ethereal555

[ethereal555]

love your work, HAD to follow!! <3

thank you gorgeous xx

[ethereal555]

Hey! Is there gonna be a part 2 of ‘His shadow lover’? It was magnificent 🥺🤍

PART 2?? THERES GONNA BE LIKE 6 PARTS TO THIS SERIES BABYYYYYY😘😘

I got you my love x

[ethereal555]

HIS SHADOW LOVER.

part 1 of series.

jude bellingham x bestfriend!reader

In this moment when it felt like the world was shattering beneath my feet, I forced myself to sink to the stadium’s icy seats and tuck my chin into the stand collar of my wool, black trenchcoat. I wished for the ground to swallow me whole as I whimpered by myself in the VIP section of the Bernabeu. Gazing infrequently at the large Jumbotron to avoid being seen—I wasn’t going to make the headlines again!

 I mean, people definitely wouldn’t know it was me because of how discreet I’ve dressed today, but it wasn’t even the public embarrassment that shook my bones but rather the sincere abashment that I felt piercing deep into my gut. The all-consuming one, because once again I’ve been made a laughing stock amongst his friends probably, his parents and the voices in my head that’ve advised me several times to leave him because he was “ruining a good girl”.

As biting as the cold was, my face burned from the inside out, the tingling in my cheeks spread across my skin like hungry bees in a honeycomb. My stomach twisted into a thousand knots when my brain took me back to the beginning.

The reason I was even here, in tears, being forced to watch him cuddle up to and pull cheesy grins with an Instagram Model on the pitch, joyous with his family, who he’d met less than 5 months ago. Whereas I’ve known him for a total of 13 years. It should be me on the pitch smiling and holding his medal, not her.  She hasn’t gone through even the half that I’ve been through to get him here mentally fit to be quite frank. She hasn’t spent nights crying worried about him, massaging his broken body, listening to his cries about wanting to quit, comforting through the brutal attacks from the media, being the punching back to his ear-splittingly hateful words after great losses or worrying about him getting caught in the midst of… bad things… the wrong crowd; yet she was here being celebrated like a trophy wag. 

It was inevitable to think about the beginning of us and how on earth I let this meaningful relationship between us sour and ultimately get to this point where he felt so comfortable to discard and disrespect me, after I’ve supported him endlessly, like a piece of chewing gum.

Jude and I were inseparable from the ages of 9.  At this age we’d play football in his back garden together with our dads or go on family holidays together and yabber about lego buildings all night whilst the heat of these countries rose and fell through day and night. As I think about us all those years ago, the phrase "inseparable bond” as our families would lovingly put it rings to mind.  But it didn’t start with us, our dads went to the University of Exeter together and studied Criminology. And this friendship maintained its potency throughout their ongoing years of fatherhood, to the extent of enacting each other’s best men at their respective weddings.

During secondary school, when our frontal lobes had developed more, we took our friendship seriously with nightly facetime calls and an addition of regular (intensely monitored) sleepovers at our respective houses after his matches at Birmingham to either celebrate his victory or console him during his losses. And it goes without saying that spending this much time with the opposite sex, at the ages of 16 and 17, we then started to look at each other different, our fingers would linger on each other’s bodies for longer and more passionately, we’d observe each other with a different look in our eyes and it was hard for the friends and family around to not notice this shift. This new energy that accompanied our longtime ‘friendship’.

It was during this time when tiffs fuelled by jealousy started ( Jude would randomly throw silent treatments at me leaving me upset and without an appetite for days). It’s safe to say he’s always had an effect on me. He wasn’t perfect at all…. just like anybody that age…. so I patiently waited for him to make up his mind. I knew this jealousy was coming from somewhere…some feeling he had in his head but was too prideful to speak of.

 Then at 18, it finally happened. The reason behind the sudden tension that would loiter between our conversations like heavy smoke in the air followed by intense eye contact, the buzz between our bodies every time we’d  become one when hugging each other goodbye, the electrical currents that would surge through us when accidentally grazing our fingers together during overly excited conversating about football and our future together. The looks that I, very frequently, started to catch Jude giving me when I’d change out of my football kit in his room and only throw on his shirt to get into bed. And finally his breaths mingled with hidden love confessions, that would fan against the hairs on neck every night as he held onto me as if I was singlehandly his gateway to success.

I lost my virginity to Jude and that’s when I knew...finally…that it was us against the world. Just like I dreamt about. It was this milestone that assured me we would definitely get married some time in the future because then Denise, his mother, would start calling me her only daughter and Jobe would start calling me his sister. Although I loved my dad and will continue to forever, after I clocked 12 and my mother went off God knows where to continue her torrid affair with his fentanyl. I lost him. I lost my father’s smile, affection, love and it hurt. But Mark, who loves my dad dearly, took me in and funny enough he's the one who took me to get birth control for the first time.

It’s funny now looking back at it, but at the time, it was terrifying to be sat down with Jude at the infamous mahogany dinner table in the middle of the kitchen and berated by both his strict parents about consecutive and incessant “strange noises” heard after 11pm on school nights everytime I was around . They were mortified and so were we—with having to endure the long awaited protection rant. I vividly remember us squeezing each other’s hands underneath the table to cope with the tension and denying it profusely until Denise gave us that one look that completely shattered the strength of our lies. That same day, I went to the hospital and got the pills that I’ve been taking till date—for more than 3 years Jude has been the reason for so many of my drastic decisions made to my body, my mental health and my future. 

And that same night after coming back from getting my pills, Jude branded me as his only a few weeks before leaving for Dortmund—and I let him do that because I was shattered at the thought of being without him on a daily basis. My best friend, my right lung, my everything. He carved his initials, “JB” onto my left inner thigh with a blade from his parent’s bathroom. I still remember the glowing red liquid that slithered down my legs and the metal scent that bursted through my nostril as if it was yesterday. 

“Stop screaming. Squeeze onto my arm instead, little crybaby.”

The smirk on his face, oh. At that moment I knew it was over...for me anyway. The opportunities to experience new people…gone. But at the time, being a naive 18-year old, I didn’t clock onto his reluctance to brand  my initials.

Regardless, I was always by his side. Glued and secured. At his beck and call, always. I multiroled as his therapist, his sex buddy, his best friend, his everything. Surprise, then at the ripe age of 19 I ended up moving to Dortmund with him after my A-levels at College because being his support system was such a full time job he insisted on my taking, I didn't even need my grades. 

I went with him and never looked back.

I resented him for sometime for constantly calling me about his  football problems, and financial conversations whilst I’d try and revise to get my predicted grades but, my heart softened once it dawned upon me that it was a hard transition for him in a new city; unable to understand none of the languages spoken there and, hell, he ‘needed his safety net’ so I learned German for him to help motivate him and I was very consistent in only texting him in German for a few months to quicken this process.

But when he blew up—after joining Real Madrid. The world knew my Jude as “Fifa’s Heartthrob".

Everything changed.  I wasn’t ready. Lord knows I wasn’t ready. For the constant stabs to my heart, the lies, the continuous sad, angry and lustful unprotected sex that I can admit I never felt comfortable partaking in because Jude’s sex didn't feel exclusive to me anymore. Alongside his inflated ego, the death of the affectionate boy behind his now dark eyes was excruciatingly hard to adjust to. Who knew that your dream coming true would obliterate the most meaningful relationships to you. Even his  body had changed, it used to be mine, now it was hers or rather theirs.

The comfort of my own repetitive thoughts  is disrupted when I feel a familiar, warm hand on my shoulder. Mark.

“We’re heading down to the cars now, lovely.” he smiles pitifully, by the look of his face alone he could tell I was crying but he couldn’t help but shrug, he wasn't a fan of my unwavering support and love for his son and he’d told me this several times.

“Thanks Mark” I squeak, rubbing at the warm tears I felt hugging my cheeks. I blew out a long breath and followed Mark down towards the parking area.

My heart leaps in my chest as we get swarmed by a myriad of grown men with mics, recording phones and cameras. Bless Mark, he does such a good job at remaining stern and deterring the paps from our pathway but it didn’t stop the wave of anxiety eating at my insides. Determined, we push past the sea of faces that are trying to make it out of the stadium first until we arrive at the car park where a swarm of our black cars are waiting.

At last.

“I think Jude’s in that one, my love.” Mark points out. I know, I say internally. The car ended in PKK, just like routine on matchdays. Just the two of us after every game sat in awkward silence because he knows what he’s doing  is wrong. I swallow back the past and exhale into the promising future, today isn’t going to be like other days. Today I’m going to stand my ground!

“Mark–I, I don—”

“You don't wanna?” I shake my head rapidly in response, picking at my fingernails to hide the shame in my eyes.

“I don't blame you bubs. Right….get in the one there with me and Denise then. The plate ending  JLZ. I’ll be back in a second. I need to greet a friend.” 

I nod politely and stroll as quickly as possible to Mark’s car, which was positioned directly behind (originally) mine and Jude’s, to avoid seeing him or anyone else from our entourage to be honest. Because shame and the consequent internal repulsion were still echoing through my body. In my determined advancing, I notice two figures standing in between the both cars hugging, their chuckles distinct. The awkward harmony of their voices scraped across my nerves like a fork glass and made my toes curl into my shoes.

It takes everything in my being to not intervene and give Jude a good telling off, instead I just scoff inwardly, storming past them and into the car, slamming the door in the process. Bad idea! Immediately the sharp sound of the car door catches both of their attentions and with haste Jude breaks away from Ashlyn with a raised eyebrow. His handsome face held me in my seat, immediately. He sought me right out of the many cars that the noise could've come from. I didn’t have the strength to shoot down and hide behind the seats because his glare caused the concept of time to stagger, trip and to forget how to move.. I just sat there, returning his omnipotent glare as best I could. Undressing me with his eyes, I see, dragging slowly and deliberately over the opening of my white shirt that only showed a little bit of cleavage. He swipes his tongue over his top lip briefly…tempting me? After that stunt he pulled? Oh, this man has some audacity but it was about time karma struck again.

“No, no, no. Not here.” Without a second thought, or breath he jerks away from Ashlyn as if her skin had become venomous, her flimsy arms that once adorned his neck falling straight down to her sides with a loud smack—that even I could hear faintly. Every single step he took towards me was measured and unhurried as if time bent for him—I wouldn’t be surprised if it did with all the other things in this world willingly bending for him. *Cough* Ashlyn. 

Jude wore a smirk that I swear I could slap off right of his face if I had the balls to. He opens the door closest to me and beckons for me to get out with his forefingers.

“This isn’t our car, Leila?” he asks with a velvety voice, his eyes tracing my face like fingertips heavy-lidded as if I was something he wanted to unwrap. 

I don’t spare him a glance, I can’t. I’ll start crying again. I intend to ignore him in the way he did me. But I’m not helping to deflate his ego at all, I’m sure he can tell his presence and words are doing just the right thing—because I squirm in my seat like an idiot. I can't help it the glow that his team’s victory had given him ... .it was tantalising.

“I don’t wann-a be in a car with you, go be in a car with her.” I demand boldly, glazing over the cracks of nervousness in my voice with a solidified head nod at the end. I point at Ashlyn who, from the windshield view I have, looks misplaced with nowhere to go. 

 I can see his smirk get wider in peripheral as my words land, “My Leila’s being a big girl today it looks like…telling me no.”

“I am a freaking big girl, Jude.” I retorted in a salty tone, leaving no space for anymore annoying remarks. 

“This shit again, baby?” He sighs getting into the car and slamming the door closed behind him despite my small protests. I feel my heart clench as the car becomes intoxicated with his scent, I feel cornered, like I’m in an unfair fight. He sank into the seat, purposefully spread his exposed thighs wide to graze mine.

“I like your skirt, Leila.” he compliments cheekily. I shut my eyes tight to block him out.

“And the legs under it.” he finishes, leaning in to whisper it in my ear. 

An involuntary whine leaves my lips, this isn’t fair! He’s had 13 years to learn and perfect the fastest ways to set my body ablaze and of course in the most serious of moments he uses them against me, typical Jude.

 I feel like to breathe is to drink him in and slowly allow him ownership of my body as his hypnotic scent wafts into my bloodstream, like a powerful herb. So I hold my breath, and refuse to spare him a glance.

“You act  like the reason I do this isn’t for our future” I tilt my head to the side, taking his lips away from my ears. He leans his head down again, his smile menacing, trying to find my eyes. But they’re lowered and move frantically to escape his entrapment.

“Look at me Lele.” His grins are even wider as he manipulates my soft jaw in his palms stroking it with his rough thumb whilst feeding on the bodyrocking shiver that shoots through me. With a fiendish hum of satisfaction, he observes the increasingly rapid rise and fall of my chest with his eyes as his rough thumb slides down my jaw to graze my plump lip. They part involuntarily. Every nerve he touched on my body lit up in response to him and my body felt hot, restless—that’s what all the smirking was about. He knew I was in for a battle I couldn't win. I notice the temperature in the car getting higher, the air getting stuffier. I pant with desperation.

“Judee—”

“Mhmmm Lele?” he drags teasingly, inching my thumb closer and closer through my lip’s slight opening. His eyes darken when our eyes finally meet. My teary ones and his determined ones. Our gaze held for what seemed like hours and I can’t help but want to lean in and suck on his thumb to give him leeway to take me right here—-woah. My eyes widened with realization.

“No.” I rasp, moving my head from his grasp swiftly.

“Y-you hurt me today, Jude. Why did—”

He sighs loudly with a dramatic eyeroll slamming his head on the headrest behind him, cutting me off.

“I thought I gave you a reason to stop questioning me and nagging me this morning, Leila.”

My cheeks burn, I shake my head to shake the memories away.

“When I made you squirt so hard on my dick, you remember that? You weren’t very worried about her then, love. I made you promise to not bring this shit up.”

I gulp, hopefully not too audibly, at his vulgarity and I can’t help but let out a small cry.  Why am I still sitting in the car with him, despite everything? Letting him touch on me and the worst thing about it is that  I know from his demeanor and the look in his eyes that today will end like every other day. His tactful words and looks will win me over, by taking my mind first and then my body.

“Jude..” I beg and he only hums in response.

 “I’m so scared of what this is going to do to me.” 

The young  man is silent for a beat before he replies. He clears this throat shifting in his seat slightly. Something changes in his demeanor, and his eyes lighten.

“I know.”  No reassurance, nothing, my heart clenched in my chest. He reaches his hand out  finger my coils, wrapping them around his fingers strategically. His bottom lip tucked in his mouth as he toys with my mind, my body and my person mindlessly in this car. I peer up at him and immediately he leans down to kiss me as his hands gravitate towards the base of my neck and like an idiot with no back bone I kiss him back.

Because he’s my Jude and any other woman in his life is a counterfeit.

Jude’s veiny arms hoists my 5 '0 body up and places me in his lap to straddle him. Enlivened by the way my skirt rode up my thick thighs to reveal my white lace panties he started biting, pulling and aggressively sucking on my tongue and bottom lip, techniques that after years and years he knew would turn me into an animal in broad daylight. The whines he evokes from me just from lip to lip sex alone is concerning but a part of me hopes Ashlyn is witnessing this. All of this.

He groans into the kiss, attacking my mouth as I attempt to keep up. I felt his junior harden and his frequent shifting underneath me was a telltale sign.

“When my dick sticks out in my shorts, ride on it like I taught you.” He snarls, in my ear, and the car starts to rock slightly. He presses my hips down roughly onto his upwardly tilted groin to create friction between us, slowly gyrating beneath the thin lace of my panties. I pant with satisfaction in his face, looking down to see the thin lace start to bunch up due to all the friction

They say be careful what you wish for and that’s exactly right because just as he attempts to button my white blouse, there’s a stern knock coming from a disappointed looking Mark. 

His eyes transfix on me. 

[ethereal555]

Somefind this bitch for me? She don’t deserve my page

i think what we liked enjoyed the most about the fic is the fact that thry weren’t together and he was married and had a whole family,it was thrilling and exciting and maybe a little a immoral but it was just so fun to read about but now that he’s divorced and they are acting like a married its too predictable and dare i say boring*so sorryyy*🫣

who’s we bitch?

why don’t you say this without the anonymity. what your handle so I can block you,to save you from reading boring shit xx

jokes on you wotless bozo, it’s not predictable or boring like you think, what are you doing with your life apart from poorly critiquing writing.

go play in fast speed traffic no one will care x *so sorryyy*🫣

[ethereal555]

anyways guys xx

Chapter 5.2 is coming and it’s going to be a long, hectic one. So grab popcorn, drinks. Gonna b a Whirlwind. It’ll also be the last chapter.

I’m writing another series. I only started writing when this first cheetah part came out and so I’ve learnt a lot and thank you all for being such supportive and honest friends ughhhh. I promise to learn and learn so that I can create the best worlds/content for you guys. I know what it’s like to want to let lost in stories and I want to became the writer that can do that for you guys. But as you know I am studying and multitasking so bear with me.

[ethereal555]

i think what we liked enjoyed the most about the fic is the fact that thry weren’t together and he was married and had a whole family,it was thrilling and exciting and maybe a little a immoral but it was just so fun to read about but now that he’s divorced and they are acting like a married its too predictable and dare i say boring*so sorryyy*🫣

who’s we bitch?

why don’t you say this without the anonymity. what your handle so I can block you,to save you from reading boring shit xx

jokes on you wotless bozo, it’s not predictable or boring like you think, what are you doing with your life apart from poorly critiquing writing.

go play in fast speed traffic no one will care x *so sorryyy*🫣

[ethereal555]

I might permanently leave tumblr because the likes are appalling :/ I’m so sorry.

It might be wattpad updates from now on

[ethereal555]

CHEETAH PT.5.1

virgil van dijk x black!reader

For Virgil, watching Ameena's smile grow as well as her bump was a joy he thought he’d never feel again for any woman on earth. It melted the icicles guarding his heart and filled his stomach with warmth.  It was relieving to feel like he was doing something right after many years of doing wrong by the important women in his life, like Ameena and definitely Rike.

To Ameena’s luck the unhappily married couple, after many disagreements, headaches and compromises, had amicably divorced. Although…for Virgil it was non-negotiable territory regarding who would be moving out and when— Rike and Virgil were set on living under the same roof until their last child turned 18. 

This was a bomb that took a while to dispose of for a pregnant, hormonal and grumpy Ameena—who responded to this knowledge with a firm slap to Virgil’s face with no hesitation whatsoever. Virgil understood her frustration though, gave her a tight-lipped kiss in response and took into account how that would feel for a new mother to hear. But he stood strong in his decision because he was doing it for the wellbeing of his 3 kids. He knew how depleting it felt to grow up without a father, at such an early age he learned what a deadbeat was and how grimy the men who held this title were. He vividly remembers hearing every week the incessant excuses from his estranged dad about how his mother was at fault for their lack of time together. 

“It’s because, Virgil, I live too far. I swear if I lived closer you’d see your daddy everyday, you hear me son?”

What bullshit. 

Virgil would be damned if that was the experience his kids would have. And so far he was doing a great job.

Following the months after their divorce and the new routine of his co-inhabitation with his ex-wife all Ameena had asked for was transparency. She still felt insecure in her position as his second baby mother and the only sense of reassurance Virgil would give Ameena, regarding her relationship to him, was the fact she was ‘carrying his seed’. That’s it, that’s all she was to him in her mind, a seed-carrier. Ameena still wasn’t his girlfriend… and in her head the divorcees could still be engaging in sexual relations and it wouldn’t be an immoral thing for Virgil to do because he was technically single. It irked her soul. Aside from the morning sickness, this topic was another trigger for her to regurgitate all her food at random hours of the day..

But Virgil promised that this wasn’t the case, despite how useless he felt labels were, he would frequently comfort Ameena with the knowledge that by carrying his last child, his only son, she did the biggest honour in the world for him. Whilst Ameena did accept his sweet nothings, she knew her worth and knew he’d have to claim her properly before the child was born—her body wasn’t changing drastically, her morning sickness wasn’t literally killing her, and her social skills hadn’t depleted for nothing. She deserved a title just like Rike had, and if she had to be rebellious to get it, she would.

.In real time

Virgil stood shirtless towering at the back of the brick interior studio. His arms are crossed over his stomach in awe of the glowing heavily pregnant goddess woman who was being bombarded by repetitive flashes and cheering from photographers. Alongside the natural lighting beaming from the grand windows, the studio fitted lights around the perimeter of the black backdrop she stood on made her look expensive. Dashing.

 Despite the ungodly heat threatening to kill everyone in this studio, he watched intently. He didn’t smile too hard or stare too intensely because he was aware of how nervous she became under his gaze but, man, it was hard when she looked so angelic. 

The theme for this maternity shoot was the colour yellow, for their summer baby, due in August.They were intending to manifest happiness into their child’s life and hopefully into their pending union so yellow was fitting. Ameena wore a sunflower crown around the perimeter of her head pulled back a bit to show her full edges. The crown perfectly matched with the yellow bandeau dress she wore that stopped at her ankles…which were pretty swollen. The dress hugged her bump perfectly…it was a dream for Virgil.

When 12pm hit, a round of applause filled the room, in other words, the shoot was over and the crew hurriedly started to dismantle the backdrop and camera lenses. Ameena, flustered, waddles over toVirgil fanning herself with her hands. She wore a sheepish look on her face, sensing he’d watched her the whole time..

“You made my dick hard up there. You looked amazing, mama.” His thirsty eyes scan her up and down, unintentionally tucking his bottom lip into his mouth.

She gasps, slapping his chest in shock, he had such a crude way of speaking in front of people that made her squirm. Satisfied with her bodily reaction, he places a kiss on her perspiring forehead, relishing the salty taste invading his mouth. His palms rub down her back and land on her plump bottom giving it an aggressive squeeze.

“Virgill” she moans out in pain. The overstimulated lady shivers, even in this heat he had the power to raise goosebumps all over the surface of her skin. 

“You’re so inappropriate in public.” Ameena’s body had softened over these last months, becoming more curvaceous shaped by the life growing inside her. The baby weight looked better on her in Virgil’s opinion but it was clear she didn’t think so. She had already booked a few personal training sessions after postpartum recovery because she felt like a slob. Virgil had recommended her the best of the best to help Ameena feel herself again.

The heat, alongside Virgil’s manhandling, had Ameena feeling hot and bothered.  To cool her cheeks, she places them firmly against Virgil’s naked upper body hoping it could provide a cooling sensation, even just a tiny bit, or maybe she just wanted to be in his skin. Either way, Virgil didn’t mind. He sympathizes with her constant feeling of discomfort; he could only imagine how hard it must be carrying a nearly 10 pound weight on your stomach 24/7 and sleeping with it in this heat.

“Wait!! You said I looked amazing. What? Am I too sweaty now?” she questions desperately as she peels at the sweaty patches of discoloration ruining her yellow sundress underneath her heavy  breasts. She was becoming irritated at the material constantly sticking to her skin. She was already bombarded by all this excess weight; she didn't have anything else clinging to her body.

“No. You’re perfect.” Her cheeks tingle with giddiness, and she hides her cheesy facial expressions from him by pushing further into his chest. He felt her beaming smile against his skin and laughed, caressing the nape of neck territorially. He traced patterns along her skin, aimlessly…thinking almost solemnly about what he was going to say to Ameena.

“Mijn koningin?” he drags, his fingers slowly dancing at her shoulders now.

My Queen

Ameena hums, delighted at the foreign nickname she knew the meaning of. 

“Now, do you remember what I said to you yesterday before bed about seeing my mother today? She is travelling back to the Netherlands tomorrow, to see her sister, and she may not be back for a few months…”

As humid as it was in this studio, with many large fans just circulating warm air, Ameena felt as though icy fingers were traveling up the length of her spine, all the way up to her neck and circulating her throat. Her body shivered at the mention of Hellen. They had done a good few weeks at keeping her name at bay, and now it was back. 

Hurriedly, Ameena tries to think of a believable excuse (if her pregnancy brain would allow her) and recoils from Virgil touch..

“Um… I need to shower, I feel sticky and fat and…hot” she mutters looking up at him with glossy eyes.

“It’s important Ameena. She wants to pray for her grandson before you give birth, it’s traditio–”

“.and…and...I’m also hungry, and I need to pee…and..” 

The look of disapproval Virgil held was hard to ignore but Ameena kept trying to dodge his demands anyway. She wasn’t confident she could sway him, he was stern when it came to his family traditions but Ameena kept hopeful and tried to ride on the fact that she was pregnant and distress caused to her could harm the baby.

Surely he wouldn’t force her if it was causing her distress, right. He had changed.

“Don’t look at me like that Virgil.” she whispers, creating distance between them. “But my baby, h-he’s not even here yet, can’t she wait? Then you can take him and I don't have to be there.”

She was scared and definitely not looking forward to meeting his mother in person, the woman wasn’t stupid and dates never lied. If she didn’t already know, she’d gather soon that Ameena and Virgil had had an affair and Ameena wasn’t emotionally stable enough to bear scrutiny. Ameena couldn’t help but repeat questions in her head like, “ will she judge me? Question my morals as a woman? Does she think at my age I’ll be fit for a mother, will she prefer Nike over me?”

“It’s tradition. All my kids have had their prayers whilst in the womb, and so will he.”

Ameena's heart dropped at the bass in his voice because she Virgil was a man of his word.

He? Yes. It’s a boy, they found that out last week. They’ve yet to select a name but they’re hoping that once they meet him a perfectly fitting name will come up. So far, they’ve bought all his clothes, decorated his room with big spaceships and planet shaped stickers all around the perimeter of the walls and ceiling. It truly looked like they were out in space when entering that room, not to talk of his spaceship inspired cot. His room was a canvas of dark navy hues gradienting into midnight blue hues with bright white paint ever so frequently dotted around the hue—to symbolise the stars. A tad or dark purple and burnt orange on the ceiling too, to really capture the essence of space, it was so cute. 

“No! I’m not ready, I don’t want to see her. A–and you can’t make me, y’know.” She removes the sunflower crown from her head with haste and thrusts into Virgil’s hands, her once steady voice now breaking slightly.

Then there is a silence that invades their conversation as they look into each other's eyes. And only then do they realise that they are still standing in the boiling studio which was definitely making them more irritable than needed. Virgil’s expression is blank, waiting for her reasoning as to why she still thinks she has freewill when he’s in the picture and contemplating whether to throw the sunflowers in the bin or whether to keep them as a souvenir.

“Alright. Hometime.” he suggests a small frown staining his face as Ameena’s body language starts to change. She pokes her tongue into the left side of her cheek, and her eyes are focused hard on him with a slight furrow of her sharp brows —her signature brat face. Reaching his free hand out for her to grab; they maneuvered through the hot studio, reaching a set of wooden stairs with a green and white neon exit above on their left. The door at the bottom of the stairs leading outside was wide open, filtering in the infamous stifling heat that was quite unorthodox for members of the United Kingdom to endure around this time.

So that was the reason it was so fucking hot in the studio, depsite the multiple fans they’d turned on in that attic.

They slowly trotted down the stairs, Virgil was extra slow and intentional with his steps turning around ever so often to make sure Ameena wasn’t stepping on her long sundress. As beautiful as it looked in contrast to  her skin, it was so fucking long and quite frankly a fucking safety hazard. Ameena huffed with every step she took, not wanting to touch Virgil at this moment.

“Just stop Virgil! I can walk down the stairs myself, why do you think I’m so useless?” Ameena hisses as he pinches the bottom of her dress riding it up her leg purposefully.

Had he said that? he questioned internally. Maybe the heat was making them both delirious.  Now, Virgil was over the moon about his child with Ameena. It was a dream come true, but just like football taught him … getting what you want is exciting but are you prepared to withstand the good and the bad?

“You’re not useless, baby. Your bump is growing bigger everyday and I’m sure you can’t even see the step in front of you, am I right Ameena?” Virgil had learnt well how to combat her mood swings, answering her with tightly gritted teeth at times, but it didn’t make it any less infuriating.

She nods still allowing him to guide her down the steps, “but I’ve got ittt. I haven’t felt independent for 7 months now, and…. it’s so hard…”

Her complaints were futile because as long as she was swollen and pregnant he’d be at her side.

Ameena’s mood swings were atrocious for him and quite frankly so was her sex drive. It was like, in those first few formative weeks of her pregnancy when they were estranged, she’d been replaced by an extra horny and extra irritable Ameena. Even in his most caring moments she’d find something to nitpick about or somehow get offended and start wailing. It was a vicious cycle and it definitely took him off guard every time. 

Now the sex drive, it was truly demonic. For the longest time Virgil was extremely uncomfortable with having sex with the pregnant woman and would limit their sexual activities to; ass-eating, pussy-eating, fingering either hole, dry humping and kissing. But those boundaries went out of the window with Ameena’s newfound strength and body. She’d demand his…peice… in the waiting rooms of hospital appointments, after games, in the middle of dinners (her birthday dinner included), in the middle of their baby shower, at her sister’s house, hell even before the shoot. She wanted it all the time and with the new body the baby had blessed her with—a phat ass and big, perky titties– it was hard to resist. One thing that never went away was that glint in her eyes when she wanted something from him. Sharp and alluring the perfect illusion to make a grown man cry on his knees.

– 50 – minutes before.

Ameena POV

Virgil and I are sitting on 2 wooden chairs at the back of the pretty studio, nearest to the biggest fan in there. My feet are in his hand and he’s massaging my left foot now. It feels like heaven, I always thought pregnant women were exaggerating about the back pains and foot pains, but it's safe to say life has humbled me for my blatant disbelief and ignorance. At 23 years of age it is hard to admit that I can’t even walk around my house without having to use my hands to support my back, like an African Aunty. It’s funny though because when Virgil is plowing at me from the back, hammering me from the back into my mattress like there’s no tomorrow my back pain is nowhere to be found. So it must only hurt when I stand up.

Lucas, our main photographer, trots gaily towards us. A warm smile bloomed on his face as we stood up, thinking it was our turn. I moan from the absence of Virgil crafty fingers but I know they’ll  be back soon. Lucas is a very hyper man, I’ve noticed. Very flamboyant— definitely gay and that made me feel all the more safer behind all those intimidating and flashing lights. He wore fake, bright blonde hair, immaculate glass skin, piercing blue eyes and an eyebrow piercing. He had a tattoo that said fearless in cursive just above his left cheekbone. God, he was fit, so fit.

“I’d fuck him if he was straight. I swear I would. Who knows, when baby boy is out we could arrange a threes—”

With a look of disgust he pinches my bum so hard I’m ready to scream, but I couldn’t even react because Lucas came rushing to our sides with, again, a lot of energy. 

“—Heyyyy, Mr and Mrs Dijk. I’m predicting it, you both will be the parents of a male version of Naomi Campbell. You guys look stunning together, awwww, I’m calling it!!! Oh, you look so wonderful Mrs Dijk! So pretty, isn’t it Mr Dijk?” he beams, nudging at Virgil to acknowledge me. But I knew Virgil thought I looked good already, he’s said it today about a thousand times. And he tells me I’m stunning every morning. Oh, how far we’ve come!!

“Yes, I tell her all—”

“Wait, Lucas!!! I’m actually not his wife, or his girlfriend, y’know. Crazy innit? He’s just using me as a breeding machine, aren’t you baby daddy?’ I giggle, looking up at him with an oblivious smile that he doesn’t return. His jaw ticks a bit, but I’m sure there’s just some food in his mouth.

“And! He actually has 3 more kids, and still lives with his wife. I’m the side piec—” 

“Woah, ok, that's tea for m–”

“Oh no! Don’t worry Lucas, do not worry about little old me. Don’t worry that handsome little face of yours  either, because I’m giving him a limited amount of time that he doesn’t know about—for all he knows he could have 3 days left to wife me or I’m gone. And then he’ll have to find another breeding machine who won’t match my freak, my looks, my body, my bank account…nothing.”

“Am I right…daddy?” I murmur under my breath for only Virgil to hear, feigning innocence.

Another thing I forgot to mention about my pregnancy symptoms was the excessive talking, exposing my privacy to strangers all the time. It earns me lots of spankings from Virgil, I guess that's why I haven’t made a conscious effort to stop. How can you blame me for wanting to have sex with him? He’s so sexy and for some strange reason sex feels so much better now. I know he feels the same too because I’m so thick now, he’s been blessed with the best view..

I’d be lying if I said my blood didn’t run cold when he looked at me up and down with an emotion I couldn’t pinpoint. He wasn’t happy, sure, but imagine how I felt carrying a child for someone that on paper I have no relationship with whatsoever. If anything was to happen to him, God forbid, I wouldn’t be called or regarded in conversation pertaining to him whatsoever—his distant family would probably think I was some prostitute he knocked up and kept a secret which on paper was true.

Silence stretched uncomfortably after I spoke, not too sure why, I was just being honest. 

“O-ok, sorry to hear that. I do wish you both the best in the future. And regardless your child will be a literal model so that could make up for your…uh… lack of… relationship, I guess. But I, um sorry–I just don’t know what to say after that—”

“Don’t mind her, man. She tends to get ahead of herself.” Virgil says deadpan crossing his arms in front of his body, referring to me as if I wasn't standing right next to him.

“Says you, I’m sorry but look at my fucking stomach Virgil!” He shocks me when he places his palm over my mouth to silence me. I bite his hand, but he doesn’t flinch. At this point, I can’t blame Lucas for having a laughing fit in front of us. I mean look at us, we’re supposed to be parents but we’re fighting like siblings.

“Sorry about this Lucas. What did you come here to say?” Virgil starts attempting to have a one to one conversation with Lucas. His palms are tight against my lips but I’m tired of struggling and just surrender to my worst fear—silence.

Lucas’ eyes flicker to me, ever so often, as he continues to give Virgil a run down of what's going to happen today. A verbal itinerary. But he goes on to drop a bomb, he says we have an unexpected 50 minute gap between now and our shoot because the cameras are overheating.

“But it’s working out for the greater good because at least your makeup will set properly before the shoot. Usually with clients they have problems with sweating and oiliness coming across on the camera because our lights are quite invasive. So use the time to powder up and get some fan time!”

I nod, noting that down. I’m glad I brought my Charlotte Tilbury Flawless Filter setting powder. I spit in Virgil's hands to get him to let go of my lips! I think he’s unaware that he’s smudged my fucking lip combo.

“Ok, love birds, I’ll see you at one…quarter past one. Okay?”

“Thanks Lucas, man. We’ll see you.” 

Lucas walks off with his camera. And now I’m stuck with my mean bodyguard.

Virgil doesn’t spare me a look before he goes back to the wooden chairs to sit and scroll through his phone, pretending it was better entertainment than me….lol. He wipes his incriminating hand on his lap to rid it of spit and lipstick. He had an attitude.

“You’re too old to be sulking, no?” I tease as I walk to sit opposite to him on my wooden chair.

“You’re too pregnant to be that disrespectful…You’ve seen what I’m capable of doing to you, pregnant or not.”

“...You wouldn’t dare Virgil, you just wouldn’t. You’re soft now. Anyways it was only a joke, apart from the proposing part. I’m not staying around without a ring or…. something. What the fuck, I’m having my first child with a stranger essentially.”

“Yeah?” “Yes, Virgil. On paper you’re nothing to me. I’ve told you this.”

He nods with a tight-lipped expression, “And you feel good about having to beg to be proposed to?” 

I’d be offended by that comment if indeed I was begging but I wasn’t.  I stay silent because I know my worth. I'll leave if he doesn’t at least give me some form of recognition in his life after all he’s put me through. He only gets gobby when he is upset, so I take accountability for my part to play in his insult because he’s been so good to me lately. 

I waddle over to stand behind him, leaning down to place my head in the crook of his neck, as well as to see what the fuck was so entertaining on his phone. Nothing!! Just boring, football stuff, a few female bots commenting horny shit in his comments. 

“Don’t fucking me rude to me.” I hissed in his ear. 

I plant kisses on his cheek and they lead down behind his ear, then along his jaw and when I feel his jaw tick I know I’ve earned his love back. I keep kissing until I’m at his broad shoulder. I kitty lick at his muscles tracing the scars I’ve left from yesterday… and just like that his body, easily, is at his mercy. My kisses were telling about what mood I was in, wet and hard so he knew exactly what I wanted. Why i wanted to fuck him in this moment, I don’t know? But I never question my body’s needs. He trembled beneath my kisses as per usual, his eyes fluttering shut but only for a moment. He couldn’t afford to fall apart right now, not here. He sat frozen in his chair, his phone had disappeared, every muscle in his built body tensed with the effort to himself together. But he didn’t need to keep together, I wanted him to unravel.

I’m breathy now as if I was the one being tortured with sloppy kisses.

“You should behave, Ameena.” Virgil grits.

“No.” I bring my wet lips to his ear and nibble on his lobe, “You know what… I really need to pee, really badly. But I can’t take my dress off by myself. Can you help me?”  

I bite back a smirk and study his face. His eyes fixate on mine as if he’s trying to be discerning at this moment. His eyes fell to my lips and I quickly pout, feigning innocence—yes, it still worked on him.

“Please…” I fiddle with the moisturized, soft curls on his head, gripping his free head of curls between my fingers and discreetly pulling his head back a bit.

“Now, V.”  He looks alarmed by my dominance but gets up anyway. Adjusting his jeans, and pulling his white tank top over the hem of his trousers.

“Do you need a new pair of underwear?” I laugh at his silliness, giving him a disapproving look as I continue to pull him towards the bathroom on the other side of the studio. There have been times where I’vecompletely lost control of my bladder, but this wasn’t one of those moments. This time, I’ve just lost control of my decorum.

Once we arrive at the disabled toilets I release my grip on his wrist. I gesture, with a click of my fingers, for him to stand against the door. Instantly, I grab a tissue roll that was placed on the sink and lay it out all over the floor directly in front of where Virgil was standing.  I choose to ignore Virgil’s questions and encourage him to stay as still as he can. I’m too tunnel visioned right now for extra questions. This toilet isn’t nasty but I need a clean surface for my knees and applying a few layers of tissue to the floor will put my mind at peace. I gag at the thought of kneeling in someone’s piss.

Once I finish setting the tissues down I peer at Virgil’s knowing expression and slowly fall to my knees.

“Pull my dick out.” I hum. I hold onto him for support as I lower myself to the ground kneeling in front of him.

“Ameena—” I need to feel something, I need to arouse myself so I move my bandeau dress down to rest underneath my breasts and my twins spring free. My nipples are already throbbing and hard as they touch the cold air between Virgill and I.

My baby daddy growls, skimming his fingers down my hair strands because he loves them too.

“Patience, baby.”  I spit in my hands and rub my twins against each other, stimulating myself. I pinch and pull at my sensitive buds hissing at the sensations of pleasure that strike through me. My nipples had become so swollen and sensitive it hurt to even lay on them. But in this lustful state I relish that pain it brings me. It gives me an inexplicable feeling. 

“You don’t need the toilet?” He asks genuinely. I look at him with a look that says ‘duh nigga’. 

He chuckles at my determination and fixates on my tits as he unbuttons his trousers with one hand, the other flicking and grabbing at my right boob, but he’s a shit multitasker and a bit too slow for my liking. I smack his hands away and pull his zipper down with haste by myself feeling my mouth salivating. As his lower body’s layers decrease, I audibly moan with anticipation. I pull his hard on out of his boxer, dribbling like a dog as it springs free.

“Is it a good idea to fuck me before the shoot....”

“Don’t wanna fuck. Just wanna suck your dick. Is that ok?” I deadpan, collecting saliva in my mouth.

His hands trace over my light baby hairs that collect near my ears. I can hear his breaths becoming louder and hotter with desperation. His dark eyes lock me in place like the force of gravity, so I know when he’s ready for me he won’t stop showing me mercy.

“I’m craving the feeling of your cum in my throat.” Virgil sucks in a harsh breath, his fingers' impact on my head burns now with pressure of his lust and they linger.

"You taste so good, the way it slides down my throat and drips down my chin. It’s my favourite thing.”

“Shit, when you talk like this you make me wish you weren’t nearly 8 months pregnant…”

“Really…how come?” I ask, feigning ignorance.

“Because now I can’t pick you up, and throw you and..fucking…break you like I want to Ameena.”

“You wanna break me?” “Don’t play stupid games…”

I giggled excitedly. He wasn’t aware of the lubrication he’d given my lips downstairs with his words but I used that to my advantage. One of my fingers slips down towards my girl and I rub my clit slowly, I’m in need of some friction. I look up at him, driven by lust, and pucker my lips at him. My world becomes fuzzy because I need him now. And with the look in my eyes he can tell.

He grips hair into a ponytail tapping his dick onto my lips a few times as I collect more and more saliva. The look in his eyes is a warning as if to say  ‘you don’t know what you’ve got yourself into’ but I do know. I know that I won’t be able to speak after this. 

He jabs his oozing tip in between my lips but I stop him, quickly.

“Mhm” I shake my head, gesturing for him to spit in my mouth first. I open wide and allow his dribble to touch my tongue and melt into my mouth, collecting it with the rest of the saliva in my mouth. Some of his saliva lands on my chin. And I love the sensation as it trickles down.

Dedicated, he rubs his cock along my lips, completely ruining my chocolate lip combo with his salty precum. 

“Oooo…my makeup ughh—” He thrusts into my mouth without warning and I moan with euphoria and surprise, humming instantly to send vibrations to his sensitive head. He doesn’t take his time and he’s not gentle just as I like it. 

My ears are met with Virgil’s low, throaty groans that do good in making me wetter. The sounds coming from him are like sighs of surrender—he knows what he’s in for. He stabs into my mouth with no care in the world as to whether I can breathe or not.. Despite his fast pace, I brace my tongue to trace the structure of his dick sucking with all my might and tracing his bulging veins with my tip.. I hollow my cheeks and loosen my jaw as he scores incessantly kicking his dick into the back of my throat as if it was a goal post.

“Fuck baby—you’re swallowing me so well…”

Motivated by his words of affirmation, I bop my head up and down his length, moaning pornographically and stimulating my clit more and more by adding a third finger to swirl. Virgil’s dick punches the back of my throat abruptly as he leans down to smack my ass, and squeezes me with his hands playfully.

My mouth is still warming up to fit his entirety into my mouth so hot tears prick in my eyes with the sudden invasion.  I pull back as far as his fists grips on my hair will let me, and use my hands to pump the base of his cock that my mouth refuses to swallow just yet. 

Unexpectedly just as I got into the hang of things, I felt a little flutter in my stomach. I was apprehensive at first thinking it could be vomit. That wouldn’t be good, it would ruin my clothes and my makeup and this whole shoot we paid £750 for. Then a familiar sensation washes my worries away, a sensation I can only describe as tiny bubbles popping inside me to comfort me. My little baby kicks, and kicks excitedly. Not once, not twice but three times as if to say ‘I’m here”

I squeeze at Virgil's hamstrings and he pulls out of my mouth immediately allowing ropes of saliva and precum to glisten the floor…

“You can’t handle it?” He smirks out of breath, his eyes teary and dark. 

“He’s ki-kicking.” I try to get out, aware that I’m so out of breathe and that was probably what my baby was kicking for,

“It hurts?”

“No, it j–just caught me off guard.” I take a few gulps of breath.

He slaps my right cheek with his dick and laughs when I squeal in discomfort.

“Virgil!! My bloomin’ makeup—”

And with that, he invades my small mouth again and I allow thick strings of saliva overflowing underneath my tongue to pool around the corner of my mouth and leak onto his slippery cock. He grunts animalistically as  I choke. The promptness at which he entered my mouth pushed the thick saliva into the back of my

throat which got caught in my breath. I huff twice to pull the saliva out of my throat and spit back onto his missile.

“H–arder” I smile, with dribble decorating my lips and chin. Tears from my eyes have accumulated down at the base of my neck but I don’t care.  “Wider, princess”

He grips my head tight, pushing my face towards the base of his cock. I look up at him, trying to open my throat more and more. He’s taken all the space in my throat, so I have no choice but to breathe through my nose. I choke hard, my eyes squeeze tight to control myself because I didn’t want to vomit. My gurgles and struggles to breath definitely turns the fucker on, too. He moans and his stomach tenses as I wiggle my head from side to side to fit him all in my mouth— so much so that the corners of my mouth are stretched like they’re about to rip. Luckily, I enjoy the stretch. 

 I keep sucking and moaning and sucking and moaning for dear life, my aim is to suck the cum of him but with my intense determination I start to heave because my nasal breathing is disturbed by his prickly pubic hairs. He senses this and he pulls my head back from the base of his cock, and I gasp loudly desperate to breath.. 

“Again” I cry, feeling knots in my stomach unravel as I add finger myself. 

I spit straight onto his dick and try and swallow his whole length again, I suck my cheeks in and moan hysterically as my legs begin to shake and my inner thighs begin contracting. This I can tell sends Virgil over the edge too, he loves seeing me cum all in my panties. He pulls out of mouths and rubs himself until ropes of semen start to spurt out and land on my dress and chest. Overstimulated by his manly groans and grunts  I open wide and he continues to ejaculate, now aiming into my mouth. I swallow with no hesitation every last drop. I take his dick into my hands and his head drops with content as I suck as much cum from his tip as possible.

“You taste so fucking good. It just slides down my throat.” I breathe out. 

“Listen. Don’t say too much, I don’t want to have to violate you on the floor, my love.”

“I want you too” I definitely looked crazy with all the shit on my face but he didn’t seem to care.

He carries me up from the floor placing many sweet kisses on my forehead and on my,now, soft nipple before supporting my body as my knees buckle underneath me. Once I regain strength in my legs, I take my knickers off and flush them down the toilet, and they surprisingly go down. 

Virgil walks towards me gripping my jaw in his hand, he lifts my dress over my breasts and assesses my face, “not too bad, just clean your chin and redo your lipstick thing….throatgoat,”

I cringe and smack his chest. Looking in the mirror I am distraught at the literal crime scene but I get tissue, run it underwater and wipe his kids off of my face.

Virgil surprises me more day after day at how observant he is.  I usually walk with a waddle now, but even more so after I came all over myself, and he picked up on my discomfort. He walks up behind me with a smirk plastered on his lips. He licks his lips slowly, tiling his head to the side to see me well.

“You’re walking around like a squeaky shoe, squelching and shit.” 

He laughs at my clueless reaction.

“You came?” he asks almost reverently. 

I nod.

“You can’t reach down there, can you mama?” 

I hold my face in my hands, sheepishly. “Is that why you said I sound like a squeaky shoe, you prick!”

“I’m not joking, I could hear it.” I avoid his gaze as he turns me around and hoists me onto the counter. “So fucking wet lately, isn’t it?”.

I nod again hearing my heart in my ears, I look down, unable to bear the eye contact—I’d rather fiddle with my nails.. He pushes my dress back and with a warm, wet tissue daps and swipes at my juices overflowing from my labia and vagina. He’s slow and intentional because he like to see me squirm…

“Ok! That’s enough. We’ve got 10 mins left.”

He slaps my thighs—I think he likes to see them jiggle— and he finishes up with a dry tissue.

“Gotten everything out of your system now, you’re good Ameena?”

“For now, yes, baby.”

End of flashback

As the ‘couple’ proceeded down the creaky wooden stairs, slowly, Virgil became aware of increasingly drawn out sniffles.

He drew in a sharp breath and closed his eyes, hoping he hadn’t just opened a can of worms with Ameena by simply asking for a favour—or maybe demanding it. Nowadays, when she started she didn’t stop. He was convinced it was all the water he was making her drink on a daily basis because he hadn’t said anything offensive. Since finding out about her pregnancy he’d taken his bluntness down a notch or two.

Once they reached the last step and were dripping in sweat they headed for his Red Benz which was parked directly in front of the door so Ameena wouldn’t have to walk too far. Her feet were swollen enough!

“Wait here for a second, baby.” He anticipates the scorching condition of the car. They were in the studio for around two and half hours so he knew the temperature would be similar to hell in there and as he opened the door he was proved right. He switches the AC on and shuts the door.

Ameena stood by the entrance of the studio with a tightly squeezed, rumpled face. Her hands supported her lower back. 

“The car needs to cool down before we go in.”  He isn’t met with a reply.

He walks up to her and flicks her nose, playfully, in hopes of getting her to cheer up.  She shrugs, turning her slightly pink face away, still grumpy and sniffling. Like a pest he follows her face, flicking her lips this time.

Ameena smacks his hands away feeling tears well up in her eyes.

“I’ve been sulkin for more than 10 minutes now and you haven’t even asked me what’s wrong Virgil. Shame on you, don’t touch me.”

His eyes widen with complete shock as her lips start to tremble uncontrollably. She bursts into tears, placing her head in her hands. It was quite the site, anyone walking past would’ve thought the worst had happened.

He couldn’t help but to scoff, out of shock really, he knew it had to do with her relationship with his mum. He was at a crossroads with no foreseeable way of making all parties happy—he wasn’t going to disobey family tradition with his last born over petty reasons. But, he had promised to protect Ameena. Was he breaking that promise by encouraging her to see his mum? He couldn’t help but defend his mum, she was the woman who had sacrificed a lot for him to have his career, who loved him unconditionally and her grandkids—he was sure she had no malicious intent.

“What have I told you about that crying shit, Ameena?” he questions, frustrated, mentally slapping himself right after his outburst. He was very aware of the fact they were in public, and because of his social status, he didn’t want the papers twisting and making stories if they were to be seen.

“Why are you cursing at me?!” she shouts crying even louder pushing at his chest. She waddles further away from him and opts to stand nearer to the car. She leans on the passenger seat door upset, still muttering insults at him.  

“You’re so fucking mean, Virgil. I’m carrying your child!”

He slicks his hair back with the accumulation of sweat dripping from his forehead, his jaw clenched as thought of ways to communicate to her that this prayer was happening. At 23 years old, crying shouldn’t be her only resort to getting what she wants or expressing disapproval, it was overstimulating. Virgil intended for this to be a nice day for them both, a preview into parenthood; getting photos taken with the baby, buying more clothes and then going to see his mom who also had a few physical presents and spiritual gifts for them..

As clueless pedestrians walk past, sending glares of disapproval and pity, his spirit changes. He shouldn’t get frustrated with her. She couldn’t help how she was feeling, it was all hormonal. She was going through all this so he could be gifted with the greatest gift in the world.

 A son. 

Gratitude softens his approach. He walks over to the passenger’s door where Ameena stood dabbing at her swollen eyes. At first, she plays hard, swatting his affections away but then once he pins her hands by her side against her hips and kisses her tears away, Ameena can’t help but to melt into his touch, breathing out soft moans as she finally got what she was craving. Affection and a distraction from talking about a topic she was most uncomfortable about. The snot didn’t faze him, he loved her in her entirety and had consumed most of her bodily liquids.

“I’ll eat you out when we get home, but only if you forgive me mama.”

She looks up as if to think of what her answer was but he knew and she knew immediately that he was forgiven.

“I forgive you Virgil.” she says softly, leaning in to lick his lips.

 He just hoped this reaction wasn’t an accumulation of her discontent to go and see his mother because that was non negotiable. 

5:36pm, in Ameena’s front yard.

“I HATE YOU VIRGIL. NO. NO—STOP!!!!” Ameena screams, thrashing against his arms as he carries her bridal style towards his Benz.

“I don’t wanna go!!” she cries elbowing and punching him wherever she could just to get him to drop her. 

“Stop screaming you fucking brat.” he hisses in her face but quickly craining his head back to avoid her swinging.

“You’re a terrible baby father. You can’t force me to meet her. Fuck you, Virgil seriously!!”

Virgil treads confidently over the pebbled driveway until he gets to the passenger’s door. Not once had he flinched at her words or her frantic hands aiming for his face. He opens the passenger door using one finger as most of his hands were occupied with her weight, once the door had opened he sat her in the car.

She shrieks with rage but Virgil slams the door hard before the sound can echo around the gated neighbourhood and get them in trouble. Ameena hits the dashboard with her fists hoping to destroy something or activate the airbag, she punches the steering wheel which earns a loud honk—but she was disheartened when Virgil didn’t jump in reaction. 

She frantically thought of the best way to change his mind. Oh! Her baby daddy kept coins and gum pots in the centre console. Perfect. The heat definitely played a part in her rash decision but with unsteady labored breaths she took a handful of coins and threw them all over his seat and the backseat. She wound down the window, and threw a load of them at him to trigger Virgil.

“Get me out!!! I’m not going to that witch’s house! I’ll never forgive you.”

“Witch? Keep playing Ameena, keep trying me.” he growls from the front of the car. 

She didn’t know who he was on the phone, texting, but she swore if she could get a hold of that phone she’d throw it and break it. Next, she put a handful of gum in her mouth and chewed until the sweetness had gone, and then stuck a few pieces on the ceiling, on the steering wheel and on his seat. On his breaks and the rearview mirror, too. She tipped the rest of the capsules all over the car spreading it everywhere. Completely fucking his car up. It was hot as fuck so the gum would defiently melt and stick.

She knew she was taking advantage of her pregnancy right now but she had too. He wasn’t respecting her boundaries by forcing her to see a woman she judged her, a woman who after finding out Ameena was pregnant didn’t say not one ‘congratulations’ but instead questioned in Dutch ‘een donkere vrouw, Virgil?’ which translates in english to ‘a dark woman really, Virgil?’

She fought tooth and nail to know what that meant from Virgil. She cried, blackmailed Virgil, went on google translate and did everything she could to find out what it meant until Virgil got tired and finally announced the meaning.

Virgil was mad at her for eavesdropping but that didn’t lessen the blow of his mother’s words. If that's what she thought about Ameena then she’d definitely still be rooting for Virgil and Rike’s relationship and she didn’t know how she’d deal with that when raising a child and dealing with life postpartum. 

Just thinking about the comment brought tears to Ameena’s eyes. This was a woman who would share the same last name as her son, a colorist woman. No.

Virgil opens the driver’s door and catches a glimpse of the pig sty that was now his car, with gum and coins everywhere. The gum would soon melt into the interior due to how hot it was, she didn’t care. He laughed humorlessly and shut the door. Not bothering to get in. 

“You silly girl, you want to get  me in trouble and I’m not giving you that satisfaction.” He kicks at the stones in Ameena’s driveway and Ameena feels disheartened to know her body was reacting to this. Her heart race quickened and a dull ache started between her legs.

He walks back up to the car, but opens Ameena’s door.

“You like pushing my limits? Is that what you li—”

Without hesitation Ameena lurches from her seat and punches him hard in the mouth. He instantly recoils and holds his lip, anger manifested in his eyebrow’s knitted shape.

“I’m not going to that witch's house. She doesn’t like the colour of my skin and that's okay, she doesn’t need to. But she won’t be in mine or my son’s life. You can’t tell me any different! You can’t make me Virgil, I swear I’ll hate you for the rest of my life if you make me!!”

Ameena is met with silence as the temperature of Virgil’s blood skyrockets, his veins pulsate at the same rate as his quickened heart, urging him to do something, anything.

“Answer me, nigga!”

He removes his hand from his lip, and Ameena’s eye widens when she sees blood dripping down his lip to his chin coating his hairs with red.  The strong metallic scent sends straight for her nostrils and she is humbled by her predicament. She doesn’t know what actually is busted, but she knows it was her fault.

“Vee, Oh—I didn’t mean to.” she whispers, clawing at his shirt. Ameena’s eyes burn not because she’s crying but because Virgil's gaze was piercing. His gaze looked distant, not predatory like they would’ve been in the past.

His nostril flare at her stuttering, “I told you not to tempt me, I can’t—fucking—Ameena I can’t control myself when you do dumb shit like this…” he shakes her silently pleading—why do you keep bringing the man I try to keep at bay away from me?

“St–stop! My baby, Virgil!” she begs, trying to break away from his hold. He had shaken her eyes blurry..

He recoils letting go with her body as if her skin was scorching. He grabs Ameena’s wrist gingerly and stumbles behind him, out of breath and teary as she tries to plead her case.

“I was upset. I know I promised I wouldn’t hit you again, I know. I just can’t control—"

“Shut up Ameena.”  Virgil spits coolly.  He ushers her into the house, his eyes darting around to think of something, anything that would take the edge off. 

“Virgil—” she starts but stops when he backs her into the front door, closing it with a slam in the process.

She jumps, squeezing her eyes shut as the slam sears through her body.

“Look at my fucking lip, Ameena. You wanna prove her right? Huh? My car, are you a child? Did I impregnate a child?”  He swipes the blood dripping from his lip with his tongue accidentally smearing it all over his lips .

She doesn’t speak, she can’t. Her heart was racing and her bladder was pulsating too. The smell and vivid red colour from his blood made her sick to her tummy.

“She made comments about my skin and you didn’t even defend me! Of course I’m going to react like this when you forcefully try to make me do something I don’t wanna do.”

“CAN YOU BLAME HER?!” he spits, nudging his knees in between hers.. 

Ameena’s eyes widen as she looks down in between her legs…

....TO BE CONTINUED....

[ethereal555]

Part 5 snippet coming later tonight or tomorrow.

[ethereal555]

when are u posting again here or wattpad?im starvinggg😩😩😩

I’m on my second year of uni, last few weeks of school, and it’s getting very hectic. I tried to multi task but it’s not good for my mental health. My summer holiday starts in July, and so from July till September, there will be back to back content but as for now it will be quiet iwl.

You guys have always been so patient and understanding so thank you, but trust me the time I’m taking for my self will only ensure my work will get better xx

[ethereal555]

Bad Decisions

Part 1

jobe bellingham x black!reader

Rain lashed against the windows of Tommie’s flat as she stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, glaring at Jobe from across the room. 

His jacket was still half-zipped, thinking he’d be warmly invited into her home, coily hair damp from training, and his expression matched hers furious and on the brink of bursting.

"I’m being dramatic?" she snapped, her voice rising despite how much he hated that. Disgust held her face hostage, was he really trying to gaslight in her own home?

"Didn’t say that," he shot back, stepping closer. "I said you’re making a big deal out of something that doesn’t matter."

She laughed bitterly, "Right. So texting your little Ibiza fling at midnight is just casual conversation, when I told you to block her weeks ago?"

He ran a hand through his wet curls, jaw tight. "It wasn’t like that."

She rolls her eyes in pure irritation.

"Look at you! You’re not even denying it!" Her voice cracked with frustration. "I trusted you, Jobe."

His eyes flared, and suddenly he was inches from her, breathing heavily, his eyes laser focused on her plump lips.. 

"You still can, pretty. But you’d rather believe the worst in me and that's not nice..."

And just like that her mind and body were at his mercy. All she wanted was to do was jump into his arms at the use of that nickname. He knew what he was doing, he knew what that tone did to her. Then before she got carried away by his charm, she clocked—he was trying to manipulate her—but not again. She wouldn’t let him.

Tommie stepped back instinctively, but he followed, closing the space between them again. A smirk landing on his handsome face. 

Tommie felt hot; beads of sweat accumulated between her inner thighs and prickled underneath her armpits. 

“Stop.” she whispered, more like mouthed because even Jobe couldn’t hear her plea.

“Hmm?” he chuckles when she darts her gaze away from him at record speed. It was nice to note the effect he still had on her, even when he was in the wrong. Her trembling stroked his ego, and from her bodily reaction, he was certain he’d win her over.

"This isn’t about the text," he murmured, his voice low now, almost dangerous. "This is about you pushing me away every time we get too close."

"Jobe that's not—" she argues

"It is," he interrupted, his hands bracing the counter on either side of her. "Don’t lie to me."

Tommie’s pulse thundered in her ears. She hated how close he was and how her body responded to him even when her heart resembled a war zone—she wanted nothing more than to fight him. She was trying, really trying to be strong for herself and her opinions, to set boundaries like her friends had hyped her to but it was futile. Absolutely impossible with a man this close and this handsome.

"This fight isn’t fair," she whispered.

"Neither is the way you look at me like you hate me... when we both know you don’t"

She held his gaze for a long, tense moment. His breath mingles with hers, their lips only inches away. Internally they both salivated at the thought of tasting each other but neither of them moved. Too prideful to make that move.

The silence between them was electric, with the words unsaid hanging between them. They both wanted to communicate with each other, scream at one another absolutely consumed by the frustration they had for each other. But talking wasn’t the form of communication most familiar to them.

"Why do you do this to me?" she whispers again.

He finally kisses her and it wasn’t gentle. He gives in to his bodies needs. His tongue fought hers with fire and fury acknowledging the months and months of biting their respective tongues. 

And in that moment when their lips enveloped each other, nothing else existed but the storm they created together.

A storm they were both content to perish in.

His lips crashed into hers like he’d been waiting all night — no, like he’d been holding back for weeks. There was nothing soft about it. It was heated, bruising, filled with everything they’d both refused to say out loud.

She moans into the kiss, immediately able to match up to his passion.

Tommie, weak at the knees, grabs fistfuls of his hoodie, pulling him closer as he backed her against the counter. His hands were everywhere — in her curly hair, on her waist squeezing tight as if to remind her she wasn’t going anywhere no matter how many times she tried to escape their vicious cycle, pressing against the small of her back like he could fuse their bodies together if he just held tight enough.

“You drive me crazy,” he growled against her mouth, teeth grazing her bottom lip. “Arguing with you makes me lose my mind, Tommie”

“Then stop playing with me Jobe,” she gasped, arching into him as his mouth dipped to her neck. “Stop acting like you don’t care when you clearly do. Stop entertaining whores when you promised me I was your only one Jobe” she says breathlessly.

His lips find the sensitive spot just beneath her ear, and he smirks when she lets out another breathy moan. “Oh, I care,” he murmured with a husky voice. “I care too much. That’s the problem.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah, you care so much you’re down to lose from me for a cheap little holiday fling?”

Tommie didn’t remember how she ended up in his lap. What she did remember was that one moment he was lifting her onto the kitchen counter and slapping her ass hard as he did so, and the next, his hands were sliding under her shirt like he had every right to.

And he did.

His skillful and slender fingers torment her nipples as he drinks in all her mewls that send straight for his semi-hard dick.

“You like that, pretty?” Her upper body shivers and she rests her head against his broad shoulders in defeat, unable to think straight.

“J-jobe, I’m not playing, you need to—!”

Discarding clothes became the primary thought in Jobe's head, he shamlessley payed no mind to the words she was saying, well trying to say.

His jacket hit the floor first. Tommie’s bandeau top then followed, quickly joined by his hoodie. He paused only for a second to look at her, his chest rising with desire, and his eyes unrecognizable as they a glowed a shade darker full of indescribable hunger. Just for a taste of Tommie. 

He pulls her back into his body like a necessity. “Are you gonna keep yelling at me,” he whispered his breath fanning hot against her dainty collarbone, “or are you finally gonna admit you want me? All of me? Even when I fuck up....”

Her nipples harden more and more as he speaks. The way his hot fingers grazed against her skin left her breathless as he peeled away her clothes as if she was his present. Their bodies were having a whole other conversation and it meant she couldn't help but to divert her attention from the issue they were discussing, even if just for one night, she was dying to see how hungry his eyes would become once his head was caved in between her legs, feasting on her. Tommie dripped at the thought of the lust behind his eyes becoming a reality.

His tongue darts out of his mouth and he dampens his bottom lip.

He was ready.

Finally having had enough of imaging how good he’d fuck her she intiates the acting by digging her bare nails into his back, her puckered lips brushing lightly against his blushed ear. “Why not both Jay?”

She wanted him to fuck her, hard. So hard she’d forget what they were arguing about in the first place, and from the pace she felt as they were chest to chest, of his heart hammering, she knew her request would come true.

The growl he let out in response to her answer was low and deep, and when he lifted Tommie off the counter and carried her toward the bedroom, she knew there’d be no going back.

Tonight, their argument wouldn’t end in apologies.

It would end in tangled sheets, whispered names and the kind of silence only satisfied bodies could share.

----

part 2 coming today

[ethereal555]

Heyy wondering if we can get more soft virgil (like in flash backs for example how they meet and their first time) and i wonder is their gonna be a pregnancy shoot cause aint no way virgil image conscious self would do that😭

Ofcccs love that will be in part 5 xx

Also, PSA part 5 wont be posted here, it’ll be posted on wattpad I think. I’ll update you guys regarding this tho

Myuser nameeee^

I’m currently rewriting parts of this story before posting to Wattpad and making the timeline more linear for readers over there xx

[ethereal555]

This is so sweettttt, and true☺️. Thanks love.

Reading Cheetah by @ethereal555 and then The Missing Piece by @kyoshithewriter is such fic emotional overload. They're completely different personalities of Virgil and its brain teaser. It's like watching a horror movie and then needing to watch cartoons to clear your mind. Both stories are so good, though.

[ethereal555]

Is chapter 4 the last part? I would love to see how Virg acts when she's pregnant and possibly after the baby arrives

Yeah, there’s is a part 5, with varied scenarios.

[ethereal555]

CHEETAH PT.4

virgil van dijk x black!reader

As tight as cornrows—no that wouldn’t do it justice. It was a grip so tight it bordered on pain, his hands trembling with such a fierce and fragile emotion.

 Anger. 

That was the extent of Virgil’s grip on Ameena wrist, dragging her unapologetically through the decreasing sea of bodies in the club.  His muscles rippled under his shirt rigid with fury—a testament to his anger for Ameena. The relentless grip pressed her Van Cleef Bracelet’s gold chaining into the surface of her wrist’s thin skin painfully, but her winces and pleas for him to release his grip were lost amongst the cacophony of noise in his mind planting more seeds of rage. Virgil was aiming straight for his car and his pace reflected that; so much that none of the starstrucked fans and blogs in his way dared to approach or film them. With a strut– or literal dragging– this fast it was truly a miracle that Ameena’s short dress didn’t ride up all the way up her ass. Now that would be the cherry on the cake of social embarrassment. She felt like she was being dragged by the arm like a hissy toddler by their fed up parent.

“You’re—Oh my God—you’re  hurting me you fool.” her wrist starts to throb—an indication of the cuts being made to her skin with the scratchy gold chaining.

“I’m going to murder you, swear to God.” she seethes at the brink of angry tears as she feels her wrist pulse from the pressure.

By now, they had reached the car park and were staggering towards Virgil’s Black Urus. The backroad they were in was now completely empty with an exception of frosted over cars that belonged to people living on the street; only the sounds of leaves ruffling kept the world alive at this time of night and the occasional sound of buzzing street lights. But the streetlights were sketchy, flickering and barely illuminating the few meters ahead of them so Ameena clung close to him, just until they got to the car. She hated cats, rats and squirrels and at this time of the night those were animals she was likely to see.

Virgil reached into his pockets for his car keys and unlocked his car. His blinkers flashed and a small beep sounded throughout the night’s air. That's when she noticed he hadn’t actually spared her a glance the whole time so for him to assume she’d get in his car was bold. 

“Don’t you ever touch me like that again!” she exclaimed once they stood in front of his car, her voice cracked with thoroughness. Ameena knew he’d finally listen to her words because there were no more  external distractions, or internal ones. It seemed his heated thoughts were turning into vapor and leaving his mouth as clouds in the cold air by the time they got to the car...so she was able to wring away from his grip and speak her mind.

 It shocked him the amount of projection she was able to fulfill in her small frame as her words echoed through the carpark even whilst her breaths were shallow and she looked completely overwhelmed by his presence.

“I’m not getting in with  you, call me a taxi.” she spat. “Now.”

“The absolute cheek of you to think you can show up and ruin my night after you’ve had your little fun with your fucking  prostitutes. But the jokes on you, you’ve probably caught something anyways because you’re a whore.Sstay the fuck away from me” He glares at the smaller woman standing angry in front of him with frustration watching as she crosses her arms under her breasts. She glares back with just as much frustration but he’s not all ashamed to let her see his primal gaze glazing  up and down her short, curvaceous physique. Unknowingly, her breasts (glistening under the night skies twinkle) were spilling out of her green crochet dress inviting him to think primitive things about what he’d been longing to do to her small frame. His dick twitched underneath his zipper, but he consciously brings himself back to the very disappointing reality that was his girl misbehaving.

“Ruin what, Ameena? Fucking look at what you’re wearing I’m doing you a favour..” As angry as she was, and poised as she was trying to be, she could taste his sour words in her mouth and it took her aback, completely derailing her plan to intimidate him.

He knew she looked breathtaking to say the very least, but was too proud to admit that she was looking as good as ever in his absence. As a proud man, it was a tough pill to swallow.. He only wanted her to flourish when she was with him. She obviously looked good and always did. This was objective. But the thought of his horndog teammates even being able to look at her figure and that face and think nasty thoughts about his possessions sent him to a dark place, a dark place not even jealousy could take him. It was primal rage. 

“....what…?”she finally replies after a few blinks. She felt like the sexiest woman on earth  all day until now.

Only God knows what came over Ameena, the sudden wave of sadness that washed over her was paralyzing. Not for long though, she slowly became disgusted with herself. She was disgusted with the fact she was giving herself the victim label by continuously giving this man room to degrade her when he was the only one doing wrong. Feeling validated in her mind she lurches towards Virgil with determination written on her face and spits. 

“Fuck y-you!!!” her voice and the broken nuances echoed along the roads near them even louder this time, the trees stilled as they listened and the wind’s howling ceased. The world’s elements understood the pain behind a woman’s scream.

His neck tenses from the impact when it lands on chin with a splat, melting into his goatee. He rubs at his face with his shirt and, as if it was second nature, he grabs her arms with ease pulling her towards his body closing the space between them so they feel each other’s heart beating, racing. There was no scowl on his face, no hint of anger despite his telling grip. He was relishing the faint scent of floral musk that had wafted to his nose from her skin, her signature scent. Her scent was nothing less than hypnotic, persuading him to envision all of the ungodly acts he couldn’t wait to perform on her later. 

“I’m sorry” he whispers against her hair, gaining understanding of the kind of night she had through the smell of sweat in her hair. Ameena’s body is confused, she wants to relax into him but she’s angry. She doesn’t stop him from embracing her body; she finds herself melting into it for one more second before he pulls away from her to look down into her angry eyes. “I haven’t been good to you”.

He waits for the shift in her body language, specifically a look of surprise at his sincerity after such a disrespect as spitting. His body tingles with excitement. Virgil was going to take her when she least expected it. When her straight brows softened from their frown was his queue. The taller man thrusts his left hand into her head of hair, fisting her strands tightly from the back and pulling hard. Her head bent backwards, uncomfortably, as she shrieks.

“But spitting is not nice Ameena” He grips her hair harder only stopping once the pain becomes unbearable. Their eyes bore into each other, her scared ones and his determined ones. He won in that moment seeing her eyes pleading at him; cocky, he scans the car park briefly to check for people one last time before letting go abruptly as if  his hands burnt. Her hands find her head immediately to soothe her scalp. 

Ameena breathes heavily, regaining control of her neck and consequently her airways. She doesn’t need to utter an apology, it was written on her face.

“Y- you can hurt me all you want, you’re still going to have to work hard for me to forgive you, you can’t scare your way out of apologizing to me” she says boldly. 

But yet again, she feels frustrated with herself, it was all an act from her—acting angry and as though she didn’t need him. It was embarrassing that underneath her hard exterior she felt better, relieved to be in his presence, there was something about his presence that made her feel safe and alive, more alive than ever—he’d never know though.  

“I don’t apologize more than once” 

“I don’t accept  your two word apology. No, no way. You know how to work, so you’re gonna.” she bites out. 

His eyes narrow as she enunciates every word,“You’re being fucking difficult.”

 She scoffs, not surprised that once again she was being made out as the problem. She stomps on his foot, pushing away from him as the tall man groans in pain.

“I will be fucking difficult, but real men rise up to the challenge instead of bitching.”

He rotates his foot round and round on the balls of his feet and finds himself and can only laugh at her blatant disrespect. Wow, he thought, his absence was rubbing off on the way she was addressing him with inferiority, daring him to have to prove himself the opposite. Unfortunately for Ameena, he was a competitive man and not one to turn down a dare.

In the car

20 minutes prior.

“I need space—” she laughs, not understanding how serious he was about staying with him.

The grunt of irritation that comes out of him is priceless. 

“I need more time to understand what I want, and to figure out if this is worth it.” she drags on, opening Uber on her phone. Maybe she was overacting, because she did miss him, but she didn’t want him thinking he could have her back on his timing, like a damsel in distress. He had to work around her feelings too, she needed to humble him.

She tied her hair up in a high bun, the wind from outside had blown her hair in all possible directions and the mess was overstimulating whilst she was trying to find an Uber at this time of night—well technically, morning.

But that innocent action is when his world stops spinning just for a split second. He clocks the bruises spread across the skin of her neck almost immediately, some lighter some darker but there was no doubt those were hickies, fresh looking ones too.

This was his woman.

 He snatches her phone from her hand, there was no way she was leaving his sight now. He doesn’t spare her a glance after he does so, he just sits there and exercises his rights to remain mute. But the silence was so deafening… it was obvious to Ameena the reason behind it.

She mentally beat herself up for being so fucking stupid.

. Ameena lets her hair down in some foolish attempt to erase his memory of the love bites. In response Virgil nodded his head slowly, absentmindedly. Hurt invaded the planes of his face. It was evident, his hurt, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. His palms rubbed his eyebrows ferociously and in a fit of rage he hit the steering wheel with his fists. One punch, then went in for a second. Ameena jumped at the sound of the car’s horn sounding at such quiet hours of midnight, she really didn’t care for the theatrics she just wanted to home, shower and wash off the boy drama’s of today. How many times should a girl have to ask?

“Virgl take me home—please…I’m so tired and I-have so much…work.” she repeated for the third time in the span of ten minutes. Despite her mind telling her she was pushing it, she still voiced her desire irregardless of the icy reception she was receiving from him. How she rationalised it was, “he loves me, clearly, he is here away from his family at ungodly hours in the morning, for me. If he cares about me this much, then yeah, surely he’ll listen to me if I begged hard enough”.

She watched Virgil intently as his adam's apple bopped up and down before he sighed out a long drawn out breath.

  “I could crash the car with both of us in it if I start driving, if you want to live; be quiet and very patient” his request was slow and solemn with no humour whatsoever laced in his words and that frightened her, she’d known him for years but still didn’t know what to expect from him… he was the most unpredictable person she knew.

Chills licked down her spine making her sit up suddenly with an alertness she’d never had to all her life, all while she assessed his expression with wide eyes. She was ready to break the glass if she needed to. It was quick and instinctive–the sudden movement she made–but seeing as his eyes were now following her she had no choice but to sit back and listen to the shuddered breaths that escaped his clenched pearly whites. Every fibre of her being was pulling her to open the car door and make a run for it but the empty look in his eyes advised her against such a choice. So she sat glued, her fingers clawing into the leather seats beneath her thighs.

His eyes are devoid of any emotions. The gleam of love, admiration and care she usually saw in them was gone, or hidden behind the darker shade of brown that glazed over his eyes and in turn his soul. If they were animals by the look of his face alone she’d be eaten alive. Virgil’s eye connects to the pulse he sees on the side of Ameena’s neck beating increasingly faster. He was happy she was scared. She should be.

“I should skin your neck…” he trails off monotone, his eyes gluing to the purple hickies that lead down to her collarbone.

She tried to suppress the terror crawling up her skin but it only continued to manifest in the way goosebumps all over the exposed areas of her body appeared. For a second his gaze was so hot, so intense and burning into her soul that she forgot she had a choice to avert her gaze, and so she quickly did, staring longingly at the dull car park through the windscreen. Of course there was nothing interesting in the car park but it was better than facing him.

“Virgil, please—” she muttered, unamused. 

“Are you calling my bluff?” her eyes widened, of course she was he wasn’t going to do that as angry as he was.. Her silence served him no consolation, and with haste he slithered his slender fingers around her neck, squeezing it and drinking in her fear. He needed to know it was still there. She whimpered and it was music to his ears.

“You think revenge is sweet? You think you can give another man what’s mine, hm? You do.” he bites out. His iris’ expand with his desire to play out the dark thoughts in his mind. Meanwhile, Ameena’s throat had become painfully dry, unable to string coherent words. She gulps and he squeezes tighter, the pain and shock that zapped through her body made her believe she may be a breath away from falling unconscious.

“Mmhmm” she shakes her head, rebuking hysterically as tears welled up in her eyes. 

“Then why’d you do it?” he squeezes tighter and as if white spots weren’t clouding her vision she doesn't protest, she just lets him. Falling unconscious was miles better than being in his presence when his animalistic side got out. A testament to his anger was how shameless he was acting, they were in the front seat of his flashy car yet he still continued his assault, the anger he felt now in this present moment clearly prevailed over the consequences he’d face if they were to be spotted.

“Y-you hurt me..” she gasps out. “So you fuck another man?” 

Ameena huffed, staring into his eyes, unblinking as if the world and their current situation had vanished beyond her eyes. She was dissociating, whilst Virgil with his unwavering grip brings her closer to his face so that their lips are just whisper away and repeats the questions louder, emphasising the word ‘fuck’ with as much aggression as he felt. She flits in response to his loud words that feel like blows and loses her words in the sight of his lips, noticing that they hadn’t been this close since October and it was late January. Her pretty doe eyes flicker back up to his eyes and she smiles against the warmth of his lips.

 “...Yeah.And, I loved it.” she drags gutturally exuding toxicity in every syllable she pronounced. Virgil’s wicked expression completely drops and Ameena’s stomach flips. She embraces his eye contact and gives him a sly smirk. She does struggle to giggle with his grasp around her neck but  she couldn’t let him gaslight her into thinking she was the whore.

“And I’d do it again, he’s like an e-edgier version of you, a real freak.”

His stomach claws at him and snarls sound in the back of his mind. It was his ego. An awakening.

 It’s demand for attention wasn’t a formidable force…yet, so he continued to hang onto every word she said waiting for his little girl to feel like she was doing something. He wanted her to feel she was hitting some sort of nerve so when she was finished and felt most rewarded for her ‘empowering speech”..... Then. BOOM. He'd break her. He could tell she was taking his silence for a weakness, and frankly, it was exciting.

 “The dreads Virgil! Come on, you can’t blame me for jumping on that almost immediately…”

The starved animal in his body had been ramming its head into the cage’s door, seeking desperately for an escape. The cage rattled and the door shuddered under the force of its impact, the iron bars screeching in protest as the animal kept hurling itself and hurling itself. The cage was still held together, barley.

“And if your upset about the love bites on my neck then you don’t want the see the ones he made on my puss—”

The iron cage that had been undergoing unrelenting assault breaks free with one last nudge from the animal. His ego breaks free.

 How could any man hear that about their woman and stay composed and calm? He was going to punish her, defile her in a way he hadn’t before to teach the respect he’d spent all his life earning. Although Virgil would never throw this in her face, he funded her lifestyle and that alone should’ve acted as some form of restraint in her—but it didn't.

He released his grip on her neck, and looked around the perimeter of the carpack as she regained her breath. By this time the park had fewer cars parked all of them looked empty with frost growing on the windscreens. These cars looked like they belonged to owners living in the rows of terraced housing up the road.

 Perfect.

“Get out of my car, Ameena.” he smiles with just his lips. The enraged giant trains his eyes on her love bite and unlocks her door from his side of the car and beckons with a tilt of his head.

Words, coherent words, flee from her tongue and constructive thoughts evaporate from her brain leaving her dumbfounded. The sky was already dark, but it seemed the sky was foreshadowing the dark actions Virgil would follow as darkness bled into the horizon swallowing any remaining colour from the grey clouds, and covering the tiny stars that gleamed. 

“NOW Ameena, fuck!” he fumes.

“Wow, wow, wow Virgil. So original. See you should have told me you’d kick me out sooner then I would’ve gone home with him, prick!” and with that she got out of the car, slamming the doors behind her with so much force the car rattled behind her. Or she thought it was because of her power, but turning around debunked that.

Virgil with heavy, determined feet leaps out of the car and with long strides and pulls Ameena to the back of the car, bending her over the boot.

“You like to fucking disrespect me Ameena, all the time, and it makes me so mad.”

“You’re crazy…” she spits, defeated. His heavier body was pressed against hers, gluing her upper body like velcro against the cold metallic trunk.

My baby, she thought.  

She prayed he wouldn’t press her stomach any further onto the trunk. The temperature of the metallic car bit into the skin of all the exposed areas of her dress and pebbled her nipples. It was freezing. She was freezing. She shivers audibly and her teeth jitter against each other as she anticipated the worst, was he going to fuck her… here…where people would see?

If this was his form of punishment for her, then he’d be disappointed. This was thrilling for her, not only because her hormones had gotten her hornier lately but because Trent had left her high and dry and she was feening for a release, whether she was angry with him or not.

“I’m not fucking you— you dirty whore.” she whimpers at the foul words, and how unforgiving they sounded from his lips. There was something weird going on with Ameena whilst being in this compromising position– bent over her future baby daddy’s car with his crotch pressing into her booty. As much as she hated him at this moment, she couldn't deny the spike of adrenaline in her blood ushering her to buck her hips against him. It felt extra naughty because she wasn’t wearing any panties underneath the thin crochet material and anyone could see them. Her body swelled with desire.

His fingers trail up her dress to solidify in his mind why her hips were bucking so desperately. Her pussy was crying for him but the way in which she spoke in the car didn’t reflect a woman who wanted to have her guts destroyed so he was confused, women these days.. 

“You’re wet….” he shames, pinching her labia to which he squeals loudly.

“Was Trent not enough for your greedy cunt, you stupid girl ” he whispers in her ear and to all the world she mewls, pressing her cheek into the trunk to cool her increasingly hot body down. She loved when he spoke to her like that in intimate situations, she could orgasm from his words alone. Oh, the way his accent twisted his words into something sinful needed to be studied.

Virgil sends an aggressive slap to her bum and they both hear the sound echoing against the empty cars in this carpark, she bites her lip to stop her from screaming.

“You’ve ruined your value, your purity in my eyes by being with another man, I was supposed to be the only man who could say they fucked this”

“But you—”

“You’re a fucking woman, you can’t keep comparing yourself to me. I’m a man. By nature, we are promiscuous”

“Like, I can’t make this shit up. Look at you… leaving the house with no panties. Who are you?” He rips fiercely at the green, thin crochet dress, ripping it high enough to reach her lower back. Now her brown, round ass was bent over and exposed for him. 

“Embarrassing…” he teases, biting at her ear. He plays with the juices accumulating in her folds between the balls of his fingers.. He circles his paws around her thighs and pulls them further towards his lower body and kicks her left ankle further away from her right so her pussy is spread even perfectly and glistening in the moonlight.

He was indeed an animal, like a wolf in the presence of a full moon, all his movements were enacted with a hunter’s grace rough and to the point. She knew she was at his mercy and so went limp under his weight, no struggle would prevail. The hunt was over and now it was time to feast, but not in his conventional way.

“Two choices Ameena..” he informs, his voice had a low guttural edge as though he meant to growl as opposed to speak.

“You forgot your place again, and I’ll remind you painfully” her breasts were already hard from the feeling of the cold metallic car beneath her but they began to protrude even more, extending to its full length. Piercing the car wouldn’t be unrealistic, as his cold words descended into her body.

“Belt or hand.”

She shuffled underneath his weight, and quite frankly she didn’t know if it was discomfort or arousal. His voice had descended a few octaves, and she could feel his hardness against her hamstring.

“Virgil— this is so scary—what if someone sees me. You promised to protect me..” she whispers, her voice small through her jittery jaw.. The wind blows aggressively against her opening, and it's a feeling she can’t explain.

“The whole world has just seen you, practically naked, dancing on Trent in this skimpy, see-through, mess of a dress. This should be the least of your worries, no?” He slaps her hamstring hard. He admires his view of her ass, above the rise of her hips was a dip so graceful it looked sculpted by shadow and candlelight. It was a curve that invited a touch, reverent and slow. But today wasn’t the day for soft touching, quite the opposite instead. The arch was his personal shelf, he accepted the hint of pride he felt seeing her assume the position so effortlessly, his eyes scanned over the natural dips and curves that possessed her body before he says.

 “Once more, which should I violate you with?”

Her pussy clenched, his words shooting straight to her core. 

“Neither, I need you desperately, in a way this punishment wouldn’t satisfy.” Her attempt to change his mind was futile, the whisper of his belt slipping through the loops of his bottoms made her breath hitch. Virgil quickly loops the leather around his palm, making sure the buckle was tucked into his fist. He left an eye’s estimate of 3 inches out to use on her. 

Virgil tuts to himself, she was waiting for heads up, silly girl, his first blow landed sharp and unapologetic. Her knees buckled almost instantly and despite her teeth digging into her plush lips, a scream still ripped from her throat.

The leather’s powerful force connected to her skin, and rang throughout the carpark. Virgil salivated at the sight of her thick ass rippling as a result, but quickly regathered his thoughts. She went against him by giving her body to another man. Her wide eyes squeezed shut tightly, nearly crushing her own small eyeballs. Ameena’s hands struggled to find something, anything to hold onto. He made it clear he didn’t want her hands anywhere near him so she held them in tight fists either side of her head. 

“You wanna GO against ME and fuck-” SLAP. “other men, give my body to other men.” She would’ve fallen if his knees weight wasn’t keeping her against the car, her body flinched with every hit, everyhit was a warning drenched in fire that burned her skin. The stinging grew with every whip, she was breaking each time more and more, the car’s hood was wet but it didn’t stop him. The rhythm was jagged, so she could never anticipate the next hit, but it connected in the same spot incessantly and ripped at her skin blisters started to form on the surface of her ass. Her brown was now red, with hints of purple, but the bitter sight for him was only a reminder of her disrespect, as opposed to evoking pity.

Her screams had become straight rasps and gasps, open mouthed silence. Tears of discomfort and pain that trailed into her mouth were her only form of relief to her inflamed throat..

“Stop moaning, you did this to yourself. You like to see me mad, don’t you? Where are those hickies on your pussy you said he gave you?” he questions, slapping at her drenched pussy with his entire palm.

She rasped out incoherent words, and he lightly slapped her pussy with the belt, and she whimpered.

“N–noo, no belt there Virgil..” She was too sensitive to endure belt slaps there.

“You can’t answer my question, you want the eighth slap?” he taunts, clenching his belt at the ready if she said the wrong thing…

“I lied—so sorry.” she begs weakly, the burning sensation on her ass was taking her in and out of focus.

“Why?” he seethed, his nostrils flaring, he ran the belt down her slit pressing the tail of the belt, slightly, into her opening. He laughs as she yelps. 

“Because I– I like the things you do to me w-w-when you’re mad” she stutters in hiccups, waiting to see if he’d push all the leather in.

“Mmm” he smirks, “I can tell, you’re leaking everywhere. You’ve got slick dripping down your thighs” he mumbled entranced at the sight, there was no other scenario in the world where she’d be in this position spread in his presence and he’d not slide his jigsaw piece into her puzzle, but he resisted the urge.

“You know why?”she shakes her head against the trunk tiredly.

“Because I own you, your body too. It's for me.Only. Not even Trent could get you this wet, could he?”

“Hurts so bad. It stings so badly.. Pleaseh. Promise me you’re done” she wails, swapping the cheeks she layed on the trunk with, it had become warm with her hot tears. The cool sensation on her other cheek found a way to temporarily cool parts of her body, especially the ones that had been abused for minutes upon minutes.

The eighth slap landed on her imprinted, broken skin and she finally broke. She was totally unprepared, and slipped down the car.

Her wail became earcrushing and truly shook the concrete underneath them. She weeps as she slips to the floor, her lower body numbing by the second. Virgil drops the belt at the shrill scream and hoists her up by her waist, turning her to face him, allowing her to dig her face into his chest. It’s as if this is happening in slow motion for Ameena, her ears tingle and sound slowly drains out. This feeling of dissociation only intensifies as her vision becomes hazy and her breath is shortened. He works hard at  grounding her lower body to help her stand. 

“No more, no more Virgil.” she chokes out desperately. “I can’t feel my legs..”she wraps her arms around his shoulders for support and blinks away her teary vision when she tucks her head into the crook of his neck. He takes the time to examine her appearance, she still looked beautiful even with all her makeup smudged and running down her face.

Virgil was never a man who went back on his word, he saw it as a weakness that the women in his life, especially, would take advantage of. When he looked into her soul and studied her face he could see the desperation for warmth, not just physical warmth but emotional warmth. She pulls back and looks up at him. His punishments had rendered her vulnerable, and so there was no point forcing the charade that she didn’t care or want him around. It had been whipped out of her. Ameena’s red, wet eyes flicker between his lip and eyes; waiting silently for confirmation that he had gotten all his anger out and that they would be okay again. He would be her protector again. Their hearts beat in tandem with each other and she could cry with how much she missed these moments in the time they spent apart. It was crazy that now she didn’t care at all that her whole lower body was exposed from the waist down or that he’d just whipped her, she didn’t care that her favourite dress was hanging off of one of her body in strings. She cared to be in her man’s embrace again. 

“You didn’t answer my question” the silent moment of affection they shared losing his heart’s grip. She eyes him as if to say, ‘be so forreal’  eyes before  removing her arm from around his neck replying “You know, he can’t make me as wet as you can.”

A beat.

She inhales to speak but nothing comes out.. She couldn’t seem to grasp or pinpoint a singular emotion or thought she was experiencing.

“If you want to speak, speak.” he observes as thoughts scatter across her brain like birds before a storm. 

“It might make you angry, Virgil but I just really want to know.” He doesn't give her approval again, he just waits for her to catch the hint that he’s listening. His breath becomes less erratic as he watches her figure out the words to say so innocently.

“I guess I’m trying to figure out why you came here? Today. To get me? Did you just come here t-to like, eh, feed your ego…maybe?”

“How so?”  He tries to hide the amusement he finds in her nervousness but can’t help but let a smile rip. He scratches his chin to cover his smile.

Her eyes sting as she finds the words to help explain where her accusation, disguised as a question, had come from. 

“Virgil, this is the first time you’ve seen me in months and the first you do is manhandle and degrade me in a cold car park, like I’m a toy. It hurts because I’m supposed to be someone you love, someone you’ve sacrificed a lot for and that doesn’t show.”

He hums, understanding that she cares dearly for him and what they have  it warms his heart. His palms supporting her waist close to fists and travel down the curve of her back, strumming softly against her soft, silk skin. He slid his possessive fingers between her thighs cupping her sticky heat as if he owned it, his fingers seperated and explored her folds with precision invading her honey pot. Her tired eyes follow his fingers, helpless,  as they explore her most intimate area.

He brings his drenched fingers to her lips and watches as she sucks it, her eyes not leaving his. There was not an ounce of hesitation. Her neutral juices coat her tongue, and mix with the slightly salty taste of his fingers. She was turning to putty in his gaze, following every unspoken request. She mentally curses herself for being weak for dick, and for  allowing herself to just comply with every order that compromised her voice. It frightened her to admit that she was becoming like the girls she’d berate and laugh about on social for being too submissive. God, life works in mysterious ways! She was only just judging those women….now look

“I know what you’re about to say Virgil and that's not fair, what my body does in your presence and how it reacts is completely out of my control and you know that. You don’t give me much choice but to succumb to your…..demands” And now that she was pregnant and her hormones were all over the place this problem would only get worse.

“What demands Ameena?” he tilts his head to the side. 

A beat.

“I’m doing the best I can, don’t be a brat. How do you expect me to embrace you, or show you true affection of any kind with this shit on on your neck, it’s taking me a lot to even touch you now if I’m honest— I’m swallowing my pride. I just touched your pussy…that’s some affection,no? What else do you expect from me? You want two men in one day, is that it?”

“But don’t you miss me?” she asks exasperated, her volume rising a few notches higher with yearning and desperation.

They’re both tired by now. And Virgil, especially, needs space and time to think. He lets go of Ameena and goes to open the backdoor of his Urus. He grabs her, spins her around and lays her stomach down on the leather seats. 

“You don’t think Ameena, that’s your fuc—that’s your problem Ameena. You make yourself the victim every time. Do you remember how many texts I sent you asking for us to meet, granted, you were angry because of my mistakes but even still? Now today after weeks and weeks of you ignoring me and only texting me when you want money or something, I made the decision to check your location and pop up at this shitty club unannounced to take you home.”

“Use that drunk brain of yours to figure out what that means.” And with that he slams the back door and walks around from the front of the car to get to the driver’s seat, not before Ameena tucks her knees in. 

As hectic as this night has been, his hair is still neat and in this silence, where the outside world is filtered out by these steel, aluminum doors, she finally has time to take him in. The choppy beard he was growing out gave him a rough edge and should've been a warning to Ameena as to how the night would end— rough and sticky. She giggles in her head as his harsh but passionate words ring in her head, she knows exactly what they meant.

He cares about meeeee, he caress about meeeheeheee, my rich, millionaire athletic man cares about meeeeheee.

She sings, flapping her feet about like a kid, allowing herself to kick and scream for only a few milliseconds until he opens the driver’s seat.  Her body sinks into the warm leather after that musical outburst. Finally, peace of mind. Her life was crazy but she didn’t mind, clearly his aggression was only a way he could express his deep love and care for her. That was adequate for now, she aimed to teach him how to love properly for their child’s sake. 

Before he drives off, he takes a look at her in all her glory through the rearview mirror. What a waste of a dress, she thought to herself trying to rip the wooly threads with her fingers. The unweaving of wool made a green mess in the backseat of his car that she didn’t know what to do with.

Heat pricks to the surface of her skin with the rush of tempting thoughts. The idea that flowed to mind was beautiful, in that mischievous, forbidden way. She bites her lip, tucking some of the broken garment into the net compartment on the back of his car seat, alongside her anklet that was some semblance of herself with her initials– letter ‘A’. She hoped he wouldn’t see it, it wasn’t meant for him.

He clearly didn’t clean the backseat much because there was clutter everywhere presumably from his kids, like some small unfinished water bottles, pieces of papers with awful handwriting on them ,and some gold toffee wrappers that were sprawled all around the car’s interior. She drifted off into an effortless nap, comforted with the heat that devious action had given her. If she was ‘his’ like he had branded her one too many times, then he was her’s, but her possession would be public in the faces of the masses, known to his family most importantly. With her baby on the way, it would ensure her worst fear wouldn’t materialise. Ameena and her kid would be a priority. Two could play this possessive game.

...

 Ameena wakes up when the car jolts to a stop. The quiet sound of music doing a good job at trying to lull her back to sleep. The welts on her bottom made themselves known as soon as she sat up, the nap was so good she’d forgotten the trauma her body had gone through just minutes before. Her head drops in agony. Virgil, on the other hand, with no welt is sat perfectly on his bottom. In fact, he had reclined his seat back sitting as comfortably as ever with his forearms crossed over his eyes.

“Can you pass me my purse?”

The first thing she reaches for is her phone—finally. She couldn’t help but feel alarmed at the amount of calls and texts she’d received from her sister and Tamara. Bless them, they’d both clearly been panicking, fuelling each other's anxiety and all sorts. Hopefully they hadn’t called the police!  With that daunting thought she makes a group chat, naming it ‘I’m safe x’ and sends them a string of messages seeming overly jolly with no mention of Virgil to avoid getting berated by them. A weight is lifted off of her shoulders when telling her girls she was safe, she didn’t like feeling like a burden. 

She looks outside for the first time properly now that her phone had woken her eyes up but she doesn’t recognise where they are, partially because it’s dark and partially because as lush as her house was… it wasn’t in the middle of a bougie high street in Piccadilly. Looking at the time she sees it's 1:58, nearly two meaning it had taken them over 45 minutes to get here. Juggling her memory she remembers that the drive from home with Tamara was only a 15 minute ride to the Mayfair club. Her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

She felt the urge to state the obvious, “this isn’t my house..”

A beat of silence.

“We need to talk, no? You called me the other week about the Ritz. Today seems like the best day for that, I’ll be very busy the next few weeks.” his voice scratchy with exhaustion.

‘Busy’.. A key word that tickled her fancy to debunk, he was very vague in his wording. What exactly would he be doing in the next few weeks that would mean they couldn’t spend time together? 

“You’re saying… you wont have time to see me in the next few weeks? Is that what you mean by ‘very busy’?”

“Probably not.” His tone is nonchalant and she doesn’t like it. The feeling that she may have just gotten her hopes up at the chance of finally having support during her second and third trimester was excruciating.

“That's not going to cut it, I need a precise answer” he twists his torso from his seat to look back at her....up. Then down.  As if to say ‘pike the fuck down’.  It takes Virgil’s looks of progressive irritation  for her to realise how pushy she was being, and that he wouldn’t understand where she was coming from. She didn’t want to be alone -especially- during the first few weeks of her second trimester where she’d been warned symptoms would intensify and her body would make the most changes…..but he didn’t know this. He didn’t know she was pregnant. “....Training… ..amongst other things. It’s Nila and Jadi’s birthday coming up. Those birthdays are a week apart from each other but because they aren’t twins so we're wanting to do separate big parties. They’re turning nine and twelve so I need to be there, not only to celebrate my girls but to help to plan in the weeks coming. It’s non-negotiable.”

She couldn’t argue with that, he was showing up for his kids in the way she hoped he’d show up for theirs.

“Well, if you’re not back for the 26th of February…..We’re done.” she promises, reaching over to remove Virgil’s Prada jacket hanging  from the passenger's seat, wrapping it around her torso to cover her bottom half that was naked, bruised and fully exposed. 

Before she did so he clamped his hands around her wrist, the grip tight but not harmful. 

“What kind of man do you take me for, Mena?” His eyes followed her facial features as they morphed into some semblance of strength.

She shrugs, “I don’t know, but it’s a warning, not a threat. If you miss my birthday it’s over.” 

She didn’t cower to his use of physical contact, she laid her boundaries down unapologetically. Her birthday was the most important thing to her, her parents had gone all out for her birthday all throughout her youth and it was going to stay that way and the same treatment she’d have for her own kids. Additionally, now that her mother was dead, her birthday also acted as a celebration for her mother’s strength and all that she went through to get Ameena here.

“We’re not over ‘till I say we are, stubborn little girl.” He mumbles underneath his breath turning the engine off. 

They make their way to the hotel reception and a simple nod from Virgil was all the verification the male receptionist, Anthony, needed before the pair hand in hand made their way to the top floor, where a beautiful suite Virgil had insisted on having was waiting. He requested for the most isolated suite they had, private with  nothing less of a breathtaking view and these workers fulfilled this demand. It made her gasp, seeing the view of her city...London as they travelled up the lift. It was so beautiful at night, so peaceful, just a complete juxtaposition of the havoc and pollution that came about at midday. The sky was clear, free of clouds, allowing the stars to twinkle down on them. 

 Whilst they made their way Ameena’s thoughts were racing frantically, as nice of a gesture this was it seemed Virgil was adamant for this conversation to be had. There was no doubt in her mind, he’d drill it out of her–the reason she’d called him some weeks back with a wavering voice. She wasn’t completely naive, it was going to be a difficult conversation to have and a tough pill to swallow for Virgil —especially after the ordeal with Trent but all she had to be was apologetic. She prayed to God silently for a smooth sailing conversation that wouldn’t ruin her experience here.

The wave of superiority Ameena felt once entering the room was fulfilling. The room was lush and completely swept Ameena off of her feet, whilst Virgil played it cool. He’d probably been here with many other women, she can’t help but grimace.

“Is this where you bring your prostitutes for your threesomes?”she genuinely asks, whilst walking around the suite touching things, and smelling things. The room service menu caught her eye and she immediately ran to it, she was starving.

“Yes, I’ve brought you here haven’t I? She gasps, dropping the menu and runs to smack his back whilst he just laughs.

They were high above the quiet city, the top-floor suite suspended in luxury. Through the tall balcony windows stretched from floor to ceiling draped in sheer linen curtains that had been pulled back, was a blur of lights and motions from cars, silhouettes and infrequent planes sounding by, but other than that silence. The emerald velvet seats were cool to the touch, and added a splash of color to the mainly white and silver accented interior, it was very satisfying to the human eye. It was the kind of space where time slowed and every detail from the whisper of silk bed sheets that bounced off the bright lights overhead to the slow jazz that played through the hidden speaker spoke of wealth and taste. Everything they wanted for their future.

Virgil yawns, removing his black Prada shirt and kicking off his shoes, placing them side by side on the end of the bed and then disappears to the bathroom briefly. At that time, Ameena strips off what is left of her green dress, chucking it to the floor lazily leaving her naked in the remaining of her jewelry. 

“Robe” she utters absentmindedly to herself checking in the wardrobes for them. To her surprise they weren’t in there and so she checked in the bathroom. To her luck, she finds them folded on a heated metallic radiator and puts one on with haste to savour the warm feeling, ignoring the stares she sees through the mirror from Virgil who has just finished peeing. The rumbling toilet was a tell tale sign. 

“I’m going to wash my hands, then I’m going to rub your welts with some ointments.”

“Is it frag–?”

“No, I asked them for an unfragranced only— it’s on the glass table near the wardrobe if you want to check.”

Good boy, she jokes in her head, or out loud judging by the look of disgust on his face.

“Take the robe off, lay with your ass up on that bed ready for me and you be a good girl” The flirtatious edge to his voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

She scurries off to the bed, allowing the cotton robe to slip down her body and hit the floor. The feeling of silk cools her skin encouraging her body to relax and to sink into the mattress with not a care in the world if her body was not yet cleaned; she deserved rest and the distant jazz music was doing a good job in providing it.

The bowlegged man returns to the room silently; she couldn’t see him but she could feel his presence start to loosen her body. The micro hairs on the back of her neck stood like soldiers awaiting his touch. He slowly crouches onto the bed and straddles her legs warming the lotion in his calloused hands to prepare. He plants a kiss on the wound, and warmed by this Ameena mutters a small ‘thank you’ readjusting herself in between his legs. 

“Do you feel bad?” her question pierces through the silence between them. Through her peripheral she sees him shake his head, his brows furrowed in concentration.

There's a beat before he returns a question.

“Are you sorry? For forcing me to see the things he’s done to your body?”

She craned her neck over her shoulder to observe him.

“Yes. And I’ve paid the price for it so I don’t want you to hold it over my head anymore ok? We both fucked up..”

He doesn’t answer, instead just continues to rub his rough palms over her welts that were protruding from her skin’s surface. She whimpers softly, pushing her face into the mattress.

“Still hurts, mein kindje?” she nods her head. He kisses the spot again, climbing off of her and sitting on the edge of the bed. She slowly shifts robotically to lie on her stomach tucking her legs into premade bedsheets.

“No other man should touch you again or the consequences—just take my word for it, please. I don’t want to warn you again”

She listened intently because his eyes weren’t lying. She held his sharp, hard glare but swallowed some bravery before interjecting.

“Then you’re also mine right?” she treads carefully, bowing her head to his eye level.

His eyes narrow, “Where are you going with this?”

“I obviously know your….situation but when you’re with me you’re mine right? Just like I’m yours—”

He nods. “Good.”

He knows there’s more that she’s hesitant to say, so he clears his throat.

“You ring,  I don’t—I've been thinking about  this for so long. It just doesn’t feel right too see it and feel it when we’re intimate, it’s almost like you’re advertising that you’re married with that ring. I don’t…want to see…it. It also just makes me think of her—your wife and it takes me out of our moment.”

“I felt it when you were massaging my wounds and I have been keeping my feelings in for so long now but I don’t like it —I hate it when you wear it around me. Because it means nothing to you, clearly.” 

He gets up and stretches his torso out, a yawn rips from his mouth. Her eyes instinctively drop down to his happy trail and they stay there for a second before darting back up to his eyes with a heavy gaze. There was an uncomfortable suspense eating at her pulse.

He strides towards the emerald, velvet chair where she had placed his jacket and shoots back…

 “Think carefully before you make a command like that again. Before you end up with more bruises.” 

She was astonished so much that her mouth dropped. Had her genuine question really struck a nerve for him to threaten her again? She felt mute in her own relationship, like she couldn’t express her deepest desires.

“Then I’m not yours. I couldn’t possibly be because you’re someone else—”

“Drop it Ameena.” And then the lights go down.

 He sinks into the chair in the corner of the room and fades into a neutral state of mind. He didn’t have the energy to entertain that question, it was unbelievably close to home. The truth of the matter was that his and Rike’s relationship had been on the rocks as of lately, bad. She’d filed for a divorce reasoning it as desertion, claiming he’d abandoned her and Ameena asking that question made his situation feel all too real. Ameena was always his point of escape and he loved it with her, but when both of his life's start to collide that's where the problem lies. He wants them separate and Ameena constantly questioning about his other life was far too exposing.

 It hurt to see her hugging the bed sheets alone from the other side of the room, but he found her disgusting; he couldn't bear to sleep in the same bed as her. That was a riveting thought to sleep through, that one mistake she’d made had completely changed her value in his eyes. He disregarded her honesty and transparency as valuable traits and was more concerned with her body’s value. Her body was only temporary flesh, why didn’t her morals matter to him. Her heart ached, falling asleep was the only way to escape the ache. So she drifted off slowly allowing the jazz to take her there.

An hour later.

Virgil stares into space wide-eyed, a volcanic eruption behind his still eyes. He couldn’t catch even a wink of sleep. He spent the past hour slouched on the green velvet chair on the far end of the hotel room, manspreading. As upset and betrayed as he felt, he made a point to keep this hurt to himself, not wanting to take the full extent of this anger out on Ameena.

 It wouldn’t be fair to direct  all of the betrayal he’d been bruised with in his personal life as of recent on the woman he loved most (aside from his little girls). There were numerous culprits: Trent who didn’t understand the capacity of his actions, not only with fucking Ameena (which hurt the most) but with leaving their club and in return their longterm brotherhood, his wife for her attempt to take full custody the kids he financially took care of and Ameena for burning his mouth with the taste of his own medicine. In his silence he was understanding why being a man was the most prestigious title one could acquire, it was because he was forced to keep in all these debilitating emotions bottled up whilst keeping a clean sheet as a provider, as a father to young girls who saw him as a hero and as a captain. Now, that, was the toughest job. All he really wanted to do was lay his head on the lap of his mother or Ameena or his daughters’ and have them stroke his hair until he forgot all these problems. But, no. He was in silence, wearing his silence as armor, not because he wasn’t hurting enough but because feeling out loud, as rich as he was, was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

He wore shock on his face when Ameena's voice croaked out from the darkness. Abruptly breaking through the 50 minutes of Virgil’s streaming thoughts. Were his thoughts that loud that he had woken the woman up? 

“I really do hate you Virgil.” the weak voice from the darkness said as she uncomfortably shifts on the bed. She reaches over to her bedside table, turning on her stomach to rub more ointment on her bottom to soothe the stinging sensation.

(She hadn’t been spanked like that since she was maybe 3, and she definitely hadn’t been spanked that many times in the same area. Pure embarrassment was her current state of being, she was going on 23 still being treated like a toddler).

Unfortunately for her, her words weren't going to push him away, the word ‘hate’ had become desensitized in their relationship and he had to admit it was partly his fault, so he was going to let it pass…For now.

A click sounds in the darkness, followed by the bedside lamp closest to Ameena illuminating her side of the room. She looked like a princess with her hair sprawled out all over the crisp pillows, her torso tucked into the sheet to perfection leaving nothing out but her slender arms that fit his like gloves. She wipes sleep from her eyes looking over to him, their eyes met for a split second before Virgil reverted his gaze back to the darkness he’d found solace in before. He feared the light would expose his worries.

“D’you hear me?” she speaks up again. He simply nodded, not sparing her a glance. He felt if they locked eyes he may interpret her words as earnest and that would end him.

“It’s so hard to look at you—let alone touch you, you know.”, her voice breaks and Virgil blinks rapidly, fighting his urge to run to her side, enveloping her in his tattooed arms. 

“You really hurt me—you will never understand. And it’s so fucking annoying because as much as you hurt me, you still have something about you that compels me to— for fucks sake— like even after telling Amaya and Tamara how much I hate you and never want to see you again ‘m here with you in a hotel…naked and for what...”she sobs painfully.

“I wish I could make you feel the way you make me feel sometimes.”

“—I-I just remember the feeling of hearing them…Virgil on the phone”

Virgil’s eyes flicker to her belongings on the floor at the foot of the bed, his bottom lip flips. Their breaths became the only clock ticking in the room. Each rise and fall of their chests were their souls attempting to reconcile but failing, an inhale a secret and an exhale a confession that neither dared to say out loud. He didn’t know what to say—this was the first time in his life he recalled not having a solution. 

Virgil sits up, his voice raw as he replies, “You’ve gotten your revenge now with my brother.”

 Her mouth flies open, ‘brother’. 

“Brother my ass, jeez Virgil—any excuse to refer to me as a whore and you will.” she chortles bitterly.

“You did it first.” 

“And that makes it okay to fuck my brother?….The audacity to try ruin a friendship that started way before you” His face tightened like a fist, and his eyes burned cold towards her side of the room, but she felt hot ready to burn back, to scold him.

His response was quick but silence prolonged hers. She’s guilty, Virgil thought.

Unbeknownst to him, her silence was the kind of silence made before breaking.

“You’re the last one to talk about audacity. Like you didn’t have the audacity to choke me and leave me on the floor crying, after purposefully getting me—trying to get me pregnant. You’re the fucking monster don’t try make me out as one, I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your little ego by getting with Trent but that doesn’t even compare to the shit you’ve put me through. You were so bad!! Oh-oh-oh Virgil, you were so insensitive about my abortion that day and you still haven’t apologised for how that made me feel, you called me murderer.”

“Keep your fucking voice down.” he grits.

“No! You have no more power over me.” 

 Her nap had seemingly restored some common sense into her, after her punishment she felt silenced. She wanted to get into his good books because he was asserting dominance she’d never experienced before. It was second nature to cower down to him but that wore off. Ameena felt the need to let him know that how he’d been treating her just for keeping the same energy as him wasn’t okay. She was enraged.

Breath …she instructed herself, the baby…

 “I didn’t fuck him either, unlike yourself, you’ve had sex with two women since we’ve been together ONLY GOD knows how many more that me and Rike don’t know about.” His body shivers at the mention of his wife, she was doing it again– provoking him.

“ I’ve apologized, I’m not doing it again..” he let out a long breath and his palms press roughly onto his eyebrows, for a second she thought he was crying. His face reddened as seconds past.

“For what offence? For choking me with your dick, or for calling me a murderer? Or for cheating on me? Or for fucking me for three years just to ruin my life…Fucking look at my skin Virgil!! Look at it, you’re breaking me out, my eyes have never been this red in all my 22 years of life, not even with my parents.”

You’re still perfect in my eyes, he thinks to himself. It was gut-wrenching to hear that all the things she was struggling with in her personal life was because of him.

Silence invades the room again, he gets up and with every move he makes he’s intently being watched by Ameena. Not even his blinks escape her obsessive gaze. He buttons up his jeans. Her world stills when he grabs his phone from beside her on her nightstand. He wasn’t going to leave on her watch. She sits up at the speed of lightning and reaches instinctively for his wrist, keeping it in place on the stand. Now he would know how it felt to be dragged out of the club.

“Where on earth are you going? I haven’t finished talking to you. Sit down”

“You’re not talking to me, little girl, you’re violating my character. If I’m such a monster, and if all those things I’ve done and have already apologized for truly make you hate me still then…”

“Then what?” she clings onto his every move, every story told in his eyes, every emotion playing out in his eyebrows. The world finally halts. She thought it stopped moving when her parents died or when she had her abortion but it was in this moment she truly felt the stars that scattered the night sky dim, sounds from outside and the cars in the distance drain out. Only the moment between them remained alive, too alive for her liking, holding them in its tight grip.

“Then this.” Ameena doesn’t miss the movement from his Adam's apple, something tells her she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.  

He motions between them both with his head. “Is done, forever.”

She maintains his gaze, wide-eyed like a baby. At a loss for words and like protocol her eyes glaze over. He can never look at her when she got like that, during sex sure, but with the gut wrenching stuff he became a wuss. He walks away, snatching free from her grip.

She mutter a small ‘ow’

“I swear.”

“Now I’m going to ask you for the last and final time, is what I’ve done unforgivable?” Her eyes never once left his person, in a state of bewilderment she shakes her head. Her mouth agape. She still couldn’t wrap her head around the concept of not having Virgil in her life forever, especially because of the reality of having his baby in her stomach. It made that concept feel unbearable.

No. 

Never.

She wasn’t going to do life without him, especially not whilst pregnant, she needed him. She’d spent hours talking to her sister about the crippling fear that would play hide and go seek in her subconscious everyday, her baby being fatherless. It’s in her hands now to prevent that, and she’d do everything in her power to.

She shakes her head, violently.

“Use your words, I hate it when you don’t.” he jabs with a piercing look

“No” she whispers, as if it was such an obvious answer to the question he had dared to ask her. 

“No, what?” he fishes “No it’s not unforgivable Virgil” her voice was small and hoarse. She wiped her face, waiting. 

Can everything go back to normal now?  She winced internally she couldn’t bear the anticipation she felt like she needed a remote in her life to press fast forward.

A slight nod from Virgil peaks her interest.

“Do you understand what that means, stout meisje?” He delivers, slow, low and controlled.

She starts to shake her head and then vocalises her answers when he starts stepping towards her.

“No, what does it mean Virgil?”

“It means you’ve had your chance to fuck about but now it's mine. You are mine. I don't want to hear you use that ‘hate’ word, it’s disgusting and it doesn’t sound good coming from your mouth. No more trying to be a big girl, I decide what happens next from here on out. I'm the leader in this relationship. Is that understood?”

She nods her head yes. He leans down in front of her, his fists planting into the mattress near her tucked legs.

“That means no defying me when I ask you to do something, Ameena.” he grits out.

She bites her lip, hard. “Yes Virgil.” He was being deadly serious but the thoughts in her mind weren’t. He was stone cold but that only set ablaze the fire in her heart for the only man who she’d let control  her. At that moment, she doesn’t entirely know what she’s signed up for, but nobody would blame her; her hormones were all over the place. What this conversation meant to her was that the happiness of their baby and consequently hers was secured.

 “Good girl.” he mumbles to himself.

Ameena’s brows cock up. He goes back to sit on the velvet chair and the space between them deflates the tension  in the room. Virgil is deep in thought again and Ameena is only just watching him.

Whew, she felt beads of sweat underneath her book, and in her pits. She sat in silence, most of the thing she wanted to get off of her chest she had, it was now all him. He did say he was the leader now.

“Since meeting you, those were the only two women I’ve fucked. I wouldn’t lie. I hope that puts your little mind at rest.” 

“Before you ask why, I just used their bodies to take my mind off of you. Simple. They were disposable pussy, like most woman but you are to me”

The look on Ameena's face is one of disbelief. “Ok. Have you slept with Rike since meeting me?”

He side-eyes Ameena, “You ask questions that get you hurt, why?”

“So that’s a yes, just say yes, why answer my question with a question.”

“Yes, I fuck her.” Fuck? Present tense…wow.

Ameena can’t help but to cry, not of sadness because she is well aware of what she got herself into, but of embarrassment.

“But I don’t remember the last time I’ve kissed her, or celebrated a Valentines with or a birthday. Nothing of substance.” She hiccups, and listens intently.

“But you, on the other hand, get 5 star hotels every other week, everything you were wearing today was a present, no? Weekly allowances, unlimited sex, I kiss you everywhere don’t I? Your cars…”

If Ameena was a few shades lighter, she’d be blushing but instead her stomach does somersaults and she looks down.

“Don’t hide that smile, come here..” He pats his outstretched lap and she gets up instantly, they both laugh at how submissive she now is. “But I don’t want you to fuck her, not anymore. Because you're mine just as much as I’m yours” she draws on lazily as the crisp sheets fall from her hourglass silhouette that Virgil couldn't help but to stare at. His stare pinned her in place and moved over her like a fire in slow motion, a raw hunger for destruction. His eyes didn’t just look over her but they claimed her. He enjoyed as her thighs jiggled with every step she took towards him, her breasts looked—big, bigger and her areolas bigger too than the last time he saw them..maybe she was just very cold. They sat up as if they were being supported by her belly… her belly. He stopped analysing too much before she became self conscious, but in the dimly lit room the shadows casted over her belly as she walked past the small light revealed a small bump that ended at her lower abdomen. Was it bloating… or was it what he’d been expecting since the day he last saw her.

She kneels on his lap, sitting any other way would be too vulgar considering she was fully naked. He keeps his arms on his laps, which was odd to her; she was expecting a warm embrace. It felt unnatural to just sit there without touching. She tried to move his arms but they stiffened in place, a whine erupts from her as she searches his face with confusion written on hers.

“What's wrong with–?” she catches his eyes flickering from her neck back to her mouth. Her shoulders start to heave for the upteenth time today. 

“Vee, I’m so sorry. I know you think I’m disgusting, but I’m not I swear, it was a moment of weakness.I- I can go and shower really quickly. Oh God, please don’t treat me like a whore. Virgill, hug me, do something!” she rambles hysterically.

He wondered if she’d downed a couple of drinks at the club. Maybe that would explain to him the ease at which she’d been falling asleep and all the emotional stuff. He can’t help but laugh at her theatrics, it didn’t help that she also had such an awkward crying face. His knuckles stroke her neck gently, “it’s hard to look at what he’s done to you that’s all”

“Were you drunk, is that why you let him?”  “I didn’t drink. I haven’t drank in ages, only Tamara did and Joe, I think.”

“Oh, so it was your sober mind, no liquid courage?” she sniffles and her shoulders jolt in tandem with them.

“Stop crying.. What’s done is done.” he looks down, his lip bottom lip between his teeth as he squeezes her thick thighs playfully as they’re spread in front of him, no one else’s compared to hers. Not even the Swedish whores he found himself in.

He was going to take advantage of her emotional state to probe about her past few months, his conscience told him there were bigger issues than what met his eye. 

“You got thicker?” he questions, and her mind freezes for a second. “Ye–no. I don’t think so. Have I? Do I look bad? I can lose–”

What has gotten into this woman? Before, she would’ve answered with a grinny ‘yes’ followed by a ‘so what?’ as sassy as she was but now she sounded…dare he say insecure? Maybe she was nervous as they hadn’t seen each other in ages.

His eyes flicker to her full  breasts, which bounce free with every movement she makes. They’re so close to him he can practically smell the familiar sweet scent of milk (courtesy of his wife and their 3 babies) or maybe that was his mind playing tricks on him. Wish fulfillment they called it. A smirk rides his lips and he goes to squeeze them hard, his tongue swiping over his top lip suspiciously. She screams, loudly. He continues to pinch her nipples, holding her back still with his left hand so that she doesn’t run from his….experiment. He places his nose in between her cleavage and places a few kisses there, planting them right on top of her crucifix tattoo. 

Extra sensitive, he noted. Her tits usually weren’t where she was most sensitive, it was her collarbone, clit and occasionally the small of her back. What are the odds?  he thought…

“Why are you playing with me so roughly? Are you still mad at me?” her chest rose and fell rapidly and her hands found his shoulders, squeezing onto them. Although she does feel mildly scared, she admires his striking face dripping with admiration, she missed him so much. His suave, how sexy he was, his quiet but sure dominance. His stare back mirrored the same feeling of relief to finally be in each other’s arms. Meekly, Ameena leans into the crook of his neck and sniffs the area, his cologne now a faint smell. It was such a comfortable position to be sat in for both of them, Ameena was on his lap with her face in his neck, and although he couldn’t see her sweet face he still had the perfect sight of her wham ass so he was fine. 

Before his hands  go to knead her ass, shemoves from sitting on her shins to straddling him, dangling her legs over each side of his lap with no care in the world for anything. She bucks her hips into him… his eyebrows shoot up.  This was the behavior of a very horny girl. That's how blatant her behavior was.

“Is someone excited?”

“Just wanna get comfortable” she mumbles, her soft voice vibrating on his skin. “You—w-wouldn’t fuck me anyways because you think I’m… you think I’m dirty.”

A beat.

Another beat.

After the third beat of silence, Virgil announces what has been lurking in his mind throughout their interactions in the chair. “....Are you pregnant, Ameena?......”

Her body stiffens around him and a sense of knowing consumes him. He rubs her back as warmth fills the depths of  his belly. “Why?” 

“ I’ve been observing you, I know your body almost better than you know it. Am I not your first?” “I also filled you up with my seeds the last night we spent together, you remember” She shivers.

She lifts up and avoids his eyes.  Ameena swallows hard before whispering, ‘I don’t want to cry again..”

His heart squeezes, he rubs his nose against her nose, lovingly so she could feel support from him in some way. He couldn’t kiss her, not tonight everything was still so fresh.

She nods, “I found out a week before the phone call… that's why it broke me so much its why I’m so mad at you—because I thought that was it for us and for the family we could have. The thoughts crossing my mind were scary, I thought that I kept the baby all for it to not have a dad because he had ‘moved on’ with those women”.

“Impossible.”

“Please don’t lose me Virgil, I can’t bear the thought of raising it without you.” He strokes her skin harder, enlivened with the thought of Ameena becoming heavily pregnant and in turn becoming the mother of his kid, like he always saw her to be. There were many questions needing to be asked and answered but they both held back for the sake of the moment. It was a big deal, a baby. A family finally.

“I’ll never lose you….well you’re stuck with me now, aren’t you? Forever eva eva” he sings in her ear, referring to a timeless Chris Brown hit. “Forever” 2012. 

She laughs, shyy.

A beat.

Her laughs, become giggles and then her thoughts bring her to silence.

“I, I hate that you won’t kiss me in this moment of all moments too….” She grabs his bun and pushes his face closer to hers, to which he swiftly jolts his neck away. Her hands move down to fist his top, pulling him towards her body. She sticks her tongue out to lick on his face, neck, lip anywhere. She was craving his affection.

“Ameena…” he warns.

She whines and tries to jump off of him but he holds her in place, he didn’t want their proxemics to be over, it had been ages. He was a happy man,but couldn’t show it in the way she wanted (through physical affection) for the simple fact that the evidence of another man was on her body. 

Virgil clears his throat, thinking carefully about the words he was about to say to her, aware of the emotional state his woman was in.

“But Ameena, as happy as I am about this, it’s a dangerous thing you did sleeping with another man with my seed in you.” he grips the back of her neck, not too tight but tight enough for her to acknowledge his sincerity.

“Very, very dangerous. You know how angry that makes me? I want to throw something, murder someone. Just for you—because of you.”he draws in a rattled breath. Her eyes glaze over with shame, she tries to speak…

“I didn’t have sex with him, I swear, on my womb.” “We kissed, and I grinded… on his dick and–and I wasn’t wearing any underwear so he tried to finger me— and he touched my pussy but he never entered me. I swear”

Virgil mouths form a sharp line, and his dark lashes hide the storm in his eyes. He taps her thigh and she gets up, he does too. Irritated. He scratches his head erratically walking across the room.. She sits back down, dumbfounded and uses her arms to cover her genitals.

“Fuck man—are you that easy?” he blurts out but the look on Ameena’s face causes him to immediately regret his words, her lower lip trembling as she registers his words.

“No, no, I didn’t mean that princess, I meant…. Trent not you.”.

“Don’t you trust me?” 

Virgil didn’t speak. He barely trusted himself, he knew how sneaky and deceptive he was at her age, so how could he expect her not to be the same. She was a spoiled 22 year old at that.

“Do you believe me?” she pleaded.

“Baby…?” She was tired of crying, and just sank into the seat. She just wanted him to forget but that was a big ask, especially for a man as possessive as Virgil. He stops in his tracks (from pacing about) and scans the gorgeous girl, he sees how obedient she was for him and how attentive she was. Her eyes, although tired, admired him and twinkled for him. This was a sight he’d prayed for for ages, but still there was something he needed… that he didn’t know how to articulate.

He sighs, rubbing his eyes,

“Let me feel it.. baby. Then I’ll believe it.”

Ameena’s mouth dropped and she looked down at her body and back at him. “I- I don’t quite understand.” She hoped he wasn’t thinking to…to  test out her tight she was, that would be absurd right?

“Let me feel your pussy, if I’m the only one that’s been in it then I’ll know.”

“You want to finger me, to feel how…tight…..Virgil, what is wrong with you?” her voice starts to waver and she now pulls his Prada jacket hung over the back of the chair over her body.

“I’m going to need to fuck you baby, finger aren’t enough.”

What?

She wanted the velvet chair to swallow her whole, and she’d be damen if it didn’t. She was firstly extremely embarrassed that he was inadvertently calling her loose to her face. Secondly, she had just announced her pregnancy to the man she loved, to the man who’s seed she was carrying and to think he was comfortable disrespecting the body she was growing his seed in was beyond her. Was he ever going to change? This obsession she had started to notice he had with controlling her body was coming suffocating and alienating, she had learned to completely disconnect her mind and body sometimes because of it. There’d be times, like earlier today where he’d carry out actions she didn’t want mentally but her body craved for and this was the exact same situation. He was currently punishing her because he was purposefully not embracing her with even a modicum of affection all day… and this… was the first intimate interaction they’d be partaking in for a while. But it wasn’t going to feel like the other times, this was going to feel artificial. She didn’t want that. But her body did, her body levitated at the reintroduction of sex, finally. 

There was an undeniable force that brought their bodies together, always, even during hardship.

“Get on that bed”  he insists, stripping out of his trousers. She flinches as the heavy material hits the ground with a thud, his keys and phone still deep in the pocket. He leaves himself standing in the middle of the room hawking at her. Standing rather intimidatingly in his black calvin kelis that were struggling to contain his growing cock. She felt like a victim under his alluring gaze, she wanted him to kiss her belly and rub all over her body and tell her how proud he was of her but no he was going to test her out, and ‘feel’ her.

“...I—V–Virgil, this is so inhumane. I’m carrying your baby and you want to test my pussy, to see if anyone has -what- stretched it out?”

He nods, as if there’s no problem in the world with his requisite.

“We both fucked up, I kissed a man i should and you fucked women you shouldn’t. You really must take my word for it, trust me, this is the only way this relationship will work, if you take my word for things. I didn’t have sex with him. I swear to God.”

“If you don’t want to move, I’ll fuck you on that chair.” he offers, taking small but sure steps towards her direction. His sultry, vulgar words changed the air in the room. A flush crept up her neck before she could stop it, her body was betraying her again. She was a puppet and he, the mastermind. The familiar sense of heat curled low in her stomach and her nipples stiffened. It was like every word was delicately picked to strike a nerve, hitch her breath. 

 Desire burned behind his eyes, as he stalked forward closing the distance between them slowly but surely, the pulse he could hear beating against her ears didn’t stop him, if anything it riled him like a horse being whipped. He closes the distance with one more stride and lowers to his knees. He disregards his jacket from her body, and takes both of her legs in his hand, spreading them far apart to hang off either end of the chair’s arms. There was no ounce of her core left to seek, everything he wanted was on display for him.

She whines, the vulnerability of the exposure gives her chills. She feels weak from his lips’ heat on her most sensitive area.

“Tell me to stop” he whispers, smooth like silk. His lip trailing from her inner thighs down to her left foot, where he bites her heels.

“Not fair, you know I can’t`’ she whispers back between laboured breaths.

“You’re driving me insane, Meme, I still want to devour every part of you why`/. No other woman can make me go against my morals. But you” he murmurs against her skin.

“What the fuck are you doing to me?”

He leans forwards and slides his arms around her waist pulling her to the edge of the seat.  He inches towards her wet, sweet core and her core and his lips share a breath only a hair strand away from each other. Her sweetness invades his lungs and darken the thoughts behind his eyes. As if the windows to his soul weren’t already onyx with want. He secures his arms under her thighs again because he knew she was a runner, and takes her pulsing clit into his mouth, sucking with all the pressure his tongue could muster. Virgil wanted to suck her sensations away so that no other man could make her feel a thing again, not after he was done. He nibbled, and pulled the skin around that muscle with his lip, pinching her thighs as she tried to wither her way out of his mouth. 

His pace increases sucking faster and faster humming to stimulate her clit even further, she squeals. Immediately,  her hands find his soft hair threading her fingers through the roots, gently buckling her hips against his lips. The hairs on his chin scratch against her slit and the desire in her spreads. She whines loudly, locking eyes with him silently pleading for more.

“Stop whining, tell me what you want?”

“Fuck me with your tongue.” he obeys his order, watching as her stomach tensed inwards when his tongue moves from her clit to explore her folds. Her slit contracts and relaxes to appease the throbbing she felt whilst desperately  waiting. He teasingly licks streaks up and down her sex, lubricating his tongue with her moisture until his tongue finds moist slit. Frantic, her hips buck uncontrollable she thrusts herself onto his tongue, too desperate to wait for him to initiate. His tongue dances spontaneously in and out of her, the taste of her sweet nectar exciting him to curl his sharp tongue inside of her to taste more. The flick of his tongue was skillful; the increasingly aggressive pulls to his hair weren’t a bother because he understood how good it would’ve felt, she was delicious and so were the moans to his ears. Her body was going into sensory overload becoming overstimulated with every slurp, slap of the thigh in addition to the  pornographic moans from her mouth. Her muscles all over her body begin tensing and her breath hitches in her throat when she feels an electrical current  unravelling from within her. She swirls her forefingers against her engorged clit flexibly as the release comes crashing down in waves, first taking her legs, then stiffening her arms and neck. Sounds of slurping fade out, and Virgil looks dreams away. She has no choice but to surrender to the omnipotent waves, falling limp and tired on the chair.

“Look at what you’ve done to my face, splashy.” He slapped her wet pussy.

She couldn't reply even if she wanted to, her brain was tired and her head was slouched on the head of the chair.

 His mouth rewaters as her wetness leaked in a trail past her second hole and darkened  the emerald beneath them. He carries her up from the chair and throws her lightly on the bed. She falls with a light yelp, and shuffles up to the headboard  as he pulls his dick out of his boxer’s fly.

He beckons to her with his index and middle fingers to move closer to the foot of the bed, a disappointed pout on his lips.

“Be careful, you don’t want me to get over there mein speeltje, you’ll have nowhere to run, little trackstar” he says with a menacing smile.

AMEENA’S POV.

“Let’s see if you were true to daddy, c’mere” he grunts, suffocating his cock with fast, tight beatings. I watched him jerk his hands back and forth until he came in his hands, it was an eerily beautiful sight. To see how his chest rose and fell rapidly sent flutters to my aching core and the low grunts falling from his lips damn near sent me into my second orgasm. But I knew I was in for some shit, he only ever did that to delay his next orgasm.

He knew just how to bring the whore out of me, without being asked I crawl over, taking his large palm into my hands and suck his ropes of warm and sticky come off of his skin, paying no mind to the hard dick that stood intimidatingly less than 3 centimetres from my face. I don’t take my eyes off of his as I swallow my kids.

“Good girl” he mutters under his breath, kissing my forehead.

“Now lay on your back for me..” he growls to me, holding himself back from manhandling me as my big doe eyes lusted for more validation after leaving his hands spotless.

I do as I’m told, laying on my black and he pins my legs behind my head, letting his spit trail down my drenched pussy.  He runs his oozing tip down my slit, pressing into it playfully so that only a third of his tip entered at a time only to be pulled out as soon as my muscles contracted around him.

I scream out with pure desperation.

“Just find out already, feel how tight I am for you already”  my needy hands find my full breasts and pinch, twist and pull them between the balls of my fingers. 

THIRD PERSON

Her words hypnotise his hips. They buck forward, fully inserting himself in her. Helpless, she lets out a guttural moan when seeing how her hole swallowed the entirety of his hard dick, taking on this wide circumference. She missed his dick, she felt high off of it. He sucks in harsh breaths when feeling her pussy contract tightly, almost spazzing around his cock, it was a fight to thrust himself in and out of its captivating grip but he was determined. He was adamant on ruining his tight dungeon, fucking her like an enemy to see how long she could go. He was thrilled to see her eyes get lost behind her head, and her teeth clenched, not an ounce of silence lingers in the air. Her pussy is just as loud as her. He pressed her legs further down into the mattress above her head, which in turn tilted her hips upward giving him leverage to go deeper. Virgil was chasing the feeling of her cervix, he wanted to bruise it and make a mark on her insides. 

His thrusts create ripples in her breasts and he salivates watching them bounce up and down, he can’t help but lean down and pop them in his mouth one by one. He couldn’t wait until he started to taste milk from them. He mentally promised to suck on them everyday until he could taste just a drop of her milk. Tears of pleasure flood her eyes because he doesn’t stop hitting her spot thrust after thrust. It was good they were on the top floor, otherwise they’d probably be banned.

 His breathing becomes jagged and his hips stiffen after one more thrust, and at the same time the knot in her  core unravels and Ameena’s legs shake uncontrollably. Her legs straighten in the air as the biggest wave of pleasure sears through her being, leaving her in a whimpering mess. She screams leaning into Virgil as their bodies sloppily bumped and grinded against each other at record pace. Their breaths were in time with each other, the lustful fire that resided in both their eyes riling each other to ride their respective orgasms.  

He lowers himself further down, going to plant a kiss on her lips. Before he can, she smiles cockily “Look at you now, swallowing your own words, who’s not tight anymore? You’re at my mercy.” The beads of sweat on his face told him everything she needed to know, his face was red, a testament to how worn out he was.

 There’s no rebuttal; instead he just drools into her mouth, and she invites it, letting his dna trickle down her throat. His pace slows significantly and she begins to queef,as her liquids splutter around his cock— he enters her and then completely pulls out— becoming weaker and weaker with each thrust. He releases one last grunt before pulling out completely and slapping at her cum filled pussy with his dick. Both their liquids dripped out of her opening, it was a sight to see.

Their panting drowns out the jazz in the room, and threatens to wake all London up, she coats her fingers with their mixed juices spilling out and fingers the liquid deeper into her core, wanting to feel completely stuffed. He drops to the bed, his sweaty body landing next to hers, and their legs tangled together.

She touches his ring finger with a small shake of her head, “your lover won’t be happy after this will she?”

He sighs deeply, pulling her body into his.

.........

(these versions will be free of mistakes once they make their way to wattpad.)

enjoy, thoughts??

[ethereal555]

I need it… please😭

It’s coming today, on my life. I swear, just editing again and again because I hate typos. It pisses me off.

[ethereal555]

what brooklyn say? I NEED THAT I'M ON A HUNT or sum like that😭

Lmaoooo, I’m trying babyyyyyy. I’ll update you guys throughout the day. Or I’ll split part 4 in 2. Part 4.1 Part 4.2