grip tightens on your throat to make spots flash in your eyes. "Fuuuu-" You can't even talk, only groan breathlessly as he pushes against the back wall of your cunt. Tears push out of your eyes and your cunt squelches as you get closer. Your eyes meet his, a delicious smirk of satisfaction on his face, and he leans in to press his forehead against yours. "Cum for me baby." He orders and you can't hold back or deny him. You choke as you cum, unable to catch your breath as your orgasm rips through you, destroying you and gripping Joel's cock like you never want him to leave your body.

Your orgasm is breathtaking. Making him groan and his eyes roll back at how tight you clench around him as you soak him in your juices. Your name leaving his lips as he has to increase the pressure to fuck you through your orgasm. “Shit, there you go.” He pants. “Fuck that’s pretty, so wet. That’s it baby.” He knows he’s not going to last long, so he pulls back, pulling out of you completely.

He lets go of your throat and you struggle to catch your breath, your body shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm. “Hands and knees.” He orders and you nod, struggling to shift from your back but you manage it. Kneeling on your hands and knees for your husband. Your cunt dripping as you display yourself for his hungry gaze.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand slaps your ass once, twice before he is shuffling forward to sink back into you. Watching as his cock pushes deep, he holds your ass and pulls your cheeks apart to watch your other hole flutter. “Gonna fuck your ass one day too.” He grunts before he starts moving again.

You moan, falling forward onto your elbows as he resumes his harsh pace. "Fuck. Joel yes. I'm yours." You promise, lost in the lust and the way he's making you feel. "It's yours. Whatever you want." You promise as he presses his thumb against the puckered hole.

“Yeah?” He grunts, slamming his hips against your ass and watching your body shake from the force. “Let me have what I want? Anytime I want?” He demands.

“Yes, yes, anything you want.” You pant out quietly, making him chuckle. He sinks the tip of his thumb into your ass and reaches down to grip your neck roughly as he increases his pace.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck." You pant, his fingers digging into your throat from his grip and you want to look back and see him but you can't when his grip is so tight. "Yes! Yours. Yours." You ramble breathily as he slams into you again and again.

There’s a voice in the back of his mind telling him that he shouldn’t be so possessive over you. That it should just be an itch to scratch. He ignores it as he pulls his thumb out of your ass and slides his hand underneath you to rub your clit. “Cum for me.” He orders. “Cum for me baby, wanna feel it.”

You nearly collapse forward but the way he is gripping your throat keeps you upright and you grind back onto him when his fingers rub your clit. "Fuck baby. I'm gonna - again. Oh God. Fuck!" You squeal, clamping down on his cock again. "Please cum. Cum for me." You beg, wanting to hear him, wanting him to have pleasure too.

He grunts, desperately close to cumming but he hadn’t asked you about birth control. He doesn’t know if you are taking it and he can’t risk getting you pregnant. Not when this is a temporary marriage. He manages another four or five thrusts before he is pulling out, letting go of your neck to pump his cock. “Fuck, fuck, fuck baby.” He moans, hot spurts of his seed painting your ass as he gasps for breath.

You feel a little disappointed that he didn’t cum inside of you but you know it’s likely for the best considering you’re only married on paper. You glance back at him as he squeezes his cock and you can’t help but shift around, taking his spent cock into your mouth to taste his length covered with your juices and the saltiness of his seed. Your eyes meet his as his chest heaves and you watch him as you suck him clean.

“Shiiiiiiit.” Joel hisses, his spent cock twitching and he loves how dirty you look with his cock in your mouth. “Next time, I’ll fuck your throat.” He pants. “Fuck, how was it, darlin’?” He asks, pulling his hips back and waiting for your answer.

You look up at him before you shift back onto your haunches. “It was - I’ve never been fucked like that before.” You admit, biting your lip as your eyes focus on him. “Did you- did you enjoy it?”

“I did.” His hand caresses your hip and he can see how self conscious you are. “Let me get a rag and clean you up.” He smirks. “Bet you couldn’t walk to the bathroom right now anyway.”

You shake your head, limbs feeling like jello and you shift onto your stomach as you watch him walk into the en suite bathroom. You close your eyes, feeling exhausted, and you flinch slightly at the feel of the cold rag on your skin as he cleans you up. “I have an IUD by the way. If…if you want to cum inside of me next time.”

“Shit.” Joel shakes his head. “If I had known that…..” he wouldn’t have pulled out at all. He finishes wiping you clean and caresses your ass before he slaps it. “You wouldn’t mind me cumming inside you?” He asks, wanting to make sure.

You shake your head, “I wouldn’t mind but…are you still going to sleep with Tess?” You ask. Nervous that he’s going to continue sleeping with her and coming to your bed at the same time. The woman who has insulted you at every turn, it makes you sad and angry that she says those things and you hope he doesn’t want to continue fucking her.

His eyes go flat, dark and angry as he thinks about what Tess had said. “No.” He huffs, shaking his head. “That won’t be happening.” He made up his mind, he’s married. He’s decided he’s going to be a faithful husband while he’s married to you.

You are relieved, relaxing even more into the mattress and you watch him as he shifts to sit down on the bed beside you. His entire form is awkward now and you find it a little endearing. “Good. I- I want to make the best of this while we are married. I want to get to know you.” You tell him, knowing you have to compromise if you��re here for the foreseeable until he gets tired of you. Maybe he will kill you or maybe he will let you go. You hope he’d just let you go.

Leaning back against the pillows, Joel searches for a compliment. “You were really wet.” He tells you lamely. “Tight.” He grunts, wondering if he can get more ridiculous. “Do you like to cuddle after sex or sleep?” He asks.

You can tell he’s not used to aftercare or pillow talk so you take pity on him and shuffle off of the bed, legs wobbling slightly. “I like to shower. Um, you can stay if you want but I’m sure you’ve got things to do.” You say, biting your lip and you internally cringe at how awkward it is now that the lust has been satiated.

It feels like he is being dismissed and Joel frowns, shuffling off the bed. "Sure." He nods. "Enjoy your shower." He will clean up the pool area and order dinner. "Don't worry about cooking tonight. I will order us some dinner. How does Chinese sound?'

You turn back to look at him, “sure. That sounds good. I like anything so order a selection, babe.” You say and step into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You turn on the shower and sit down on the toilet, burying your face in your hands. Things just got a lot more complicated and you’re not sure how to handle it. You know you’re going to end up getting hurt in the end.

****

Joel's snarl is curling his lip back and the only thing keeping the headboard from beating against the wall is the fact that your hands are wrapped around the posts, his own hands covering yours as he fucks you. "Fuck, fuck, you've got to cum." He pauses mid thrust to push up onto his knees a bit more, wanting to push deeper into you. Flat on your stomach while he fuck you into the mattress, your moans are hampered by the pillow and he lets go of one hand so he can rip it out from under you and toss it down on the ground.

“Oh God, Joel. I- fuck. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me - oh shit! Shit!” You squeal as you turn your head so he can hear you, his cock pushing deep and you can barely breathe when your orgasm slams into you. It’s devastating and you love it. Fuck, you love it. “Cu- cum. Please. Want - want to feel it.” You beg but he denies you, working you through your orgasm and pushing you onto another one that has your body shaking from overstimulation.

He's learned that despite you wanting him to cum right after you do, you love having multiple orgasms. Your past lovers obviously not doing a very good job when they fucked you, Joel leaves you unable to use that vibrator that you keep in your bedside drawer. Unless you count the time he had fucked you while pressing it to your clit. "You've gotta give me another one, baby." He smirks, biting down on your shoulder.

You shake your head, “I can’t. It’s too much.” You choke and he bites down on your skin again.

“You can. One more. One more than I’ll fill this tight little cunt up.” He promises and you whine, fingers gripping the headboard even more. He thrusts a little harder, his hips smacking against your ass and you can hardly catch your breath.

“Shit. It’s - oh God. Too much. So good. Baby. Baby. I’m gonna cum again.” You warn him, clenching your eyes shut as your toes curl.

He grits his teeth and continues to hammer into you, wanting to feel you cum. It’s becoming an addiction. Watching you, feeling you, hearing you come apart for him. There’s an honesty you can’t fake when you cum for him. The first gush of your juices makes his hips stutter and he groans. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill this little pussy up.” He vows. “Want you to drip me while you shake your ass all over my kitchen.”

His words push you even further and you clamp down on his cock, soaking him with a cry of his name. “Fuck yes baby. Oh fuck.” You croak, voice broken from the moans he’s pulled from you tonight. “Please. Please. Pleaseeee.” You beg as you ride your orgasm, desperate to feel him spill inside of you.

Letting go of the bed, his arms push underneath you to hold you tight. Wrapping his legs around yours as he rocks into you over and over again until he is burying his cock deep. Groaning your name into your ear as he spills rope after rope of his hot seed into your womb.

You close your eyes, enjoying the feel of him on top of you and you could easily spend the rest of your life like this. That thought would terrify you if you weren’t drunk with pleasure. You sigh in bliss and he kisses along your neck once he’s still, his cock still twitching inside of you. “So good, baby.” You murmur, reaching back to slide your fingers through his hair.

He knows he’s heavy, pinning you down but you don’t complain and he doesn’t want to move. “Fuck.” He grunts, burying his face in your neck and trying to catch his breath. “Could sleep right here.” He murmurs, kissing your pulse and feeling all the stress and pain fade away.

You smile into the sheets, “me too.” You haven’t shared a bed with him yet, just sex before you both retreat to your own quarters and you wish he would cuddle you or something. “Do you maybe….maybe you’d like to stay tonight? In the same bed?” You ask tentatively, worried that he’s going to reject you.

Lifting his head, Joel’s brows shoot up. “Yeah, uh, are you sure?” He asks. He’s always come to your room, you’ve never been in his, but he wants to stay. “I don’t want you to offer if you’d rather be alone.”

“No. No. I want you to stay.” You promise, nodding your head against the sheets and you shift onto your side so you can look at him after he pulls out of you. “I want you to stay. Maybe we can watch a movie?” You suggest, reaching out to brush his hair back.

Joel secretly likes watching movies and he nods. “That will be good. Do you want to shower first, or need some water?” He knows you want a little bit of tenderness after sex.

You swallow, “water would be good, babe.” You offer him a smile, “and a shower.” You decide, wanting to feel clean after he’s wrecked your body again. “You wanna shower with me first?” You ask, knowing he isn’t one for that kind of intimacy but you always attempt to reach out to him, to make this marriage work in more ways than sex.

“That will work.” Joel nods and moves to climb out of the bed. “I’ll start the water, let it warm up.” He pauses and then leans in for a kiss before he stands and strides towards your en-suite. It’s getting harder to not soften towards you, especially since you are so sweet.

You are surprised that he wants to shower with you when he usually goes off to clean himself up and check on the business with Tommy. You watch his ass as he walks into your bathroom and you bite your lip, loving how hot he is. Even more so he doesn’t think he is. He thinks he’s too old but you love the salt and pepper. He grabs you a water and you are soon in the shower together, grabbing the body wash to clean each other off.

“Your body wash smells flowery.” Joel makes a face on principle, but he squirts it on a loofa and suds it up to wash your body. “That’s why you always smell so good.” He grunts to himself. “Love your smell, especially your wet pussy.”

You smile, pleased that he likes how you smell. It’s ridiculous how much you like hearing him compliment you. He’s such a gruff, cold man and any way you can crack his icy exterior has your heart melting for him. “Love how you smell too. Smoky and like whiskey. For now though, you’re gonna smell like roses.” You tease, sliding your hands along his chest.

He snorts and shakes his head. “Just means I need to fuck you again before we go to sleep.” He smirks and winks at you. There’s not been a day that has passed since that first day that he’s not fucked you at least twice. Most of the time, it’s hours between sessions since he’s no longer a teenager, but he’s been rising to the occasion.

You chuckle, “it’s a good thing I have the IUD otherwise you would’ve knocked me up by now and we both know that would be a disaster.” You snort and run your fingers through his wet hair, massaging his head. “I like this.” You admit softly, “what this has become.”

“I do too.” Joel admits, his hands squeezing your waist. You’ve grown more comfortable and playful as the days have gone on and his lust for you continues to grow. It also helps that he’s already seen you tell the police detective that you couldn’t help him when he came knocking about the murder. He doesn’t voice the idea that you could stay on, aware that you miss being a lawyer, a district attorney. He couldn’t ask you to give that up, or continuously look the other way.

Your heart flutters at his confession and you lean up to kiss his jaw. You have been keeping track of the case at the district attorney’s office and have seen that there is no evidence to link the murder back to Miller’s, so you are confident that the case will dropped soon and when the case is dropped, you can probably ask Joel if you can return to your previous life, but you find yourself reluctant to do so when deep down you are in love with the man who has become your husband. You rinse off after five minutes and Joel is quick to get you a towel grabbing one for himself to wrap around his waist. “You get dressed, baby. I’ll go get us some water and snacks. We can watch a movie. Pick whatever you want, just as long as it ain’t a damn romcom.”

You snort and nod, “sure thing babe.” You get dressed in your sweats and soon enough, you are cold around Joel watching a movie until you fall asleep on his chest.

Joel strokes your back gently as you sleep, smirking at the jokes in the movie. He likes this, feeling more relaxed than he has in a long time. His informant tells him that the case is stalled and will soon be dormant. Now he doesn’t want to give you up. He’s gotten used to you puttering in the kitchen and you spend a lot of time in his study, reading if he needs to do something.

****

You decide to wake up early. Joel doesn’t spend the night in your bed even after two months of marriage but you don’t let it bother you too much, knowing he has his reasons and he’s opened up to you far more than you ever thought possible. You sneak out of your bedroom across the hall from Joel’s and that’s when you see Tess. Sneaking out of Joel’s room, her hair all over the place and her clothes wrinkled. Your heart breaks and her smirk makes you feel sick. He slept with her. You aren’t enough for him. He doesn’t want you. You swallow harshly, not wanting her to see how affected you are. “Morning Tess.” You choke out and she hums, “morning.” She grins and makes her way downstairs, leaving you speechless in the hallway.

Joel wakes up and for a moment is confused when he sees the spot next to him is rumpled like someone slept there. Then he remembers. You had already gone to bed, Joel staying late to talk to Tommy about business and Tess had shown up. She had been wasted and practically sobbing about you and Joel abandoning her, trying to kiss him again and again until he finally convinced her that he wasn’t going to touch her. She had begged for just one more night sleeping beside him and he had relented, knowing she was in no shape to go home. Tucking her in and making sure she didn’t throw up until about four this morning before he had finally fallen asleep.

You pour your coffee with tears stinging in your eyes and you allow yourself the breakfast you make to be your time to be upset about Joel sleeping with Tess again. After you finish breakfast, you decide you aren’t going to sit around and wait for him. He has let you go eventually if he wants to be with Tess. You make your way to your room, locking the door, and you call your friend, deciding to make plans for tonight. No longer will you sit around pining for your husband that will never be capable of loving you. You’re going out tonight despite Joel’s rules. Your sister and niece have gone to Florida for the weekend so you know Joel hasn’t had his men follow them. Joel knocks on your door but you tell him you’re working and he leaves you alone. You don’t leave your room for lunch and around eight at night you get ready and decide to drive into the city to meet your friend. Joel will still be busy with his own work since he’s gone back to running the family business so you know he won’t miss your presence.

There’s something wrong with today and Joel is in a pisser of a mood. He’s not seen you all day and he hates it. He’s gotten used to seeing your pretty face, sharing a smile or hearing you tell him a joke in hopes to see him smile. Ellie slunks into his office around nine, pouting and dropping into a chair. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” He demands.

Ellie says your name and Joel frowns, “what about her?”

Ellie scoffs, crossing her arms, “she’s gone into the city and I asked to go but she said she was going to some club with her friend. I was too young to go.” Ellie pouts and huffs, rolling her eyes, “I hate being a kid. I can’t do shit.”

“What do you mean she went into the city?” Joel drops the paper he was reading and sits up in his chair, a scowl on his face. “What fucking club, she’s in her room.” He swears Ellie likes busting his balls and making him sweat. “Don’t start that bullshit lying again.

Ellie shakes her head, “I’m not fucking lying. She’s gone out. Said something about the place Tommy and her met. I don’t know, man. That’s what she said and she looks fucking fancy. Dressed up and shit.” Ellie snorts, knowing Joel will be pissed with you leaving the house. Joel growls, realizing she’s telling the truth and she holds her hands up, “don’t shoot me. I’m the messenger.” Ellie says and Joel pushes back from his desk.

****

You sway to the music, feeling like you are free for the first time in nearly three months. You are excited to enjoy yourself and let loose, especially after seeing Tess this morning. Your heart is broken, knowing she would always be Joel’s number one despite him sending her away and you try to lose yourself in the music and the drink, trying to drown your stupid feelings.

“Come on! Come on!” He hisses, slamming the wheel of his car as he curses the car in front of him. He doesn’t know why you decided to leave the house without telling him, especially because he wouldn’t have let you go alone. If you needed a night out, he would have taken you. But not back to the fuckin place you had witnessed a goddamn murder. He pulls up outside the club, screeching to a halt and jumping out of the car to storm through the security and into the club to find you.

You are swaying your hips when you feel hands squeeze your flesh. You gasp, turning your head and seeing a man pushing up against you and you shake your head, trying to step away from him but his fingers dig deeper into your skin. Before you can react, he’s being shoved away from you and your eyes widen when you see Joel grab his collar, his teeth bared as he growls at the man for touching you and not letting you go. The music is loud and you can’t hear what he says as his hand comes back and you grab onto his arm. “Joel. Stop. Not here. Not here.”

He almost flings you off and punches him anyway, but your eyes are wide and frightened. “Don’t ever fuckin’ touch my wife again.” He spits, shoving the asshole away from him. The man nods and quickly disappears into the crowd. Joel turns towards you and his scowl is fierce. “What the fuck are you doing here? You didn’t tell me? What are you thinking?” He shouts.

You scoff, “I thought you’d be with Tess. Why did you follow me here? I wanted one fucking night without being trapped in your goddamn house!” You shout back, the music blaring around you.

“Tess?” He frowns even harder, hurt that you don’t want to be around him. “What the fuck are you talking about? What does Tess have to do with you sneaking out? You wanted to go out? I could have brought you to a better club.”

You shake your head, pushing his chest, “you fucked her last night. Don’t lie to me. I saw her leaving your room this morning. She fucking smirked at me.” You shout at him, shaking your head and turning it to hide the tears welling in your eyes.

His eyes widen, realizing that you must have seen Tess leaving this morning. You get two steps away from him before he’s chasing after you, grabbing your arm and turning you around. “I didn’t fuck her!” He shouts back over the music. “I haven’t fucked-“ he shakes his head and lets go of your arm. “Never mind, you won’t believe me anyway.”

You swallow harshly, “I- I need some air.” You tell him, pushing your way through the gyrating crowd, your clutch in your hand and you inhale deeply once you’re outside in the cool air. Joel isn’t too far behind you and you wipe your eyes, looking over at your husband. “I don’t know why you followed me here tonight.” You scoff at Joel who shakes his head.

“I have enemies, baby. If one of them had followed you…got to you…” He trails off and you chuckle humorlessly, “well, they would’ve done you a favor. Gotten rid of me. Saved you the job.”

“I’m not getting rid of you.” He slaps his hands against his thighs and wonders why you are being so fucking difficult. “Don’t fucking talk like that.” He growls, furious at the thought of you being hurt because of him.

“Why?” You hiss, turning back towards him, “you don’t love me like I love you. You don’t want me. You- you want Tess. You want someone skinnier, prettier. You want someone you can show off. I haven’t met anyone from your family or friends. I haven’t even met Tommy’s wife. You don’t want them knowing you married the fat girl. I know you only married me so I’d keep my mouth shut but the case is closed. The DA office released the news this afternoon. No leads. Cold case. It’s done. So just divorce me so I can go back to my life because you don’t love me. God, I’m such an idiot. I fell in love with you and I’m - please. Just let me go.” You beg, unable to take his back and forth.

Joel frowns and shakes his head. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He demands. “I kept you from meeting everyone because you don’t want to stay with me!” He shoves a hand through his hair. “You can’t - every time we are together you fucking tell me how you can’t wait to go back to your life. I’m a fucking criminal! You can’t be a fucking district attorney married to a criminal!”

You choke on a sob, hating how complicated your life has become. For years, you’ve wanted to find someone, fall in love, get married. It’s happened but in the most confusing way possible. “I quit. I quit today. I can’t be a DA after watching what Tommy did. It’s not - it’s not moral so I quit my job. I tell you I can’t wait to get back to my life because that’s what I thought you wanted. To get rid of me when the case was closed by the DA and the police. I miss my old life but not for the reason you think. I miss having my freedom but most of all, I miss not being in love with you. Not feeling so much goddamn pain because you won’t ever feel the same.”

He stares at you for a moment, nearly panting, he’s breathing so hard. “I- you quit?” He whispers, shaking his head. “You quit the D.A.’s office?” You nod and he grabs you again and pulls you closer. “You’re never fuckin’ leaving.” He rasps out. “Never. I didn’t fuck Tess. I couldn’t. Not when-“ he swallows. “Not when I love you.”

Your eyes widen as he pulls you into his chest and you shouldn’t but you believe him. You believe he didn’t fuck her. “I- I love you. I don’t want to leave you. I want to stay with you.” You promise, sliding your hand up his chest until you can tangle your fingers in his hair. “I love you, Joel.” You murmur, “I love you.”

“I love you, baby.” He promises roughly. Nudging his nose against yours. “You’re mine. You told me you were mine and I’m keeping you.” He growls, pressing his lips to yours and slides his tongue into your mouth possessively.

You moan into his mouth, feeling him push you back into the wall of the club and passersby stare but you don’t care. Your heart pounding in your chest as your husband kisses you. He pulls back after a moment and your breath mingles, “take me home, Miller.” You order, wanting him to take you home and to his bed. Joel nods, summoning the valet to get his car and you’re soon on your way back to his estate. You text your friend, apologizing and she says she doesn’t mind, she’s found a guy to occupy her and you tell her to be safe. Joel squeezes your hand as he drives and you frown, shifting to look at him. “How did you know where I was?” You ask and he tells you about Ellie. “Of course.” You chuckle softly, knowing the teenager is nothing if not a talker.

“She loves you, you know? Wanted to tell me because she wants you to be safe.” He says and you nod, “I love her. She’s funny and she makes you smile with her silly puns. How could I not love her?” You ask him.

Joel nods, sighing softly. “She’s not had it easy. Hell, I’ve not had it easy, but she’s a good kid. A pain in my ass, but a good kid. She’s - well, she’s the entire reason I decided to marry you.” He reveals.

Your eyebrows raise, “she was?” You ask, surprised by the news and you wonder what Ellie could’ve said to have made him decide to marry you instead of kill you.

“Yeah.” Joel nods and looks back at the road. “She’s never had a mother or a mother-like figure. Tess sure as shit isn’t one. Not since she lost her husband and son ten years ago.” He tells you. “You- your worry was for your sister, your niece. You were terrified of marrying me but you would do it to protect them. I wanted Ellie to be around a woman like that, like you.” He tells you softly. “She reminds me of Sarah.”

You have heard the name before but haven’t asked him. You know from Ellie that Joel was married before, years ago, but there was never a good time to ask him about it. “Sarah?” You ask softly, wanting him to talk about it only if he wants to.

“My- my daughter.” He reveals quietly, feeling your shocked stare on him as he drives. He doesn’t look over at you, unsure of what your reaction will be. “My ex-wife and I were young, too fuckin’ young. I got her pregnant and after Sarah was born, she decided she didn’t want to be a wife and mother.” He shakes his head, unable to imagine leaving Sarah behind. “I raised her by myself. I wasn’t in the business. I was determined to keep Sarah out of it. I built houses. Me ‘n Tommy had a construction business. I was pretty good. Until….” He bites his lip. “My uncle died and it started a fuckin’ mafia power struggle. They came after me and….” He cuts himself off, gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles are turning white. “She was twelve.” He tells you. “Just a little girl.”

Your eyes widen, “she -?” You can’t vocalize it and tears sting in your eyes. “Oh Joel.” You choke and he swallows harshly.

“It was another - to get power. They thought I’d crumble after losing her. I did…until I came back with a vengeance. I’ve done things…things that shouldn’t allow me to touch you, let alone be loved by you. I’ve sinned.” He confesses and you reach for his hand again.

“Baby, oh- I'm so sorry.” You sob, leaning down to kiss the back of his hand.

He’s surprised that you are trying to comfort him. He had expected you to demand to know what he’s done. His eyes flutter and then open quickly to watch the road. “You said you felt trapped.” He reminds you softly. “Do you- you don’t like living with me?”

You shake your head, leaning back to look at him. “I like living with you but baby, I want to love living with you. I want to share a room. I want to share our lives. I want to share everything with you.”

“Tess was drunk last night.” He admits quietly. “She wanted me to fuck her, but I told her no. Told her that I was married. She begged to just sleep beside me one last time, she knew it was over. I swear to you that I didn’t fuck her. It’s just been you.”

You are surprised at the way she begged him to fuck her but not shocked. Your heart pounds when you hear him confess it’s been you, only you. “I believe you. If I find out otherwise, I don’t care what you do for a living, I’ll chop your balls off.” You promise, knowing you have to stand your ground.

He smirks when he stops at the red light, looking over at you and nodding. “I’ll give you the knife, baby.” He tells you. “I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of, but I’m no piece of shit cheater.”

You smile, knowing his morality will be a gray area for you, but you knew what you were getting into you. You love him. The real him and you won’t deny that. You want to spend the rest of your life with Joel. “I want you to take me home and make love to me. Not rough. Just the two of us. Take our time.” You tell him, kissing the back of his hand again.

Joel nods, knowing that he needs to show you some tenderness. Show you how he feels. You aren’t just some woman he’s fucking, you’re his wife and apparently, you want to stay his wife. “I can do that.” He promises. “I can be gentle. I want to show you.”

You want Joel to show you some softness. When you arrive back at the estate, he opens the door for you and escorts you inside and upstairs. You head to your room but he takes your hand, guiding you to his. A room you have never been in before. “Are you sure, baby?” You ask, knowing that he has always considered this room to be off limits to everyone, including you despite you being married on paper.

“Yes.” He nods. “The sheets have been changed, I want you in my bed. I want you to stay with me, sleep beside me.” He murmurs softly. You bite your lip and he opens the door and guides you inside, closing it behind him. It’s masculine, dark, heavy furniture but there are multiple pillows on the bed. Minimal and clean, just the way he likes it.

You admire the bedroom, large and imposing like him but simple and masculine. You like it, it feels like him. You turn to face him, tilting up to kiss his neck softly, your hands working on the buttons of his shirt. You want to see all of him. “I love you.” You murmur, kissing his chin.

“I love you too.” His hands slide down to pick up the bottom of your dress. “Wanted to punch that asshole, grinding against you.” He growls. “Thinking he had a chance with you.”

You shake your head as he pulls your dress over your body. “He never did. I was trying to push him away. Only you. It’s only you.” You promise him and gasp when he drops your dress to the floor and his hands find your ass, tugging you up against his body. You reach between you, working on his belt and you are able to pull it out from the loops without moving away from him. “I’m yours.” You promise, showing him your hand with the ring he placed on your finger.

“Mine.” He agrees, leaning in to kiss your hand and he brings it to his chest. He closes his eyes and sighs softly before he looks at you again. “You’re so beautiful.” He tells you quietly. “The first thing I thought when I saw you was that you were pretty.” He reaches out and traces the edge of your bra. “Let me see you, baby.”

You reach behind you to unclasp your bra, “even when I was blindfolded.” You tease and he nods, “even then.” Your heart melts and you reach down to unbutton his jeans, unzipping them and pulling the zipper down. You reach in to grip his cock, hard and throbbing for you, and that thrills you

“Shit.” He hisses, rocking his hips forward. “Want you to sit on my face.” He’s wanted you to before now, but you’ve always resisted. He knows it’s your self-image preventing it, but he wants to see you ride his tongue. “Do it for me, baby.”

Your stomach twists and you’re nervous. “I- baby. I don’t want to hurt you.” You shake your head but his fingers dig into your ass.

“You won’t.” He insists and You concede. “If i hurt you-” You trail off and he scoffs, “you won’t.” You poke his chest, “you tell me.” You insist and he snorts but nods. You step out of your shoes and push your panties down, waiting for him to get situated.

Joel peels his pants down and lays down on the bed, watching you hungrily and you awkwardly kneel on the bed. “You aren’t going to hurt me, baby. I promise you, I can push you off if I need to.” He understands your hesitation, but he’s salivating at the idea of having your pussy sitting on his face.

You shift to straddle his chest and he tuts, grabbing your ass to pull you up so you are hovering over his face. He groans at the sight of your dripping cunt and you gasp when his tongue snakes out to slide through your folds. “Fuck baby.” You moan, lowering your hips unconsciously and he groans your name when you start to relax and rest your weight over him.

He holds your hips, needing to be able to pull you back down if you shift to lift off of him. Groaning into your pussy happily when you roll your hips. His tongue flicking over your clit and then back down to push up inside you.

“Fuck.” You gasp, tilting your head back and your hands come up to grip the headboard. “Joel. Oh God. That feels so good.” You confess breathlessly as he pushes his tongue deep inside of you. You moan when his tongue flicks over your clit again and you forget to keep your posture stiff as you relax even more.

Time is completely suspended, all he cares about is making you feel good. His cock throbs and spurts pre-cum as he feels the first flood of your juices soak his mouth and you haven’t even cum yet. Groaning into your flesh as he devours you.

You feel like you are floating, his mouth on your clit and his tongue pushing deep inside of you. You finally give in to the feelings and grind down onto his face. “Oh fuck Joel. It’s - you’re too good. So good baby.” You whimper, feeling like you could die and be happy. He makes you feel like you are on cloud nine. “Oh God. I love you.” You whine, fingers gripping the headboard.

He can’t talk, but he squeezes your hips, eager to hear you say that again. He loves you, he knows he does. You’ve burrowed your way into his cold heart like Ellie has and he would murder for you, he would die for you.

You are so close. Grinding down onto his face a little more. “Fuck baby. I love you. I’m gonna cum- I’m gonna - oh shit!” You hiss, thighs pressing against his head and you worry in the back of your mind if you’re suffocating him.

Joel groans, eyes fluttering closed as he works you through the most satisfying orgasm he’s ever pulled out of you. He knows you love it from how you are moaning and panting his name.

You try to catch your breath, your heart racing and your chest heaving as you relax from your orgasm. “Baby. Oh God. That was-” You pant, shifting off of his face and you shuffle down his body until you are kneeling between his legs. You reach out to grip his cock and take him into your mouth.

“Shit.” You’ve blown him, of course you have. You’ve been fucking for two months, but tonight, you seem desperate to suck his fucking soul out through his cock. “Oh fuck, baby, god damn you have such a good mouth.” His toes curl and his legs twitch when you reach down and fondle his balls in your hand.

You watch him, his eyes closing and his fingers find the back of your head. You pull off of his cock for a moment, continuing to pump him in your hand. “I love you, my handsome husband.” You coo, taking him back into your mouth until he’s pulling you off of him.

“I need to be inside you, baby.” He pants, pulling you up and rolling you over in one smooth move. “I love you, my sexy wife.” He growls, biting your bottom lip and smirking at you.

You smile against his mouth, caressing his cheeks as he hovers over you. You lift your legs up to wrap around his waist and he shuffles closer on his knees, reaching down to grip his cock so he can start to push inside of you. “I love you.” You sigh when he’s fully inside of you, feeling like you’re where you belong.

“I love you too.” He groans quietly, pushing his arms underneath your back and holding you close. He wants to be as close as he can as he kisses your lips.

You whimper and he starts to move inside of you, making you cling to him. There’s nothing rough, no choking, no spanking. It’s soft and sweet and everything you’ve ever wanted from your marriage, from your husband. “Feel so good. Always feel so good. No one has ever made me feel this way before.”

“Good.” He chokes out, burrowing his face into your neck and inhaling your sweet scent. “You are so soft and perfect. You take me when I’m rough and beg for more.” He praises you softly. “And I want more of this. More intimacy. Soft. I’ll be soft for you.”

You know he will give you that, he’s showing now that he’s capable of that and you understand his rougher side. You enjoy it but this makes you feel so connected to Joel. “I love all of you. Every side of you. Whatever you give me. I want it all.” You promise breathlessly, caressing his back and one hand slides up to run your fingers through his hair.

Joel practically purrs when your fingers are in his hair. His hips slow down and he barely rocks into you. “I- I never would have killed you. Or your sister.” He promises you. “I don’t hurt women or kids.”

You know that now, understanding his character, and you want to tell your sister about your husband, have her meet him. “I know, baby. I know that now. I know you are good. Deep down, you’re a good man.” You assure him, kissing his neck. “I love that about you. Only I know that you’re good. Me and Ellie know.” You promise, rocking your hips up to meet his.

He’s overwhelmed that you believe in him so firmly. His heart is pounding and he knows that you are his purpose, you and Ellie. He will take care of you and her until he takes his last breath.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, it seems like you spend hours under the rocking of his hips until he shifts and presses his fingers to your clit. “Want you to cum for me, baby.” He murmurs into your neck and you whine, bucking up into his touch.

“Yes. Yes. Going to cum for you.” You promise, walls fluttering around his cock.

Joel kisses you tenderly, feeling your pulse jump under his lips. “Love you so much baby, you’re so good.” He praises, noting how much you preen under the compliments. You deserve them. You deserve better than him but by some miracle, you love him. “So perfect for me. My beautiful, sexy woman.”

You gasp, clamping down on his cock, unable to stop yourself with the raspy compliments he pours into your ear. “Oh. Oh. Oh.” You pant, clenching your eyes shut as you cum, soaking him with your juices.

“That’s it, that’s it darlin’.” He groans, his tongue lapping at your salty skin as he works you through your orgasm and chases his own. “Feels so fuckin’ good.”

You need him to fill you up. “Cum for me. Cum for me, Joel.” You plead into his neck, nails digging into his flesh as he rocks into you, his hips slapping against your thighs and there’s nothing but the two of you in this moment. He pushes deep a half dozen thrusts later, he’s spilling into you, painting your walls, and you love it. You love him. You hum, closing your eyes as he rests his head on your chest, his breath puffing hot on your skin.

Joel feels like he’s pulled apart. His heart bursting happily as he catches his breath. “I love you.” He sighs. It might not have been ideal for you to witness Tommy murdering someone, it scared you and he hates that. But being a mafia boss brought you into his life and he’s grateful for that. Happy to have you as his wife, forever.

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eideticmemory · 6 months

Text

BETTER OFF AS LOVERS | SPENCER REID

Three years after ending your relationship with Spencer Reid, you find yourself representing him in court on federal murder charges.

Word Count: 12k.

Warning/Includes: MAJOR CW for Spencer’s dilaudid arc and graphic mentions of drug use. Prison!Spencer, Lawyer!Reader. Bounces between the past and present through bold italics. Mentions of murder, prison, and violence. A little bit of smut.

Because both you and Spencer are compulsive overachievers, it’s been hard to ignore each other. He saves a kids life every other week and your quick wit has taken you to the (very near) top of the DC law food chain. He picks up a newspaper, you’re smiling arm in arm with the district attorney. You turn on the TV, he’s up there declaring national manhunts. It’s hard to avoid each other, but you have both tried so, very hard.

So hard, in fact, that when Spencer is lying in a jail cell, waiting for any sign of life to shine through the bars, he is not even thinking about you. He’s thinking about his mom. His job. His future. His very recent past. But not you. And even though he doesn’t realize it in the moment, it’s a blessing. He should’ve taken the moment to be grateful.

When Emily comes up to his cell, he hops up and all the thoughts stuck in his head rush out in word vomit. Why isn’t she in the office? How is the office? How’s his mom? And once he learns that everything else is perfectly fine, he remembers that he, alone, is fucked.

And Emily’s very good at that soft voice, that everything will be okay voice, but she doesn’t know that. Not really. Spencer knows that she doesn’t and he swallows himself in self pity, saying, “I don’t even have a lawyer.”

“About that…” Emily says before a beat can pass. “I, um…I made a call…”

Spencer tilts his head at her.

“I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”

You’re eating lunch when you get the call. You have a sandwich held in your mouth as you scribble notes on a legal pad which you promptly cross out.

“Miss [y/l/n]?” your receptionist announces herself at the door.

You drop your sandwich, “Hey,” you smile. “Yes?”

“You have an Emily Prentiss on the line for you. Do you want me to patch her through?”

Your smile drops, you can’t help it. Your heart sinks to the very bottom of your stomach and you have to clear your throat, remind yourself to breathe.

“No,” you shake your head. “No,” you stand to your feet. “No, thank you. I’ll answer her in here.”

You close your office door behind her. You close the blinds. You stare at the blinking light on the phone for what feels like hours. You take a seat at your desk, you stare some more. Then you pick up the phone.

“This is [y/n].”

“Hi, [y/n]. It’s Emily Prentiss.”

“Emily…” you breathe out. “Hey.”

“Do you have a moment to talk?”

You sigh, “Is…is this about Spencer?”

Emily pauses, just for a moment, but she knows it’s best to be honest, “It is.”

“Is he dead?” It seems blunt. But, to you, it sounds like a fair and natural question.

Emily clears her throat, “He’s in jail.”

Maybe she expected a gasp. A soft cry. But all you do is close your eyes and draw in a deep breath. You say, “Okay.”

“Now, I understand if you decline. I do. But I have to ask…are you available to come to Quantico for a legal consult with me? Just me?”

You stare at the ceiling, grinding your teeth so hard that you think your jaw may crack under the pressure. And in the span of just two hours, you tell her yes. You reschedule your afternoon meeting. You walk through a metal detector and pat down in Quantico. Yet, you’re not truly in your body until you step on the elevator. You feel yourself rising through the building and the familiarity of it hits you like lightening. You think, not now. You cannot break down now.

Later.

You stand and look over at Spencer’s empty desk, only for a moment and then you tear yourself away. You knock on Emily’s open door and she immediately stands when you sees you, “[y/n], hi,” she moves around her desk, “Hi, thanks for coming.”

You give her a hug, and she holds on for longer than she means to. She looks you in the eye and asks, “How are you?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

She sighs, walking back to her desk as you close the door. “We’ve been better.”

You take a seat across from her, look around the office, and now you smile, “I like you in here, chief.”

She chuckles, “I assume you heard about Hotch?”

You nod, “I did…only courthouse rumblings.”

“Yeah, well, uh, team’s been good,” she rummages around her desk. “Pushing through. I see you’ve climbed the ladder in recent years.”

You shrug, smirking, “All bribes.”

She laughs, “Oh, c’mon, we both know that’s not true. You’re the best of the best. I wouldn’t have called you if you weren’t.”

And when she sees the light go out in your eyes, reminded by the reality of the situation, she does nothing but set the file in front of you. You exhale quickly out of your nose and you stare at Spencer’s name etched along the edge. You pick it up and place it in your lap, ducking your head to read it. His mugshots nearly make you gasp, but you stifle it. You put your finger to your lips and you try. You try so hard not react. Not in front of Emily, even though she can read you anyway.

You read the entire file. Front to back. Your eyes flick off of the last word and you slam the manilla folder closed. You look up at Emily, her looking at you, waiting for you, so patiently. You open your mouth, and she prepares herself for whatever you could say. Anything. Everything. She’s prepared.

You breath out, “He was high?”

She was not prepared for that.

She shakes her head, “He was drugged. The guy we’re after is notorious for using drugs to incapacitate his victims.”

You nod, “And let me guess. The bureau won’t help with his legal defense?”

She shakes her head, “He broke protocol.”

You roll your eyes, “Stupid…”

“[y/n],” she calls to you.

You look up at her, raising your eyebrows.

“I understand if you don’t wanna be involved. I know defense isn’t your normal side of the bench. But I meant it when I said you’re the best of the best. When I didn’t know who else to call, I called you. That doesn’t mean you have to agree to this.”

You look out the window and your eyes fall on Spencer’s desk once again. It is empty like he has not been there for weeks, lifeless. You turn back to Emily, “Where are they holding him?”

In the dead of night, you burst into the law library in town. It was pouring rain outside and when the receptionist saw you drenched and leaving muddy footprints behind you, she asked, “You need any help, hon?”

“No, thank you,” you called, but you did not stop moving. You marched over to the torts section, you knew it all by heart. You swiped your fingers over every author, noting the alphabet in your head and you were slightly enraged to find that the book you needed was missing. You groaned and checked again. Then again and again. You sighed. You looked around the dimly lit library and it was almost instant. You saw his table, you saw the book, and then you saw him.

And before you really knew what you were doing, you were walking up to him and he was so entranced in reading that he didn’t even look up at you.

“How much longer are you gonna be?” you asked him. And then he looked at you. You thought, oh wow he’s pretty, but you were on a mission here.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

“With the book. How much longer do you think you’ll be?”

“Uh…I probably have…about a hundred pages left so…five, six minutes maybe?”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “Are you fucking with me?”

He couldn’t help but laugh, an awkward laugh, an uncomfortable laugh, but mainly an oh fuck a pretty girl is talking to me laugh. “No. No. You can…sit and watch, I swear. Time me if you want.”

You looked at him, arms crossed. You checked your watch and nodded, taking a seat, “Fine. Five minutes. Go.”

He gave you a small smile and then went back to it. You watched him trace his fingertip down the page, flick to the next one and down he traced again. You were curious. But irritated. But intrigued? You checked your watch with one minute to go and he went, “Okay, done,” and slid the book across the table.

You caught it in your palm, and looked up at him, “You are so full of shit.”

“What?”

“There’s no way you just read all of that in five minutes. There’s no way.”

“But there is a way because I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

He laughed, “I can recite it all to you right now. Front to back.”

“Where are you?” he seemed confused by this question so you continued, “Hm? George Washington? UDC?”

“Quantico.”

“Oh, you are so full of shit!” you went to grab the book and leave but he wasn’t ready for you to go.

“No, no, wait. Seriously. Look at my badge,” he pulled it right out of his bag. “I just got it today.”

You took a look, and when it wasn’t clear enough, you stepped closer, held it in your hands.

Spencer Reid. Behavioral Analysis Unit.

You handed it back to him, “Never met a twelve year old fed.”

“Twenty-three,” he corrected you. “And, uh…I get that a lot.”

“And what does a twenty-three year old fed need with a first year law book?”

He shrugged, “Just light reading.”

You rolled your eyes and he could just tell that you wanted to smile and so he smiled so big at you, hoping it would rub off.

“Book’s all yours,” he said. “I’ll find another.”

No smile.

“A-a-and if you’d like to…I-I don’t know…stay out of the rain, I’d…like it if you’d…maybe sit and read with me?”

You bit down on your lip and you hesitated, looked around as you weighed your options. Then, you took a seat. He grinned over at you as you flipped the book open and it was there.

Small, but a smile.

Back in holding, Spencer sits. He waits. He digs his nails into the bandage on his hand and his knee won’t stop bouncing. The same thoughts rush through his head, but every so often they are cut off by images of you. Every you. Every season. The last time he saw you. His breath catches so tightly in his chest that he actually hunches over in pain, squeezes his fist. His eyes keep darting towards the door, anxious, quick, hoping you’ll come. Hoping you won’t.

What gives it away is your heels. They’re fast and they’re loud, a rapid click-clack-click-clack on the floor. He sits up straight, holds his hands in his lap, forces his leg to stop shaking. Emily walks in first, and in behind her comes you. Picture perfect, dolled up, professional you. Your eyes connect and it should make him nauseous. Instead, his body relaxes. You’re the one that’s nauseous.

“Well,” Emily says to cut the tension. “I know this is an legal meeting so I’ll just give you two some privacy.” And she gets the hell out of there.

You step to the side as the door closes behind her. You set your brief case down on the table and have a seat. As the two of you sit in silence, Spencer feels that you’re judging him. Scolding him, staring him down. But all you’re thinking about is how much his hair has grown, from his head and from his face and underneath it all, he is still him.

You clear your throat, look away, “I’m obligated to remind you that everything you share here is kept confidential by attorney-client privilege.”

“I didnt use,” he spits out.

You pause, your eyes cutting up to him. He is staring into your soul. He wants you to hear him.

“I didn’t,” he shakes his head. “I wouldnt. I swear.”

You have to let that simmer in the air for a moment. You have to swallow it like a large pill, let it force its way down your throat and into your stomach. Through your bloodstream.

“I believe you,” you say. “Tell me what happened.”

“I-I…I did not kill her.”

You nod, “…okay. What else.”

“I-I…don’t remember anything else.”

“Well that…doesn’t help me here. It doesn’t matter if you say you didn’t kill her and you know that. What matters is evidence. The facts of the case.”

“I’m telling you I don’t remember anything, [y/n]. If I did, I would tell you but the entire thing is a-a blur.”

“And I’m telling you I can’t do anything with that.”

“Just… tell me what you really want to say.”

You consider it.

“I’m not here to judge you,” you tell him. “I’m here to build you a legal defense.”

“Whatever’s going through your head, I can take it,” he huffs. “Tell me.”

You purse your lips at him. You shake your head. But he insists. He peers into your eyes in waiting. Begging.

You inhale and with a hefty wave of breath, you shout, “Going to Mexico? Not telling anyone where you are? Smuggling experimental drugs across the border? Are you serious?”

He nods. He takes the blows as they land.

“Do you even comprehend the shit hole that you’ve dug for yourself? I mean, honestly, you-you should go to prison for at least,” you pinch your fingers. “A little bit because it should be a crime to be this stupid with an IQ that high,” and you punctuate it all with a sigh of relief.

Spencer sniffles, “Feel better?”

“No,” you say instantly. And you say this next part very clearly, “Because I can’t promise you that you won’t go to prison.”

The reason that you and Spencer worked so well together, you think - you thought - is that there was a certain amount of independence. After your meeting in the library, after all the pulling he did to sweep you off your feet, you decided that yes, you could do this. You could have a boyfriend who traveled for work. You could handle not seeing him for days or weeks on end. Just in your second year of law school, you thought: I will never have time to miss him. I will drown in school work and textbooks until he returns. It will not phase me. It will not change me.

Then you kind of fell in love with him. And suddenly you always, always had time to miss him.

“Hey,” you found yourself smiling when he called. On the other side of the country, it was only nine but you were in DC still studying at midnight.

“Hey, honey,” Spencer cooed. “I knew you’d be awake.”

“Like I could sleep at a time like this? No, thank you, this is all nighter territory.”

“Sorry I won’t be there the day of your exam.”

“Don’t worry about it. They need you out there more than I do.”

“I know, I know, I’d just slow you down,” he laughed.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” you nodded. “But…I miss you…wish you were here to slow me down.”

“Soon.”

“I know.”

“And, y’know, if we just moved into together, it could be even sooner.”

“Ooh, yeah, and we could get a plant too and watch it die a slow death because no one’s ever home.”

He cackled, quieted down as he whispered, “Just…try to actually get some sleep, okay? You can’t pass your exam if you’re exhausted. And make sure you have a good breakfast. A real breakfast, not coffee and some pop tarts. At least toaster strudels, okay? And afterwards, take yourself out for lunch or-or take someone with you. But don’t sit and think about it and drive yourself crazy. You’re gonna do great. You always do.”

You nodded, stifling a soft laugh, “Yes, doctor. Anything else?”

He shrugs to himself, “Just that I miss you. I can’t wait to see you.”

You grinned, “Soon.”

When your alarm went off at seven in the morning, you checked your phone to see that Spencer had woken himself up, three hours behind, to send you a message.

Two words: Toaster strudels!!!!

And over the next few days, you were truly too busy to miss him. You took your exam at ten o’clock on the dot and you took his advice, you went out to lunch. You thought about the exam only a little bit, to run through it with your friends before you started day drinking, and then there was nothing to do but wait. Keep yourself busy.

As soon as the jet lifted off, Spencer called you. Your phone was buried at the bottom of your bag, which was swinging against your hip as you walked across campus. You didn’t realize it was ringing until the very last second and by the time you pulled it out, he had already left you a voicemail.

As you waded through the crowd to see your posted exam score, you held the phone to your ear and listened.

“Hey! Hey, [y/n], we’re, uh, on the way back now. Safe and sound. I should be there by this afternoon. Uh, let me know if you get your exam results, okay? I’m so excited to see you. Call me when you can.”

Posted on the wall was the glare of your future, staring you in the face, chewing into your soul and you dropped the phone back in your bag.

When Spencer landed and still hadn’t heard from you, he slowly came to expect bad news. He bought you flowers on the way home, he called you, he texted multiple times to tell you he’d be coming over. He walked up to his apartment solely to drop off his things and before he could get to the door, he stopped in his tracks.

You stood up quickly, your face breaking out into a wide smile. Your hands shook and all you could say was, “I passed! I-I passed!”

And in an instant, he dropped everything except your flowers and ran to you, engulfing you in a big, tight hug. “Of course you did!” he shouted. “Oh, god [y/n], of course you did! Here…” he released you so he could rush to unlock the door.

“And I didn’t just pass, babe. I passed with flying fucking colors!” You let yourself into his apartment, still rambling while he dragged his things inside. He stood in awe as you paced around the living room, throwing your hands in the air. “Do you know what this means? I could be a real lawyer any day now!”

You looked at him, huffing and puffing with this toothless, wide smile that sat in your cheekbones. So happy and pretty that he forgot how to talk. “T-These are for you,” he stuttered, walking over to you with a bright bouquet of flowers.

Your eyes darted to the flowers, but only for a moment and then back to Spencer, and he was looking at you with so much love that you felt it in the pit of your stomach. You held eye contact with him as you took hold of the flowers, your fingers overlapping for a split second. And in one swift motion, you pulled him in by the back of his neck and dropped the flowers on the couch. It stunned him, sure, but it was instinct for him to grab onto your hips and kiss you. That is, after all, exactly what you wanted him to do.

You stood of the tip of your toes, took hold of his face and balled your fist in his hair. He grunted against your lips, held onto you tight as you dragged him into his bedroom.

“Okay, okay, okay, just-“ he stuttered as you tore off his shirt. His head got caught, the two of you burst into laughter, and you gave him a kiss as soon as the shirt hit the floor. You swiped his books off of his bed and laid yourself down, pulling him on top of you. When your pants got suffocating, you flipped him over so you could take them off. Your boobs hung in his face as you grabbed a condom from the nightstand and he ran his hands all over your body. Even when he could hardly breathe because you were rolling the condom onto him, he caressed your thighs and his nails rolled on your skin.

You giggled, going, “Stop, that tickles.”

He said, “Sorry,” and tickled you again, laughing as your body squirmed around and you chuckled into a kiss with him.

You were usually a lot softer with him. No rush. But the adrenaline in your body had you bouncing on his cock so quickly that you wondered if the whole bed might cave in. You kept looking at Spencer to make sure he was enjoying himself he was enjoying himself. His head was hanging off the bed, hanging loose from his neck and his mouth was wide open, releasing some of the loudest moans you’ve ever heard from him. When he realized he was getting close, he would grab your hips real tight, you’d stop and after a few breaths, he’d let you go. He’d let you get right back to it.

Afterwards, you collapsed beside him and tucked yourself in the crook of his arm, your hand on his heaving chest. You kissed him softly and he moaned, “Mm…” rubbing your back. “I love when you get a good grade.”

You cackled and threw your head back, tracing his bottom lip with your fingertip, “I love when you’re home.”

“Oh!” he suddenly shouted. “Speaking of, we have dinner reservations on our anniversary at seven. I’ll probably get called out before then but I will be back in time. I promise.”

“And if you’re not?”

“Then I’m a bad boy. A very bad boy,” he grinned, leaning into you as you laughed.

You held his face, gave him a kiss and nodded, “It’s a date.”

And he did eventually get called out again just over a week before your reservation. You have a very vivid memory of kissing him goodbye the day he left. He was himself. He was happy, and towards the end of the week, he called overly cocky saying that this case would be wrapped up soon. That he’d be home with a night to spare.

He lied.

People know you here. When you speak with the distric attorney on Spencer’s case, he knows you. He knows Spencer. And that should make it easy to negotiate here, but it unfortunately makes it that much harder. Luckily, you’re as stubborn as you are determined and with a bit of sparkle, you can get Spencer down to two to five years in federal prison.

That is, until new evidence arises. In that moment, all the oxygen and arguing and fight you’ve given goes out the window. Emily trails up beside you when you return, saying, “I just got the news. What now?”

“Now,” you sigh. “We tell Spencer.”

And as soon as you walk into the room, he is rising to his feet, staring at you. His eyes scan over your features and he goes, “That’s not a good face. What happened?”

“I…” you start. “Was able to talk Martinez down to involuntary manslaughter.”

“Manny Martinez?” he interrupts you.

“Yes,” you enunciate. “And he offered two to five years.”

Emily glances at Spencer, and asks you, “A deal? Well, that could mean they know they have a weak case?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “But they could also just be in a rush to close this with minimal publicity.”

Looking to Spencer, you owe him the truth, “But they found the murder weapon in the desert. About an hour ago. The blood and prints are yours.”

The words knock the air out of him like a strong punch to the chest. You can see his eyes zone out, stuck on the floor as he sits himself down and tries to breathe. Emily is spinning gears in her head but you cannot stop watching him.

“Okay, so, where do we go from here?” she asks you.

“Well, the two to five quickly came off the table. Now, it’s five to ten at minimum.” Still, you watch Spencer. He can’t stand to look at you.

“And this is the only way he can avoid trial?”

You purse your lips and nod, shrugging, “Plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter, write a statement to the bureau. That’d be the end of it. Any other course of action will require presenting evidence to a jury.”

When Spencer finally decides to lift his head and speak, he looks you dead in the eye and asks, “Do you think I should take it?”

Your face visibly softens and you shrug, “Beats twenty-five to life. Which they will sentence if you’re found guilty, and with this evidence…it’s likely…”

He looks at Emily and when he cannot take the look of pity in her eyes for one more second, he asks you, specifically, “May I speak to you alone, [y/n]?”

You glance at Emily and nod, “Sure.”

The door closes and Spencer, comfortable enough to let his guard down, suddenly stands from the chair, hiding his face in his hands. He paces around the small room and pulls at the root of his hair. It’s very unlike him but in this moment, he says, “Fuck.”

“Yes,” is all you can add. “What do you want to do here, Spencer?”

“I-I-I don’t know. You’re my lawyer, can’t you just tell me what I should do? Tell me what to do.”

“I can’t do that. I’m not the one facing prison here. You have two options, okay? If you want to take your chances in court, I will be there. I will bring every weapon in my arsenal to defend you, but I can’t guarantee that the outcome will be better than five to ten.”

He shakes his head, “The team will crack the case. They will. They’ll catch Scratch and they’ll clear my name.”

“Oh, my…when?” you raise your voice. You don’t mean to. “This month? This year? This decade? Who knows? W-who knows how long you could be locked up before they catch a break?”

He sniffles, one single tear falling down his cheek as his head falls in defeat, “What…what do I do, [y/n]?” he cries. “Just tell me what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

And against ever fiber of your being, you instinctively cross the room and engulf him in a hug. He sobs into your neck and holds your waist in tight in his arms, breaks down when you run your hand through his hair.

He’s hurting but this helps. This helps a lot.

“Hey!” you answered Spencer’s phone with a joyous greeting. “Hi, Diana. Hi! It’s [y/n], how are you?”

And while she was beyond excited to talk to you, she rambled about her son. How he hadn’t called her in close to a week. How she missed the sound of his voice. “It just isn’t like him,” she said. “It just isn’t like Spencer. He calls me. He calls me everyday. Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied as you stood over him in bed. “Yeah, he’s okay. He’s, uh, he’s…”

He waved you off, silently ordering you to hang up and leave him alone. He rolled over onto his side and hid his face under the blankets. He wanted to make sure he was as avoidant as possible.

“He’s just…tired. But I know he…he’d love to speak with you…”

He did not move. And he had not moved since returning home from Tobias Hankel. He just hadn’t. You weren’t sure if he ever would. But as you continued to talk on the phone, the sound of your voice going, “Yeah, yeah,” grating his nerves, he hopped out of bed and went straight for the bathroom. The door slammed, it locked and you just hoped Diana didn’t hear it.

“Yeah,” you told her. “Yeah, he’s busy right now. Y’know, case paperwork and such. I can have him call you back?”

Then there’s a thud. Loud. It shakes the floor of the entire apartment and your breath catches in your throat.

“Yes, of course. I will have him call you,” you stared at the bathroom door. “I promise. Okay. Alright, bye.”

You rushed to the bathroom, immediately trying to open the door but it was locked. You wiggled the knob, you pounded on it, calling, “Spencer? Spencer?”

You found the key on top of the sill, with your hands trembling as you shoved it into the lock. When the door swung open, it stopped against something. Something heavy, something big. So you pushed and shoved enough that you could poke your head in and when you did, you screamed. You shrieked at the top of your lungs. The thing blocking the door, the thing laid out on the floor.

It was Spencer.

Spencer is due to appear in court this morning. You’re going to vomit.

You arrive promptly with thirty minutes to spare and you spend that time trying to find your client. Though you do not see his face, you notice him standing at the phone, dressed to impress in a sharp suit. His hand bandaged in the least disgusting way possible.

“Mom,” he says into the reciever. “I want you know that I’m safe and I have a great lawyer.”

You cross your arms over your chest, stand firm behind him and proudly eavesdrop.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it’s actually, um…[y/n]. Yeah, no. No, we’re not back together, she just…she’s a great lawyer. The best.”

And he goes looking for you, at the mention of your name, he starts scanning the room, like he can feel you somewhere. Somewhere. He turns around to find you leaning against the wall. He smiles. He can’t help it. Neither can you. You throw up a small wave and he waves back.

He speaks into the phone, telling Diana, “She says hi.”

The judge comes into the courtroom and almost immediately, she looks ready to leave. You weren’t nervous before, you don’t think Spencer was all that much either. But now, shit is getting real. Shit is getting very real.

“Miss [y/l/n],” she says to you. “Your client is a federal agent?”

You rise to your feet, nodding, “That’s correct, your honor.” You both notice Spencer still sitting and you whisper through your teeth, “Stand the hell up,” and he stands the hell up.

“Some very serious offenses brought against you today,” she tells him.

“Yes, your honor,” he nods.

“Miss [y/l/n], does your client wish to enter a plea at this time?”

You nod, “He does.”

“And how do you plead, Agent Reid?”

Spencer looks her in the eye and proclaims, “Not guilty.” You hope nobody sees you roll your eyes.

“Mhm,” the judge nods. “And as to bail?”

“The people oppose bail and request remand, your honor,” the district attorney responds, now standing.

“Remand?” you repeat. “Your honor, my client does not present a flight risk.”

“He’ll be staying with you, I suppose?” he fires back and you can’t help but cut your eyes at him.

“Good one, Manny.”

“Your honor,” he continues. “The defendant fled the scene in Mexico…”

“Those were extenuating circumstances,” you interrupt. “He was drugged against his will.”

“And failed to inform the FBI of his international travel, effectively breaking protocol.”

“With the intent to return home and care for his mother, who struggles with schizophrenia and alzheimer’s and lives with him full time. He is her sole caretaker, in addition to his career as a highly decorated member of the BAU.”

“And as a member of the BAU, he has connections all over the world that could prove highly useful if he chose to flee.”

“Agent Reid is more than willing to surrend both his professional and personal passports if it pleases the court.”

“Again, he has the connections to both recieve a counterfeit passport and evade arrest.”

“Your honor, all Agent Reid wants to do is stay here and clear his good name.”

“He should’ve thought about his good name before sneaking across the border.”

You glare at Martinez and look back to the judge, “I can provide sincere and respected character witness to the court today. All highly decorated members of FBI, willing to speak on Agent Reid’s behalf.”

“Miss [y/l/n], I am not particularly inclined to hear character witnesses at the moment,” the judge tells you.

“Then we can abide by a curfew, court ordered restrictions…”

“Too little, too late for that, Miss [y/l/n],” she silences you. “If past behavior is the best indicator of future behavior, and I do believe that it is…then your client does present a flight risk…” and with one, dramatic pauses, she says, “Bail is denied. The defendant will be remanded to federal custody pending trial.”

The gavel lands and that’s it.

Spencer is put in handcuffs, in front of his entire team, in front of his family. In front of you. And all he can do is look at you. Eyes wide and terrified, looking at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him. “I’m so sorry, I’ll come see you as soon as I can.”

He believes you. He has to believe you.

Standing there in shame, the feeling in your gut quickly turns to anger and you march out of the courtroom, pass the team and into the hallway. You see the district attorney walking towards his office and chase him down.

“A flight risk?” you catch his attention and he turns around. “Really, Manny?”

He shrugs, “Judge Frost agreed.”

“Yeah, judges tend to do that when things are taken out of context.”

“Hey, the facts were clear as day. Don’t be mad at me because your boyfriend might go to prison, okay? That’s on him.” And with that, he walks away. You want to throw something at the back of his head.

You want to burn the whole building down.

Instead, you run. You run off to an empty corridor, where you are well aware no one will find you. You pace up and down the floor, your chest heaving, your hands on your hips.

“[y/n]?” Emily calls from behind you. When you cannot get out of your own head, she repeats, “[y/n]?”

“Why did you call me?” You shout as you turn to her. “Why did you bring me into this? Why? Why?” you sob and you put your face in your hands, sliding down the wall in a dramatic breakdown.

Emily immediately rushes to you, bending down to hold you in her arms. “You did everything that you could,” she tells you. “You did your best.”

“I’m always doing my best!” you whine. “I’m always, always doing my best for him and it’s not enough! It’s never enough!”

There’s too much for Emily to unpack there, so she shuts her mouth and she holds you.

The day that you graduated law school, Spencer stayed by your side the entire time. And that was good. That was good because you could be sure that he wasn’t shooting up and you could relax. He looked good that day. Not perfect. Not clean. But good. He dressed up, he could walk in a straight line and he was so, unbelievably proud of you.

He handed you flowers the moment the commencement was over. He took all the pictures so you could have the memories forever. He hung on your arm like a trophy boyfriend because, that day, he was a trophy boyfriend and he could not have been happier.

“Surprise!” was shouted at you as soon as you stepped into your apartment. Adorned with balloons and family and friends, you were overwhelmed and nearly dropped your degree. You turned to Spencer and he dropped his shoulders bashfully, too shy to outright accept all the credit. And still, you took him in a firey kiss, you gave him all the credit.

As you walked around, having something to eat, thanking everyone for coming, talking about your plans for the future, Spencer came up to you and said, “I’m going to grab the cake, okay, honey? I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

“Oh, okay, baby, thank you,” you smiled and gave him a kiss.

He didn’t come back for an hour.

And when he did come back, he overcompensated by putting the cake down in front of you and going, “Sorry! Sorry about that. Traffic was crazy,” and placing a big, sloppy kiss on your cheek.

Right then, you knew.

He was bouncing off the walls, extroverted, enthusiastic, eating cake that other people had cut into and not able to get enough of it. Grabbing onto your waist and kissing your neck in front of a crowd, dozing off when he actually sat, flicking himself in the neck to keep himself awake.

And you knew.

By the end of the night, when everyone had cleared out and Spencer was missing, you stepped around the quiet apartment and found him passed out in your bed. You put two fingers on his neck, made sure he was alive, and you slept on the couch.

You woke up early even though he slept like a rock until closer to noon. You sat on the couch until he decided to get out of bed and come looking for you.

“Hey,” he smiled, his voice hoarse. “Hey, what are you doing out here?”

You could hardly stand to look at him. You hands were bound in front of your lips, your eyes focused on the coffee table. It wasn’t until that second that he looked down and noticed the collection on the table. Needles. A little vial.

“How…” you cleared your throat. “How long have you been hiding this in my apartment?”

“I…” he spit out. “I…that’s old. It’s old. I forgot it was even here.”

You choked out a gust of air and couldn’t help but laugh, “You are so full of shit.”

“[y/n]…”

“No!” you shouted, rising to your feet. “Tell me what’s so fucking good about this shit that you needed to shoot up during my graduation party?”

“I…I didn’t…I was just excited. I was excited for you.”

“No, you were fucking loaded.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Stop.”

“I wasn’t.”

“No, stop! Stop treating me like I’m fucking stupid! I mean, fuck, Spencer! After all the therapy and meetings and outpatient rehabs, you do this? Really?”

“I didn’t.”

“And what’s worse is that you lie. You lie about everything. You’re lying right and you don’t care!”

“[y/n]…”

“You don’t care. You don’t care. I’m the one who shot narcan up your fucking nose so you wouldn’t OD on my bathroom floor. I’m the one who couldn’t have one fucking night to myself and you, dont, care!”

You let out a quick huff and he simmered in the silence of your anger.

“I…I can’t do this anymore…” you said softly.

He stared at you, shaking in his own skin, “W-what? You can’t do what?”

You released a slow sigh, “I can’t…be with a drug addict.”

“I…am not…”

“You are. You are, Spencer, and you need help. You need more than I can give you.” And before he can retaliate, you set a box of his things on the table. Some books, some clothes with blood on the sleeves, some records.

He started to cry. You knew these were real tears because when he merely wanted to get his way, they would start flowing instantly. Here, they came on slow, rolling down his pale face. “[y/n]…”

“No.” You said sternly, avoiding eye contact. “You need to leave. Leave.”

“B-b-but I-I’m better,” he tried to touch you and you flinched. “I-I can get better. I can do that.”

“Not here. Not with me. Please leave.”

“B-but…” he cried. “But I don’t wanna leave. I wanna be with you. I need to be with you. Please. P-please, [y/n].”

You shook your head, quickly wiped away your tears. “I don’t want you here. Please leave.” You held the door open for him and put his box on the porch. “Please.”

“[y/n], please don’t do this,” he tried to shut the door but you held your own. “Please, please, I’ll go to a meeting right now. You can come with me. I’ll get better. I can get better.”

“Spencer…please. Go.”

“No.”

“Please,” you begged. “Leave.”

“No. No, I’m not leaving you.”

And so, because you had to, you absolutely had to, you pushed him out. He fought, never to hurt you, but he dug his feet in the ground and tried to push your hands away. “N-no, [y/n], please. Please. Please don’t do this.”

Spencer was never that strong before the dilaudid. But when he was on it, he was weak. He was slow and even with all his strength, he could not stop you from throwing him out and slamming the door in his face. You locked it quickly, pressed your palms to the wood to keep it closed up tight as he knocked lightly.

You could hear him sobbing, “[y/n]…please…[y/n]…” and his voice cracked. You heard him slide down the door and sniffling, “[y/n]…”

There was a moment where you thought to open the door. To take it all back. To change your mind. Tears were running into your mouth and you ground your teeth together to stifle your cries. Instead, you stood up straight, you took a deep breath. You went into your room, closed the door and turned the TV up loud.

Spencer still lives in his same apartment. So as you go up the stairs, hundreds of memories come flooding back to you at a hundred miles per minute. It makes you so dizzy that you nearly trip, fall down the stairs. Run.

But you make it to his door and knock, greeted by a younger woman who gives you a bright smile, “Hi.”

“Hi,” you wave to her. “Cassie?”

“Yes?”

“Hi, I’m [y/n]. I’m-I’m a friend of Spencer’s. Is Diana here?”

“She is.”

“Is she up for a visitor?”

You let yourself in, stepping in to find that the apartment has not changed much. Same couch, same chairs, same coffee pot in the kitchen. Diana is sat near the window reading a book, picking at her nails anxiously. When she looks up and sees you, she stops and her entire face lights up like you’ve come back from the dead.

“[y/n], hi!” she greets you. She stands from her chair and rushes towards you with open arms. You let her hug you tight, her hand in your hair, your head on her shoulder and you want to cry. “Hi, honey, how are you?”

“Oh, I’m okay…” you shrug. “Can we talk?”

Her eyes go wide. Scared. “This is about Spencer. About that awful mess he’s in.”

“Yes,” you nod.

“Well, please, come, sit. Do you want some tea? Cassie makes a great cup.”

“Sure. Yes, please,” you smile as you sit across from her.

“Y’know, when I heard what happened to Spencer. I-I couldn’t believe it…my baby boy, in a jail cell,” she shakes her head. “But then he tells me that you were his lawyer and I could,” she exhales. “Breathe. You, such a smart and fierce young woman. There’s no one I’d trust more.”

A single tear rolls down your cheek and you shake your head, breaking eye contact with her.

“Oh. Oh, no, no, honey, what’s wrong?”

“Sorry…” you whimper. You wipe your face and huff, “Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“For what? For what, honey?” she takes hold of your hands.

“I-I couldn’t…I didn’t…” you sob. “I…Spencer pleaded not guilty, but the judge ruled him a flight risk. S-so, he’s…in federal prison. Pending trial.”

You can see the shock spread across her face and it makes you sick to your fucking stomach. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried.”

“Hey, you don’t apologize,” she squeezes your hands. Tight, tight, tight, tight. “You don’t apologize, you hear me? I know you did everything in your power. And if you couldn’t do it, then no one else could.”

You choke out another sob and she rubs your arm, cooing “Oh…oh…” and when Cassie sets a mug in front of you, Diana orders, “Here. Here, [y/n], please, have some tea. Calm down, sweetie.”

While you take sip, hiccuping against the glass, she changes the subject entirely. The rest of the visit spirals into a nice chat, mainly about you. What you’re up to these days. And as you fill her in, her eyes light up in pride, in almost disbelief. The last thing she says to you is, “Oh, I do wish you and Spencer could’ve worked things out. You are just…so special, [y/n]. Such a special, gifted girl. You made him so happy.”

She hugs you before you leave and you stroll beside Cassie to the front door. “Um…” you whisper to Cassie. “Is she normally this lucid?”

She purses her lips, “There are good days. There are bad ones.”

You nod.

“That’s the fastest I’ve ever seen her recognize anyone, though.”

For an extended amount of time after your first breakup, you thought Spencer was dead.

After you kicked him out of your apartment, there was radio silence. Scary radio silence. And you had visions in your head of him laid out with a needle in his arm and too much dilaudid in his veins and vomit in his mouth. Or, perhaps, he ran in front of a bullet in the field and no one thought anything of it. For months, you were so sure he was dead.

When you saw him on the news a year later, only then, you could breathe. You visibly and loudly sighed in relief just seeing his face, hearing his voice. More than grateful he was alive, you were grateful to see him healthy. Very clearly clean. Weight back in his face, light back in his eyes. You had almost forgotten what it looked like on him. It wasn’t until then that you knew you’d made the right decision.

You wouldn’t see him again for another two years. Save for a few local newpapers articles, the radio silence continued. You had moved to a larger apartment, close to the courthouse where you were still clawing your way to the top. Somehow, someway, Spencer found this new apartment. It was a conscious decision to do so.

He knocked on your door and you, not expecting company, catiously checked the peephole. You dropped from your tippy toes, sucked in a breath and opened the door. “Spencer? What…what are you doing here?”

“I’m…I’m sorry to drop by like this…” he stuttered, sucking back tears. “I am. I’m sorry. I…Emily…died.”

Your eyes went wide and you visibly stepped back. “What?”

“Y-yeah, she, um, she was murdered. Bled out in the ambulance and I…” he descended into a fit of cries and you just stood in the doorway, watching him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I don’t mean to be a stalker. I don’t mean to barge in on you. I-I-I-I was just scared of what I might do if I was alone and n-no one else understands why I’m so scared to be alone and-and I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You stood there in shock for a long time. The only thing that cut the tension was a sound from the TV, a strange sound that caught Spencer off guard. He peeked inside your apartment, sniffling, “What are you doing in here?”

“Uh…um, I’m playing Wii Sports?” you told him, holding up the remote dangling from your wrist. “…I have two remotes if-if you wanna play. It always makes me feel better.”

He tilted his head at you, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Oh, c’mon!” you shouted in front of the TV, swinging your remote through the air. “Put your back into it!”

“I am!” Spencer yelled, taking another swing that just barely hit the digital tennis ball.

“No, you’re not!” you swung and scored a point, Spencer feeling especially defeated by the cheer of the crowd. “You’re losing, is what you’re doing.”

“I give up,” he takes off his remote. “This game is rigged.”

“Is it?” you smirk. “Or are you just a sore loser? Not used to it?”

“Uh, yeah. Duh.”

You laughed and it poured a blanket of warmth over him that he had not felt in a long time. “You hungry?” you asked him.

“Starving.”

So you ordered a pizza and you got so caught up in speaking with him that you barely heard the knock on the door. When you set a slice down in front of him, he instantly picked it up and shoves it in his mouth, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. He noticed you watching him and chuckled, wiping his mouth, “What?”

“Nothing…”you smiled. “Nothing, it’s just you’re…eating so good, you…you look good.”

He smiled at you. Not a big smile, not a proud smile, but a soft smile. A thank-you-I-did-it-for-you smile. “Thank you. I feel good.”

“Good,” you nodded. “That’s good.”

And the two of you ate in silence with the TV on to keep the peace. By the end of the night, his head was resting in your lap and his knees were tucked against his chest. He rubbed his thumb on your knee lightly and said, “I can go. If you want me to, I can go.”

“Yeah…” you whispered, your fingertip tracing his ear, your hand running through his hair, “Yeah, it’s getting late.”

He breathed you in one last time and sat himself up. He looked at you and you looked at him and if he stared at you any longer, it would’ve torn him apart. Instead, he hopped up from the couch and escorted himself to the door, you following close behind him.

“Thank you,” he told you. “For letting me stay. For feeding me. For taking care of me.”

“For kicking your ass at Wii Sports?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you nodded.

“Okay,” he huffed. “So…”

“So…” you shrugged.

He reached out to give you a hug and before you knew what you were doing, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him. That is, after all, exactly what he wanted you to do.

His arms locked around your waist and you moaned softly under your breath, sticking your tongue down his throat, drowning in the familiar taste of him. He pushed his body into yours, boldly nudging you towards the couch until you fell back and he could fall on top of you. Right where he was meant to be.

You’re uncomfortable in the prison. Milburn isn’t exactly known for it’s favorable accommodations and the last thing you want to do is appear prissy, but fuck, it’s gross. It’s crowded. It smells. You think: this must be killing Spencer.

He sits down across from you and he looks tired. Tired, but relieved to see you.

“Oof,” you exclaim. “You’re so lucky you look good in blue or else this would be really shitty for you.”

He snickers, shakes his head, “That was actually my exact thought.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “JJ says you’ve been by to see my mom?”

“I have. She’s doing okay, she seemed okay. We spoke for a long time. It was good to see her.”

“I bet she was excited to see you.”

“She was, it was sweet. I…I don’t wanna sound insensitive here, but, if she has an alzheimer’s diagnosis why does the memory of us breaking up just… linger?”

He wants to cackle but he stifles it, “Tell me about it. Every so often, I get an earful about how I should’ve done more to keep you around.”

“Oh. You…you didn’t tell her that I…”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, I didn’t.”

And just like that, a moment that was lighthearted and comfortable becomes unbearable. You clear your throat, “Well, I didn’t just come by to visit, I have news. It’s not great.”

“Okay, what is it?”

You sigh, “Your trial is postponed. I can’t say how long, but I will be the first to know and you’ll be the second.”

“Postponed?” he mimicked. “W-why? Why?”

You shrug, “They didn’t say. But it could be anything, I mean, higher profile cases, judge schedules, anything.”

He ducks his head down, breathing hard through his nose to prevent himself from crying.

“Hey…” you coo. “Hey, I’m going to figure this out. Don’t worry.”

“I know,” he nods. He looks up at you, “I know you’re trying. Thank you for trying.”

You nod, break a toothless smile, “Always.”

When Spencer wasn’t on drugs, you two managed to stay together for a whole four years. This was twice as long as you made it the first time around and not once did you worry that he had relapsed. You spent a lot of time worried that he might. You spent a lot of time keeping an extra close eye on him, watching for any of the signs, overly cautious. For a reason.

And Spencer was patient with this. He worked so hard to regain your trust because he knew how badly he had fucked up before. How different he’d become, how much he’d hurt you. He could not bear to ever put you through that again. And he never did. He was consistent, he was loving and he was sober.

On your third anniversary, he flew back into town late but he came straight to you. You had not officially moved in with him, but you had a drawer and a toothbrush and you could walk to work from his apartment. He woke you up from your peaceful slumber in his bed just to present you with your gift.

“C’mon, c’mon, I’ve been waiting so long to give it to you,” he cut the lamp on and you groaned, rolling onto your stomach. “Noooo, noooo, c’mon, my love. Look.”

You rolled back over and he was holding up a gold charm bracelet that immediately caught your eye. It woke you up entirely.

“I know you’re not a big jewelry girl,” he whispered, placing the bracelet on your wrist. “But this, uh, has a little charm of your birthstone and one with your birth flower. And, I don’t know, I thought it’d be nice to have on while you’re arguing in court, y’know? Wave it around a bit. Persuade the judge and jury.”

He fixed the clasp and you admired the gold against your skin, tracing it with your finger softly. You grinned, your eyes flickering up to him. “Wave it around…” you teased. “Like this?” and you motioned for him to come closer with your finger. The charms rang lightly and Spencer smirked at you.

“See, it’s just so compulsive, I can’t help but obey you,” he crawled on top of you, his voice mixing in with your laughter. “You’ll never lose a case again.”

And ironically, you went an absurd amount of time without losing a case after that. The bracelet was, in every sense of the word, your good luck charm. Your wrist came to feel naked without it and the ring of the metal gave you a special kind of confidence that couldn’t be replaced or replicated.

The day that Spencer got shot and nearly died, you were due to argue what would’ve been your tenth successful case in a row. You were on such a roll. A streak that no one around you had seen before and they were all eager to see how it progressed.

But as you approached the courtroom doors, your phone buzzed in your hand and you answered without much thought. You kept your brisk pace, speaking with a normalcy that JJ tried her best to match. Your heels were fast, click-clack, click-clack, click-clack, until the information ran through your ears and into your brain and then there was click-clack, click-clack, click…and you stood in the middle of the hallway. Stuck.

Your bottom lip trembled, at the thought of Spencer in critical condition. At the thought of him dying. Dying, dead, without you. You looked back at the courtroom and zoned back into JJ’s voice. You took one step towards the door, stopped and turned around.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.

Contrary to the belief of the BAU, Spencer is not your only client. You have to remind yourself of this as well. Despite a pile of work that you slowly chip away at, you find yourself running back to the details of Spencer’s file. Over and over, as if something new will stand out. It’s happened to you before. You think, it could happen again. It has to happen again. It doesn’t seem like it will.

“Hey, [y/n]?” you coworker calls, knocking on your office door.

“Hey!” you pip.

“Wanna grab lunch? My treat.”

“Lunch? It’s already lunch?” you check the clock and gasp, “Holy shit.”

She laughs, “You work too hard. What do ya’ say?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I, uh, thought you had to meet a client at Milburn this afternoon, though? The armed robbery guy.”

“Ah, no. Whole prison’s on lockdown. Something about a bad batch of heroin or meth or whatever they pass around in there, I don’t know. Attorneys are still allowed in but I’m not walking into that. I mean, can you imagine?”

It all pours out of her like a joke. Like a comedy of epic proportions that you are meant to laugh along with. But you can’t. You think about Spencer and you just can’t.

“[y/n]?” she calls, pulling you back into reality. “You alright?”

“Yeah!” you overcompensate. “Yes. Sorry. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

You grab your purse and swing it over your shoulder, following her out of your office and reminding yourself to breathe.

“You’re sure?” you questioned the doctor. “You’re positive?”

He released a hearty laugh and nodded, “Yes. He is fully recovered. No swelling, no tenderness, he’s cleared to work and resume any physical activity.”

“Any physical activity?” Spencer asked. You blushed and put your hand to your cheek.

“Yes, that’s right,” the doctor confirmed. “I must say, Spencer, this is quite impressive progress with such a severe injury.”

“I couldn’t have done it all without [y/n],” Spencer beamed, holding onto your hand. “She’s been amazing. She oversaw all my treatment and physical therapy. Slapped me aside my head when I was stubborn. It’s all thanks to her.”

You smiled, bashful and sweet, though you felt a weird, painful knot in your stomach. “Well, that’s quite a spectacular lady you’ve got there.”

“I think so, too,” Spencer grinned and kissed your cheek.

Immediately after Spencer was shot, followed by a long hospital stay, months of physical therapy and doctor’s visits, you lost your streak. You lost your glimmer. You lost that aura of shock and awe that you once so proudly carried. Though you kept it hidden from Spencer, you were one, giant ball of anxiety. All the time. It wrecked your brain, scrambled into a big pile of goo until you were having panic attacks in the courthouse bathroom.

Days later, you finally brought home a winning case. The adrenaline of a successful verdict rushed through your veins and you raced up the stairs to tell Spencer. You unlocked the door to his apartment and burst inside, stopping dead in your tracks when you saw him. He had cleaned, cooked and set up the dining room table with a meal for two.

“Hi, baby!” he exclaimed. “How was your closing statement?”

“Uhh, good. The judge ruled in our favor…” you spoke slowly, setting your things down.

“Really?” he smiled. “Of course! Of course they did. Baby, I’m so proud of you,” he held your face in his hands and gave you a kiss.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, well,” he lead you into the dining room. “I made us a roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and corn on the cob. It should be good, I followed the recipe exactly. And, uh, some sparkling cider and I got you some lilies from the florist down the street and-and I even went to that store to get you a bath bomb even though all the smells give me a headache.” He was quite proud of himself.

“You went to Lush? No way.”

“Way! I thought we could take a bath together. Or you can take one by yourself, if you want. I got some candles, too.”

“Spencer, this is so sweet. What the fuck?” you wrapped your arms around him and the thought pinged in your head, “Ohhh. Oh, you wanna have sex with me.”

His face immediately turned bright red, “W-what? What? Sex? No. Ew…gross…”

You cackled and put your hands on his waist, “You got the go ahead from your doctor and it’s been driving you crazy. Admit it.”

“It has not been driving me crazy. I-I…have…been thinking about it quite a bit. But that’s not why I did this. I just wanted to thank you. Wanted to do something for you.”

“Mhm, keep talking,” you nuzzled your nose into his. “You’re almost there.”

He giggled and took hold of your hands, “C’mon, c’monnnn, I worked really hard on this dinner. Can you sit down and eat with me and then, maybe, after…”

You kissed the tip of his nose and took a seat at the table, “Definitely after,” you smirked at him.

He grinned and sat right next to you. And he watched you the entire time that you tried your food. It was delicious, you made sure to tell him that. You made sure to praise him, tell him that you loved him. He was already overrun with joy, but when you suggested a nice bath, he all but jumped out of his seat.

“The dishes!” you laughed.

He scurried back to the table, picked up your plates and dropped them in the sink. As he ran to the bathroom, he grabbed onto your wrist and dragged you along. He turned the water on, let it heat to just the right temperature and left it running. You undressed each other from head to toe and despite the sensuality of it all, you couldn’t stop giggling.

Sat in the tub, he cradled your back against his chest and he said, “Y’know…this bath bomb actually doesn’t freak me out as much as I thought it would.”

You laughed, “It smells really good, right?”

“Yeah! And the colors are cool.”

“I told you!”

Spencer got out of the bath first and he held out a towel for you to wrap yourself in. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you looked at yourselves in the mirror. He caressed your hair, whispering, “You’re so beautiful.”

You smiled, “Thank you. So are you.”

He kissed your shoulder, resting his chin in the crook of your neck, “I love you.”

“Eh,” you shrugged. “You’re alright, I guess.”

Your laughter overlapped with one another’s and you quickly corrected yourself, “I love you, honey,” with a kiss to his temple.

He turned his head and looked at you, his lips pressed against your ear, “Hey.”

You turned to him, “Hey.”

“We should get married.”

Your jaw dropped and you took a step back, “Are…are you just saying that because I’m naked and wet?”

He chuckled, “No,” he pulled you close, chest to chest, “No, no. I mean it. I mean, I don’t have a ring and I’m in no condition to get down on one knee but you deserve that, you deserve everything and I want to give that to you. I love you. So much. And I never, ever want to experience life without you again. I want you to be my wife, I want to be your husband. I want that. Don’t you want that?”

You let out a dry laugh, furrowing your eyebrows at him. You take his face in your hands, gripping tight on boths sides of his jaw and smush your lips into his. You undo the towel from around your chest and it falls to the floor, leaving every inch of your body open to Spencer’s touch.

“Mm…” he moans sharply when you break the kiss, giggling when you drag him to his bedroom by the hem of his towel.

The two of you landed on the bed with a thud, Spencer on top, tangling his body in yours, kissing your neck. Kissing your chest. Making his way to the apex of your thighs where he spread your legs and buried his face in between them.

Your breath caught in your throat but you released it all with a guttural moan, your arms limp around your head. The thing about Spencer, and that beautiful, talented mouth of his, is how gentle he was. His tongue was never rough, never hard flushed against you, but light and soft, hitting all the spots that made your body twitch. He could make you come so easily. And if you’d let him, he’d do it again and again and again.

But you took hold of his shoulders, you brought his face to yours and tangled your hands in his soaking wet hair and that is how you stayed the entire time that he fucked you. Close to him, bonded to him, staring into his eyes. You legs wrapped tight around his waist. Your body weakened underneath, became consumed by him and you swear, you have never come so hard in your life.

After his own orgasm, Spencer’s eyes focused in on you and you were crying. Not sobbing, just silent tears.

“Oh god, oh my god, [y/n]? What happened?” he panicked. “Are you okay? Did I-did I hurt you?”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, no. I…that was…it was just very good for me.”

“Oh…” he sighed. “Oh,” he gave you a kiss. “For me, too.”

He laid at your side and held you in his arms, rubbing your back, squeezing you tight.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, Spencer.”

You managed to fall asleep in his arms, but not for very long. All through the night, you shuddered awake like your skeleton was trying to crawl out of your skin. When your eyes popped open as the sun was starting to rise, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You emptied your drawer. You packed all your clothes. You put your toothbrush in a ziplock. And for the rest of the morning, you sat at the dining room table with a pen and paper. Every thought that rushed through your head sounded trite. Cliche. Dumb. So you kept it short and sweet and wrote:

I love you. I LOVE YOU. But I can’t. I’m sorry. Don’t hate me.

Aside from the shitty note, it was the perfect goodbye.

Spencer doesn’t want to see you right now. He doesn’t want to see anyone right now but especially not you. When the guard notifies him of his lawyers arrival, he’s confused. A bit irritated. But he has no choice but to let them haul him off.

They let him into the meeting room, where at first, you are sitting but when you see him, you stand to your feet. Your eyes scan all over his beaten and bruised face and you order the guards, “Cuffs. Off. Please.” And they’re off Spencer’s wrists just like that.

The guards leave the room and you are still staring at him. Now you are touching his face. Now you are whimpering, “What…what happened?”

You can see him soften a little bit, only a little bit, and then he is shrugging your hand off of him. He’s never done that before and it kind of hurts.

“You shouldn’t be here, [y/n].”

“What happened? Who did this to you?”

“[y/n.]…” he’s stern, but he quickly changes his tone. “You need to go. Please. I don’t feel like talking right now.”

You huff, “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

He shakes his head, “I’m just not in the mood to talk. I don’t think anyone needs to be around me right now.”

“Well, too bad. I’m here, you look like someone took a walk on your face, and I want you to talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“What are you getting into in here? Huh?” you scold him, waving your hands around. “Didn’t everyone tell you to shut up and lay low? You didn’t listen, did you?”

Your charm bracelet catches his eye and he cannot stop tracking it, “…You don’t know anything anout anything.”

“I think-“

“No, you know what I think?” he snaps. “I think you ended our relationship in a fourteen word note and now you’re here for what? For what, [y/n]?”

“Okay, lower your voice.”

“Seriously? Your obligation is done. You fought the good fight. Let me rot. It what you would’ve done anyway.”

“Oh, fuck you. Do you know why I left you a note, Spencer? It’s because I really sucked at breaking up with you. You have one little meltdown and suddenly, it’s me. Suddenly, I’m the answer to all your problems. Well, I’m not. I never was. I’m just one of the many melodramatic problems that you have and I needed to be released before it just happened over and over and over again.”

“Melodrama- okay…” he turns around and bangs on the door, signaling the guards to get him the hell out of here.

“Spencer!”

“We’re done.”

“Will you just- talk to me,” you beg.

The door swings open and you instantly clamp up, attempting to appear calm and collected. You watch Spencer leave the room and you want to scream. You want to shout at him from the top of your lungs but you don’t. You think, if I can just get outside. If I can just cross the parking lot. If I just get to my car, I can scream.

You never make it.

By the time Diana is able to visit Spencer, by the time Spencer gets in contact with Emily, rambling and screaming into the phone like he’s just witnessed a murder, nearly a full night has passed. Emily meets Spencer in the moonlit prison and it takes her an entire minute to get him calm enough to talk, to explain thoroughly. The memories of Mexico that come flooding back, the woman who drugged him.

“Has anyone checked on my mom?” he shouts. “Can someone please check on my mom?”

“Spencer,” Emily calls to him. “We did.”

“And?”

“And, she’s fine. Apparently, Cassie was unable to come in and they sent another nurse in her place. But, um…”

Spencer leans forward in his seat, “What? What?”

“Cassie said this was delivered to your apartment,” she digs through her bag. “No name, no address. Just a knock at the door.”

And she holds up your gold charm bracelet, sealed in an evidence bag, “Do you recognize it?”

Author’s note:

Inspired by me finishing Better Call Saul and being torn apart by Jimmy and Kim. Also added Saul Goodman to my list of Old Men I’m Obsessed With 😭 Anyways stream the Breaking Bad universe on Netflix! Thanks 4 reading!! <3

#mine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reidxreader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #Spotify

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queseraone · 2 months

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unpopular 6x04 opinion...?

For me personally, a big distinction that needs to be made with this episode is... Lucy isn't all alone. She may feel alone, but we absolutely do see people other than Tim surrounding her, albeit in small ways, as dictated by the circumstances. Reminder that there are protocols to be followed in this situation (there's an officer posted in her room for a reason).

Bailey telling Nolan that Lucy was "an absolute badass out there" and mentioning that they're waiting to hear news

Aaron specifically says, "I came to see if there's any news on Lucy's shooting." So while we don't see him with her, he's clearly in her corner.

Celina is paying close attention to the situation too, albeit from a distance (again, protocols)

As Watch Commander and Assistant District Attorney, Grey and Wesley are following the appropriate guidelines for the situation. But even so, we see Grey making a dude wtf face when Wesley mentions about "should he die from his injuries at a later time"

(I certainly wish we saw Angela and Nyla's involvement in the aftermath, but I'm running with the assumption that they're dealing with the case still?)

#chenford #the rookie #lucy chen #unpopular opinion #6x04 #tim bradford #aaron thorsen #angela lopez #nyla harper #wade grey #wesley evers #bailey nune #celina juarez #john nolan

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catdotjpeg · 1 month

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When the raid on Columbia happened, there were reports that cops had fired a gun inside of Hind's Hall (fka Hamilton Hall). People knew for a fact that cops had entered the hall with guns drawn because we could see it happening in photos, even if they were taken from a distance, and someone took a video of a cop texting someone saying they thought they shot someone. The City confirms that this did in fact happen:

An officer entering Columbia University’s Hamilton Hall Tuesday evening to break up a pro-Palestinian demonstration fired his gun inside the hall, in an incident that is now under review by Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg’s office a spokesperson confirmed Thursday evening in response to an inquiry from THE CITY. The gun fired did not appear to be aimed at anyone and no one was injured, said Doug Cohen, a spokesperson for Bragg’s office, who said the office’s Police Accountability Unit is reviewing the shooting, which it does as a matter of policy. Cohen said no students and only police officers were in the immediate vicinity when the shooting occurred. Rumors of the shooting had quickly spread among students, but had not been confirmed until Thursday. A video posted to X by... Columbia Students for Justice in Palestine Tuesday night showed a police officer texting “thought we fucking shot someone.”

The gun discharge is the latest revelation about the highly militarized NYPD action to break up a Pro-Palestinian student demonstration at the campus that been going on since April 17. In multiple television and radio appearances, as well as a press conference Wednesday morning, Mayor Eric Adams praised the NYPD’s “precision policing” and made no mention of the shooting. During the raid, police blocked press access to that raid almost entirely, though they released a highly edited, flashy video, complete with theme music, of dozens of officers storming the campus and breaking through barricaded doors and locks of the occupied hall, where demonstrators had barricaded themselves into early Tuesday morning. In one clip officers entered one Hamilton Hall room with weapons drawn.

The video also shows officers using “flash-bangs,” or stun grenades. “It’s pretty unusual to use flashbangs for something like this absent some intel about a serious threat to officers,” said a veteran law-enforcement official. “I’ve never seen them used for search warrants involving guns, let alone some barricaded college kids.” A spokesperson for the NYPD didn’t immediately return a request for comment. Ben Chang, a spokesperson for Columbia University, declined to comment, deferring to the NYPD.

-- "NYPD Officer Fired Gun Inside Columbia’s Hamilton Hall, Manhattan DA Alvin Bragg Confirms" by Gwynne Hogan and Harry Siegel for The City, 2 May 2024 6:35 PM EDT

#palestine #usa #new york #new york city #nyc #columbia university

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marshmellowtea · 2 years

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the thing about my self insert y.n., specifically district attorney y.n. (other versions of them vary based on their story needs lol) is that pre wkm they’re a total nepotism baby who, frankly, wouldn’t have gotten as far as they did without damien pulling strings for them lmao. it’s not that they’re unintelligent or that they can’t do a good job if they put their mind to it, but they never really had to put in much work to get as far as they did, so there’s always been an air of flippancy to them, like things’ll just work out if they just go through the motions, cuz that’s the way things worked out for them before.

but then…….boom, character development. either wkm happens and they start to realize after actor pulls them out of that mirror that they actually do have to take control of their life instead of just moping around waiting for something to happen, or wkm doesn’t happen and they realize they have to actually take this position seriously if they don’t want poor damien to feel like a fool for putting his trust in them. they still retain a little bit of their silliness and slacker nature ofc, but my da’s story is largely about learning to take responsibility for themself, their work, and the people they care about, and not just try to coast through life.

#there’s more to them than just that ofc but i realized that this is really the major turning point in their story #agere ahead but the responsibility especially starts to kick in for them after they start taking care of actor when he regresses #which is largely but not exclusively a post wkm plot point but ahfjvfhvf #gently kicks aside all my aus—#also i should mention that y.n. is my personal self insert if i’m talking more generally i use y/n #i. worry that naming them y.n. may be confusing but i thought it was funny so i refuse to change it HDHVDYGDH #who killed markiplier #y/n the district attorney #y.n. tag #marshy speaks

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laracrofted · 8 months

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down comes the night

synopsis: on a cold midnight in the dead of winter, gotham city's district attorney is murdered.

pairing: batman!bob floyd x fem!reader (lucky)

warnings: 18+ minors and ageless accounts dni, character death (obviously), mentions of death and mob violence, language (wc: 1K)

note: while i'm not planning to write a full series for batman bob – more like connected one shots and blurbs, because i can only focus on one series – i knew i absolutely had to write this scene, which has been in my head all week.

Tears are frozen in your lashes.

You saw him on Saturday. He was alive on Saturday. You saw him.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, mussed your hair like an annoying older brother and smacked a drunken and damp kiss on your cheek. He was alive.

"Did you hear me?" Bradley asks you – no, Commissioner Bradshaw asks you. His coat hangs around your shoulders, overly large on your frame, smelling like leather and coffee and cigar smoke. He doesn't smoke, or maybe Bradley just doesn't smoke around you.

He has always been so delicate around you. You still remember when another officer in the Major Crimes Division made some crass comment in front of you, and Bradley barked out a harsh, "Watch your mouth. You're in the presence of a lady," and silenced the room.

Or at least, until Jake smirked and not even bothering to look up from his paperwork, drawled, "Oh really? Where? I don't see any ladies around here. I only see Lucky."

You shot him a withering look, and Jake grinned, green eyes glittering in the dim yellow light of the office.

Bradley says your name again, breaking you from the warmth of the memory, plunging you back into the cold of the night, like a frozen surface of a lake, cracking under your weight.

You're so cold. Swallowing is almost painful.

You look at him, cheeks cold, eyes dim and lifeless. "How?"

A croak, barely audible, but Bradley pales. He opens his mouth, but Bradley's voice isn't the one that answers your question.

"A single shot to the back of the head."

His voice is low and hoarse and if the circumstances were different, kind of attractive. He sounds like cigar smoke and aged whiskey, deep and solid.

You've only seen him a few times.

You'd come looking for Jake up here once and found him up here – up here with him. He spotted you before Jake did and sidled back into the shadows, ready to disappear, and Jake looked over his shoulder.

"That's just Lucky. She's good," Jake reassured him. He beckoned you forward with a waved palm. You quietly handed him a styrofoam cup of coffee and watched the shadows. He watched you back, silent and watchful.

You've never heard his voice before.

Under different circumstances.

You don't have the luxury of different circumstances. You only have these.

"Execution style?"

He says nothing, which might as well be a confirmation.

"A mob hit?"

You can only see the bottom half of his face in his mask. His mouth looks vaguely impressed, pitched to the side.

You recall, "He slipped a USB into my clutch on Saturday. He must've done it when I wasn't paying attention or something."

You remember Jake's arm around your shoulders, his lips warm on your cheek, on your hairline.

"He left me a video. He said..."

Trust Bradshaw and Batman. No one else. Everyone else is on a payroll, kid. You suck in a breath and do your best not to cry again. Moisture stings your eyes. Damn.

"He knew, didn't he? He was making plans. He must've known."

You know what Jake would say now.

Everyone wants to kill a District Attorney in Gotham, Lucky. We might as well make, 'Mob bosses want me dead,' the new re-election slogan.

You can almost hear his voice, can almost see his grin.

Bradley nods. "Someone always wants to kill a good D.A., but yeah, Jake knew. He always knew."

You scoff.

Of course, Jake knew.

Jake knew and didn't run. Didn't enter protective custody. Didn't do anything but show up in the court room and smile in the faces of the men who wanted him dead. Damn him and his reckless righteousness. Damn him.

"Hey, Lucky..." Bradley looks sideways into the shadows. "You should probably call in sick for the rest of the week." You look at him sharply, and Bradley holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "You could be in danger. These are dangerous people. We don't know who exactly Jake pissed off."

You could almost laugh. Who didn't Jake piss off?

"He'd want you to be safe, is all," Bradley finishes, stuffing his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. Moonlight glints off of the silver badge at his hip.

You look at him dully. "Jake didn't run. Why should I?"

"And now Jake's dead," Bradley says softly.

And now Jake is dead.

He won't ruffle your hair or grab you coffee in the mornings. He's dead. He's dead.

You abruptly shake your head, almost robotically. Cross your arms.

"I'm an Assistant District Attorney. I can help."

"No," Bradley responds immediately. "For all we know, someone in the DA's office is crooked. You start poking around all of the sudden and..."

He doesn't need to finish that sentence. You could end up like Jake.

You bite down on your lip and cast your gaze into the shadows. "You. What'd Jake say I'd do?"

Batman looks at you, serious and searching, for a long moment, which feels even longer under his gaze. "You'd help. He said, if something were to happen to him, you'd help."

You hold his gaze. "Then I'll help."

And out of the corner of your eye, Bradley sighs.

Bradley leaves before you. He gets a call and heads downstairs – but not before offering to have one of his men drive you home whenever you're ready, which makes you smile weakly.

You expect him to leave soon after. You're surprised when Batman lingers.

You ignore him, mostly, watching the glittering snow dance and glimmer and fall in the wind, pinpricks of reflected light in the darkness, almost like stars.

"He..."

And Batman hesitates.

And damn, isn't that something? Isn't it something to see a masked vigilante – a feared predator, a scourge of the underworld – measure his words?

"He was... a good man. He was my friend. I'm sorry."

You stare. You don't blink. You barely even breathe.

"Thank you."

He dips his chin in a nod – his strong chin – and in the edges of the brightness pouring from the spotlight on the roof of the GCPD building – which bears his symbol, a sign of hope and fear, depending on who bears witness – you swear you catch a glimpse of blue in his eyes.

Before you can look closer, can step closer, Batman is gone, melting into the shadows again, disappearing into the dark and bleak night in a rush of wind.

Standing here alone – without him – feels even colder somehow.

note: will i wish i'd edited this in the morning? probably. do i care right now? not at all. also, down comes the night is now the official name for this universe, which i love, but of course, batman bob is always acceptable 😌

summoning a few friends who might be interested: @sometimesanalice @roosterbruiser @callsignspark @rhettabbotts @yanna-banana @ryebecca @withahappyrefrain

#batman!bob #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fic #fic: down comes the night #bob floyd fic #laracrofted writes

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yutaholic · 2 years

Text

codename: viper (M)

PAIRING: Yuta (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: ten years ago, Yuta walked away from a life of villainy to be a husband and father, but when an enemy comes lurking, he is ready to protect his family by any vicious means necessary...

WARNINGS: mild language; violent scenarios with mentions of blood; dialogue related to pregnancy and childbirth; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 17k words; this is part of my villain series, beast mode

There was nothing like the view of your house after a brutal day at the office. The sun had long set over the neighborhood as you drove down a street of identical houses. Hiding in plain sight, your husband called it.

Parking in the driveway, you gathered your bag and your high heels, which you had kicked off the moment you got into the car. It had been a grueling twelve hours, the majority spent in court. You walked up the path through the yard, the cold pavement soothing on your bare feet, and opened the front door quietly.

Your babies would be in bed by now, unfortunately. And you didn’t want to wake them.

The moment you stepped into the house, the savory smell of hot food wafted into your nose and your stomach growled, hitting you with hunger pains. “Yum,” you muttered to yourself, dropping your high heels beside the row of shoes by the front door. The sight of two small pairs of sneakers always made you smile.

Yuta was in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove, and at the sound of your approaching footsteps, he turned and greeted, “Hello, District Attorney Nakamoto.”

You grinned, marching right over to your husband and slumping into his chest.

Yuta hugged you tight, kissed your temple, and asked, “Put away a lot of bad men today?”

“A few,” you replied, your energy running on empty, but with every second spent in his arms, you could feel yourself refueling. “Some bad women too.”

Yuta rubbed your back as you broke reluctantly from his hug, though you still clung to his waist, and teased, “I remember when you used to threaten to lock me up forever.”

You gave him a wry smirk. “That was just my way of flirting.”

“Or the times you grilled me in interrogation for hours. Handcuffs included.”

“That was foreplay.”

Yuta snickered. Then, he turned serious for a moment to say, “It’s been a pleasure watching you climb your way to the throne.”

You flushed a little, taken aback by the compliment. “Do you think I’m worthy to sit on it?”

Yuta was stern, as to be expected. “There’s no one more worthy than you.”

You sighed, all the tension breaking in your chest.

Yuta pressed a tender kiss to your lips, which you returned, overlapping your arms on his shoulders and deepening the kiss. It took the loud popping of food over the fire to draw your husband away from you.

“How are the babies?” you asked as Yuta prepared you a plate.

Your husband grinned from ear to ear and gushed, “They’re amazing. Together, they’re smarter than both of us combined.”

You pretended to wince. “Oh, dear. Make sure they never hear you say that.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“And no sign of any…”

Powers.

Yuta shook his head. It was around this age his abilities had fully surfaced. He studied the twins intently, painstakingly, every day. They were his children; it was likely he passed the gene to them, but there was a chance your genes could have defeated his.

You dropped the subject. It was no secret Yuta hoped his children hadn’t inherited his gift. And given they were five years old now, there was a strong chance he’d gotten his wish. It was bittersweet, to say the least.

“I hate when you work late,” Yuta mumbled, walking over to the dining table with your plate in hand.

“I know, but we’re spread so thin right now,” you told him tiredly as you took the seat he pulled out for you.

Yuta sat beside you, keeping you company while you ate your dinner. Propping his head on his hand, he smarted, “No one wants to work for the justice system? I’m shocked.”

You chuckled as you chewed your food, but sadness seeped into your voice when you said, “We get some really good people, especially the younger ones, but the system breaks them eventually. It’s stacked against all of us.”

“No wonder villains choose to play by their own rules,” Yuta said snidely under his breath.

You gave him a look. It wasn’t the first time he’d made that kind of comment and it wouldn’t be the last. Yuta fully supported the work you did, but a life of villainy had shaped him in ways you would never understand.

“Humanity has to have laws that separate us from the animals.”

Yuta whispered darkly, “Some of us are animals, my love.”

You cocked your head and flirted, “Not you, Viper.”

Yuta smirked. Then, his expression shifted and he caught himself staring at you with admiration. You were the only woman that had ever embraced his darkness. You never punished him for his past, but you pushed him toward a healthier future.

“I want a better world for our babies too,” he whispered, reaching over to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

That meant everything to you. If Yuta was in your corner, believing in you, you knew you could do anything. You leaned toward your husband and kissed his cheek, which made Yuta blush. He was a sucker for affection.

“This is delicious, babe,” you said a moment later, dabbing at your lips with the napkin. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

Yuta retorted, “The spawn have been begging for steak for days. Daddy is getting pretty good with the grill.”

You snorted back a laugh. You still remembered the days Yuta could barely cook noodles without setting the house on fire. Not to mention the time he put both of you in the hospital with food poisoning for accidentally cooking well-expired ham. To this day, you and your husband still gave sideward glances toward ham.

Yuta made it a point to prepare home cooked meals for you and the kids. And after many, many classes (which you were forbidden from telling any of his friends about because he had a ruthless reputation to protect), he had gotten pretty good at it. Your husband’s newest favorite method was the grill on the back porch that you bought him for his birthday. He had grilled almost everything that could be grilled at this point, much to the delight of your children.

Speaking of the precious spawn, your twins came running out of their room, Suki practically sprinting and dragging Yuma by the hand behind her.

“Big news,” your daughter announced loudly.

Yuta shot them a glance and said, “The two of you are supposed to be sleeping.”

“Daddy, this is important,” Suki countered without missing a beat. She gave her brother a little push in your direction and said, “Tell them, Yuma.”

Yuma shifted nervously, his eyes on the floor. Holding eye contact was very hard for him. Your son was painfully shy. “I, um, I was thinking,” he started.

You and Yuta waited patiently, always prepared to give him the time he needed to put his thoughts into words.

Suki rubbed his arm in comfort. “It’s okay, Yuma. You can tell them.”

Yuma sucked in a breath and said, “I… want to be an artist.”

You exchanged looks with Yuta, both of you fighting back delighted smiles.

“That’s great,” Yuta said brightly.

You nodded emphatically. “I would love to see your art, baby.”

Yuma made a noise. “It’s not ready yet.”

“Oh.”

“Yuma wants to do art,” Suki said with excitement. “But he thinks people will say it’s stupid.”

Yuta snorted. “If anyone says your art is stupid, Yuma, then they are idiots with no taste.”

“Exactly,” you agreed.

Your son smiled, relieved. With the three of you on his team, he was ready to try.

Yuta lowered his tone to something mischievous and asked, “Now, be honest, did the two of you stay up waiting for Mommy to come home?”

“Yes,” the twins answered in perfect sync.

You quickly rose to your feet and exclaimed, “Then, you better get over here and hug me before Daddy takes you back to bed!”

Suki and Yuma rushed toward you, colliding into your chest and you enveloped them in your arms. Yuta let out a fake growl and held up his hands, chanting, “I’m coming to get you!”

The twins squealed and laughed as you raced through the living room with them in your arms, keeping them out of their father’s clutches.

Not long after, you met Yuta’s eyes and smiled contentedly. Suki and Yuma were nestled between you and their father, sound asleep. Yuta traced his thumb over your cheek as you drifted off.

Everything was right in the little world you shared with your family.

Only a few years ago you’d wondered if you would ever be where you were now.

“It’s killing me, Yuta,” you cried, on the verge of tears. “I wanna get pregnant. I want to have a baby with you.”

“I know,” Yuta sighed, level. He was reluctant to show you just how distressed he was, because Yuta was an empath where you were concerned. He tended to reflect your emotions. Especially when they were running high.

You paced in front of your husband, who was leaning against the doorway of the bedroom. Little by little, you’d stripped out of your clothes from work and Yuta had tossed you one of his shirts to wear over your naked body.

This was less of an argument and more of an unresolved conflict. And if there was one staple in your relationship with Yuta, it was that the two of you could talk through anything.

“But the work I do is important,” you continued, voice breaking with sadness and longing. How you could miss a baby you’d never met was beyond your understanding. “I can’t give up my job, but I’ll be damned if I let a stranger raise our kid.”

Yuta finally approached you, crooning, “Babe, calm down for a second.”

“It’s eating me up,” you whimpered, spinning your wedding band on your finger the way you always did when you were stressed.

You and Yuta had recently celebrated your second anniversary of marriage. The discussion of babies was coming up more often. You both wanted kids. It was something you talked about together even before you got married.

But everything in your career was falling into place. Your dedication did not go unnoticed by Hel’s brutal justice system. You were a fierce prosecutor, sorely needed in a city rife with both lawless villains and corrupt heroes.

You found yourself at a crossroads of your dreams - being Hel’s hammer of consequences and making your hometown safer or being a mom and having a baby with the love of your life.

Yuta called your name and said, “I’ll raise the baby.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, eyes wide. “What?”

Yuta nodded and said it again, “I will raise the baby. You can keep your career. It’s okay.”

You gawked, like your brain had short-circuited. “You’re okay with me being the breadwinner?”

“As long as there’s bread to eat, I really don’t give a fuck who wins it,” Yuta quipped.

“God, Yuta,” you groaned as he gathered you in his arms. “You keep setting the bar too fucking high.”

Yuta laughed at that.

You melted into him, stars in your eyes. He had the most beautiful laugh and smile you had ever seen. The sight still made butterflies dance in your stomach, even after all the years spent together. Your body was already on fire. It was taking all of your restraint not to pounce on him.

Yuta could tell and the corner of his mouth lifted in that trademark smirk of his. It was going to be a very long night of baby making, Yuta sensed, and he had a feeling you’d be calling out of work in the morning. Kneading at your hips, your husband asked, “What do you say? You bring home the bacon and I’ll cook it.”

Your heart was so full you thought it would burst at any second. “You’re gonna raise our baby?”

Yuta stole a quick kiss and said, “Gladly. It would be my honor to raise our children.”

You bit your lip, shivering as his hands ran up and down your back. Then, without another word, you walked over to the dresser and grabbed the packet of birth control pills, holding them up dramatically before dropping them in the trash bin.

Yuta kept his promise. After your babies were born, you went back to work, determined to make Hel a safer place.

Raising the twins was Yuta’s greatest pride. He loved watching them grow, enjoyed teaching them everything they needed to know about life. Every day, he would catch himself staring at Yuma and Suki in wonder.

How such beautiful, pure creatures came from him was a goddamn mystery.

It was early in the afternoon when Yuta returned with the twins after a few hours of kindergarten. Schools in Hel were a little different. The affluent could afford to send their kids to very secure private schools and you didn’t mind shelling out the extra money for that.

Regardless, Yuta tended to hover near the school until it was time to pick the kids up. Just in case. He had no idea how he was going to cope with the following year when they would be at school all day. Yuta was seriously considering getting a job at the damn school, but Suki would be opposed. She often called him out on his hovering, much to Yuta’s amusement.

Yuta drove home with the twins in the backseat, all three of them singing along to the radio. Suki belted her little lungs out while Yuma mumbled the words he knew here and there. Yuta constantly caught himself smiling until his cheeks ached.

Back at home, he set out snacks for the kids and Yuma made himself comfortable at the coffee table in the living room to work on his drawings. Since he told you and Yuta about his passion for art, Yuma’s pictures were beginning to collect on the walls. It was the boost his confidence needed.

Yuta’s hand shook with the urge to chuck the calculator against the wall. God, he hated balancing the fucking checkbook. One of these days he was going to hire one of his friends to do it. Someone good at math. Probably Jungwoo.

Suki finished her snack and walked over to the dining table where her father was slowly but surely losing the will to live and called, “Daddy?”

Yuta looked over his shoulder. “Yes, Suki?”

“I have a problem.”

Well, that was Yuta’s least favorite phrase. Nothing unnerved him quite like it. Setting down his pencil and turning to her, he asked, “Okay, do you want to talk about it or is it something I need to fix?”

Suki replied flatly, “I would like to talk to you about it.”

Yuta patted the seat next to him and said, “Alright. I’m all yours, baby girl.”

Suki clambered into the chair and began, “There’s a girl in my class.”

Yuta waited patiently.

“We held hands today.”

Yuta breathed a little easier, having expected something a bit more dire. “That’s nice,” Yuta said with a smile. “Did you want to do that?”

Suki nodded happily. “Yes, I liked it.”

Yuta fought a laugh. “Good. Okay.”

“I want to marry her,” she announced, very matter of fact.

“Oh. I see.”

“Is that okay?”

Yuta chewed over his words carefully before answering, “Well, I think it’s sweet you found someone you like, but Suki, marriage is a very big step.”

“Hm.”

“Do you think you’re ready for that?”

Suki’s face was filled with determination. Yuta’s daughter feared nothing and felt the world was hers for the conquering, and he’d be damned if anyone ever told her otherwise. “Yes. I love her,” she told him.

Yuta was grinning, trying desperately not to giggle. Judging by the look in her eyes, Suki had no idea the gravity of what she was asking. She was only five years old, after all. “And while I appreciate that, do you have money for a wedding?”

Suki thought about it, tallying up her allowance money in her head, and replied, “I have a little bit.”

“And a house? Do you have money for a place to live with the person you marry?”

His daughter grimaced. “I didn’t think about that.”

Yuta reached over to take her tiny hand and gave it a squeeze, explaining delicately, “That is why it’s important to go to school so you can get a good job one day and have a nice house for you and your partner. Because marriage is a partnership.”

“Like you and Mommy?”

Yuta smiled warmly at the thought of you and said, “Yes. Mommy works very hard to give us this nice house.”

Suki sighed and her eyes sparkled. “I love Mommy.”

“I do too.”

A thought struck Suki. She looked to her father expectantly and asked, “Did you want to marry Mommy when you held hands?”

Yuta bobbed his head. “Absolutely. Holding hands with a pretty girl triggers all the happy feelings in your brain.”’

Suki giggled.

Yuta peered down at his daughter with joy. She was the cutest thing in the world with her sweet smile and bouncy pigtails. She looked a lot like you while Yuma looked more like him, but Yuta could see himself in Suki when she was up to no good. She had his mischievous grin and his penchant for trouble.

Suki seemed content with the conversation and gave her father a grateful kiss on the cheek before sliding off the chair.

Yuta stopped her to ask, “One question, Suki. Did anyone say anything to you about holding hands with a girl?”

She seemed puzzled by that, brows furrowed. “No.”

“Good,” Yuta said. He would not hesitate to march into that school and give them a piece of his mind if necessary. Yuta was always in fight mode when it came to his babies. Fortunately, the school knew you were Hel’s biggest lawyer and went out of their way not to piss either of you off.

“Did I miss anything today?” you asked that night after finishing your dinner, following Yuta over to the sofa in the living room.

Yuta poured you a glass of wine and took the empty spot beside you, putting his own glass to his lips and replying, “Your daughter wants to get married.”

You lurched, almost choking on your drink.

Yuta was beaming, sidling closer to you as he added, “To a pretty girl in her class.”

“I’ll be damned,” you said, shaking your head with a laugh. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her that while marriage is admirable, it’s also very expensive,” Yuta quipped, draping his arm around your shoulders.

You downed another mouthful of wine and groaned, “God, why are they growing up so fast?”

“We’re gonna blink and they’ll be our age.”

“Don’t say that. I swear, I just birthed them yesterday.”

Yuta snorted.

You mulled it over and spoke like you were presenting closing arguments for a case, “Tell them they can’t get married until at least thirty. They’re ours. We don’t want to share them with anyone else for a long time.”

Yuta clinked his glass against yours. “I’ll be sure to tell them.”

You lowered your head, breathing out a sigh. Blinking rapidly, because your eyes had begun to burn, a tear escaped and rolled down your cheek. You did your best to quickly wipe it away with your hand, hiding the evidence as it were, but Yuta saw. He could feel your body tensing up.

“Baby, don’t do that to yourself,” your husband whispered. He knew you too well, better than anyone else on earth.

You sniffled and more tears followed when you cried, “I feel like I’m missing out on so much. What if I look back and I’ve missed everything, Yuta?”

“Come here,” Yuta crooned, tugging you close.

You buried your face in his chest and closed your eyes, dampening his shirt with your tears.

Yuta rubbed your arm, trying to warm you because he knew a cruel chill was working its way through your body. You were exhausted and burnt out, and for every criminal you put away, three more took its place. You were a warrior locked in an endless war with a hydra.

You hated working late, hated that the sweet beautiful moments with your children were few and far between, but you were determined to fix the system before they had to live under it.

There were days you wished you could live somewhere else, but the rest of the world had designated Hel the only sanctuary for those with powers. If they ventured anywhere else, they were hunted to the death. Regardless of Yuta’s abilities, you would never ask him to run forever.

Once you were spent of your tears, Yuta slipped his fingers into your hair and tugged your head back so he could search your face. You weren’t surprised when he kissed your wet lips, tasting the salt on his tongue.

The two unfinished glasses of wine were left behind on the coffee table as Yuta popped your legs around his waist and carried you into the bedroom. You disappeared with him into a haze of kisses and touches, lust and passion.

Yuta wasn’t satisfied until he broke you. Until your body was as exhausted as your heart and mind had been. Seconds blurred into minutes and minutes blurred into hours. You were covered in sweat, tangled in damp sheets. Tears of sadness became tears of pleasure as he took you again and again.

You screamed into his hand clamped over your mouth, because Yuta dared not let the sounds you made travel outside of the bedroom. You shook with orgasm, your body an unhinged livewire, and darkness rolled over your eyes like a blackout.

It was times like these you were convinced you and your husband were made only of ecstasy. And only for each other.

“Look at me,” your husband growled, clasping your jaw. He was propped over you, rocking his cock in and out of your core at a lazy pace.

You were sore and overstimulated, shivering each time he bottomed out inside. The slow strokes of his cock were too much and yet not enough. You held onto his arms for dear life and stared into his eyes, lips parted as you panted for breath.

“You’re a good mom,” Yuta told you gently, his voice low and husky. “They love you so much. Almost as much as I do.”

Fresh tears spilled from your eyes and you whimpered just as Yuta smashed his lips on yours, silencing all of your doubts and fears with his words and with a kiss.

You were lingering in that place between awake and asleep as Yuta lowered you into the hot bath he’d prepared. With your head on his shoulder, you closed your eyes, letting the heat seep into your bones while Yuta hummed along to a familiar tune. You barely remembered him drying you off and tucking you into bed.

“Goodnight, my love,” he whispered, leaving one last kiss on the corner of your mouth.

In the morning, you roused out of bed, careful to be quiet as Yuta still slept. You always envied him a little extra on Saturdays. Not only did he get to sleep in, he got to spend the day with the babies.

You showered and dressed, and walked over to the bed, propping yourself over your husband and kissing his cheek. “I love you so much,” you murmured, leaving one more kiss near the corner of his mouth.

Yuta garbled a vague “love you” in his mother tongue, still asleep.

You grinned that even in his dreams he could hear you and tiptoed away to another long day of putting down Hel’s worst criminals.

Sunday was the only day of the week you had off and they were without contest your favorite day of the week. You and your husband were reluctant to leave the bed at a reasonable hour, catching up on much-needed rest, and eventually the twins crawled in to cuddle. Rather than get up, Yuta put on a movie for them, the latest Pixar release, which they happily watched in the comfort of your bed while you and Yuta dozed a bit more.

The next time you woke up, your daughter was pushing on your shoulder. She jumped up and down on the mattress, chanting, “Wake up, Mommy. Wake up!”

You stirred, blinking to clear your vision, and snatched your daughter, bringing her in close for a hug. Suki was all giggles, hugging you back.

“Daddy made pancakes,” she told you hurriedly, trying to roll you off the mattress.

“I’m coming, baby,” you rasped, staggering out of bed. You wobbled over to the dresser, putting on some sweatpants to go with Yuta’s tee you were wearing, and followed your daughter out to the living room.

Yuta was holding your son over the counter and you watched as Yuma scattered chocolate chips onto the pancakes. Your husband glanced up and flashed you a grin. “Hey, Mama. Finally out of hibernation, are you?”

“And whose fault is that?” you shot back playfully.

Yuta stuck out his tongue. The images of you howling his name into the pillow and scraping your nails down his back were still fresh in his mind.

“I’ll get my revenge tonight,” you murmured under your breath, stealing a chocolate chip from the bag and popping it into your mouth.

“Mommy,” Suki whispered quietly, tugging on your shirt.

Discreet, you handed her a few chocolate chips which she crammed into her mouth with a victorious grin.

The four of you sat at the table and ate your pancakes. Laughter echoed through the house. You couldn’t put into words how much you enjoyed eating with your family. After a week of solitary dinners, nothing warmed your heart than when the four of you were together.

Suki was a riot of personality. You and your daughter went back and forth, arguing facetiously over the most mundane things. Yuta was already making jokes about her following in your footsteps as a vicious lawyer.

Yuma was just like his father. In the tiny lulls between you and Suki’s fast-paced conversation, he let monotonous comments pass. The epitome of Yuta’s dry humor. Your son was hilarious without trying. Yuta would throw his head back and laugh, chiming in as well. It was only when with his family that Yuma defeated his shyness.

Where Suki had Yuta’s mischief, Yuma had your balance. While Suki had your snark, Yuma had his father’s wit. Yuta often said the twins inherited the best parts of you and him.

With breakfast finished, you gathered the plates and took them into the kitchen to clean. You had to chase Yuta away more than once, insisting he relax on the couch. It wasn’t often you got to actually wash something. Yuma and Suki came to help you, but more or less ended up just keeping you company.

In keeping with Sunday tradition, the four of you went to the park not far from your neighborhood. It was a nice, breezy walk, your fingers intertwined with Yuta’s. Suki led the way, not surprising, and Yuma was a step behind her.

Once the playground was in sight, Suki took off running, rushing over to join her friends. Yuma stopped and turned to look at you, and you encouraged him forward. Your son meandered over to the swings, watching his sister who was gabbing away with the other kids as if she’d never left.

You sat comfortably on one of the benches, returning the waves of familiar parents nearby. Yuta traced senseless patterns on your shoulder, leaning his head against yours. The two of you were content to watch your kids play.

What was mundane to others was paradise to Yuta. His life had been chaos; absolute, utter chaos, but now, it was beautiful and calm. He wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

“Yuta?”

“Hm?”

You nestled deeper into his embrace and said, “I need to take a step back.”

Yuta made a tiny noise, as if in agreement, but without saying it outright.

“I miss them so much,” you whispered, then turned to him. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here, babe. We’re not going anywhere.”

You chewed on your lip. “I want to be home more. The kids will be in school full days next year. At the very least, I can try to stop working until night. That way I can see them in the evenings.”

“What will that mean for justice?”

“I won’t be able to pack in as many cases in a day as I usually do, but maybe that’s a price Hel will have to pay.”

Yuta was gleaming. “I support whatever you want to do.”

You smiled, happy, and turned your eyes back to your children. Their smiles warmed you down to your very soul.

By the time you returned to the house, Yuma was sound asleep in your arms and Suki was drooling on Yuta’s shoulder. You tucked them both into their beds and turned off the light, closing the door as quietly as possible.

“One minute past their nap time and they are out,” you joked, tying up your hair into a bun on your head.

“They don’t even realize they’ve worn themselves out until it’s too late,” Yuta added, standing before the television with the weather report on. His phone was in hand and Yuta viewed his unread messages. He liked to be kept up to date on the state of the criminal underground and the dangers on the city’s surface, but he never told you that.

You were better off not knowing that Yuta kept his fingers on the pulse of Hel.

Plopping down on the sofa, you let two whole seconds of quiet pass before whining, “Ugh, go wake them up. I miss them.”

Yuta chuckled and turned off the television. Setting down his phone, he made a beeline for you and you cried out in surprise when Yuta steered you onto your back on the couch and crawled over you, leaving playful kisses across your neck.

Your giggles shifted into moans. Yuta pinned you under his weight and stroked his clothed cock on your thigh, his hand down your pants. You sighed his name into his ear and arched your body into his, the two of you writhing together and getting each other off.

Yuta made you feel like a teenager again, sneaking off to hook up in the car or stealing a quickie in the bathroom. There was no end to his desire for you. You were his other half and the mother of his children. Every day, he fell more deeply in love with you.

And you with him.

Yuta’s breath was hot on your neck as he let out one final moan. Your husband clambered off of you and slumped back against the couch, both of you disheveled and panting. And buzzing with that post-coital surge of dopamine.

“Fuck,” you groaned, eyes fixated on your husband. His cheeks were red and sweat glistened across his collarbones. With your legs still around his hips, you flexed your thighs, intentionally trying to get a reaction out of him.

Yuta swallowed to wet his dry throat and smoothed his hand over the lowest plane of your stomach possessively. “Woman, you’re insatiable,” he growled, feigning annoyance.

“You satiate me just fine,” you purred, grabbing his hand and dragging it underneath your shirt until he landed on your breast.

Yuta instinctively squeezed your mound, teasing his fingers over your nipple, and asked lowly, “Think you can wait until tonight for more?”

“Yes,” you said, but the fire in your eyes betrayed your words.

Yuta bit his lip, raking his eyes down your body. Knowing your warm, wet cunt was right there, inches from his cock, made him start to heat up again. Your husband shifted, draping himself over you once more, and teased, “It would be just like the babies to come running out here as soon as I get it in.”

You laughed. “Like the six-week mark?”

Yuta dropped his head to the crook of your shoulder with a groan and his reply was mumbled against your skin, “How could I forget?”

Six weeks after you gave birth was the imposed limit for intercourse your doctor had given you. And god knew you were counting down the days. Yuta pretended to have far more patience than you did, acting unaffected by the lack of intimacy. Honestly, having two newborn babies was distraction enough.

But as the clock winded down, you and Yuta were doing a mating dance of frustration and downright insanity. It was endless flirting and touching and the most obscene sexts you’d ever seen. Or sent. On more than one occasion you messily dry humped each other to the finish line over the nearest surface. Not your proudest moment, but you had to take what you could get.

When six weeks came and Yuta called your doctor to make sure it would absolutely be okay for him to touch you again, the two of you nearly destroyed the house on the way to the bedroom.

And just before Yuta was about to cautiously sink inside you, the baby monitor burst with cries.

This pattern continued for two weeks. Every time you were about to get railed by your husband, your beloved twins let their feelings be known on the other side of the house, screaming for milk or a diaper change or just to be held. Which effectively ended the mood.

It wasn’t until Yuta’s saint of a mother offered to take care of the twins for a day that you and Yuta enjoyed twenty minutes of fucking around and then, hilariously, spent the remaining ten hours catching up on sleep.

“How was your nap?” Yuta asked your son as he dragged his feet out to the living room. You and your husband were sitting on the couch, cleaned up, and had been talking quietly amongst yourselves.

Yuma rubbed his sleepy eyes. “Good,” he finally said, remembering his father had asked him, and climbed into your lap, using your chest as a pillow.

Yuta smiled fondly and reached over, smoothing down Yuma’s fluffy dark hair.

Suki joined not long after, her face puffy and her eyes squinting. Unlike her brother, she was too tired to speak and merely collapsed into Yuta’s lap in the most dramatic fashion.

The debate was soon on for dinner. Yuta always ordered something rather than cooked, since it was the day of rest and all. Traditionally your husband and kids would play rock-paper-scissors to decide. You never played, because you rather sucked at it and always lost so why bother.

When Yuma emerged the victor, Yuta and Suki threw up their hands and whined over their defeat, much to you and Yuma’s amusement. Your son excitedly declared, “Pizza!”

Fresh, hot pizza was delivered to the door in twenty minutes. Yuta carried the big box to the dining table and called, “Come and get it, spawn!”

Your twins were already tripping over themselves to take their place at the table and you were a few steps behind. As Suki impatiently grabbed at the slice her father had put on a plate before her, Yuta made a disapproving sound and chided, “Wait a second, silly girl.”

Suki lifted her chin as Yuta tucked a large napkin into the collar of her shirt, protecting her clothes from the mess she was undoubtedly about to make. You did the same for Yuma, who rarely ever spilled, but he never wanted Suki to feel like she was the only one that had to wear a bib. Yuma was all about sibling solidarity.

The evening was defined by full bellies and endless laughter, much like the rest of your day. Suki decided to stand on her chair and regale the rest of you with a recap of the latest episode of Sailor Moon she’d watched. Yuma would calmly chime in here and there with major plot details she missed and Suki was ever appreciative. He was the only one allowed to interrupt her, on account of them sharing a womb and all.

As night fell, Yuta snuck away to prepare a bath and once it was ready, the twins followed you eagerly in. They played in the bubbles while you washed their hair and made sure to splash you right in the face. Yuma pretended he was a sea turtle, while Suki decided she was a walrus.

Everyone brushed their teeth and washed their faces. Suki treated both as if they were Olympic events and Yuma was content to watch you in the mirror the whole time, trying to imitate you. The twins dressed in their pajamas without much fuss, but Yuta knew better.

“I don’t wanna go to sleep,” Suki cried loudly, racing into the living room. “I wanna stay with Mommy!”

Yuta reminded, “Suki, you get grouchy if you stay up past ten.”

Yuma turned to you and asked, “Why is the weekend over?”

You snorted. “I ask myself that every Sunday, baby.”

Suki darted between Yuta’s legs, escaping his intentionally slow attempts to catch her, all the while yelling that she wasn’t tired.

Sensing both of your kids on the verge of a meltdown, you spoke firmly, “Suki and Yuma, come here to me. Now.”

No one dared contend with that tone.

The twins did as told, flocking to your outstretched arms. You hauled them up with you onto the sofa and steered your babies to lay their heads on your chest, as you’d always done since the day they were born. Pressing a kiss to each of their heads, you started to hum.

Yuma and Suki held each other’s hands in your midst and smiled at each other before closing their eyes. Listening to your heartbeat reminded them of the warmth and safety of your womb. You rocked back and forth a little, humming that familiar tune. Yuta braced his hands on the back of the couch, watching over you and your babies.

When you were pregnant, Yuta made a habit of talking and singing to your growing belly. It was hard for you not to join in even though you didn’t have a beautiful singing voice like he did. Yuta would beg to differ, but that was an argument for another day.

Around your eighth month, you were put on bedrest which almost made you lose your mind with boredom. As someone who was perpetually busy, laying around was the quickest and most effective way for you to go insane. Yuta was forever brainstorming ways to keep you occupied.

It also lent itself to fear. You had nothing to do but think and your brain decided to fixate on all the things that could go wrong with a twin pregnancy. Add hormones to that and you were a messy ball of nerves wound up so tight you thought you would snap.

Yuta cradled your face and pressed his lips to your brow, humming softly. Telling you to calm down would only frustrate you more, so he treated you like a fussy baby. And it worked. You sniffed back the tears and closed your eyes, letting him rock you back and forth with his hand on your big belly as he hummed that little tune he’d come up with for the babies inside you.

And here you were, five years later, soothing the twins with those same low notes. They had no meaning outside of your house, but for your little family, they were everything. Yuma let out a soft sigh and you knew he was dozing off. Suki fought sleep for the sake of her pride, but her little lashes batted heavier and heavier.

You kept humming as Yuta took your son carefully from your arms and you continued humming as you carried Suki into the bedroom behind him. You gave each of them a kiss on their foreheads and whispered, “Goodnight, my darlings. Sweet dreams only.”

Then, Yuta turned on their night light that shone a galaxy on the ceiling and closed the door behind you.

Yuta took you by the hand and led you with him to the bedroom. Just shy of the bed, he gave you a little spin, twirling you like at the start of a dance, before pulling you into his arms. You giggled, meeting his oncoming kiss.

“I wish every day was like this,” you sighed longingly.

Yuta hummed an agreement against your mouth, slipping his tongue between your lips. Seeing you hold those babies made Yuta out of his mind with love for you.

You kissed him hotly, running your hands beneath his shirt to palm at his warm skin, feeling the taut lines of his abs. When the kisses grew out of control, you braced your hands on his chest, cocked your head toward the bed and said, “Lay down.”

Yuta smirked at you and did as told, taking off his shirt and laying on his stomach over the mattress.

You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips and sitting squarely on his butt. Then, you started running your hands up and down his naked back.

Yuta let out a little moan. You could break every knot in his muscles until he was mush in your hands.

“No matter how hard I work, I know you work twice as hard,” you told him, massaging his shoulders. “You’re doing an amazing job with our babies.”

“I’m doing my best.”

You put forward more pressure, working away the tension in his muscles. Every now and then, Yuta grunted or moaned and you knew you were on the right track.

There were lines in his back. Battle scars, he called them. You often wondered how much evil Yuta had seen in his lifetime, but he never told you. He kept those secrets buried deep within. You knew your husband was a force to be reckoned with and that was part of the reason you slept so soundly in his arms.

You dragged your lips down his spine, kissing across his scars, making Yuta shiver beneath you. You pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses over his broad shoulders and tongued your way along the ridges of his muscles.

Yuta shifted, all the blood rushing to his cock. Your every touch was enough to drag him to the edge of ruin.

“You feel like getting pegged tonight?” you teased, licking your lips a bit hungrily.

“I’m not in the mood,” Yuta said, nonchalant.

“Oh?”

Yuta glanced at you over his shoulder and growled, “I’d rather fuck the shit out of you.”

You snickered. “You already did last night. Tonight, I wanna make you feel good.”

“You always make me feel good, baby.”

“Well, I’m ready when you are.”

Yuta turned over beneath you, grabbing your hips. He peered up at you in reverence and whispered, “I love you so much it hurts sometimes.”

“Babe, don’t talk like that,” you purred, running your thumb over his perfect lips. “I’ll suck the soul out of you and then there won’t be anything for me to ride.”

Yuta brought your hips down, grinding his hard cock into your clothed folds. The presence of pants between your bodies irritated him. “I’d get it back up for you in a heartbeat.”

“I know,” you said, bending down and kissing him.

You stripped each other naked between kisses. Slowly. Intimately. Like you had all the time in the world to explore and pleasure each other’s bodies with a familiarity belonging only to lovers that had been through heaven and hell together.

And not until you were begging him to take you did Yuta guide you further up his body to sit on his face.

“Mm, fuck,” you groaned when Yuta raked his tongue through your slit, teasing around your bundle of nerves. You were already throbbing with want and the lightest of touches made your body spasm.

Yuta looped his arms around your thighs, making you lower even more. He knew you were hesitant to put too much weight on him, no matter how many times he’d told you otherwise, but he was determined to have his way with you.

Your arched your hips slowly, almost barely at all, tentatively thrusting your sex closer to his mouth. Yuta worked you with his tongue, tasting your arousal and grunting lowly in the back of his throat at the taste of you.

“B-baby,” you stammered, threading your fingers through his hair. You dared not look down, because the sight of him sucking at your clit like his last meal would end you on the spot.

Yuta reached up to squeeze your breasts roughly before caressing his fingertips over your nipples until they were stiff to the touch. God, he loved your body so much he couldn't stand it.

You bit your lip to quiet yourself, but between his hands and his mouth there was no hope for you. You whimpered and whined, riding his face at a languid speed, just enough to keep his lips from getting ahold of your engorged clit.

Yuta knew that and he brought his palms to your ass. Then, he started tapping and drumming his fingers on your skin. It was a warning.

You picked up the pace, arching your cunt closer to his mouth. Gathering your bouncing breasts in your hands, you pressed them together and pinched your nipples.

That still wasn’t enough for Yuta. He reeled a hand back and landed a hard smack on your ass, making you jolt and squeal.

You sped up a little, feeling him tickling his fingers over your ass again. Reminding you how easily he could give you another spank. “Yuta,” you pleaded.

He parted from your dripping cunt to growl, “I know you can ride better than that. Just ask my dick.”

Your stomach clenched as you let him suck more intensely at your clit. The stimulation was almost too much. Your body began to shudder involuntarily.

Yuta let a hand slip from your ass, holding it at the ready, and he smirked against your lower lips as you rolled your hips frantically in response. The moment you shied away from his tongue, he brought his hand down on your ass, sending a loud slap through the room.

“I can’t, baby,” you choked out, craning your body back and bracing your hands on opposite sides of his waist.

Yuta pinched your hips in his hands and lifted his head, flicking his tongue mercilessly on your clit. You can and you will, he thought to himself, chuckling against your folds.

You fisted the blanket and panted, your breaths loud and downright pathetic. Eyes winched closed, you bucked your pussy into your husband’s face, seeking the wet warmth of his tongue while everything in your body tried to escape it.

Yuta tightened his hold on your hips as you came, grinning smugly at the lecherous sounds leaving your mouth. He could feel his fingers sinking into your flesh to the point of bruising, but he knew how much you loved that. All his energy was on his tongue, rubbing your sensitive clit until you begged him to stop.

Your legs were like jelly and your head was stuck in a fog. Yuta steered you back into position over his hips, rutting his hard cock against your soaked folds. You swallowed to wet your dry throat and ran a hand through your hair, peering down at your husband and shaking your head. “You’re a fucking god. I hope you know that.”

Yuta chuckled, draping his hands lazily on your thighs while he kept grinding into you, waiting. Your pussy coated his length in your juices, evidence of how hard he’d made you come.

Part of you, when things became serious in your relationship with Yuta, wondered if the fires between you would ever die down. Years of dating passed, then marriage, culminating with the arrival of your children and the answer was still no. Yuta still drowned you in his passion like it was the first time.

“You’re mine,” Yuta had hissed into your skin on your wedding night, crushing you in his arms as he buried his cock inside you. “Every inch of you is mine. Every breath you take is mine.”

With that memory fresh in your mind, you grabbed one of his hands and brought it to your neck to hold. Lifting your hips, you wrapped your fingers around his hard cock and guided him into your entrance, sinking down on him. You were so slick from orgasm, he pressed right in without resistance. But you still moaned at the girth of him stretching you.

Yuta squeezed your throat, clenching his jaws at the tight heat of you enveloping him. “Fuck,” he staggered out, abs flexing as he fought the urge to pound his cock into your perfect pussy.

Adjusted, you braced your hands on Yuta’s chest and started to ride him, moving in a way that he stroked deep inside you. You locked eyes with your husband, watching the pleasure on his face, and purred, “You’re mine.”

“All yours,” Yuta said, breathless.

You bounced on his cock until Yuta lost the last of his restraint. That was when he wrapped his arms around you, trapping you to him, and began to thrust up into you, hips slapping into your ass at inhuman speed. You held onto his shoulders and moaned desperately into his neck, enduring his brutal pace until another orgasm ripped through you.

The echo of your cries and the clamping of your cunt around his length made Yuta burst, stuffing his cock into you as deep as he could go and filling you with his load. He shuddered and groaned, fisting a hand into your hair and biting down on the base of your neck.

Utterly spent, the two of you slumped limply into the bed and held each other tight like no force on earth could ever tear you apart.

In the morning, you couldn’t bring yourself to get up for work after the third night in a row spent tangled with your husband. You called to let them know you would be coming in late and since you were technically the boss, no one could tell you otherwise.

Funny enough, your secretary applauded you for finally taking a little break.

The moment you tossed your phone back onto the nightstand and folded the pillow under your head, Yuta was on you. You hummed when he settled his weight on your back, trailing kisses over your cheek.

If you thought you would be getting extra sleep after presenting a rare opportunity of morning sex to your husband, you were mistaken.

Yuta glanced up at the clock and mumbled, “The babies won’t be up for a while.”

You smirked, closing your eyes and feigning indifference, but you lifted your hips, making your ass bounce into his stiff cock. Like intimacy with Yuta was all your body was capable of craving. Still naked from the night before, you arched your back into his body, moaning softly when his dick rubbed against your folds.

Yuta whispered filth in your ear as he pushed the blankets and pillows away from you. You held the edge of the mattress and cried out when Yuta steered you into position roughly, bending your leg up and pressing a hand into your lower back.

You wiggled your ass, enticing him to take you, and sucked in a breath when two fingers slipped into your hole.

“You’re still wet,” Yuta hissed, biting down on the bridge of your shoulder and pumping his digits between your folds to prepare you.

You taunted, “I stay wet for you. You know that.”

Yuta gathered a handful of your hair in his fist, yanking your head back to kiss and tongue at your throat while he withdrew his fingers from your pussy and guided his cock in, impaling you on every last inch.

“Yuta,” you moaned, your eyes rolling back. You gripped the edge of the mattress harder, your mouth gaping.

Yuta let out a noise of pleasure as he coaxed his cock deep into your cunt, the kind of sound that made you clench on him. “So fucking tight and swollen, baby,” he crooned in a tone meant to rile you up. “Does it hurt?”

You shook your head, biting your lip. His hands roamed over you, playing with your breasts and nipples, whilst Yuta sank his hard dick into you slowly, moaning in your ear at the warmth of you around his cock.

“I love you,” he sighed, stealing a kiss.

Rather than answer, you decided to goad him. You glanced at Yuta over your shoulder, arching your hips to meet his languid pace, and whispered, “I know you can fuck harder than that. Just ask my pussy.”

Your husband could and gladly would fuck you for an hour, but you were too sore for that. You wanted a quickie. Hard and fast.

Yuta chuckled, remembering his words from the night before, and used his grip on your hair to shove you face first into the mattress. You would definitely need to stifle the noises you were about to make.

You winched your eyes closed and held the mattress for dear life, eventually biting on the edge too as Yuta smacked his hips into your ass, throttling his cock into your pussy.

“Don’t wake them up,” your husband warned, pinning his hand to the nape of your neck. He had you whimpering and moaning like he’d fucked all the goddamn sense out of you.

“I’m coming,” you told him in a matter of minutes, squirming in his hold, trying to get yourself the rest of the way.

Yuta thrust into you faster and faster, at an almost inhuman speed. Almost. Sensing you at the edge, Yuta bore down on you with his weight, whispering dirty praises in your ear, and rammed his cock into your sweet spot until you came with a cry.

“I love you,” you chanted, because it was much less embarrassing than saying thank you over and over again for the mind-shattering orgasm he’d just ripped out of you.

Feeling your pussy try to push out his cock with the intensity of your climax, Yuta got a punishing grip on your hips and plunged his length into you, releasing with a mangled groan, finishing with one hard thrust after another.

You gasped to catch your breath, bouncing ever so slightly to milk his cock. Being fucked full of his cum made you arch your back and moan, wanting every last drop he had to give.

Yuta gave your ass an appreciative slap when he reluctantly drew his soft length from you, and said, “Atta girl.”

You lay there, your entire body thrumming and satisfied, and dozed off the moment Yuta finished cleaning you with a cloth from the bathroom.

Your husband dragged the blanket over your naked body and left the room quietly, knowing that if he stayed in bed with you, it would undoubtedly result in another round.

So instead, Yuta made himself comfortable on the couch and waited for the kids to wake up. He shook his head, thinking of you and your beautiful body. Fuck, he wanted to march back in there and drill you to another toe-curling orgasm.

Yuta fixed a pot of hot coffee, knowing you would want some when you woke, and blew the steam billowing from his mug as he watched the TV. The news was reporting a steady decline in city violence; a result of the new district attorney’s efforts to put away bad men and corrupt cops.

Seeing your picture on the screen unnerved Yuta. He didn’t want your face to be so widely known. Fortunately for you, however, Yuta still had friends in low places. They would keep it known that you belonged to someone that was not to be crossed. A venomous serpent slumbering in its den, as it were.

It was half past ten when you dragged yourself out of the bedroom, forcing yourself to get ready for work. To your surprise, you found both of your children waiting for you.

“Mommy, you look beautiful today,” Yuma greeted, smiling widely at you when you emerged from the bedroom.

“Thank you, darling,” you told your son, pressing a kiss to his brow. Then, you checked the time and remembered what day it was. “No school today?”

“Teacher work day,” Suki replied. She was seated at the counter and Yuta stood beside her, jotting things down on a list.

“Anything you need from the store, Mama?” Yuta asked, spinning the pen between his fingers.

“I can’t think of anything,” you said, looking between your son and daughter. “Are you going with Daddy to the store?”

“We always do,” Suki replied excitedly.

Sadness washed over you, but you hid it quite well on your face like any seasoned lawyer. You wanted to spend some time with the babies.

Yuta saw right through you, as only he could. Turning to the twins, he started speaking rapid fire Japanese, to which they giggled because they understood perfectly.

You scowled, though it was insincere, and whined, “That’s not fair. You know Mama is still working on her Japanese.”

“You’ve been working on it for ten years, my love,” Yuta teased under his breath, then he changed his tone. “I was just telling them how smart you are.”

“Bull… poop,” you started, quickly correcting yourself before using profanity in front of your children. Yuta grinned with amusement at irritating you.

At the word poop, Yuma and Suki giggled again.

A very loud bang sent a reverberating shudder through the house, making picture frames rattle on the walls. No one flinched. Undoubtedly a villain and a hero were duking it out in the center of the city again.

One moment Yuta was beside Suki, in the next he had crossed the room, caught a falling vase and set it back, and returned to her side in the time it took you to blink.

You mumbled, “I saw that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yuta said blithely.

“Daddy says he’s not fast,” Suki announced. “Everyone else is just really slow.”

You snorted back a laugh.

“Alright, Suki, let’s hit the market,” Yuta said a moment later, tucking the shopping list into his pocket.

You blinked in surprise. “You’re not taking Yuma with you?”

Yuta shook his head, a tiny smile on his face. “He wants to stay with you.”

You looked back at your son on the sofa, who was beaming at you warmly.

Yuta and Suki gave you and Yuma parting kisses and left.

Yuma sat beside you, watching a movie intently. He held onto your hand, absentmindedly playing with your fingers, and leaned against your side like he couldn’t quite get close enough to you. While Suki could talk a mile a minute, Yuma was rather quiet. She was the one to always drag him out of his shell, while you preferred a more gentle approach.

You reached over and brushed his hair from his brow before running a finger over his cheek. It was wonderful getting to spend time with him and you wanted to catch up on things you’d missed. “Anything you wanna talk to me about?” you asked sweetly.

Yuma shrugged.

“No pressure. Whenever you want.”

Yuma nodded and flitted his eyes between you and the television, pensive. He shifted a little and after a long pause, he said, “I want to make friends.”

You turned toward him, giving your son your undivided attention, and asked, “Do you have friends at school?”

Yuma couldn’t meet your eyes and shook his head, mumbling under his breath as if he were embarrassed, “Suki has lots of friends.”

You chuckled a bit. “Suki is very… assertive.”

Yuma peered up at you with furrowed brows. “What does that mean?”

You pinched your lips, thinking of the best way to explain. “It means she goes after things very strongly.”

Your son was staring at you, admiring. He was looking at you like you were the whole world. The same way you looked at him. “She’s like you,” he said, sweet as could be. No anger or jealousy to be found.

You snorted. “I suppose so.”

“Is Daddy like that?” Yuma asked curiously.

“A bit.”

“Why not me?”

You took his hand and gave it a squeeze, saying, “You’re a little different, Yuma. But different doesn’t mean wrong. You’re just you and that’s more than enough.”

Yuma relaxed. “Okay.”

“Do you want to be more assertive? Because I could teach you.”

“I don’t.”

“See? It’s just who you are. You’re perfect.”

Yuma was comforted by that. “But I want to make friends.”

You slipped a finger under his chin, tipping his head up. “Then, you make friends that are more like you. Does that make sense?”

He nodded. “It does.”

“I never had many friends,” you told him. Once upon a time, you would never have been able to verbalize that. A large part of your life had been spent with a lonely heart.

It was something you and Yuta had in common.

That caught Yuma by surprise. He looked up at you with wide eyes and nestled closer to you, putting his little hand on your arm as if to comfort you. “You didn’t?”

“No. People thought I was weird. I was obsessed with doing good in school and becoming a lawyer.”

“What about Daddy?”

Your face lit up at the mere mention of the love of your life. “Your father is my best friend in the whole world.”

“What made you be his friend?” Yuma pressed. He was suddenly an endless well of curiosity. He liked hearing about you and Yuta before he was born. Yuta told you that Yuma asked the most questions about how the two of you met and fell in love.

Suki, on the other hand, was more inclined to hear that she came out of your tummy first and was therefore, the oldest of your twins. By nine whole minutes.

“He told me I was perfect the way I was,” you replied, smoothing back Yuma’s hair. God, he really was Yuta’s spitting image. It was like looking into his eyes even though he was miles away from you. “And that there was nothing that could ever stand in my way if I wanted to do something.”

Yuma bounced and exclaimed, “He told me the same thing!”

“Your father is very wise.”

“He is.”

You pretended to wince and put a finger over your lips, whispering, “Don’t tell him I said that. It will go straight to his head.”

Yuma covered his mouth with his hand, playing along with your little joke. “I won’t.”

You wrapped your arm around your son and pressed a kiss to his nose, cooing, “You’ll be a great friend, Yuma. I promise.”

Your son hopped into your lap, hugging you tightly.

A quiet thud made you turn your head sharply toward the front door, every hair on the back of your neck standing up.

Yuta spoke to his daughter in his mother tongue as they walked through the farmer’s market. Suki loved looking at everything there was to see and the vendors always let her taste test things because her reactions were dramatic, but very genuine.

And because Yuta was generous with his money.

“Much better,” Suki declared after eating a grape.

“Yes, Miss Suki. They were a bit watery last time, weren’t they?”

She nodded.

Yuta chuckled, then told the seller, “Two bags please.”

Gripping her father’s hand tightly as they meandered, Suki asked, “Daddy, when are we getting takoyaki?”

“Soon, princess.”

“I’m being very patient.”

Yuta’s face tensed with the threat of laughter. “Yes, you are and I appreciate it.”

Suki suddenly went rigidly still, her hand slipping from around Yuta’s fingers as she stopped dead in her tracks. The smile vanished from her face in an instant and her eyes went out of focus.

Yuta jolted, all of his attention centering on his child. Crouching down before her and holding her arms, he asked frantically, “Suki, are you okay?”

His little girl trembled, tears filling her eyes. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. For the first time in her life, she was terrified. “Daddy, something’s wrong,” she whimpered, reaching for him.

Yuta lifted her into his arms, adrenaline tickling up his spine. “What is it, baby? Do you feel sick to your stomach?”

“No, it’s Yuma. And Mommy. Something’s wrong!”

That was all Yuta needed to hear. He dropped the basket of food and cradled Suki to his chest, feeling her cling to him. “Take a deep breath and hold it, Suki.”

She did as told and in a flash, they were gone.

But he was too late.

Yuta walked slowly through the house. His hands were shaking.

The front door was splintered into pieces. The living room was destroyed like a goddamn tornado had swept through. You put up a hell of a fight. Yuta knew you would. A mother’s instinct to protect her baby was formidable even against the strongest of enemies.

Yuta stepped over the broken coffee table, analyzing everything. He could safely assume there were a number of attackers. You were no match. Hell, even in his prime he would have struggled.

There was blood smeared on the wall, but Yuta breathed a little in relief when he didn’t recognize the scent. He had been right beside you when you gave birth. He was the one that put bandaids on all of your clumsy little cuts.

He knew the scent of you intimately.

This blood was not yours. It belonged to someone that foolishly tried to separate you from your child and learned you would die or kill before that happened.

“Suki, you can come out,” Yuta said lowly. “It’s clear.”

A panel above in the ceiling moved and Suki jumped down, landing in Yuta’s arms. He held her snugly to him, feeling her shaking with emotion, and coaxed, “I know this is hard, baby, but I need you. I know you can sense your brother.”

Suki nodded.

“Is Yuma hurt? Is your mother hurt?”

Suki paused, tapping into the connection she shared with her twin. “Yuma is okay. Mama is okay,” she told him, lips quivering. “Yuma is really scared, Daddy.”

Yuta took a steadying breath. He would rend this goddamn city inside out to get back what was his. “Can you find them, Suki? Can you lead me to them?”

His daughter nodded. “I think so.”

Yuta set her down on the floor and pulled out his phone. “I need to make a call. Go grab your panic bag, okay?”

Suki trundled to her bedroom. It went without saying Yuta taught his children extensively what to do in situations like these.

He was very aware of the dangers in Hel. But he never thought someone would dare enter the Viper's nest.

Pressing the phone to his ear, Yuta paced and after two rings, a familiar voice answered. “Someone took my wife and son,” Yuta said, skipping any greetings. He didn’t have time.

“I know,” Mark replied gravely. “It’s already spreading underground.”

Yuta grit his teeth and hissed, “Who did this?”

“I'm already looking into it. Give me fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you. Call me the second you have anything.”

“Done.”

Yuta hung up just as Suki returned with a little purple backpack. He gave her a proud smile and lifted her into his arms. “Ready, baby?”

She grabbed his face, staring into her father’s eyes, and asked, “We’re gonna find Mommy and Yuma. Right?”

Yuta gave a single nod. “Yes, Suki. We’re going to find them. I promise.”

By his tone, Suki knew her father would move mountains. She found her courage again and took a deep breath.

Despite the blindfold over your eyes and the cords wrapped tightly around your wrists, binding them together, your son was curled on your chest and you had managed to mold your entire body protectively around him.

You spoke softly and soothingly to him, but Yuma had whispered in your ear, “Daddy’s coming.”

Part of you already knew that. In your heart you knew Yuta would stop at nothing to bring you and your baby home. All you had to do was buy enough time. You kissed Yuma’s head, holding him even tighter.

Cradling your son, feeling his terror, knowing danger was closing in, was another kind of hell.

You closed your eyes and thought of Yuta. The one thing that could distract you from the suffocating grip of fear on your throat. You thought back to the moment you met, at the police station of all places. As a junior district attorney, you had been brought in to consult on whether a case could be made against him.

The Viper.

Sitting in a dimly lit room, Yuta was handcuffed to the table, but you knew you were the one in a cage with a lion. He was not captured. On the contrary, he was rather entertained.

“Everything you have on me is circumstantial,” Yuta stated plainly.

You took the seat across from him and said, “I know.”

Yuta narrowed his eyes, assuming you were manipulating him, and asked, “Then, why are you here?”

You shrugged. “Just following orders.”

“You don’t seem like the type.”

“The type of what?”

“To just do what you’re told.”

You stared into his eyes. Yuta’s gaze was hypnotic. You couldn’t look away. He was drawing you in slowly.

So began a dance of Yuta intentionally getting himself caught, prompting you to be summoned to the station to question him. Questions ended up ranging more toward you, the things you liked, the things you hated. The things you were interested in.

Who you were interested in.

As Yuta was led out of custody, free to go once again, he made sure to stop by you and whisper, “I would love to take you out to dinner.”

It took every ounce of your restraint not to smile. It was about goddamn time, to be honest. He was the most attractive man you’d ever seen. Not just his face, but his mind. Nothing about him was simple and that thrilled you.

“I can get a reservation at the Blood Raven tomorrow night. Interested?”

The Blood Raven, one of Hel’s most illustrious, high-end establishments. Known to be frequented by villains on the regular. “I’m interested,” you murmured softly.

It wasn’t like you to flirt with danger, but when danger flirted back, you kinda liked the rush it sent through you.

Yuta grinned victoriously. “Seven o’clock then. I’d offer to pick you up from work, but I’m sure that would be frowned upon, considering your profession.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Yuta sauntered out with an extra swagger to his step while you were screaming internally.

You snapped out of your reverie when the van jerked to a stop. Your son jostled on your chest, but you secured your hold on him as the men grabbed your arms and dragged you out.

Though they made no attempt to separate you from Yuma again.

Yuta folded his arms and glanced around the back alley. There was an overturned trash bin and tire marks on the ground.

Suki ambled along the alley, searching with her wide eyes. Your beautiful eyes. Yuta smiled at her fondly, hiding the ice cold fist of terror wrapped around his heart.

His daughter turned to him anxiously, but Yuta was quick to assure her, “Take your time, baby girl. You’re doing great.”

Suki nodded and kept looking for traces of her brother to follow.

Finally, she pointed and said, “That way.”

Yuta scooped her up and bolted.

He came to a sharp stop, mid-sprint, when he felt a vibration in his pocket. Holding his daughter, Yuta answered the phone, “Yes?”

“Your wife recently put away three upper-rank members of the Cyrus Gang, including the second-in-command.”

“Mm,” was all Yuta said. He knew exactly where this was going.

The Cyrus Gang had popped up after Yuta went into retirement. From what he knew via his friends, their leader was a villain with unknown powers and he ruled with an iron fist. They were organized, ruthless and known for their brutality.

No wonder you had made it your mission to put them behind bars.

“Camera footage on the street shows thirteen of their known members breaching your house,” Mark continued.

Yuta seethed. “Keep going.”

“Additional footage shows them dragging your wife and son into a different unmarked van two alleys over. Premeditated counter measures, obviously.”

Yuta assumed that was the alley he and Suki had just left. “Anything else?”

Mark’s voice filled with disappointment. “Footage shows evidence of tampering. We lost sight of them after that. I’ve got guys working on it.”

“Thank you. In the meantime, I have a very reliable source leading me to them,” Yuta said, looking to Suki.

She smiled at him, emboldened by his words.

“Good luck, brother,” Mark said.

Yuta hung up.

Suki put a hand on Yuta’s chest, subconsciously searching for his heart rhythm to settle her own, and asked, “Did they find Mommy and Yuma?”

“No, baby,” Yuta told her levelly. “It’s up to us to find them.”

Suki nodded. She was ready.

You giggled as Yuta kissed his way up your big pregnant belly. Both of your babies were stretching and kicking, and Yuta thought it was the most delightful thing he’d ever seen. He tickled his fingers near a foot and laughed when that foot sent a retaliatory kick in his direction.

“I can’t possibly get any bigger,” you groaned, though you didn’t mean it. All you wanted was two healthy, happy babies, and you were prepared to get as big as necessary for them.

“Don’t jinx it,” Yuta joked. He glanced up at you, his long hair falling into his eyes. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m always hungry. They’re always hungry.”

Yuta smoothed his hand over the crest of your belly, marveling. “They’re strong. I can feel it.”

You placed your hand over his and said, “Me, too. I can’t explain it, but… I can feel their bond.”

“They’re inside you. Of course, you can feel it.” His voice was soft, reverent, like he was holding all the answers to the universe between his hands.

“It’s something magical.”

Yuta turned somber, a frown tugging at his lips. “I hope they get all of your magic and none of mine,” he huffed under his breath.

“I don’t have any powers,” you reminded him, ready to scold if any self-deprecation chose to rear its ugly head. You’d become somewhat of a master at making it crawl back inside its dark hole.

“It’s a heavy burden.”

You sighed and carded your fingers into his hair. “We’ll help them carry it.”

Yuta finally turned away from your belly and propped himself over you, losing himself in your eyes. “Just like you help me carry mine,” he whispered.

You drew your husband close until you could press your lips to his.

“You have a magic all your own,” Yuta said, kissing the corner of your mouth.

Your son’s voice brought you back to the present. Peeking down at him worriedly, you asked, “What is it, baby?”

“Suki,” he said distantly, feeling his sister’s emotions. “She’s sad.”

Your eyes welled with tears. You were tucked in a corner of a rundown warehouse. There were locks on all the doors. With you secured, the captors removed your blindfold and restraints. Which was surprisingly considerate of them. And yet all it did was unnerve you more. “We’re gonna see them again, Yuma,” you told your son firmly.

He believed you, nodding before tucking his head beneath your chin and hugging you tight.

You wiped at your tears with a clenched fist and cried, “I should have sent you to the store with Daddy and Suki. It was selfish of me. I wanted to spend time with you.”

Yuma didn’t seem bothered by that admission. He merely said, “That’s okay, Mommy. It’s better this way.”

You blinked in surprise.

“I’m here with you. You’re not alone.”

You devolved into sobs, curling inward with your son hidden in your embrace. You kissed his sweet face and he kissed your cheek, looping his arms around your neck.

Suki had never seen the city at the speed of light. She was getting better at holding her breath, but keeping her eyes wide open. No matter how much it stung. She didn’t want to miss a thing.

She could feel Yuma. He was far away and no matter how much her father ran, they didn’t feel closer.

Yuta sprinted between cars, between buildings, between people. No one saw him. They would feel a wisp of wind that was gone as quickly as it came.

A killer in the night; that had been Yuta’s reputation in the not so distant past. No enemy could see him coming. No defense could be prepared. No lawman could pin a single shred of evidence on him. He was a silent blade in the darkness. Uncatchable and unstoppable.

Never had Yuta killed with anger. He was a cold and calculating villain. It was all business. This time would be different. The Viper would have its vengeance.

Suki tugged on Yuta’s collar and he grinded to a halt, the atmosphere shifting around them. Suki’s eyes were full of tears and she was trembling.

“What is it, Suki?”

“Hurry, Daddy,” she cried, choking on a sob. “They’re trying to take Yuma from Mommy!”

Yuta had never known rage and madness like what unfurled inside of him at that moment. He knew you would fight. He knew you would kill. But who would they keep alive?

They were running out of time. The men that took you knew who Yuta was and what he was capable of. And that he was coming. They would have to be quick.

Suki turned her head this way and that. Light shone in her eyes as she fought back her tears to focus on the task at hand.

Yuta recognized her determination and stroked a thumb over her cheek. “You’re very brave, my Suki. Find them and I will take care of the rest.”

Yuma was screaming. Suki could hear it as if she were in the room. Though he was miles away, his increasing emotions made his signal to her stronger. Suki pointed. “That way!”

Yuta didn’t need to remind her to take a breath. The moment she’d told him, Suki inhaled a big gulp of air and they were gone again.

You tapped into a reservoir of strength you’d forgotten you had. It was the same bottomless pit you’d fallen into when you gave birth. It didn’t matter that these men were inherently stronger than you. You could rip them apart with your bare hands every time they reached for your baby.

Yuma, though he was only a child, tried to push the men away as they pinned you to the concrete ground and shoved a phone against your ear. Your son didn’t understand. They screamed in your face, threatened unspeakable things against your children, if you didn’t orchestrate the release of some very bad men.

You relented, because of course you did. No criminal was worth the life of your son. Bloodied and bruised and choking on your own tears, you gave the order to release the Cyrus Gang’s second-in-command.

Satisfied, the men hung up the phone and warned they would keep you a little longer to make sure he was free and clear.

Then, your fate would be decided.

Yuma bolted to you the moment his captor let go of his arm and curled his small body around your head, trying to shield you from them. Every inch of you was trembling and you were breathing hard and fast, tasting the metallic sting of blood in your mouth. Adrenaline had seized ahold of you and torn its way through your system.

Your life flashed before your eyes. You saw yourself sigh tiredly as Yuta held you in his arms, two newborn babies sleeping soundly on your breasts. Only moments after birth, they had reached across your heart to hold each other’s hands and didn’t let go.

Yuta had never run so hard in his life. He was trying to outrun his emotions and his memories. He was thinking of the day you married him, when the two of you promised your lives to each other with the sea and the mountains as witnesses. Yuta had sworn to love you and only you for as long as he lived.

It was an easy vow to make. Yuta knew he’d found his soulmate. No woman on earth would ever get to hold his heart like you. It was yours.

He thought of your gentle smile when you kissed his brow and held him to your chest, lulling him to sleep after another nightmare. He thought of your grin when you showed him that positive pregnancy test. Yuta picked you up off the ground and spun you around. He could hear your laugh in his head. It was his favorite sound.

Then, he thought of all the times you told him, “I love you.”

Even before you had carried and birthed his children, you had given Yuta what he always wanted, but never had - a family.

This was life and death. If Yuta lost you, he would lose himself. He would raze the city to the ground and then throw himself into the ashes.

Because he would never be able to live with the monster he became if he lost you.

Your eyes snapped open when the door creaked. A lone man walked toward you and your son, his steps heavy and ominous.

“You have served your purpose,” was all he said.

You ignored the pain in your bones. Those words ignited a spark inside your chest like no other. This man should have known by the bloodstains coating your fingernails that you were a caged mother bear. Steering Yuma behind you, you crawled backwards until he was nestled against the wall. You guarded him with your body and got your legs underneath you.

Suki let out a scream of agony that knocked the wind out of Yuta. He was at full momentum and stumbled, instantly curling around her as they toppled into the dirt, rolling and spinning in a heap.

“Suki,” he shouted, searching her frantically for injury, but finding his daughter unscathed.

She wailed, “He’s killing Mommy!”

Yuta couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He sat there in the barren wilderness outside the city with his daughter in his lap, the last tie to you that was about to be severed forever.

Yuma wasn’t brave. He never had been. Suki had courage. She always protected him. He wished she was there. She could destroy this man with her power.

Power. Yuma looked at his hands.

The man threw you to the ground and each time he stalked in Yuma’s direction, you charged him again. You knew he was toying with you, drawing it out for his own sadistic pleasure. You couldn’t beat him; you could only buy time.

“Yuma, run,” you screamed at your son, over and over, but he wouldn’t leave you. He refused to leave you.

Suki gripped Yuta tight, breaths staggering in and out. The tears streamed down her cheeks. “Yuma’s too scared to do it.”

“Do what, Suki?”

“Use his power.”

Yuta gawked. “Yuma has powers?”

“He hides them,” she said shakily. “They scare him. He doesn’t want to be bad. He doesn’t want to be a monster!”

Yuta knew that feeling all too well and it broke his heart. But his only concern in that moment was you. You needed a monster. Yuta cradled Suki’s cheeks in his hands and whispered lowly, “Tell him to protect his mother. Tell him to do whatever he has to do.”

Suki nodded.

The man braced his hands on his knees, winded, and chuckled. “You’re strong for a bitch.”

You were an unhinged creature, reduced to your most primal form. You had cut him with your nails, sank your teeth into his flesh. Anything you could manage to deter him from your child. Your own life meant nothing to you as long as your son could live.

The man grabbed you by the throat and lifted you off the ground, cutting off your oxygen. Darkness seeped into the edges of your vision. You clawed at his hands and kicked at his torso, but to no avail.

Yuma rushed over and wrapped his arms around the man’s leg.

In an instant, the monster choking the life out of you screeched and dropped to his knees, staggering back as thousands of volts of electricity coursed through him.

But not you. You coughed and choked, scrambling to get your bearings and reaching for your son. The tiniest shock pricked your hands and then it was gone. Yuma shuddered, jumping into your arms as fast as he could.

You looked at the man and knew he was dead. And you didn’t question it for a second. Hiding yourself in the corner with your son, you kept his head turned away.

Suki exhaled loudly, wiping at her tears.

Yuta asked, “Is it done?”

She nodded.

“Let’s go, baby,” he said, getting to his feet again.

There was a rhythmic drop from a leaky pipe above. It echoed in the silence of the warehouse. You knew it was only a matter of time before the others came to finish you off.

You peered up at your son as he held your face, your head in his lap. Your injuries were dire, you could feel it. Part of you wondered if you were bleeding into your own body. That was kind of a relief. Your son wouldn’t have to see you die in a pool of your own blood.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked him gently.

Yuma frowned. “I don’t want to be bad.”

You simpered. “You could never be a villain, my Yuma. You have a good heart.”

Yuma looked at his hands currently cradling your face and said, “But my power hurts people.”

“Then, use it to protect us from bad people. Like you did for me.”

Yuma smiled, comforted by that. After a pause, he asked, “Are you okay, Mommy?”

“I’m okay,” you lied. Under no circumstances would you tell your son any different. You would hide your pain until the very end.

Yuma studied you. “I can’t feel your heart as good anymore.”

You steered one of his little hands to your chest and asked, “How about now?”

“Your heart sounds tired.”

You fought back the tears and rasped, “It is, a little. But if I need to protect you, it will beat hard again.”

“For me?”

“For you.”

Yuma leaned down to press a tender kiss to your forehead and said, “I will protect you too, Mommy.”

“I know you will,” you said with a smile, thinking of your husband. “You are your father’s son.”

“I want to be brave like Suki,” Yuma murmured, evoking the bond with his sister. He wanted to tap into her courage.

Reaching for his hand, you let your eyes flutter closed, running out of strength. “You are very brave, Yuma. No matter what happens, never forget that you are a dragonslayer living in a city of dragons.”

Yuma raised his chin a little higher. It was what he needed to hear.

Suki urged Yuta to stop and told him, “Yuma says Mommy’s heart is slowing down.”

Yuta tensed. His world was coming to an end. It had been beautiful while it lasted. Looking into Suki’s face intently, seeing you in every feature, he said, “Tell Mommy that I love her.”

“I love you too, Yuta,” you sighed, eyes still closed.

“And tell her to remember what she promised me.”

The faintest smile tugged at your lips. “I remember.”

You fell into that memory. You were young and reckless and in love. So in love it honestly terrified you.

“Yuta, I know we’ve been… avoiding this conversation,” you told your boyfriend, wringing your hands nervously. “But I didn’t know you felt this way and I’m sorry.”

Yuta waited. He had just confessed his love to you. Neither you or him had vocalized your feelings yet. There was a silent fence between your hearts, because you were on opposite sides of the law. And Hel.

You found your courage, risking your heart, and began, “I’ve never felt like this before. When I go to bed at night, I think about whether you got enough to eat. When I wake up in the morning, I wonder if you had nightmares or good dreams.”

Yuta swallowed the lump in his throat. He could feel the emotion rushing up his chest and heating his cheeks.

“When you kiss me, I feel like I can do anything. When I think about the future, I picture marrying you on a beach somewhere. I imagine spending days in bed with you. I want to have beautiful, happy babies with you.”

Yuta smiled. No one had ever wanted that life with him and little did you know, it was his most precious dream. One he had long convinced himself was unattainable. Until he fell in love with you.

You continued, voice trembling, “I want to get through all the decades of our lives together. Hand in hand. I want to watch the world change with you. Or burn. Whatever the fuck it decides to do.”

Yuta snorted, fighting back a laugh. Yeah, he could picture sitting beside you, watching the world burn.

He would never let the fire touch you. He’d probably be the one to light the match.

You walked toward him, confident. The twinkle in his eyes drew you closer. “I wanna grow old with you and tell our grandchildren about how things were in our day,” you quipped, then your tone shifted. “I wanna die in your arms and be buried beside you. Because next to you is where I belong. In life and death and whatever comes next.”

Yuta closed the rest of the distance and swept you up in his arms, kissing you with abandon and tangling his fingers in your hair. “I love you,” he said over and over between kisses. “I love you.” He seared those three words into every inch of your skin that night.

You had never known such all-consuming love before. You kissed him like you’d never kissed anyone else.

It was that moment Yuta knew he had to give it up. He was ready to leave the life of a villain behind. He would give you everything.

If you were going to die today, then so was he.

Yuta would not watch the world burn alone.

Suki eyed the warehouse. Her father was perched low to the ground, moving her behind him, but Suki wanted to see. The building was miles outside the city limits, rundown and abandoned. There was a strange aura about it.

Someone had cast a field around the perimeter. Though Suki couldn’t fully wrap her head around it, she knew that had been affecting her bond with Yuma. It was why they had felt so far away no matter how much her father ran.

“Suki, stay here,” Yuta told his daughter sternly, sweat dampening his hair. He’d sprinted to the point of exhaustion. “If anyone comes near you, do whatever you need to survive. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Suki knew her secret was out then. She gave him a solemn nod. “Yes, Daddy.”

Without his daughter in his arms, Yuta was free to break the sound barrier at last. Her little body couldn’t sustain his true speed. And so, the Viper coiled and struck. He vanished inside the building in the time it took to blink, kicking up dirt in his wake.

But Suki had no intention of staying put. She would not ignore her brother’s frantic calls, telling her their mother was drifting further and further away, and headed right for him.

Yuma’s fingers touched your cheek and you woke yourself up again. It was getting harder to stay conscious no matter how much you tried.

“Daddy’s here,” Yuma whispered under his breath.

You heaved a sigh. The weight lifted from your chest. You could finally let yourself slip away. Yuma was safe. Knowing your son would be alright, you had done what you needed to do and you could finally succumb to the darkness dragging you into its warm embrace.

Shouts began to reverberate through the corridors. Bullets fired made Yuma jolt in place. Something was happening on the other side of the wall.

A shadow was picking men off, one by one, before some of them could even draw their weapons. There was a tiny flicker of movement followed by the spatter and spray of blood.

Men wailed in horror. Their comrades fell to the ground, limbs ripped clean off their bodies or gaping holes left in their chests like a fist had punched through with the force of a fucking machine.

A few screams were cut short, belonging to those who had their heads taken clean off their shoulders.

“Suki,” Yuma exclaimed at the sight of his sister rushing toward him. Tears poured down his cheeks in relief.

Suki hugged her brother, but he kept his arms around your head, as if letting go of you would cause the last of you to part from him.

Yuta could feel himself slipping into that darkness, like an old friend he had cut out of his life because they brought out the worst in him. He could see you in his mind, telling him to stop. This isn’t you, Yuta, you pleaded.

But this was him, wasn’t it? Bloodlust. It was as potent a venom as any. The Viper was exacting his revenge. He was killing in the most evil ways possible.

Without a word, Suki lifted her tiny hand. The pipes groaned and burst. Water began to rain down in every corner, flooding the warehouse. She kept her arm outstretched and the water didn’t dare touch you or her brother.

“Yuma,” was all she said.

He carefully drew away from you, laying your head gently on the ground, and stood, reaching out toward the water.

You heard the crack of lightning in your dreams and then an endless collision of screams. Electricity surged through the water, amplified and lethal. Anyone touched by Suki’s water was consumed in Yuma’s sparks. Death was instantaneous.

Yuta could hardly believe his eyes as he ran. The water was up to his calves now, but it didn’t touch him. It coursed around him like a river around a rock. The water cleansed the blood from the walls and the ground, and swept away the remains of what he had done.

And now, there was no one left to kill. Yuta felt a tear slip down his cheek.

His babies had saved him from himself.

When he sprinted into the last room, breaking the locked door off its hinges with the force of his speed, his daughter and son looked toward him innocently. Yuma was once again holding your head, while Suki had her hand over your heart. The waters receded until disappearing completely, obedient to their masters.

Yuta spoke to the twins in his mother tongue, words they would remember for as long as they lived. His children weren’t dragon slayers, after all. They were dragons, just like him.

He hurried over and gathered you in his arms, surveying your bloodied, swollen face. For a moment, Yuta wished he had powers of resurrection. So he could kill those men again and again. But then he remembered what you had told him and let it go. For now. “Hang on for me, baby,” he whispered for your ears alone, knowing you could hear him. Wherever you were.

Still crouched, Yuta instructed his children to clamber onto his back. They clung to his shoulders and arms, and Yuta walked away, carrying his family with him.

You held Yuta’s hand tightly as you walked down the path between trees. Your eyes were on your children, the two of them rushing a few feet ahead of you. Every now and then, they would turn back to smile at you and their father.

It had been three months since that day; three long, grueling months of recovery. This was the first time you could walk freely with your husband and kids without needing to sit and rest every few steps as your body healed.

Yuta found an empty bench and you got comfortable, watching your babies rush to the playground to join the other children. Yuta looked with caution briefly, doing a quick scan of all the nearby parents before taking his spot beside you.

You patted his thigh and teased, “Everyone pass the villain check?”

“Mm,” was all he said.

You chuckled and leaned into his side, Yuta’s arm around your shoulders.

The two of you watched Yuma and Suki on the playground. Naturally, Suki was surrounded by other kids, giggling and running about. To your delight, Yuma had made a friend recently. The two were off in the sandbox together building castles.

“A little birdie told me that word of our kids’ powers has spread through the underground,” Yuta said a moment later.

You arched a brow. “Oh?”

“No one will be breaking into our house ever again,” your husband murmured.

“That’s not why.”

Yuta’s brows stitched as he turned to you. “What do you mean?”

You kept your eyes on your babies, watching them play, and replied, “I got a call last week.”

“From?”

“The force,” you said calmly. “They said the entire Cyrus Gang was wiped out.”

Yuta was oddly quiet.

“A silent killer. Gone without a trace. There’s no hard evidence, of course, but every last member in the gang was killed execution style. Except the leader, who was dramatically beheaded.”

Yuta shrugged, but his jaw was clenched with anger. “Good riddance.”

You faced your husband and whispered, “I know it was you.”

Frankly, you were surprised he’d waited this long.

Yuta stared you down, his eyes filling with that familiar darkness, and snarled, “I sent a message.”

“I’m glad you did.”

He was a little stunned by that. It wasn’t like you to sanction his violence. Yuta had a feeling this would be the one instance such retribution would be allowed. “No one would have ever dared hurt you back then. They thought I went soft. They’ll never think that again.”

Warmth filled your chest. This had been a reckoning not only for Yuta and your twins, but for you as well. “If you come in the viper’s den, you’re gonna get bit,” you joked, but there was definitely an edge to your words devoid of humor.

Yuta rubbed your arm. “The viper, the mama bear,” he said with a chuckle, then looked to Yuma and Suki, his face and voice filling with pride. “Tsunami and Lightning.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes contentedly.

#nct #nct smut #yuta #yuta smut #yuta x reader

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