#ESTABLISHED SOME CREDIT IN TWO MONTHS.

[swagging-back-to]

got denied for the credit card bc my w-2 doesnt show my full social security number and capital one thinks it's realistic at all to expect paystubs to have your full uncensored social security number WHEN NOT EVEN YOUR TAX FORMS DO!

had to apply for a new social security card. had to sign up for a website. which theyre sending the activation code to me BY MAIL FOR. literally fucking the mail. and then i have to activate that and ONLY THEN will they consider ssenidng me a new card---which will take ANOTHER WEEK to get here at least. and then i have to MAIL the card to capital one so they'll continue my credit application.

[girlygguk]

CRAZY | JJK (Part 2)

summary you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.

pairing ceo!jk x employee!(f)reader

rating 18+ minors dni; smut, fluff, angst

genre coworkers to lovers au, established relationship

word count 13.2k

chapter content [read part one for full character & story warnings pls.] jk & oc first encounter, jungkook lowkey goes a bit yandere in one two of the scenes 😭, jk punches another guy, love at first fuck lets b real, mention of oc's superior abusing their power (not jk), hyungwon appearance 🙄, heejin appearance 🙄, hobi appearance 🎉, bff jiminie appearance 🎉, time skips, jealous mcs, heated argument, jk lies but like... for the greater good? god idk

warnings dom jk, sub oc, pre established traffic light sw system and degradation consent, doggy, dirty talk, protected p in v sex, praise kink, um slight exhibition kink, rough sex, squirting...(on their first fucking encounter yeeeppp help me god)

a/n this is only 75% edited bc i honestly wasn't going to post it for a whilee as i'm working on some other things atm but i felt bad just watching her sit in my drafts all sad n semi finished 😢 alsoo if a bit of the smut dialogue looks a lil familiar... cough salsa.. its bc i was gonna completelyy change up the sexy scene 🥺 and so i used the smut as inspo for the salsa drabble so it didnt go to waste... bye im such a clown. okay thank u, enjoy, and pls lemme know what u think <3 mwah

crazy pt 1 | masterlist | join my taglist | banner credit

801 DAYS AGO

Your twelve-month contract as a temp Administrative Assistant at Jeon Corp was creeping to an end, and it was safe to say that you were fucking pissed.

You had put everything into this place—countless overtime shifts, moved into an overpriced house in the city near the firm so you were never late. You eat, sleep and breathe this fucking company. And what did you get for it? An almost certain rejection, apparently.

You were more than sure they'd offer you a permanent position. Your stats spoke for themselves. They were flawless. You’d single-handedly cleaned up the absolute fucking disaster left behind by the previous administrative assistant who bailed after Jeon Jun-seo’s passing—and that was not light work.

And by "bailed," you meant that they were part of the bloodbath that ensued when Jungkook took over and wiped out almost half the staff for incompetence.

The staff who remained still grumbled about it—loyalists, maybe, or just people too comfortable with the way things used to be. They hated him for it. He was ruthless, sure, but effective. Jeon Corp wasn't just successful; it was dominating. They went from merely hitting targets to blowing right past them. And that shift started with him.

Jungkook was good. Really fucking good.

He was young, driven, passionate, and not to mention—a sight for sore eyes. Even as someone who didn't like to openly praise men, you couldn't help but be impressed.

Still, you knew your fate wasn't in his hands directly. He wasn't going to be the one deciding whether your temp position would become permanent. He was the CEO—too high up to care about such things. And besides, you'd never even spoken to the guy. You spent most of your time on the twelfth floor, and he was always buried in work on the nineteenth.

Except for that one time.

Maybe three months ago? You had shared an elevator with him when you both arrived at work around the same time. For eleven floors, you stood silently beside him. Well, you were silent. He was on the phone, speaking in that low, gravelly tone that had a way of crawling under your skin. Being so close, you could hear the slight slip of a Busan accent when he spoke. He wasn't rude, just... intense.

Even while curses slipped from his lips to whoever was on the other end of the line, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was just his usual tone—whether he was speaking to a business partner, an enemy, a lover. Either way, you didn't think it was negative. It was just him.

You knew bits and pieces about the guy from what Jimin had shared—him being Jungkook’s assistant and all—but nothing too personal. Not that you needed to know. Though, admittedly, he had piqued your interest.

A month prior to that elevator ride, you’d caught a glimpse of something that had you squirming in your seat. From your office, you had glanced over to see him leading a meeting on your floor. His suit jacket had been tossed over the back of his chair, revealing the dirtiest, prettiest fucking sleeve you’d ever laid eyes on. His big, tattooed bicep flexed with each movement as he pointed at the projector screen.

The sight had you groaning, pushing your unfinished lunch aside and retreating to the bathroom.

You’d tried calling your boyfriend, hoping to pull him into some filthy phone sex, but he was too nervous to go through with it. In the end, you hung up frustrated, finishing yourself off in the stall, biting your lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

The elevator ride felt quicker than usual. You kept your eyes fixed on the LED screen, watching the numbers tick up, though you were more focused on the way his cologne filled the space, light but somehow intoxicating. By the time the doors slid open on your floor, his call had ended. You adjusted your bag, turning to him with a polite bow.

"Have a good day, seonsaengnim," you'd said, your voice soft as you smiled.

He didn’t say anything back, just looked at you for a second, his dark eyes sweeping over your face. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he gave you a subtle nod, and you walked off, feeling his gaze linger as you left.

And that was it.

You didn't see him again. Not in the lobby, not passing by in meetings, not even when your car and his were the last ones left in the parking lot after late shifts. It wasn't unusual; he was literally the CEO, always busy, always somewhere else. He didn't have time to notice you.

But you couldn’t help but think about it more than you’d like to admit.

If you'd known that you'd never cross paths with him again, never ride the same elevator, never exchange more than those few words before your temp contract ended—would you have done something different? Said something more?

Maybe you would've clicked a higher floor.

But here you were. No offer. No permanence. Just three job offers from other firms sitting in your inbox, waiting for your reply. Of course, you had a backup plan—you weren't that naive. But something about it stung anyway. You'd take one of those offers at the end of the week, move on, and maybe one day, you'd forget about Jeon Corp entirely.

Sigh.

You were really going to miss Jiminie, though.

“So... how's your shift going?”

You rolled your eyes, a soft laugh escaping as you twisted the cap off your water bottle, taking a sip before tearing the lid off your salad. Your phone sat on your desk, Hyungwon's voice crackling through the speaker.

"It's going good, Hyungwon," you replied, voice tinged with sarcasm. "Same as every day."

A sad chuckle echoed through the receiver. "Oh, yeah? Well, we just got new printers at the firm, you know, the Lexmark MX8s? What about y—"

The forkful of salad that was halfway to your mouth dropped back into the bowl. "Hyungwon," you interrupted, incredulity dripping from your tone. "Did you really call me to talk about printers?"

"Well, I—no, I just—"

You sighed, reaching for your water again and setting your untouched lunch down. "Hyungwon, I hope you're okay, I really do. And I'm happy for you and your fancy printers," yours were two seasons ahead, "but this isn't helping. You're not going to feel better if—"

"I just miss you, Y/N," his voice cracked, and instantly, your appetite evaporated. You let out another deep sigh, rubbing your temples, as Hyungwon's next words came out shaky. "And I just want to know what I did wrong. We were doing so well. W-what did I do?"

"Hyungwon…" You picked up the phone, taking it off speaker as you leaned back in your chair, eyes focused on the ceiling. "You didn't do anything. You're a great guy, okay?"

"Yeah," he scoffed, his voice bitter and teary. "Girls don't break up with 'great guys' after an amazing year together out of the blue, Y/N."

Was it out of the blue? Had it been amazing?

"We've been over this," you sighed, adjusting the phone in your hand. "A hundred times in the last month. It's not about what you did. We just—"

"Weren't right for each other," he finished, his voice robotic, like he was reciting a script he'd memorized against his will. A sniffle followed as you heard him reach for tissues. "Just… wanted you to know I miss you. And… could I come by next week? Pick up my clothes?"

You took a long drink from your water bottle, feeling a headache forming. "I’ll leave it with reception. You can pick it up from the office—"

"No," he cut in, his voice tight with desperation. "Please, from your place. I just�� I need to see you one more time."

You exhaled deeply, eyes unfocused as you stared out your floor-to-ceiling window. It had been a month since you ended things with Park Hyungwon—a month since you stuffed his clothes into a box and offered to drop them off. A month of excuses, a month of him putting it off, dragging out these unbearable phone calls, asking to see you in person, to talk.

You knew why he wanted to make the exchange in person. You weren't stupid. But lately, something about his calls had been giving you a bad feeling—a taste in your mouth that lingered long after you hung up. Hyungwon wasn't dangerous. He wouldn't hurt a fly. But he was... off. These calls always followed a pattern.

First, 1:15pm, right when you started your break, your phone would buzz. You'd glance down, see an incoming call from P.H, and immediately regret ever sharing your lunch schedule with him.

Then, he'd be kind. Sweet. Boring. Asking about your shift, your day, until something—something trivial—would break his composure. He'd start to crack, voice shaking, or worse, he'd burst into tears over something like… printers.

By the end of the call, there was always that weird shift. Not angry, not sad… something in between. A mix of emotions that left you unsettled, and you couldn't quite put your finger on why. You could feel the resentment beneath it all, though—like he definitely blamed you for the breakup, no matter how many times he asked what he could've done to keep you.

That was fine. You were used to people resenting you. You were top of your major, gorgeous, and a bit of a bitch. But hearing that tone in Hyungwon's voice? A human puppy dog you'd spent a year of your life with? It made your skin crawl in a way you couldn't shake.

And now, here he was, asking to see you again. For what? Closure? An emotional showdown? You didn't care. You just knew you had to end this, fast. Another call filled with sniffles and pleas, eating away at what little break time you had? You'd throw yourself out that fucking floor-to-ceiling window before you let that happen again.

"Fine," you sighed, glancing at your watch as you switched the phone to your other ear. "You can come over next week. I'll check my schedule."

"Really?" His voice immediately brightened, and you rolled your eyes. "Shivers! That sounds great! Just text me when—"

You swallowed the bile rising in your throat. Shivers? SHIVERS?

"Break's over, Hyungwon," you interrupted, forcing a smile into your voice. "Talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah. Thank you, Y/N. I'll call you tomorrow."

The line went dead, and your fist clenched around the phone.

"God," you muttered to yourself, tossing it onto your desk with an exasperated sigh, "I'm changing my fucking break time."

"Should I come back later?"

You yelped at the sudden voice, spinning around in your chair to see your best friend standing in your office doorway, his signature Cheshire grin firmly in place.

"Jiminie!" you beamed, frustration melting away as you rushed over to pull him into a hug. "No, it's okay. It was just—"

"Hyungwon," Jimin finished for you with a knowing, apologetic nod. "You know, you could always just… not answer when he calls?"

You rolled your eyes, brushing a piece of blonde fringe from his face. "And have his suicide on my conscience? No thanks."

"He's a grown man. He can make his own decisions," Jimin shrugged, laughing when you widened your eyes in faux shock.

You shuffled back to your desk, stabbing a cherry tomato from your salad. "Aren't you supposed to be telling me to run back into his arms and admit I was wrong? Some sort of cousin code or something?" you quirked a brow teasingly, humming around the mouthful.

He laughed softly, adjusting the files in his hand. "I'd never tell you to go back to something you were clearly miserable in, Y/N. Even if he is my cousin."

You swallowed another bite, giving him an appreciative smile before finishing the rest of your water bottle. "That is why I love you, Park." You threw the rest of your papers into a folder and linked your arm with his. "And why I'm going to miss you so much." You pouted playfully.

Jimin rolled his eyes, guiding you out of your office. The usual hustle and bustle of level twelve filled the air as he snorted, "Don't say that. You're not going anywhere, Y/N."

"Mm, I beg to differ." You shot back, bitterness lacing your voice. "I haven't heard a word about permanency, and my contract ends in four days." With a dramatic sigh, you added, "Guess you'll just have to visit me at KimCo on your lunch breaks instead."

"First of all," Jimin smirked, "I wouldn't drive across town on my lunch break to visit anyone, even you." You squinted at him as he teased, "And second, yeah, it's shitty that you haven't heard anything about the promotion—"

"And unprofessional," you interjected, rolling your eyes. "And discourteous, and obnoxious, and plain fucking rude—"

He chuckled, cutting you off with a light shrug. "Yes, all of the above," he agreed as you both reached the elevators. Unlinking his arm from yours, he pressed the button to go up. "But… have you accepted the offer at KimCo yet?"

You frowned, glancing at the lit-up arrow pointing up. "No, not yet. I was going to tonight…" You trailed off, turning to him in confusion. "Jiminie, why are we going up? Our meeting's on level seven."

Jimin glanced down at the file in his hand before his mouth opened to respond, but the elevator dinged, catching your attention.

The doors slid open, and you were immediately hit with the faint scent of tobacco and Bvlgari. Your head turned slightly, seeking the source.

Jungkook stood inside, eyes focused on the phone in his hand, dressed in a perfectly pressed designer suit that somehow looked more sinfully casual on him than it had any right to.

You blinked, tearing your gaze away from him and turning back to Jimin, waiting for an explanation.

"Oh yeah, uh, the meeting's been pushed back a bit," Jimin said, nodding to the elevator. "But you're needed upstairs for a moment."

You frowned, glancing down at the heavy folder in your hands as you stepped into the elevator. If the meeting was postponed, you wouldn't have dragged this big fucking thing around with you. You left some space between yourself and the CEO and Jimin happily slid in between, his usual smile bright and easy.

The doors closed, and silence settled over the small space. Jungkook was still looking at his phone. Jimin still hadn't pressed a button.

You frowned. "Jiminie, why haven't you clicked a floor?"

He turned toward you, feigning confusion as his eyes flicked toward the panel. "Oh, because it's already pressed." He shrugged, flashing a quick smile before turning forward again.

You stared harder at the panel. From the corner of your eye, you could see Jungkook's broad frame. His phone was tucked away now, but his gaze remained fixed straight ahead. He hadn't said a word.

"Level nineteen?" you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice.

Jimin nodded, offering you a simple smile.

The elevator crawled its way up slowly with a few more words exchanged between you and Jimin. Then, finally, the elevator dinged open at level nineteen, and the air shifted.

The sleek, pristine hallway stretched out before you, polished floors gleaming so bright that you could almost see your reflection in the tiles. You had only been here once before, for a department meeting with the CCO, Kim Namjoon.

Jimin politely bowed to his boss as you instinctively stepped back, allowing Jungkook to exit first. His gaze never wavered as he nodded in acknowledgment, his movements calm as he stepped out.

As you followed Jimin down the hall, you couldn't help but notice how eerily quiet everything was. The glass-paneled meeting rooms stood empty, the reception desk vacant. The last time you were here, the place had life, but now… nothing.

Jungkook disappeared into his office without a word while you and Jimin continued walking. Your confusion only deepened as you glanced through the glass panes into all the very empty meeting rooms.

Jimin slowed at the entryway to Jungkook's office.

"Jiminie, what's going on?" you asked, gently grabbing his arm. "Am I supposed to have a meeting with Jeon Jungkook-seonsaengnim? Why wasn't I informed? I need to know what's required—"

"Y/N," Jimin interrupted softly, his hand covering yours reassuringly. "I'll explain soon, okay? I know it's last minute, and I'm sorry for that. Let me just make sure everything is on track." He smiled at you before gesturing to the plush seats outside the office. "Take a seat. I won't be long."

You hesitated, but trusting your best friend, you nodded, setting your folder on the table before sitting down. Jimin gave you one last encouraging smile before disappearing inside Jungkook's office, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

Your eyes darted around the hallway as you waited, the clean surroundings feeling almost too sterile, too perfect. The glass walls of Jungkook's office made it impossible not to glance inside. You caught a glimpse of him flipping through a file, his expression focused, detached. Jimin approached him, placing his own file down on the desk as the two exchanged quiet words.

Jimin greeted his boss again with a respectful bow. "Seonsaengnim," he smiled, placing the file in front of Jungkook.

Jungkook didn't look up from the papers he was thumbing through. "Is she waiting for me?"

"Yes, sir," Jimin replied, his hands clasped neatly in front of him. "You have about thirty minutes before the board meeting, so I thought now could be a good time for you to meet with Y/LN Y/N… The temp administrative assistant from level twelve? Her contract ends in—"

"Four days," Jungkook finished, finally closing the file in front of him. He reached for the one Jimin had brought, flipping it open. "Why hasn't her contract been extended? Her performance is strong, and she has streamlined operations in her department. Does she not wish to stay with the company?"

"She does, sir," Jimin nodded. "But I was informed by Namjoon-seonsaengnim's assistant that Lee Dohyun does not plan to extend her contract. He intends to let it end."

Jungkook's brow twitched slightly, his eyes narrowing as he flipped through the papers. "And why does Dohyun plan to do that? She's efficient, profitable. She cleaned up the mess the last administrative assistant left behind." His tone was clipped, irritation poorly masked.

Jimin shifted on his feet, the hint of hesitation visible in his posture. "I'm not entirely sure, sir. It's mostly hearsay, but…" he cleared his throat, glancing at Jungkook before continuing cautiously, "there's a rumor that she rejected one of Dohyun's advances a few months ago. Since then, word has flown around that he's been less than accommodating toward her."

Jungkook's eyes darkened, his fingers stopping their idle flipping as his gaze snapped back to Jimin. "So, he's punishing her for not entertaining him?"

Jimin's silence was enough of an answer.

Jungkook's jaw clenched, the tension in his shoulders building. He flipped the file shut, the subtle thud of the paper echoing in the quiet office.

"Why have you brought her to me, Jimin?" he asked, shooting a sharp look at his assistant. "There's a chain of command. At least six people between Dohyun and me."

"There are," Jimin acknowledged. "But some months ago, you mentioned noticing a significant increase in productivity and efficiency in Administration… You said the improvements could be attributed to the new assistant's work. I just thought considering her contract ends in four days, you'd want to meet her personally before she accepts another offer."

Jungkook leaned back against his desk, glancing at the glass door where you were sitting, your legs crossed, eyes absentmindedly focused on a strand of your hair. His gaze flicked over your tight black pencil skirt, the cream blouse that hugged your figure, the neat ponytail held in place by four bobby pins.

"She's very good," he admitted, eyes dropping back to the folder. "But I don't meddle in the hiring department. Tell Dohyun to reconsider his decision."

Jimin shifted slightly. "He's on leave for the rest of the week, sir."

Jungkook sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Then go to the next in command, Jimin. I'm not—"

"She's accepting an offer from another firm tonight, Jungkook," Jimin said quickly, catching himself. "Jungkook-seonsaengnim," he corrected. "Once she signs the contract with KimCo, there won't be time to make a counteroffer."

Jungkook went quiet; his eyes focused on the closed folder in front of him as Jimin pressed on. "Just five minutes, sir. That's all she needs."

Jungkook's eyes flicked up to meet Jimin's. He rolled his eyes, leaning back on his desk, arms crossing over his chest. "You're supposed to make my life easier, not harder, Park."

Jimin couldn't help but grin, looking over his shoulder to catch you glancing down at your Apple watch. He bit back a snicker when you rolled your eyes, clearly getting impatient.

"She'd be a big loss, seonsaengnim," Jimin said honestly as he turned back to his boss. "I believe I'm making your life easier. You live, eat, and breathe this company."

Jungkook groaned, closing his eyes briefly before nodding. "Send her in. Five minutes."

"Thank you, seonsaengnim." Jimin bowed, turning toward the door.

"Jimin," Jungkook called out, his assistant's hand freezing on the handle.

"Yes, sir?"

"Draft effective immediate termination papers for Lee Dohyun and put them on my desk when you leave for the night."

Jimin bit back a grin. "Yes, sir."

You straightened in your seat as soon as you saw Jimin approaching, eyes narrowing suspiciously. He looked like the cat that caught the canary, and you didn't trust it for a second.

"Y/N, this way, please—"

"No," you snapped, swatting his outstretched hand away. "Brief me."

There was no way you were walking into a meeting with the fucking CEO without any preparation. Was he fucking high?

Jimin chuckled softly, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Relax, Y/N. It'll only take a few minutes. Jungkook's not much of a talker…" He reached out again, and you batted his hand away once more.

He laughed again, then pouted, blinking at you with wide, innocent eyes. "Please, Y/N? Just trust me."

"God, you're a cunt," you muttered under your breath, shooting him a glare as you stood and smoothed your skirt. Reluctantly, you started toward the office.

"Unprofessional…" Jimin teased with a grin, snickering when you turned and mouthed 'get fucked' at him before stepping inside.

The glass doors clicked softly behind you as you entered the impeccably tidy office. "Seonsaengnim," you greeted with a bow. “Y/LN Y/N. It's nice to formally meet you."

Jungkook barely glanced up, his dark eyes sweeping over you for just a moment before he dropped them back down to the file on his desk.

His nod was curt, his voice low and indifferent. "Jeon Jungkook," he said, as if his name wasn't already plastered across every inch of this building.

When he gestured toward the seat in front of his desk, you sat down, crossing your legs as he settled back into his chair. His attention returned to the open file. "Your contract ends in four days."

"Yes, sir," you nodded, hands resting in your lap as you held back any trace of bitterness.

"Do you not wish to stay here?" His voice was steady as his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

You blinked, a little surprised by the question. "No, sir. I do wish to stay. But I haven't heard anything from management regarding a permanent position."

"Who do you report to?" Jungkook asked, though you were sure he already knew the answer.

"Lee Dohyun-seonsaengnim."

He leaned back in his chair, drumming his tattooed fingers lightly against the desk as he skimmed the file. "Your work is impressive."

"Thank you, sir." You smiled softly, ignoring how those four simple words made your stomach flip. "That means a lot coming from you."

His gaze lingered on you for a second longer before he closed the file and set it aside. "Y/LN Y/N," he said, his voice calm, "Why do you think your contract hasn't been extended?"

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the question. "I'm not entirely sure, seonsaengnim."

Jungkook hummed. "You've been here almost a year. Your work speaks for itself. Yet your contract hasn't been extended." His gaze locked on yours, and for a second, he almost looked genuinely interested. "Why?"

You inhaled slowly, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. "I've heard rumors, sir. But I'm not one hundred percent certain."

An eyebrow arched, and Jungkook tilted his head slightly. "Let's say the rumors are true. Do you think personal reasons should outweigh performance?"

"No, sir," you answered steadily. "But I don't control the decisions."

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and for a moment, his eyes flickered with amusement. Whether he appreciated your honesty or just liked watching you squirm, you weren't sure. "Do you plan on accepting an offer from another company, Y/N?"

You gave a slight nod. "Yes, sir. My first choice is KimCo. They've offered me a permanent coordinator role in their administration department. I plan on sending my letter of acceptance tonight, after my shift."

Jungkook was quiet for a moment, his dark eyes roaming over you lazily, but enough that it was impossible not to notice. "Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" he asked finally, his voice casual as he leaned back in his chair. "Or are you happy to go to KimCo?"

"I would prefer to stay, sir," you said, holding his gaze. "If Jeon Corp is willing to match the salary offer and I'm guaranteed a permanent position."

"What's the offer?"

"₩67m, sir."

Jungkook's expression didn't change. "We can do eighty."

"Wha—"

"I'll have your permanent administrative coordinator contract drafted by tonight and emailed to you. Will that work?"

It took you a second to process his words before you blinked in surprise. "Yes, sir," you replied, fighting to keep the smile tugging at your lips in check. "It would."

Jungkook leaned back further in his chair, his eyes flicking over you once more, lingering in a way that wasn't accidental. Then, with a simple nod, he closed the file in front of him. "Good. I'll expect your response by tomorrow morning."

You still don't really know how it happened.

Maybe it started when you stood to give him a polite bow before leaving his office, and he reached out for a handshake at the exact same moment. His cold hand accidentally brushed against the side of your inner breast through your blouse as you leaned forward, and suddenly, both of you froze.

Jungkook pulled his hand back sharply, his brows furrowing as he stared down at the file on his desk like it was the most interesting thing in the world, muttering a low apology, his usual confident tone suddenly gone.

It was... so cute.

Seeing the man who looked like he could ruin your life with just a snap of his fingers suddenly all shy and flustered as if he was more embarrassed than you were? Fucking adorable.

Maybe it was his instinct to avoid an HR complaint, to maintain professionalism in what could have been misconstrued as an inappropriate touch.

But you weren't going to misconstrue it. It was an accident.

And, honestly... you always were kind of a sucker for bad boys with soft eyes.

"Fucking goodddd!!!" you moaned, your voice barely coherent as your cheek pressed against the cold surface of his desk. Each relentless thrust from Jungkook had your body jiggling under him, your mind lost in a haze as his hips slammed into you without mercy. "S-so fucking b-biiiiig."

Your eyes rolled back, throat raw from the croaky whimpers that escaped between each ragged breath. His hand was firm on the back of your head, keeping you pinned down, helpless as he took you apart, piece by piece.

"I know, baby," he cooed, his voice laced with that condescending pout that only made you clench harder around him. "I know it's big, baby. But you can take it, can't you?"

His fingers tangled in your hair, brushing lightly over your flushed cheek in a teasing, mocking pat. Then, without warning, he pulled back and slammed into you harder, deeper, until you felt him hit that spot. That fucking spottt. Your breath caught in your throat as he didn't stop, didn't let up, just kept going, over and over and over.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, nails scraping into the polished wood of his desk until you felt the lacquer gathering beneath your fingernails. The loud, wet slaps of his hips against your ass echoed through the room, his heavy balls smacking into your swollen clit.

"'Course you can take it. 'Cause you're such a hard worker, hm? Such an overachiever, aren't you, baby." His voice dripped with dark amusement, each taunting word sending shivers down your spine. His hand pressed your head harder into the desk, the weight of him leaving you trembling, drool pooling on the wood beneath you as you gasped and whimpered, completely at his mercy.

"You can take it, Y/N. Know you can," he murmured, every word like a filthy promise, his gaze locked on the way your body was surrendering to him, giving him everything. He wasn’t going to stop until you broke. Until you were his.

"Color, baby." He growled into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He hummed in delight when he felt you swallow, your gasps feeding into his satisfaction.

"Green," you choked out, barely able to form the words. "Do anything to me. Green, fucking green to it all," you cried, voice raw as tears blurred your vision, and Jungkook groaned, teeth grazing the delicate skin of your throat in approval.

His grip tightened in your hair again, yanking you upright until your back was flush against his chest. "G-g-godddddd," you choked out, body trembling, tears threatening to spill as his thrusts grew quicker, more brutal, each one slamming harder and louder, drowning out everything else.

Your hands shot up, clawing desperately at the back of his neck as you tried to hold on, your body burning from the inside out as he destroyed you. His lips ghosted over the curve of your neck, teeth grazing your skin just as his hand slipped down your stomach, his fingers finding your swollen, slippery clit with ease.

Jungkook's pace became punishing, driving into you harder and faster, your body quivering under his touch. His lips brushed lazily over your neck, whispering filthy praise into your ear as his fingers circled your clit, sending a jolt through your entire body. The wet, sloppy sounds of his hips smacking into your ass filled the room, each thrust sending you closer to the edge.

"F-fuck, Jungkook," you gasped, your voice cracking as his pace quickened even more at the sound of his name on your lips. "It's s-so… fuck…"

He groaned low in your ear, his hand fisting your hair tighter, yanking your head back as his hips crashed into you over and over. "So good, Y/N baby," he cooed, his voice dripping with lust. "You're doing so fucking well. Taking it so good."

The praise made your throat bob, your entire body teetering on the edge of collapse. You couldn't think of anything but him—full, Jungkook, full, Jungkook. It was all-consuming, the only thing that mattered.

You weren't just wet anymore—you were disgustingly soaked, your arousal dripping down your thighs, mixing with the sweat on your skin as he ruined you. You let out a sob as tears streaked down your cheeks, your mascara no doubt smeared beyond repair as your entire body burned with pleasure.

"Careful, baby," he hummed darkly, voice tinged with amusement. "Don't want anyone to hear you, huh. Coming to check if you're okay..."

Your eyes flicked toward the glass doors, your head lolling back into the crook of his neck as you realized the vulnerability of your position. Fucked out, skirt bunched up around your waist, tits spilling over your bra, completely on display and helpless in his arms—holy fuck. The idea of someone seeing you like this had your thighs pathetically trembling as you felt yourself get even wetter. Sicko.

"S-sir," you stammered, the words forced out between his relentless thrusts that threw your body forward. "Cl-close the blinds."

Jungkook's lips curled into a smile against your neck at the lack of conviction in your words. Fucking perfect. His breath was warm as he whispered, "Why would I want to do that?" His hand slid to your chin, his fingers gripping firmly as he forced your eyes to the glass. "Y'look so fucking pretty, Y/N. Who would want to hide all that?"

Humiliation mixed with need, making your core throb even harder. The reflection of your wrecked form stared back at you—trembling, sweaty, makeup running down your tear-streaked face.

Well, he wasn't wrong. You did look kind of pretty.

The thought of how many other women had been in this same position with him briefly slithered through your mind, but you whimpered, pushing it away.

"H-harder, Jungkook… please," you gasped, voice a broken plea. "P-please, baby?"

That was all it took. His low groan vibrated through you, his hands gripping your waist tight as he snapped his hips into you with a force that made the desk rattle beneath your hands. One hand cupped your breast, tugging harshly at your nipple, while the other slipped down to mercilessly slap at your clit over and over.

"Shit, shit, shit, shittttt!" you sobbed, your voice high and broken, pleasure tearing through your body.

"You're close, aren't you?" Jungkook rasped, his voice rough as his thrusts grew erratic, harder, faster. "Getting so fucking tight around me. Gonna come for me, aren't you, baby?"

Your mind was gone. You couldn't focus on anything but the feeling of him inside you, stretching you, filling you, owning you. "J-Jungkook..." you slurred, your head falling back against his chest, "please make me come, baby, pleasepleasepleaseeee."

Jungkook's arms tightened around your trembling body, and in one quick motion, he sat back in his office chair, pulling you down into his lap. You cried out as his hands hooked under the back of your knees, planting his feet on the ground and spreading your legs wide, completely open, and facing the see-through fucking doors.

He didn't give you a second to breathe before he started pounding into you again, his fat cock hitting so deep at the new angle that your body shook uncontrollably. You couldn't even hear your own cries—just the wet, obscene slapping of skin and Jungkook's gorgeous groans in your ear.

"Rub your fucking clit," he commanded, his voice thick with urgency. "Come. Now, Y/N. Fucking come."

Your hand flew to your clit, trembling fingers rubbing furiously, slipping because you were so fucking wet. "Jungkook," you gasped, voice breaking, tears pouring down your cheeks.

"No, baby, f-fuckkk, I'm sor—" You couldn't stop the sobs, your body convulsing as the tension coiled tighter and tighter inside you. "Jungkook, I'm—I'm so sorry, ahhhh fuckkk! I-I'm gonna squirt, oh my goddddd!"

"Fuck, yes," he growled, and just as your body started to seize up, his hand shot down, pressing hard on your lower belly and bladder, right where he was buried deep inside you. His hips didn't relent, pounding into you with the same brutal pace.

The pressure on your abdomen made everything inside you snap. Your scream tore through his office as your walls clamped down hard on him, your body shaking violently as your hand trembled, losing its grip on your clit. You came so hard that your hand slipped away entirely, but before the overwhelming release could fade, Jungkook's hand was there, replacing yours instantly. His fingers rubbed your swollen clit with intense pressure, refusing to let you stop.

"Fuckk, look at that fucking pussy, Y/N," he growled as he slapped your pulsing clit over and over. "Keep going, fuck, keep squirting on my fucking dick, baby, holy shittttt."

The filthy command tipped you over the edge again. The sensation was too much, and you started to gush even harder. Wetness sprayed everywhere, soaking his lap, drenching the desk. You were fucking gone.

"Holy fuck," Jungkook choked out at the sight of your cunt gushing out liquid, his hips jerking erratically as his body tensed beneath you. He came hard into the condom with a deep, broken groan, his grip on you tight as he rode out his release, still rubbing your clit with nasty, unrelenting strokes, making sure you didn't stop.

Your body convulsed violently, your legs shaking uncontrollably as he kept rubbing, drawing out every last wave of your orgasm until you were a trembling, sobbing mess. His big hand cupped over your warm pussy, feeling it throb beneath his palm as he slowed his thrusts, easing you through the last shudders of your release.

"My godddd," he growled, his voice raw with awe as he moved his hand and looked down at the mess you'd made. Your quivering pussy, glistening and red, his slacks drenched, the chair wet, and even some paperwork on the desk soaked through.

Fuck, he groaned internally. He's obsessed.

Your chest heaved as you slumped against him, completely spent, your head falling onto his shoulder. Jungkook’s hands glided up and down your trembling thighs, suppressing the smile tugging at his lips as you buried your face into the crook of his neck, clinging to him like he was the only thing holding you together.

"Well done," he murmured, his lips grazing your forehead before pressing a soft kiss there. You could still feel his heart racing against your skin as you tried to catch your breath.

"Seonsaengnim," you muttered, still panting, "I'm so sorry about your papers—"

"Shut up," Jungkook cut you off with a roll of his eyes, your sudden shift to formalities clearly grating on him. His hands continued their soothing path over your stomach, fingers brushing lightly over the soft skin before he gently adjusted your legs on his lap. His strong thighs kept your feet dangling above the floor, his touch softening as he patted your belly absentmindedly, his voice easing. "It’s alright."

You tried to gather yourself, your mind still spinning. "I haven't done that in a while," you mumbled into his neck, the words slipping out without thought. "God."

Jungkook swallowed hard, suppressing the mix of emotions rising in his chest. Pride at making you feel this way. Anger at knowing someone else had. His jaw clenched briefly before he cleared his throat, forcing a casual hum of acknowledgment. "Good."

He patted your belly a couple more times, as though resetting his focus. "You okay to get dressed?" he asked, his voice slipping into something nonchalant, though the grip on your thighs lingered a moment longer than necessary. "I've got a meeting soon."

You cleared your throat and nodded, feeling a little unsteady as you began to push yourself up from his lap. His hands helped guide you as you stood, and you winced slightly as he slipped out of you, leaving you feeling oddly empty. Your legs wobbled beneath you, but you ignored the sensation, letting your skirt fall back into place. You glanced around the room, searching for your panties.

You crouched down, looking under the chair, then the desk, even flipping through some of the papers on his desk, but there was no sign of them.

"Have you seen my…?" you trailed off, turning to look at him, feeling the confusion settle in as you noticed his casual indifference. Jungkook, now having disposed of the condom, zipped up his slacks with an air of calmness that seemed just a bit too casual for your liking.

You raised a brow, suspicion growing. His expression mirrored yours with a glint in his eyes.

"Where are they?" you asked, narrowing your gaze.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he straightened his shirt. Then, he casually slipped his hands into his pockets, and that's when you caught the faintest flicker of black lace peeking out from one of them.

You scoffed, stepping toward him, but before you could snatch them back, Jungkook caught your hand. He snickered softly as he brought it to his lips, pressing a mocking kiss to your knuckles.

“01J09. Lock the door when you leave, Y/N." His tone was commanding but light as he slipped past you, grabbing his suit jacket as if nothing had happened. He gave you one last look before walking out of the room, leaving you standing in the middle of his messed-up office.

You slumped back into his chair with a huff, quickly adjusting your bra and buttoning your blouse. As you started to tidy the room, you found some disinfectant wipes in a cupboard and began cleaning the desk, trying to distract yourself.

The sound of the door opening behind you startled you, and you quickly turned, assuming Jungkook had returned. But when you locked eyes with your best friend smirking widely at the scene, your stomach dropped.

"You fucking slut!" Jimin shouted, closing the door behind him as he made his way toward you, cupping your face with both hands. His grin was bright, teasing, as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Holy shit! I'm mortified that I just walked past and saw my best friend getting railed by my boss… but I'm also so fucking happy! So, are you staying? Are you guys a thing? How did it happen? Holy fuck—"

"Jiminie," you whined, pulling his hands away and turning back to the desk to finish cleaning, "I'll tell you later. My legs hurt, and we need to get to the meeting—"

"The meeting's over," Jimin interrupted with a snicker, "it's been an hour."

"What the fuck?!" Panic washed over you as you turned to face him, eyes wide.

Jimin just shrugged, still wearing that smug smile. "It's fine, Y/N. I took notes; they're on our shared drive. It wasn't anything important. Definitely not as important as the 'meeting' you were in."

You snorted, tossing the used wipes into the bin and slipping your heels back on as you made your way toward the door, legs still shaky. "Jesus, Jimin, I can barely walk."

"I noticed," Jimin teased, his voice full of amusement. "Want me to carry you?"

"No thanks," you replied quickly, shuddering at the thought. "I'd rather crawl than have anyone see you carry me out of here."

"Are you at least going to the bathroom to fix your hair and makeup?" he asked, eyeing you critically. "You look like you were attacked by a swarm of wasps..."

You groaned. "Yes, Jiminie. I'm going to the bathroom. Now stop pestering me, or you'll be having movie night alone tomorrow."

His smirk softened into a playful smile. "Okay, okay. I'll wait for you in your office."

You waited for him to leave before entering the pin code to lock Jungkook's office door. After hearing the beep and confirming the door was secure, you turned to head toward the bathroom, only to find Jimin still blocking your path, brows furrowed and eyes wide.

"Jimin-ah, move—"

"He gave you the code to his office?" Jimin's voice was serious now, the lightheartedness from earlier gone.

You blinked at him, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. "Yes. Can you please move?"

Jimin didn't budge. His frown deepened as he processed the information. “Y/N… He doesn't just give the code to his office out. To anyone."

Your stomach twisted at his words. "Maybe he'll change it later. He said he had a meeting to go to—"

Jimin shook his head. "He hasn't changed that code since he took over. And… he just canceled his meetings for this afternoon. I thought it was because…"

The sinking feeling in your stomach grew worse. Of course, Jungkook lied and just wanted to leave. What was he supposed to do—sit there and cuddle you? Offer you aftercare? This wasn't new for him. You weren't special. Just another woman in a long line.

You swallowed hard, ignoring the bile rising in your throat. "Jiminie, can I… meet you downstairs? I need to go to the bathroom."

Jimin's expression softened instantly, his hand reaching out to brush some hair from your face before leaning in to kiss your forehead. "Okay, love. I'll get you some water and wait in your office."

You thanked him quietly before heading to the bathroom, locking the door before you leaned heavily against the sink. Staring at your reflection, you sighed at the sight. Your sleek ponytail was merely a distant memory, makeup smeared beyond repair. And there, on your neck, was a deep hickey blooming against your skin.

"Idiot," you muttered to yourself as you turned the tap on, starting to scrub your face clean in attempt to erase every trace of what just happened.

What was happening to you? You never let stuff like this get to you. You'd had more than your fair share of one-night stands, and you knew better than to let them mean anything. It was nothing to him, and it should've been nothing to you.

But god, it felt like so much more than nothing.

"Idiotttt," you muttered again, this time more frustrated. As you aggressively wiped away the mascara and dried tears, your eyes kept drifting back to the hickey. You sighed, knowing you had no makeup to cover it until you got back to your office.

With a huff, you walked toward the toilet and sat down, your hand grazing the mark on your neck while you peed. The memory of his lips still lingered fresh in your mind, and the longer you sat there, the more the reality of it all began to sink in.

Fuck, you groaned internally. You're obsessed.

Jungkook pulled the keys from the ignition, stepping out of his car and adjusting the collar of his suit jacket when it shifted out of place. The door clicked shut behind him as he locked the Mercedes, casually slipping his phone into his pocket—right next to your panties, still snug in the black fabric of his slacks.

When he reached the reception desk, a fake redhead sat behind it, focused on a stack of paperwork. She didn’t notice him at first, not until the sound of his footsteps caught her attention. The moment her eyes met his, Jungkook noticed the way she straightened in her seat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Oh, hello,” she greeted, her voice sweet but dripping with an attempt at seduction. “Welcome to Jang Merriott. How can I be of service?”

Jungkook swallowed the grimace threatening to surface, but his lips curved into that fake, charming smile he’d perfected for work events. “Hi, darling.” His voice was smooth, just the right amount of warmth. “I’m here for a business meeting, but I’m so silly...” He leaned in slightly, watching her eyes widen. His voice dropped to a lower, more intimate tone. “I forgot which room it’s in. Think you could help me?”

His eyes flicked to her nametag—Cho Minju—and when he looked back, he could practically see her mind spinning. “I-I…” she stammered, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Do you have the name of the—”

“Lee Dohyun,” Jungkook answered easily, not missing the way she gulped when he added softly, “Thank you, baby.”

“L-Lee Dohyun,” she echoed nervously, typing the name into the system with shaky fingers. Then she paused, biting her lip. “I, um… I really shouldn’t if you aren’t—if you’re not on the guest list…”

“It would really help me out, Minju-yah,” Jungkook murmured, his voice taking on a softer, boyish edge. His brows furrowed just slightly as he leaned in a touch more, looking at her through his lashes. “If I’m late, Dohyun-seonsaengnim will kill me… I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

Her wide eyes blinked up at him, her lip caught between her teeth. He could see the internal battle playing out in her head—protocol versus the hot guy in front of her. Predictably, protocol lost.

“Floor 13, room 304,” she whispered, her cheeks flushed.

“Thank you, baby,” Jungkook replied with a charming smile, slipping a hundred-dollar bill into her tip jar before walking toward the elevator. Minju’s breath caught again as he turned and walked toward the elevator, not looking back once.

As the elevator doors slid shut with a soft chime, Jungkook’s facade dropped, and he let out a small, amused scoff. He thought that was going to cost him at least a couple grand.

The elevator hummed softly as it ascended. When the monotone voice announced floor 13, the doors slid open, revealing a quiet, plush carpeted hallway. Jungkook strode out, his eyes narrowing slightly as he made his way to room 304.

“Jungkook-seonsaengnim?” Dohyun’s voice cracked in surprise when he opened the door, eyes widening at the unexpected sight of his boss. “I’m on leave, sir, is everything oka—”

The words barely left his mouth before Jungkook’s fist connected sharply with the side of his jaw. The force of the blow sent Dohyun crashing to the ground, his head snapping back as he sprawled out, half-dangling outside the doorway. His feet splayed awkwardly on the floor, barely moving. Jungkook nudged his limp body inside with the toe of his polished shoe, stepping over him as he calmly closed the door behind him with a soft click.

“Everything’s fine, Dohyun.” Jungkook’s voice was casual, almost too calm, as he crouched down to level his gaze with the man on the floor. Dohyun was clutching his jaw, eyes wide with terror, blinking back tears as he struggled to sit up. Confusion mixed with fear spread across his face, trembling as he tried to find his words.

Jungkook tilted his head, a slow, cold smirk pulling at his lips. "Great, actually," he continued, the menace in his voice unmistakable. His eyes flickered over the man on the ground as if he were nothing more than something to be dealt with. “And it’ll be even better in a second.”

TODAY

The soft click of heels against tile echoed down the pristine hall of level nineteen. Jimin and Hobi were either side of you, all three of you deep in conversation about Jimin's latest epic love saga.

“And afterward, we went and got ice cream,” Jimin sighed, a dreamy smile spreading across his lips. “And he even paid for my cone. I think he’s the one.”

You and Hobi shared a knowing look before turning back to him. Hobi giggled, shaking his head, while you leaned your head on Jimin’s shoulder, smiling warmly. “I’m sure he is, honey. Was it at least a double scoop?”

Jimin beamed, nodding enthusiastically, but his excitement faltered the second he caught the teasing smirks plastered on your and Hobi’s faces. His expression morphed into a pout as he narrowed his eyes at the both of you.

"Whatever. Just because you—" Jimin shot a pointed look at Hobi, "—don’t sleep with anyone more than once because of your deep-rooted commitment issues, and you—" he turned his accusing gaze to you, "—have found the only person in Seoul as crazy and fucked up as you to spend the rest of your life with, doesn’t make Min Yoongi any less of a perfect prince."

Hoseok grunted, crossing his arms dramatically as you broke into laughter. "You're not wrong," you hummed with a shrug, right as Hobi muttered defensively, "I don't have commitment issues."

It was Hobi’s turn to receive knowing looks from both of you before he sighed, dramatically slowing his pace as you reached the entrance of the meeting room. "Whatever, you guys suck."

Snickering softly, the three of you stepped inside, bowing politely to the handful of executives already seated around the large meeting table. As usual, the three of you were early, but you noticed that a few others had already claimed their seats. Unfortunately, there weren’t three consecutive spots left for you all to sit together.

Your gaze immediately went to the head of the table, the seat reserved for the CEO, which was still empty. You knew Jungkook was in a meeting with Kim Namjoon that had run overtime, so their arrival was indefinitely delayed.

The seat closest to the CEO’s chair—Namjoon’s usual spot—was unoccupied, but the one on the opposite end, typically claimed by you, Jimin, or Hobi, was already taken. You felt your blood boil when you saw Heejin, the newly appointed temp head of Communications while Sana Minatozaki was on maternity leave, sitting there comfortably, scrolling through a document on her laptop.

Jimin caught your eye, noticing Heejin as well, and gestured toward the chair next to her, silently offering it to you. You just shook your head, flashing a small smile as if to say, no fucking thanks. He and Hobi settled into two seats beside each other, leaving you to scan the rest of the room for an available spot.

Your options weren’t great.

A middle seat between Hailey and Vernon—two relentless chatterboxes from levels three and four—caught your eye. You grimaced immediately at the thought of being dragged into their non-stop, ping-pong conversation about god knows what. They could probably talk about fucking office supplies for hours if given the chance.

Then your gaze shifted to the next option: a seat next to Kang Minho, the scruffy finance head. As expected, he was already twirling a cigar between his fingers, his eyes twitching in clear defiance of the new no-smoking rule in meetings. The urge to light it was practically vibrating off him.

You sighed.

That left the only bearable choice: a seat next to Oh Sehun, the head of Technology and Innovation. He was known to be quiet and professional, and most importantly, he's least likely to annoy you.

Resigned, you pulled the chair next to Sehun, placing your laptop and phone on the table in front of you. He glanced over with a polite smile, nodding in greeting. You returned the gesture, settling into your seat and immediately focusing on starting up your laptop.

The room settled into a quiet lull, with only a few hushed conversations breaking the silence. Most of the attendees were either finishing up side discussions or preparing for the meeting as they trickled in. As your laptop booted up, you instinctively picked up your phone, slipping it under the table. Your fingers moved quickly, opening the location app and tapping on Jungkook’s name. The pin was still loading when you heard a throat clear beside you.

Oh, here we fucking go.

“Y/N-ssi?”

You locked your phone and turned toward Sehun with a forced smile. "Yes, Sehun-ssi. How can I help?"

His smile widened slightly, a little shy. "Uh, I just wanted to say… congratulations. Your promotion to Head of Operations & Efficiency—it's no small feat. Not an easy title to earn or handle. But I've seen your work, and it's… admirable. Truly."

You almost frowned, caught off guard. That was… really sweet.

"Oh," you replied, your voice softening. "Thank you, Sehun-ssi, that’s very kind of you. I appreciate it a lot." You smiled genuinely this time. "And I’ve heard a lot about you, too. Running your department is also no easy task, and you do it well."

Sehun grinned, his head dipping slightly as his ears turned a bit red. "Ah, thank you so much," he murmured, looking humbled. "I’ve learned a lot from our CEO, Jungkook-seonsaengnim. He’s incredible. One day, I hope to have my own business and run it just like him."

You bit the inside of your lip, warmth swelling in your chest at the compliment to your man. "He is," you agreed softly, your smile a little more private this time. "And I’m sure you will."

Sehun’s lip was caught between his teeth as his eyes seemed to linger just below yours, but before you could say anything else, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room, drawing your attention. You turned toward the entrance.

Jungkook and Namjoon strode into the room, their presence immediately commanding attention. Namjoon greeted the department heads with a dimply smile, but your eyes locked onto Jungkook. His gaze, however, wasn’t on you—it was unwaveringly fixed on Sehun’s reddened face. A flash of something dark crossed his features, and he didn’t spare you or anyone else a glance as he took his seat at the head of the table.

Straightening in your chair, you swallowed the scoff that rose in your throat. He didn’t even acknowledge you, his attention already on the file in front of him as he flipped through it silently. Namjoon’s eyes flickered over Jungkook’s hardened expression before realizing the CEO wouldn’t be opening the meeting. Clearing his throat, Namjoon stood up and took over.

"Good morning, everyone. Glad to see you all here," Namjoon greeted, flashing a bright, toothy smile. The room responded with polite murmurs. "We’ve got a full agenda today, so let’s start with—"

About thirty minutes into the meeting, you were still focused on your notes. Namjoon was wrapping up his discussion on a new marketing campaign strategy that had piqued your interest. You were typing up the last few points when Jungkook’s deep voice suddenly rang out. Your body reacted instantly, muscles relaxing after hearing him finally speak after what felt like hours of his silence.

"Sehun," Jungkook called out, his tone firm and commanding, and your head snapped up instinctively, surprised to find that Sehun had leaned over, perhaps about to whisper something to you while Namjoon was speaking.

"Did you have a question about the campaign strategy?" Jungkook’s voice was measured, but you felt the tension behind it.

Sehun jerked back, startled by the sudden attention. "Oh, I- no, sir, I was just—"

"Conversing with your colleague while your superior was in the middle of speaking," Jungkook finished for him, his dark gaze unwavering, pinning the tech head in place. "I'm sure I’d be more than capable of answering any questions you have regarding the project. Go ahead."

It wasn’t a suggestion—it was an order.

Sehun swallowed nervously, eyes flicking down to his laptop as if it held the answers. Then, foolishly, he glanced at you, probably hoping for some kind of lifeline. You could only offer him an apologetic look, knowing your boyfriend's ways.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched visibly, his irritation evident as he barked out, "Do you need her to speak for you?" His fist tightened on the table beside him, knuckles paling. "Are you that incompetent?"

Your gaze slowly shifted from Sehun, who was visibly shaken, to your boyfriend, who was fucking seething. You sighed softly, dropping your gaze back to your laptop, fingers resuming their typing with a small shake of your head.

And then his voice came again. A little softer, but still pissed. "Did you have something to add, Y/N?"

Your fingers froze mid-typing. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. You could feel every pair of eyes turning to you. Everyone knew about your relationship with Jungkook. It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t exactly something you had announced over the firm intercom, either. Most of the department heads were aware and knew better than to draw attention to it, but there were still some, like poor Sehun, who hadn’t quite pieced it together yet.

When you looked up, Jungkook’s dark eyes were locked on you. From your peripheral, you saw Jimin and Hobi exchanging wide-eyed glances, while Heejin’s gaze flickered nervously between you and the CEO.

Every fiber in your bratty being wanted to fight back, make him repeat himself, ask him what the fuck he was trying to prove by putting you on the spot in front of a room full of department heads. But the professional in you won out, forcing you to bite your tongue.

You shook your head calmly. "No, sir." The silence was deafening. You turned to Namjoon, whose eyes were carefully trained on his papers. "My apologies, Namjoon-seongsaengnim," you said. "We didn’t mean to interrupt you. Please, continue."

Namjoon nodded appreciatively, sending you a brief smile before moving on. “Right, as I was saying…”

The meeting finally wrapped up, and everyone began packing up their things. Some were quicker than others to vacate the room, with Kang Minho leading the pack, cigar already halfway to his lips, lighter flicking in agitation.

You closed your laptop with a little more force than intended, irritation still simmering under your skin. Grabbing your jacket off the back of your chair, you stood, feeling Sehun shifting beside you, fumbling to gather his things. You could almost sense the apology hanging on the edge of his lips, and you sighed internally, praying he wouldn’t try and engage in conversation with you again.

Jimin and Hobi walked over, ready to leave, but your attention was drawn to Heejin’s voice as she spoke to Jungkook. Your movements slowed as you listened.

“Thank you for such a great meeting, seonsaengnim,” she said sweetly, her fingers tapping the edge of her laptop.

You clenched your jaw slightly, the inside of your cheek caught between your teeth. Namjoon had handled ninety percent of the presentation—what the fuck was she even thanking him for?

“I actually had a few concerns for the Communications department that I was hoping to run by you—"

"Take them up with your superior," Jungkook replied, not even bothering to glance her way as he slipped his phone into his pocket and made his way toward the door.

Heejin smiled, clearly undeterred as she closed her laptop and followed after him. "But you are my superior," she giggled. Your brows furrowed as you turned to look at her follow after your man like a lost puppy. Your grip on your laptop tightened.

Jungkook sighed, forgetting she had even been promoted recently. Still, he didn’t glance at her. “Make an appointment with one of my assistants, Heejin,” he said, his voice dripping with impatience. “I have somewhere to be. Excuse me, please.”

Excuse me, please? You rolled your eyes. Why doesn't he just tell her to get on her knees and get to work?

Heejin nodded, still all smiles as she left the room, laptop clutched to her chest. You gathered your things and fell into step with Jimin and Hobi. Jungkook paused near the end of the table, his gaze boring into you, but you ignored the stare, slipping between your friends as you headed out.

“Y/N-ssi,” Sehun’s voice cut through the air as he jogged to catch up with the three of you.

You sucked your teeth, glancing down at your watch. Fifteen minutes until your production conference. Enough time to grab something to eat since you’d skipped breakfast—thanks to Jungkook’s insistence on christening yet another room in your new house this morning. The laundry room, this time. And as it turns out, sex on top of a dryer was a lot better and less uncomfortable than you’d expected.

Jimin took your laptop from your hands, giving you a soft smile. "I’ll drop this off at your office. Hobi and I are heading that way."

You nodded in thanks, turning back to Sehun, only to catch Jungkook’s eyes glaring at you from behind the tech leader’s frame. His brows were furrowed, a silent question written all over his face—what the fuck are you doing?

Ignoring your fuming boyfriend, you refocused on Sehun. "You alright?" you asked.

Sehun nodded quickly. "Yeah, I just—" He started to say more but stopped abruptly, his body stiffening as if he could feel Jungkook's glare on the back of his neck. Turning, he blinked, clearly startled to see the CEO still there. "Oh—hi, sir. Once again, I’m so sorry about—"

"It’s okay, Sehun-ssi," you cut him off, drawing his attention back to you. "I need to grab something to eat. Is this important?"

Sehun shifted nervously. "Ah, well... it can wait." His ears were going red again. "How much time do you have? Did you want to stop by the cafe on level 10 before your conference? I was heading there anyway—"

At that, Jungkook’s head snapped up, his gaze zeroing in as he pushed himself off the table. You stepped around Sehun, positioning yourself between him and your clearly furious boyfriend.

"No, thank you, Sehun. I’ll catch you later, okay?" You kept your tone light, ignoring the fact that you had definitely not told him that you were on your way to a conference.

Sehun, still a bit confused, turned slightly to see what had you moving so quickly. And that’s when he saw it—Jungkook’s dark, cold glare burning holes through him. Before Sehun could stutter another word, Jungkook’s eyes flicked down to you, noting the goosebumps on your arms. He grabbed the jacket from your hands and silently made you slip your arms into it.

That’s when the realization hit Sehun like a fucking brick.

His face went ghostly pale, and you could visibly see him swallow nervously. "Oh my god… are you—are you two—"

You nodded simply, sliding your arms into the jacket as Jungkook remained silently brooding behind you.

"I—I am so—sir, I’m so sorry! I would never—"

"Sehun-ssi, it’s fine." You gave him a polite, almost bored smile. "Let's talk later."

Sehun barely managed a shaky nod before he bolted, red-faced and flustered, out of the room.

"You’re such a jealous psycho," you muttered under your breath, turning to face Jungkook, who was still fuming quietly. You puckered your lips for a kiss.

Jungkook just glared, his eyes flicking to your lips for a moment before leaning down to give you a quick, soft peck. You frowned, leaning in for another, but he pulled back, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Why’d you sit there?" he asked, glancing down at your jacket, noticing you hadn’t done up the top two buttons. When he reached to fasten them, you smacked his hand away, refusing to let him make you look like a nun.

"Because your girlfriend was in my usual seat," you shot back, poking him in the stomach before turning on your heel and heading toward the door.

"And I’m the jealous one?" he muttered, flicking the lights off as he followed behind you.

"Yes," you hummed, walking down the now-empty hall, clear of all the departmental seniors and visitors.

You reached the elevator when Jungkook’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind, his head resting comfortably in the crook of your neck. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek as you reached out to press the down arrow.

"That poor boy almost pissed himself because of you."

"I felt like I was very soft on him," Jungkook shrugged, taking a deep inhale of your honey scented skin before pressing a kiss to your neck and standing upright. His hands slipped under your jacket to rest on your belly over your blouse, his fingers grazing your skin gently. "Could’ve been a lot worse."

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, but couldn’t resist the urge to look up at his adorable pout. You puckered your lips again, and this time, he gave in, leaning down for a proper kiss. Spinning in his arms, his hands fell naturally to rest on your ass as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

A soft moan escaped your lips when his tongue slid between them, licking into your mouth in the way only he could. It felt like only milliseconds before the elevator dinged, snapping you back to reality. You reluctantly pulled away, biting his lip gently before spinning around to face the opening doors.

The elevator revealed Kim Namjoon, standing there with his head tilted, eyebrow raised. "Jungkook-ah, the board is waiting. Answer your fuckin' phone, man," the CCO huffed, gesturing for you both to step inside with a hurried wave of his hand.

You smiled at Namjoon and walked into the elevator, Jungkook right behind you. His hand found its way back to your belly, rubbing absentmindedly as you hit the button for level 12.

Namjoon scrolled through something on his phone, snickering. "What time are you planning on getting there tonight, Kook? The RSVP says 6, but they don’t start serving drinks until 8, so I'll be there around 9," he chuckled.

Your ears perked up at the mention of the event. You fiddled with Jungkook’s tattooed fingers on your stomach, glancing up at him as you waited for him to respond.

"For what?" Jungkook asked, not looking up from his phone.

You almost frowned at his response. He already told you he had a sponsorship function tonight. Jungkook never forgets things like that.

Namjoon barely glanced up. "That promo celebration for the girl taking over for Sana-ssi?" He explained, locking his phone and leaning back. "Shit, I forgot if we need to bring gifts. I'll check with my assistant—"

You didn’t hear anything after that. Everything faded, the muffled sounds of the elevator blending together like white noise. Jungkook’s hand stiffened against your stomach, and that was all the confirmation you needed.

He hadn’t gotten his schedule mixed up. He knew damn well what event Namjoon was referring to. The "sponsorship function" was actually a celebration for that dirty slut from level 7, and that dirty slut from level 7 had gotten a permanent promotion, which would bring her even closer when fucking working with him.

The elevator doors slid open, and without a second thought, you shoved Jungkook’s hand off you and stormed out.

"Baby," Jungkook was immediately on your tail, ignoring Namjoon’s confused calls from behind.

"Wh— Jungkook-ah? What the fuck? Where are you going?"

"Baby, wait." Jungkook's voice was tense as he caught up to you, but when his hand reached out to grab your arm, you shoved it off aggressively.

"I’m so fucking serious right now, don’t touch me, Jungkook." You spat, whipping around to face him. He just shook his head, trying to step closer, but you put your hand up, keeping him at a distance. "I’m not fucking kidding—"

"Baby, listen to me—" he tried, his voice urgent.

"Get the fuck away from me," you snapped, digging into your pocket for your phone, your fingers trembling as you scrolled through your contacts. "God, you know I fucking hate it when you lie, and you just—" You groaned, your fist tightening around your phone as you shoved his hands off you once again.

"Who are you texting?" Jungkook frowned, trying to get a look at your phone over your shoulder.

"None of your fucking business," you spat, stepping out of his reach.

"Y/N, don't. If you're not going to let me explain—"

"My mom," you snapped sarcastically, your fingers flying across the screen as you started typing. "They finally adapted technology so you can get cell reception six feet underground now. It's great."

Jungkook scoffed, clearly unamused, but he continued following closely behind you as you started walking again. "If you can lie to me, then I can fucking lie to you, right?" you added mockingly.

He tried to grab your phone, but you dodged him, sending the message just in time. His jaw tightened when he saw the screen. "Like hell you’re sleeping at Jimin’s tonight, are you fucking crazy?"

"Well, I’m not staying in a house with a fucking liar, that’s for sure," you shot back, your tone sharp as you moved further away from him.

"You’re not staying at Jimin’s," he repeated firmly, his voice absolute.

His certainty made you laugh bitterly. "I’m staying at Jimin’s or I’m staying at Hyungwon’s. You fucking choose."

Jungkook’s fists clenched at his sides, his face hardening in disbelief. "Why the fuck would you say that, Y/N?"

"I don't have anywhere to go, Jungkook!" Your voice rose, frustration and pain bubbling to the surface. You could feel eyes on you from the staff scattered around the floor, but you didn’t care. "You are my home. I don’t have anywhere else to fucking—"

Jungkook’s expression softened when your voice broke, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He stepped closer, his hands slipping under your jacket, palms smoothing down your hips. "Then don't fucking go, baby. Just don’t go anywhere, please. Don’t go to Jimin’s." He begged.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt the warmth of his hands, the familiar comfort of his body close to yours. His face rested in the crook of your neck, and despite your anger, you found yourself leaning into him slightly, knowing full well that getting to your conference on time now was just a lost cause.

"Tell me why you lied then," you mumbled, your voice quieter, your sniffles betraying you.

Jungkook pulled back, his thumbs swiping gently under your eyes, wiping the tears away before they could fully form. His fingers brushed under your nose as he wiped away the dribble there. "Because I knew it would upset you. We’ve been doing so well in our new place, baby—I didn’t want anything to ruin it." His voice was soft, almost pleading. "I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was only going to make an appearance and come home straight away."

You studied his face, your own expression softening despite the anger still bubbling inside you. You understood him, you really did. But you still hated when he lied. "Then why didn’t you just ask me to go with you?" Your voice wavered, doubt creeping in despite yourself. "Did you... not want to be seen with me?"

You didn’t even know where the self-doubt was coming from. Jungkook loved you. He loved letting people know you were his. He didn’t care who was around when he kissed you or rested a hand on your body, claiming you without shame. But something about Heejin… She got under your skin in a way that you couldn’t describe. Maybe it was because she’d been here longer, known him longer. She was going to be in meetings with him now—department head meetings, one-on-one meetings. The thought alone made you feel sick.

Jungkook sighed, his hands cupping your cheeks, and pressed two quick, soft kisses on your lips. "Don’t say dumb shit like that," he murmured, his voice soft but firm. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours. "I wanted to have a joint office, but you said that was unprofessional or whatever." He rolled his eyes, giving you a little smirk.

You blinked, hugging your arms around yourself, stepping back a little. "Then why?" Your voice was quieter now, laced with the confusion and hurt you couldn’t hide. "Why didn’t you want me to go? I’ve gone with you to plenty of functions."

Jungkook hesitated, and you felt the tension settle back into the air between you. His silence weighed heavy, and that familiar twist of anxiety and anger began to gnaw at you again.

"It’s because of Hyungwon, isn’t it?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer. "You didn’t want me to go because people from his firm are going to be there, and he could be too, right?"

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his eyes hardening slightly as he averted your gaze. He didn’t need to say anything. His silence confirmed everything.

You let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking your head. Not only did he keep you away from a party celebrating the one woman you couldn’t stand the most when it came to him, but he also made sure you didn’t go because of the one man he had a problem with the most when it came to you was attending.

"Fucking hypocrite," you muttered, stepping further back from him, your stomach turning in disgust.

"Baby, it’s not like that—" he started, his tone filled with urgency.

"Then what is it like, Jungkook?" Your voice rose again, frustration spilling out as you threw your hands up. "You didn’t tell me about the party because you knew it would piss me off that it’s for Heejin. But you also didn’t want me to go because there was a chance Hyungwon could be there! So, what? I can’t go because you have a problem, but I’m supposed to sit at home and wait for you like a fucking housewife while you go to a party for a bitch that you know I can’t stand? How the fuck does that make sense?"

Jungkook’s face was a mixture of guilt and frustration. He took a step toward you, but you held up your hand again, stopping him in his tracks.

"God, can you just go away?" you spat, your voice trembling slightly as you felt the tears begin to well up again. Shaking your head, you started to walk away.

"Baby," Jungkook grunted, his frustration growing as he followed you.

"No, Jungkook. I need space. Seriously." You didn’t even turn around, your voice sharp as you neared your office.

"We don’t do space. That’s not how we work," he argued, right behind you.

"Well, maybe we need to start doing space," you snapped, reaching for the door handle.

Before you could pull the door open, Jungkook grabbed your wrist, spinning you around to face him. His eyes were intense, wild, like he was barely keeping himself together. "If you keep walking away from me, I'm going to follow you into that conference room and make you sit in my fucking lap during your entire presentation."

The seriousness in his voice made you want to roll your eyes, but you kept your expression blank, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched when you didn’t answer, but he didn’t stop. "I can’t have you two in the same room, Y/N." His voice was low, almost dangerous, as if just saying Hyungwon’s name triggered something in him.

You just blinked, still silent.

“If I see him anywhere near you, I’ll kill him.” Jungkook said it simply, like it was just another fact. “I wouldn’t regret it. But they probably won’t let you stay in my cell with me, would they, baby?” His brows furrowed, head tilting as he asked, like he was genuinely curious to know the answer.

a/n i cut it here because the rest is nawttt edited at all and very rough 😬 but any takers on a part 3 ??!!?! just give me 6 months and it's all yours xx

[endursent]

- My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It (3)

【 content; established relationship , fluff , humour , gn!reader 】

【 characters; aventurine , blade , dr. ratio , jiaoqiu , jing yuan , moze , sunday 】

【 premise; " You have been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned you into a cat, your partner has no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet he also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】

【 note; happens independently of other chapters of course 】

【 word count; 4.308 | read on ao3 | hsr their ver | gi their ver | gi reader ver 】

Aventurine;

He’s not in any hurry to get you back to normal, he likes to have you on his lap as he meets with some poor subordinates—perhaps it makes him feel like an intimidating figure from a movie—stroking your back and leaning back against the expensive desk chair he spent a few weeks waiting on the shipment for just last month. 

  You don’t complain, he pets you and gives you treats for being still and quiet—but as soon as whoever he was meeting with leaves, he scoops you up in his arms and smiles widely, lifting you up by holding under your front legs so that you dangle like a sausage. “Such a good kitty,” he coos and kisses your furry belly with exaggerated sounds. Earning himself some whacking and hissing for the annoying display and uncomfortable position. 

  Aventurine buys luxury cat food for you, only the best for his favourite (also only) little furball… only to scratch his head over the fact you won’t eat any of it. He knows your noggin is all right, but he didn’t expect you to reject the stinky—though nutritious—food. He gave up after a few tries and gave you some chicken, cheese and egg… a strange combo, but you’re hungry.

  An instinctual need comes over you to scratch, to dig your claws into something and stretch them—preferably into something—but every single damned furniture in his apartment costs more credits than you accumulate in three months. He’s completely stumped by your insistent meowing and complaining of restless boredom, being left home alone to do NOTHING while he works for a majority of the day. 

  Adorable as it is, Aventurine just does not understand what you want, he cleaned the litter box three times, he gave you some nice cheese—he even gave you a tablet to type what you needed on, but your paws are clumsy and it came out rather incomprehensibly. Eventually, you couldn’t fight it anymore and left marks on one of the sleek dining table chairs. He didn’t seem too upset and after looking up your behavioural clues (now with the scratching evidence) he found out you simply felt restless and needed to stretch and flex your claws. Now you have a scratching post you’ll have to resell when this is over (hopefully you will go back to normal soon…)

  Only two days in, and Aventurine has about three hundred pictures of you… in this form, he also has more than enough normal pictures of you. Snapping one at every angle—the way your pupils widen and narrow in different circumstances, catching you cleaning yourself, a funny, blurred picture of you mid-yawning where he stuck his finger into your mouth and got himself a prick of your fangs and yanked his hand away. 

  He snuggles against you in bed, holding you tightly to himself and nuzzling his face into your belly again—not even leaving small scratches on his forehead gets him to let go. “Stop wriggling, you’re soft and warm—you wouldn’t leave me to sleep alone, would you? So cruel,” he guilts you, smiling all the same. 

  Aventurine is well equipped to handle some separation for a time, after all, he goes weeks—sometimes months without your presence depending what the IPC needs of him, so you KNOW he can handle a few nights without having you squeezed to his chest. But your argumentative meowing doesn’t convince him to let go. 

  He’s never owned a pet before, and it shows. He’s lucky you’re merciful. 

  But can you help yourself? No. As his eyes drift shut and the sounds of the megacity outside the windows mellow into quieter hums and the majority of citizens retreat for the night… you smuggle against him, whiskers squished uncomfortably and tail swaying, tickling his forearm. You wouldn’t dare wake him, every wink of peaceful sleep is precious and if holding you in this furry form the Aeons have cursed upon you for the next days gives him comfortable rest, then you will be uncomfortable for a few nights. You’ll live. 

Blade;

The door slides open, your small ears flicking towards the sound as you blink towards Blade’s approaching form. He looks unhappy—annoyed, even. You don’t even have time to meow curiously before he’s hauling you upwards and carrying you under his arm. 

  Your protests fall on deaf ears as you hiss and flail, you feel like he’s going to drop you any second, plus, it’s uncomfortable!! 

 Thankfully, he puts you down relatively quickly, plopping you down on a sofa before sitting down himself… you shake yourself and sit down, squinting at him… what does he want? Blade doesn’t look at you, merely folds his arms over his chest and sits in silence. Okay, you’re trained in Blade-communication, kind of—fetching you abruptly… not looking at you…

  He wants affection.

  Fair enough, you’ve got plenty—though it’s difficult to express it like this. Stretching for a moment, Blade watches as you rub your cheek into his side before hopping onto his lap, tail swaying lazily as you stare up at him—as if trying to either read his mind or get him to start talking. Good luck with both. 

  You raise your paw and whack at his chest, meowing attentively. 

  Blade frowns and takes your front leg, holding it softly. He presses his thumb on the beans beneath your paw and watches as claws instinctively emerge… he doesn’t say anything as the then opens your mouth and inspects the sharp fangs there before Blade nods and pats your head stiffly. 

  You’re not entirely sure what he was doing—perhaps checking to make sure you had the components to defend yourself? It would be in line—but you sit still while he does. After the stiff pet, you lean into his hand and chase after it as he pulls away. His hand stills as you reach into it, and he resumes the pet. 

  “There are times I wish you were this quiet,” he utters, large hand practically engulfing your small, furry head. “But now that you are unable to talk my ears off, I find that perhaps I didn’t mind it as much as I imagined.”

  Your tail sways a little faster, maybe he finds it easier to talk to you like this? When there’s not really a ‘person’ staring back at him, making him face himself in the reflection of human eyes. You wonder if he talks to animals he passes by like this. 

  Of course, Blade knows you can hear him, that you understand his words… but it is the inherent humanity in your gaze that halts his words, and now that there’s just… this fuzzy little creature who happens to be you in front of him. He finds it easier. 

  That’s alright, you don’t need him to carve out his heart and lay it on a platter in front of you.

Dr. Ratio;

Ratio clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Come down from there, stop acting like a child,” he knows you’re in the form of a cat right now—but your conscious is not. You’re fully capable of acting like the adult you are. He’s holding a tablet he was, at this point, trying to force into your mouth. 

  Like an idiot, a very hungry idiot, you had ‘helped yourself’ to some lunch in the break room fridge… which, as Ratio had told you very firmly, is NOT for cat consumption. 

  So now, he was trying to get you to hurriedly throw it up before you start to digest it,and you are NOT making it easy for him—he’s trying to HELP you damn it. 

  Ratio’s lab is not a place for cats, in fact it’s only a place for him. You happen to come there often whether he wants it or not, but it’s his space where he can concentrate and focus on his work… your presence doesn’t necessarily disturb him, and you do bring him lunch and coffee—but in this form? 

  He had to lock you in a box. 

  You had tried to knock something over on one of his workbenches—entirely instinctively, you didn’t do it intentionally, to your defence—and then you had eaten that pasta lathered in sauce and vegetables not suited for cats, especially the heap of garlic in it. 

  And thus… you meow and wail pathetically, he placed the box onto a table, and it has bars on one side—so you’re breathing perfectly fine, as well as seeing out of it. Nevertheless, you sound like he’s torturing you?? He’s given you perfectly suitable snacks and entertainment while he finishes work. It’s your fault for not behaving. 

  But as he lets you out at the end of the day and you strut out of the box sulking, with a lowered tail and flattened ears, he sighs. 

  Ratio picks you up into his arms and rubs your furry cheek with his thumb, both an annoyed and amused glint in his eyes. “I am trying to find a solution to your little predicament, and you’re not making it easy for me. Would you feel better to be left at home?”

  You meow in protest, at least here you can watch him work, you’ll try to reign in these pesky instincts!

  Ratio hums, he pokes your nose and you sneeze lightly. “Very well, I’ll put you back into the box at the first sign of mischief.” Cruel. 

  You’re on your best behaviour, you sit and watch patiently as he swipes through datapads, searching for any information on how to get you back to your usual self. He doesn’t complain as you stretch and hop onto his lap, curling up on his thighs and laying your head against his stomach. 

  Absentmindedly, as he types and ponders, Ratio begins stroking your back. You’re surprisingly soft—not that it’s unexpected for a cat’s fur to be soft… but he doesn’t pet cats very often. You begin to rumble, a deep purr leaving you as you snooze comfortably on his lap. Ratio huffs, scratching behind your ears. “I’ll get you back to normal soon… but you are rather amusing like this.”

  He’s a rather good… pet owner (you don’t really like thinking that, but it rings rather true for this situation), he gives you space when you need it and always feeds you on time. Ratio lets you come to him and doesn’t yoink you back when you decide you don’t want to lay on him anymore. 

  He also gives the best scritches, out of everyone in the world (in your opinion (he’s also the only one giving you scritches)) and manages to reach the spot behind your ears perfectly. You meow up a storm in protest when he stops and he sighs before continuing. He supposes this is his life for the time being.

Jiaoqiu;

He finds endless enjoyment in your… predicament. He wriggles strings and makes you chase after shadows, Jiaoqiu even “accidentally” tossed the covers over your sleeping form on the bed—causing you to tangle yourself and get stuck in them. 

  Apparently the loud, distressed and helpless meowing was funny, so he said as he freed you. 

  He doesn’t tease you too much, thankfully—it was mostly over the first few days that he found amusement in the situation. But as six days come and go, he starts to get a bit worried, he hadn’t seen how it happened, he had only come home and thought a cat had wriggled through the crack in the windows and was going to put it outside and shoo it to go to their own home…

  You thankfully managed to convince him, but despite consulting with the Alchemy Commission and even asking some colleagues if anyone else had mysteriously turned into a cat… he had no answers. 

  You tried to join him along for the day, chasing after him as he left your home to meet up with Feixiao, but after noticing you were trailing him from a small distance, he shooed you back home, saying he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on you, and he didn’t want you to get swept up by anything. 

  Unfortunately for him, you’re stubborn, and you don’t want to just sit around and home doing nothing but napping—tempting as it sounds. So you go around him, you know your way around the Yaoqing and easily sneak up on the three of them as they meet in a populated square.

  Well, “sneaking up on” Feixiao, Moze and Jiaoqiu is practically impossible—before you know it, a large hand swoops you up and you’re met with violet, suspicious eyes. 

  You meow, attempting to explain yourself, but as you’re brought to Feixiao and Jiaoqiu, your partner pinches the bridge of his nose and explains that it’s just you. He had already come to them for help, but hadn’t actually brought you along—and surprisingly, Feixiao seemed rather happy to have you along.

  And thus, you came along to some meeting and a boring day on the job, but it wasn’t so bad. You looped around Jiaoqiu’s legs as he stood and sat by his side, happy to be tagging along. He sighs and pets you, as much as he enjoys your presence, he is a bit worried that he doesn’t know how to reverse this… for now, he will accept the affection and slight neediness from you to be close to him. 

  He lies down in your home come evening, tired from both the day as well as having to keep an eye on you so you hadn’t wandered about and got lost or separated from him. 

  You hop onto his chest, stretching before kneading on his shirt happily, glad that you were allowed to tag along. You dig your claws into him and purr happily. Jiaoqiu can’t help but smile and rub your ears, you’re too cute like this. “I feel that I worry about you constantly, even before you… were rather unexpectedly turned into a cat,” he hums to himself. “You don’t make it easy for me either, how did you get yourself into this predicament? Perhaps I should have you type your responses on a keyboard.”

  You can only purr and meow in response, much as you’d like to recount the incredibly stupid way this happened. 

  At least, you can sleep soundly for the night—so long as you stick close to him, he doesn’t want you to wander off and get another curse slapped on top of this one. 

Jing Yuan;

He’s… a little envious. Just a little. 

  He gets over it quickly, at first he was rather concerned—how had this happened? Is it dangerous? Hopefully reversible… but when he realises that you’re fully conscious and don’t feel ill or strange (other than what would be reasonable when your body changes like this), he relaxes slightly.      He himself doesn’t have many leads, but he sends those who can figure this out on the task to do so. Meanwhile… he likes to cuddle with you.

  Now that isn’t so unsurprising, Jing Yuan very much doesn’t like to give you a centimetre for yourself in your bed—but this is a little absurd. You’re always either on his lap, on his chest if he’s laying down, next to him (touching his thigh or leg) or even on his shoulders when he’s walking around… though you don’t really like that last part, you always feel like you’re one sharp turn from tumbling to the floor. 

  He loves to pamper you, pet you, rub your cheeks and ears, scratch behind them, feed you treats—you’re not like Mimi! That lion needs heaps of food per day to merely survive, but you’re small, you don’t need the massive bowl of fish he just brought you?! 

  While you appreciate the enthusiasm, and thought, you sneak much of it to Mimi, who is more than happy to eat some of your food… a little too happy, you once thought they were going to eat you too. 

  Jing Yuan is often busy, and as you mostly just see each other after and before work—except when you sneak him out for lunch or have a nap when you really should be doing something productive (he has that effect on people)—he’s rather happy to spend this much time with you now, even if you’re in a different form. 

  However… he does not stop kissing your nose and belly, every time he kisses your nose you sneeze—and you don’t like it when he’s poking around your belly, but no amount of hissing or whacking gets him to stop! At this point, you’ve hidden at the top of a high cabinet in the Seat of Divine Foresight. Watching Jing Yuan from above as he searches for you, trying to lure you out with some delicious smelling cheese… no! Get a hold of yourself, he’s trying to bait you out! 

  You start to realise how Mimi feels when you keep kissing and rubbing their tummy… it’s just so soft, you can’t help it, but you get it now… it’s not nice for the cat! 

  Eventually, Jing Yuan compromises, no kisses on the tummy… but twice the kisses on the head. You accept his terms. 

  The results of how to turn you back are going slowly, and so Jing Yuan gets you comfortable—no need for a cat bed though, everyone in this house, feline and not, sleeps on or around the bed. Though Mimi is not allowed on the bed when the Luofu’s weather systems display hotter temperatures, you would quite possibly perish if you had both Jing Yuan’s radiating body AND Mimi on both sides. 

  Thankfully, your fur regulates your heat very well—not so fortunate for Jing Yuan that you feel a need to lay on his chest over the night and he wakes up five times because you keep going back after he moves you next to him. It’s his fault, he insisted you lay on him constantly at the start, he trained you to do this.

  He is rather careful that when you and Mimi play around that the lion doesn’t accidentally… eat you, or crush you—Mimi is socialised with people rather well and doesn’t chase animals too much, but they have always been the only cat in the house. Thankfully it seems Mimi at least somewhat recognises that you’re still you, despite stinking of “foreign cat in my house”.

  Mimi also has given you precisely four baths in the last week, you look like you were tossed in a blender after they’ve licked you clean. 

Moze;

He has you tucked into a cloth bag he made to carry you around. you meow in concern, as you feel that accompanying him of stealth and espionage missions isn’t… the best idea. 

  “It’s fine, you’re in no danger,” he assures… surprisingly, Moze is very good at deciphering what you’re trying to communicate. He reaches back and pets your head before leaping down from the ledge he stood on.

  You hold on for dear life, digging your claws into his back. Why couldn’t you just stay at home and nap?!

  The mission was short and only for the purpose of gathering information… but you felt like you were either going to be discovered, going to be tossed off Moze’s back, going to die, and become paste on the ground (you will have a long discussion about these leaps of faith once you’re back to normal) through the entire thing.

  He does comfort and give you some nice fish in the aftermath… but you will not be accompanying him again. Lesson learned. Moze didn’t seem disappointed either way, it doesn’t seem that he minded taking you along—you thought he was teaching you a lesson, but he actually just does all that all the time?! You understand his job… but does he have to leap from such high perches??

  As usual, Moze decides to take a bath after the mission, and picks you up… as it to make you join him? You are not going into the water, you accidentally stepped in your water bowl a day ago, you know the feeling that will kill you inside. 

  Near violently thrashing, hissing, meowing and using any display of “PLEASE DON’T PUT ME IN THE WATER” you can, Moze finally lets you go. He hums and touches his chin in thought. “You should clean yourself, then. We got dirty on the mission, you can’t go into bed like that.”

  … clean yourself? Like, licking?

  He must have understood the dumb look you’re giving him (cats do have a distinct “what did you just say to me” look) and shrugs. “Don’t break your own rules.”

  You did set a rule that he had to wash after missions, not that you necessarily had to—Moze is very hygienic, but sometimes…  he is a bit too tired, which is when you would just get up and wash him yourself while he dozes off in the tub. It’s nice.

  … a comfortable memory, but he looks very nonchalantly serious. You do need to clean yourself if you won’t let him toss you in the tub (which you wont). 

  It’s a bit awkward at first, and you hiss at Moze when he stands and watches you—it’s embarrassing enough already!—until he nods and turns to the bathroom… it takes longer than you would have imagined, and also is very meticulous, but eventually you feel much cleaner and better and realise that it wasn’t so bad.

  Happy and feeling lighter, you hop into bed (you’re still faster than it takes Moze to bathe) and curl up… exhausted, you fall asleep immediately, only rousing when the bed dips next to you and Moze strokes along your back for a while, you don't move, feeling very comfortable… until you feel a small bump of a kiss on top of your head, between your now perked ears.

  He lays down properly, on his side as you flop on your back and get comfortable. Despite the uncomfortable instincts to knock things over, and having to groom yourself… sleeping is very comfortable in this body. Or maybe it’s just being next to Moze.

Sunday;

Sunday is lucky if he even gets to have you around. As soon as you’re suddenly a cat, half the Express is suddenly very interested in keeping you to themselves. Of course, March kidnapped you from Sunday’s room the morning after—it gave him a bit of a fright, at first you had suddenly become a cat, now you had disappeared, but he calmed slightly when he saw March putting a bowtie around your neck and dressing you up using some costumes she uses for Pom Pom… you’re quite a bit smaller than Pom Pom, but March makes it work. 

  He finally managed to free you, one might think you’ve just been through some horrors as your claws cling to his clothes and he sets you down on your bed. Sunday tries to calm and assure you, but it takes a while for you to get over the traumatising event until you fall asleep. 

  After being passed around like a plushy, the Express gets over the fact that their fellow member has now become a cat, and instead start pondering how it happened and how to fix it.       Sunday does what he can to research what to do, but he can’t help thinking… you’re very cute like this. Your large eyes that stare at him as he goes back and forth tending to chores on the Express (he decided to handle your as well while you’re in this form), your tail sways when he comes closer and slows when he walks past you. You don’t even notice that he does it deliberately a few times, just because he thinks it’s rather adorable. 

  He also makes sure to take good care of you, even in ways that’s not really necessary, like brushing your fur and making sure there’s no tangles or knots… it does feel very nice, when you loaf on his lap and he drags the brush over your back. 

  Sunday does however try to brush your teeth one time, which becomes a chasing game where you eventually hid in the engine room to avoid him—your teeth are perfectly fine! No need to brush! (There is a need to, but it’s uncomfortable!)

  “...? Why are you—?” you leap into the air, a startled yowl leaving you as Pom Pom is suddenly behind you, they in turn also shout in surprise and your hiding spot is quickly discovered when Himeko comes running to see what was wrong. 

  Sunday did apologise and didn’t try to mess with your teeth again, thankfully. You hopefully won’t be stuck like this for long… would damage even come to your actual teeth? Does damage carry over? Will you be hairier when you return to normal??

  You like to be near Sunday, following him around and watching what he’s doing day around—he doesn’t really know what’s going through your head, but he doesn’t mind you either, you don’t get in his way at all. He stops to pet you occasionally and gives good scratches under your chin, your purring makes him happy that you like to be petted so much by him—especially after Dan Heng’s quite clumsy petting. He meant well, but the patting was effectively smacking on your head a few times. 

  “I much prefer you as normal,” Sunday says as he strokes you from head to swaying tail. “I don’t quite hold the same conversational skills as you do, holding it up by myself is quite difficult.” 

  You wouldn’t say that you’re “conversationally skilled”, it’s rather Sunday that is rather quiet now that he has boarded the Express. Not that he doesn’t want to talk to anyone… he just has much to think about, and your voice takes him out of his head. 

  “Meow for me?” he rubs your right ear. “Even your voice as a small cat sounds like you. I wish to hear it.”

[buckets-and-trees]

hii i have a request this can be for Ransom or Andy

But imagine y/n and him are in an arranged marriage. y/n is doing everything she can for him to sign the divorce paper for examples smashing his cars, serving overly salty food, cutting his expensive clothes into pieces, disrespecting his workers, and spending his money on the most useful things (but if it ransom spending money at “low class” retail shops only bc I feel like he’ll hate that), etc.

instead of giving her a divorce, he just randomly starts acting like a romantic gentleman until the night ends he punishes her 🙊😈

I have to apologize for taking so long to answer this ask... and forgive me for not using all the inspo you dropped my way, but from the MOMENT I read this, I knew it was going to fuel something very specific for I'm Your Man Andy and his entrapped fiancé reader., and so I still needed to post it as an answer to this to give some credit where it's due. So even though it took months and months to get to here, this is the result.

Title: Don't Look Too Far

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark mafia Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 6.4k Summary: After jetting away with Andy for a week, you're back. The reality that this is going to be your life starts to settle in in very unsettling ways. And although Andy's taken so many liberties with you already, he finally crosses a line you didn't know was on the board.

Content/Warnings: violent behavior; spanking as punishment; emotional manipulation; explicit smut: nipple play, cock stroking, vaginal fingering, oral (female receiving), vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex; use of pet name (sweetheart), implied dacryphilia

Author Note: This is not a stand alone section! You can find the previous parts here.

Author Note 2: I've been sitting on this for a long time, and I'm excited to finally have it here to share with you. Some of you genuinely seem to love this awful Andy, and you'll like this chapter. Some of you kinda like him against your will and I think you'll like this chapter (cough @stargazingfangirl18 cough). Some of you loathe this man, and you might like at least a few things in this chapter (looking at @biteofcherry).

You are glad to get home from your whirlwind trip with Andy.

Everything had been stunning, luxurious, and beyond your wildest dreams in one of the places you’d been longing to go almost your entire life. Even Andy had been nearly wonderful and certainly subjected you to endless spoiling and copious amounts of exquisite sex.

He makes all of this so difficult.

The private jet touches down in the early afternoon, and Andy allows you to avoid him until dinner. One of the things he’d made clear was an expectation from day one was having dinner together. After dinner, he insists on taking you for a ride in his Aston Martin DBS 770 Ultimate Volante – not his only sports car in the gargantuan garage of his mansion, and not even the only Aston Martin. Though he gave you no choice in whether or not to join him, he doesn’t force conversation, merely lets you enjoy the scenic drive, occasionally holding your hand. Once home, he takes you to bed and gets you to scream out through two orgasms for him before he lets you rest in peace.

The next morning, you awake alone. Andy only invokes a little small talk in the kitchen, lets you know he’ll be taking a few meetings, places a kiss on the top of your head while you eat breakfast at the counter, and then leaves.

It is more room than you have been used to in the mornings, and you don’t question it. You are happy to have the Saturday to yourself.

Three days after Andy so decisively put his engagement ring on your finger, he put a black card in your wallet. Today you will break it in.

You start at a hair salon you have never been able to afford but that had been on the “essential” list of prenuptial rituals for some of the wealthiest brides you’d planned nuptials for. Having the long-standing relationship with the establishment to arrange appointments for your clients meant they were willing to fit you in last minute for the late morning.

You hold yourself back from doing anything drastic. You don’t want to give Andy the satisfaction of driving you to go for a new style. You leave more than a generous tip.

You get lunch at a small sandwich shop – one of your favorites. You choose a table with a view out one of the large windows. It’s nice to be in a familiar place, even with the presence of Shep watching out for the non-existent security threats.

After lunch, you ask Mark to drive you to the plant nursery you love.

You get everything you want, leaving no plant behind if it strikes your fancy. You buy lovely pots for all of them and never look at price tags. When you tap your card for the enormous bill, it’s with a self-satisfied smirk on your face.

Next you go to the nail salon. They are busy, as it’s Saturday afternoon, just as you knew they would be, but they say they can take you in an hour or less, and since you have no demands on your time, you’re more than fine waiting.

As it’s late summer, it really is too warm for the plants to stay in your car, so you insist on sending Mark home with the plants – you know better than to try to convince Shep to go with him. The man has made it clear he will not shirk his duty as the point man for the security Andy has assigned to you. He’s ever present, and you don’t give him a hard time – he’s only doing his job. Shep doesn’t like your suggestion, however, and instead calls someone from the house to come pick up your plants so neither of the men have to leave.

Once your pedicure and manicure are complete, you check your phone while you’re escorted to the SUV. Your mom has sent you a text.

MOM: Call me when you get a chance! I want to hear all about your trip!

You frown as you slide into the backseat.

How did she know?

Since being trapped and installed into the life of the mob boss, you’ve avoided getting together with any of your friends or family, phone calls, and any deep text conversations. It’s self-isolation, nothing mandated from Andy. But what would you tell them about your new circumstance? Forced into an engagement with a charming, handsome man who just happens to be a mobster with control issues you were sure you could never escape from? Not a subject you want to get anywhere close to.

You only hesitate for another moment before you hit the call button and place the phone to your ear as Mark starts your drive home.

“Hello, dear!” your mom’s voice is clear and full of excitement.

“Hi, Mom,” you reply, smiling despite yourself.

Your heart aches for the weeks it’s been since you two last spoke. You missed her voice. You’re close with both of your parents. Your job had kept you incredibly busy over the past five years, but you usually spoke with them at least once a week and made it out to their house in the suburbs once or twice a month.

“I got your text,” you say simply, not sure how else to begin.

“Yes!” she exclaims, her voice full of enthusiasm. “I want to hear everything about your trip! But first, we have to talk about Andy!”

She can’t see it, but your jaw drops. “Andy?”

“He made us promise not to say anything until after lunch today – and I’m sorry, it’s why I haven’t texted or called all week, I wasn’t sure I couldn’t NOT bring him up, but he told us everything! How you met–”

“Well, you know I planned that signature gala for him,” you interject, somehow needing to jump in to clarify that point.

“Of course, yes, but how he was so impressed by you but waited until the event was over before saying anything, how he couldn’t help moving so fast with you. When he reached out earlier this week to set up the lunch with your father and I, he said he wanted us to meet him without you there so that we could thoroughly vet him and judge for ourselves without worrying you, make up our own minds even though he was obviously hoping we would approve since you’re engaged, but he didn’t reveal that detail until today.”

“Oh,” your mind is racing. “Andy always seems to have something up his sleeve.”

She laughs. “I can only imagine! And things certainly developed quickly!”

“Yes…” your voice is thick with hesitancy, and you know you can’t hide it from her.

“But your father and I want you to know that while you don’t need our approval, you have it. We’re surprised, but we approve. He’s so clearly smitten with you, and we know you would never jump into an engagement like this unless you were sure. We trust you.”

You don’t know what to say.

“I would have told you and Dad about the engagement,” you say. You don’t know when you would have. You were still so freshly coming to terms with its reality and ramifications…

Now telling your parents about Andy is yet another thing he has stolen from you.

“We know! We were young once, too! I can only imagine how much that man must have swept you away!” she soothes and exclaims, her voice bright and beaming through the phone.

It makes your chest ache because if this had evolved without Andy’s constant control, it might have been like this, and you would have gushed and been giddy with your mom right now in this moment.

“Why don’t we get lunch tomorrow just the two of us?” you suggest, wanting nothing more than to talk to your mom, but desperately needing to get off the phone so you can regroup, clear your thoughts, and figure out what in the world you are going to be able and willing to tell her.

“I would love that! Where do you want to go?”

You quickly sort out details that you promise to confirm over text, say your goodbyes, and then you end the call. You set the phone on the seat, drop your head back, and shut your eyes, fighting back angry tears. You wouldn’t let them fall down your cheeks.

“Your mom sounds like a lovely woman,” Shep interrupts your thoughts.

The laugh that tumbles out of your mouth is short and underscores how ridiculous all of this is. “She is. She’s not perfect, but she’s the best and has the biggest heart,” you respond with a genuine smile.

“She passed it on to you,” he says, meeting your eyes briefly in the rear-view mirror.

“You two should probably meet her tomorrow,” you offer up.

“We look forward to it,” Mark chimes in.

That’s the end of the exchange, but it dawns on you that while these two men have been assigned to your personal security and transportation, and they’re work for Andy, they have been nothing but professional, and you can see now that while they’re not warm and soft, there is a degree of care from them that has developed or that you’re only now recognizing exists that does seem to go beyond being a paycheck for them. Mark is probably close to your age, and you would guess Shep is eight or ten years older. Both men wear wedding bands on their left hands.

Having to have them assigned to you, you’re grateful it’s these two seemingly good men.

You’re sure there could be much worse.

You’re quiet the rest of the ride home, but your mind doesn’t stop racing.

“Would you like to get out at the front of the house or in the garage, ma’am?” Mark asks as you near the house. He always asks because the house is so large it makes a difference.

The corner of your mouth lifts as you decide, “The garage, please.”

The garage is a drive in basement level on the southeast corner of the house and holds two dozen cars, including the black Range Rover designated for you. You wonder if you’d ever be allowed to drive a car of your own again.

More aware now of the men, you notice there is a degree of ease that settles particularly over Shep now that you’re safe in the house again. You wonder if that’s always been the norm or if there’s a higher threat potential than usual. The shift does clue you into the reality that Andy is involved in more dangerous things than you thought. Instigator or target, you don’t know which he is, but regardless he’s swimming in dangerous waters, and you’re tied to his fate now.

This is your life.

Would you have chosen it?

Would you have?

A month ago, before the gala, you had genuinely been taken with him, even thought of him as you went to bed, alone, a hand on your breast and a toy between your legs and imagined what it would be like to have him there dealing out your pleasure instead. You hadn’t thought any serious interest being reciprocated from even the faintest possibility.

You had been so wrong.

And he’s dealt more pleasure than you had ever experienced.

More pain as well.

He was mindful of your physical limits, even if he rode them mercilessly.

He failed to comprehend the gravity of the rest of the pain he caused.

And today he reached a limit you hadn’t been expecting.

You slide out of the backseat when Shep opens your door, and instead of heading for the staircase in the corner, you move to the south wall of the garage and start opening cabinets. Shep tracks your movements but gives you space.

In the second set, you find Andy’s golf clubs.

Perfect.

You test a few of the drivers, and when you’re satisfied you’ve got the heaviest in your hands, you pull it clean out of the bag and make your way directly to the car you’ve noticed Andy favors most.

His silver Aston Martin DBS 770 Ultimate Volante.

The very car he drove you around in last night.

You hold nothing back in your swings, cracking the glass with your second hit. The third doesn’t do much more damage, so you move to the metal body, and here’s where you see you will get at least some of your satisfaction, easier to create dents in the metal than breaking the windshield. You do manage to smash one of the windows. Then you round on the next car.

Neither Mark nor Shep move to stop you, but you do see Shep is on the phone briefly.

You guess that you won’t be alone for long, so you move to a third car. Andy arrives as you lay into the fourth car. You look over at him with apprehension, unsure of what his next move will be. He meets your gaze, surveys the damage you’ve done so far, looks back at you, and then takes up position leaning against the Range Rover.

You grit your teeth, then raise the club over your head and bring it down with a battle cry over the hood of the silver Porsche 911 Turbo. A fifth car bears the fire of your rage, and mid-swing on the sixth is when a someone finally grabs the other end of the iron. You scream in fury and turn to face Andy, who’s looming over you, his blue eyes dark, stormy, and his mouth a thin line.

You yank against the club, but his grip is firm. You don’t let go though, still trying to wrest it from his hands, eyes locked on his, and he uses the rod to pull you closer to him, nearly chest to heaving chest (yours, not his).

“That’s enough, sweetheart.” His fingers work yours away from the metal rod, and he clasps one of your hands in his to keep you close while - eyes on you - he tosses the club to Shep, who catches it easily.

You huff and try to pull your hand away, but he interlocks your fingers and then starts to lead you away and up the stairs. Not wanting to allow him seeing any petulance from you, you comply and follow him in silence. Adrenaline starting to taper off, you feel exhaustion seeping into your limbs, and part of you wonders if Andy knew you were reaching the end of your strength and stopped you before you would have lost steam on your own. Your stomach seethes.

Once on the main floor, you fall in step with him, not needing the staff to see anything that will make them talk. Some of them may be oblivious to why you’re here, but you know there are those who are aware at different levels that you aren’t here as the other half of a fairytale.

Your destination turns out to be the family dining room, not the formal one.

Dinner, of course.

He pulls your chair out for you, tucking it politely as you sit, and then takes his place across from you.

Sometimes you and Andy talk over dinner.

Tonight is not one of those nights.

If he’s going to be silent about today, say nothing more about your vandalism on arriving home, then you certainly are not going to stoke conversation. His eyes are on you frequently, but you ignore him.

Halfway through dinner and after taking a sip of wine, Andy finally says, “Your hair looks nice.”

You scoff. “As if you really noticed. Your men told you where we were.” You know it’s hardly changed.

Andy set his fork down. “Look at me,” he demands, tone serious, and so you comply. “They’re your men, and don’t make the mistake of thinking I will ever fail to notice a detail, especially when it comes to my wife.”

Your heart skips a beat - part fear, but part some flare in your heart that you hate reacting to his words. You raise your chin in defiance. “I’m not your wife.”

“Yet.”

Threat and promise.

As if the exquisite engagement ring whose heavy weight you were growing so used to weren’t a constant reminder.

Rather than think further on that, for the rest of the meal you consider his correction that Shep and Mark are your men when you’d said they were his. It was an interesting distinction, and you would put feelers out to ask about it later - not Andy, but maybe with the men.

When dinner is over, Andy stands and reaches for your hand. He always does. It’s unsettling because if only you had ever had a choice, the gesture would be endearing. A few nights over this month that you’ve been his, he kissed the back of your hand and left to attend to business. Some nights, he wanted to watch something with you before bedtime, or go on a drive like last night. Most often he takes you to the bedroom.

It’s the latter tonight.

You walk silently to the master suite together. Every muscle in your body is taught with tension, with the simmering rage and hurt of the day seething through your veins.

Andy closes the door and turns to face you.

“Do you want to tell me why you’re so upset before or after your punishment?”

“My - what?!” You glower and put your hands on your hips. “Why am I being punished? You let me smash two more cars before you even stopped me.”

“It’s not about the cars, it’s your refusal to talk to me about something that clearly has you worked up.”

“Worked up?” Your eyes widen and then narrow. “I’m not worked up, Andy, I’m infuriated.”

“Then tell me what crime I’ve committed.”

You scoff and turn away.

He catches you before you’ve taken two steps, gripping your upper arm. He hauls you toward the bed, takes a seat on the end of the mattress, and then lays you down over his lap. He takes both your wrists in his left hand and holds them firmly while his right hand pulls your pants down.

All of it happens so swiftly that you can’t even fight him, but you cry out when the first, harsh slap hits your bare ass. The sting is sharp and shocking. The second comes quickly after. You try to shake out of his hold, but he growls your name, tightens his grip, and the third slap comes even harder.

Four. Five. He kneads the flesh of your ass between some of the smacks. Eight. Fifteen. Twenty. Somewhere in the middle, the smacks morph into a swirl of simultaneous pain and numbness – a mirror of how you feel. You’re sobbing once he finally stops, body sagging in defeat over his lap. He lifts you carefully and lays you stomach down on the bed. You fold your arms and hide your face into the frame of them to cry and settle into softer cries, and Andy lets you have the moment of privacy.

It’s not long before you register Andy’s return though, his weight sinking onto the bed next to you. Then his hand is on your tender backside, applying a cold cream to your skin, and the relief makes you let out a shuddering sigh. He works it over you slowly, gently, methodically. By the time Andy’s finished, so are your tears. You’re still full of emotions, but they’re a swirling, complicated mess. You feel like the frustration has been spanked out of you, but you’re still hurt and angry, but now you’re also confused by this tender act. This only extends when he urges you to roll over, and sit up, and he kisses your forehead. You look up at him dolefully, he wipes away the remaining tracks of your tears. He’s shed his clothes from the day and is now bare-chested and in a pair of navy silk pajama bottoms. He proceeds to gently help you take off your shirt, your bra, and then slips you into a silk robe he’s brought from the closet.

Then Andy stands, scoops you up into his arms, and heads to the balcony of your master suite. He settles down onto the loveseat and arranges you in his lap so you’re sitting sideways over him, and he wraps his arm around you. It’s more of the confusing closeness, physical intimacy that you crave but can’t give into with him. It’s the first time you’ve been out here, and it affords a beautiful view of the darkening sky. Yet another thing you would have yearned for but don’t want like this.

“Are you ready to talk?”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” you say honestly.

He puts his hand under your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. “I’ll listen to anything you have to say.”

“But will you hear me?” You ask and turn your head away and out of his hand.

He smoothes his thumb over your jaw but - to your surprise - doesn’t force you to look at him as he had before. Instead he lets his hand drop and brings it around your waist so he’s got both arms banded around you again.

“You’ve taken so much from me, Andy. You’ve made it abundantly clear that I have no way out of this, but it’s been mounting and it came to a peak today. I had a day to myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to spend it with my friends or my parents because I can’t tell them about us! I haven’t spoken or texted any of them on more than a surface level since this all began. And I haven’t gone back to work yet, but I want to work, I need to work, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell them either!”

He is quiet for a moment. And then, “I knew you hadn’t told anyone, but why do you think you can’t tell them about us?”

“What am I supposed to say?” You scoff. “I can’t tell them that you threatened me with blackmail and forced me into our engagement!”

“No,” he agrees, “You can’t tell them that.”

“So, what am I supposed to tell them?”

“That you fell for my charms, that I surprised you when I declared my intentions and by how serious I was, that I made it almost impossible for you to refuse me. It’s enough of the truth.”

You frown and scrutinize his face. “Enough of the truth,” you repeat, the words tasting bitter in your mouth. “Is that how you always live your life?”

 He lifts his chin, a flash of hardness in his eyes. “I’ve done what I needed to.”

“You didn’t need to go behind my back to meet my parents!” You blurt, the hurt in your voice bleeding out despite trying to keep it in, to keep it away from him, not wanting to share something so personal.

“I want to have a good relationship with my in-laws. My mother’s dead and my father was sentenced to life in prison when I was a kid.”

“But they’re my parents,” you stress. “I should have been able to be the ones to tell them about getting married. You stole that from me.”

Andy studies your face quietly.

You drop your gaze. You won’t tell him why stealing this moment – more than anything else he’s done – was your breaking point. You doubt he would care or understand, but he also doesn’t get to know something so personal. He hasn’t earned that right.

“You love them,” he finally says.

You nod. “We’re very close.”

He falls silent again.

Finally, you give an exhausted sigh. “Why did you have to do this to us?”

“I wanted you.”

“I wanted you, too. You should have let us fall into it.”

“Fall now.”

“I can’t,” you protest, and you look up to argue further, but he’s faster, cutting you off with a kiss.

His lips are demanding, and the heat he pours into the kiss seeps into the cracks he’s been chipping away inside you, and your traitorous body leans into the moment. You’re exhausted physically and emotionally.

You don’t know how you can ever let yourself fall for him.

But as his hands soothe up and down your back, you wonder if you have to deny yourself everything for the rest of your life?

What if you fell into him for one night? Allowed yourself to let go, to forget for just a few hours? You are so tired. And your body aches. And after so much hurt, betrayal, and anger running high through your veins for so many hours now, after the shock and release from being put over his knee, maybe you just want to forget and get lost in pleasure.

Pleasure you know he was far too capable of giving.

Not only capable of giving, but master of overwhelming you with it.

After he’s stolen so much from you these last weeks, maybe you want and need to steal a night of ecstasy without any thoughts.

You shift on his lap, his arms still around you, until you’re straddling his lap. You leverage his broad shoulders to push yourself up on your knees, and you look down at him. You can’t read everything in his dark blue stormy eyes yet, but you can interpret some of what’s there. He’s intrigued and you can see the spark of hunger flaring, but there’s something else you can’t quite read.

But that doesn’t matter right now.

He doesn’t pull you in closer, but his arms hold you steady in your kneeling stance. You reach for the tie of your silk robe, and you slowly pull it loose.

“Tonight is not for you,” your voice is low, quiet, but not soft, “it’s for me.”

His eyes narrow a fraction, but as you shrug the silky garment off your shoulders, he helps let the robe fall free to the ground.

Andy’s eyes rake over your naked form, drinking in every curve and dip of your body. His hands glide up your sides, rough palms contrasting with the softness of your flesh. You shiver despite the warmth of the evening air.

You place your hands on his chest, feeling the solid muscles there. Your fingers trace the lines down to his abdomen, following the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath his waistband. You can feel the evidence of his arousal, and he groans, gripping your hips tightly, and you squeeze his length - big as the rest of him - the cock that has ruined you.

He leans in and his lips burn a trail down your neck, over your chest and find one of your breasts, nipping on the swell before licking at your aereola and taking it into his mouth. Your fingers rake into his hair, and he sucks insistently until your nipple is almost painfully hard. He releases it with a pop, then moves to give equal treatment to your other breast. You press your needy cunt down against his groin, keening for him.

You grind against him, and he can’t help but groan. In one fluid motion, he stands, lifting you with him. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist instinctively as he carries you back into the bedroom. He lays you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. He takes less than a second to push his pajama bottoms down and off before he joins you on the bed, his body covering yours.

His weight presses you into the mattress. You feel every inch of his hard body against yours, and you arch up, desperate for more contact. Andy's hand slides between your bodies, finding your slick folds. He groans when he feels how wet you are for him.

"Always so ready for me," he murmurs against your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there.

You whimper as his fingers tease your entrance, circling but not entering. You buck your hips, trying to force him inside, but he pulls back with a dark chuckle.

"Patience, sweetheart," he admonishes.

But patience isn't what you want tonight. You want to lose yourself in sensation, to forget everything but the pleasure he can give you. You reach down and grasp his thick length, guiding him to your entrance.

He forces your hand away with a tsk, and you glare at him, but he is grinning, moving down your body already. He kisses the sensitive spot on your lower stomach, the one he discovered that always makes you gasp and arch your back for him. His shoulders force your legs open to accommodate his frame as he plants himself between your thighs.

Andy's mouth descends on your core, his tongue laving your sensitive folds. You arch into him, a moan escaping your lips. His beard scratches deliciously against your inner thighs as he works you over with his skilled tongue. He alternates between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit, building your pleasure steadily.

Your hands fist in his hair, holding him against you as you rock your hips. The coil of tension in your belly winds tighter and tighter. Just as you're about to topple over the edge, Andy pulls back, denying you release.

“Andy, please,” you beg.

Andy's breath ghosts over your sensitive flesh, making you shiver and whine. He places a soft kiss on your inner thigh, then another, slowly working his way back towards your center. You squirm, desperate for more contact, but his strong hands hold your hips firmly in place.

He chuckles, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure through you. "I thought this night was for you," he teases, his beard scraping deliciously against your thigh. "Let me take care of you."

Before you can protest, his tongue laves a long, slow stroke up your slit. You cry out, your back arching off the bed. He repeats the motion, this time circling your clit with the tip of his tongue.

Your hands fist in the sheets as Andy's talented mouth works you over. He alternates between long, languid strokes and quick flicks of his tongue, never letting you settle into a rhythm. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he slides two thick fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spot that he knows makes you see stars.

"Oh god, Andy!" you cry out, your hips bucking against his face.

He hums against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His fingers pump in and out, matching the pace of his tongue on your clit. The dual sensations are overwhelming, and you feel yourself hurtling towards the edge.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy murmurs against your flesh. "Let go for me."

His words are your undoing. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your body arching off the bed as pleasure overwhelms you. But he’s anything but finished.

Andy doesn't let up, his mouth and fingers working you through your orgasm and pushing you towards another peak. Your body trembles, oversensitive but craving more. You tug at his hair, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.

"Too much," you gasp, but he ignores your weak protest.

He adds a third finger, stretching you deliciously as he continues to lap at your swollen clit. The intensity builds rapidly, and before you can catch your breath, you're tumbling over the edge again. This time, Andy pulls away, allowing you a moment to recover.

He kisses his way up your body, pausing to nip roughly at your collarbone. When he reaches your mouth, he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You moan into the kiss, your hands roaming over his broad back.

Andy positions himself between your thighs. You reach between your bodies and guide him to your entrance. You need him inside of you. He pushes in slowly, stretching you deliciously, filling you completely. You both groan as he slides in to the hilt, and you throw your head back. He stills there, kisses along your jaw, then gives a soft rock of his hips, rutting against you, but not thrusting.

“Move,” you plead, wrapping your legs around his waist to urge him on.

Andy leans down and claims your lips again, demanding the intimate kiss as his price, his tongue licking into your mouth to tangle with yours. He then sets a steady rhythm that has you moaning with each thrust. You buck your hips to draw him in with each stroke. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans of pleasure.

You drag your nails down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. He hisses, then retaliates by biting down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The sharp pain mixed with pleasure makes you cry out.

"Harder," you demand, needing more, needing to lose yourself completely.

Andy growls, his grip on your hips tightening as he complies with your demand. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, the force of his thrust pushing you up the bed. You cry out in pleasure, your nails digging into his shoulders. He sets a punishing pace, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

The headboard bangs against the wall with the force of his movements. Your walls clench around him, drawing a guttural groan from his throat.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy grunts, his voice rough with exertion. "Take what you need from me."

You're climbing higher and higher, chasing that blissful peak. Andy snakes a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. He rubs tight circles over the sensitive bud, and it's too much.

You shatter, screaming his name as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your body convulses, clenching rhythmically around him. Andy fucks you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you're a trembling mess beneath him as he chases his own release.

It takes a few more strokes, and then he’s spilling his hot seed inside of you, groaning against your neck. He collapses his weight onto you for a few moments, catching his breath. Your hands roam over his back. If you had been given the chance to choose him, to choose this life, wrapped in his arms right now you would have felt blissfully content, and so since tonight was a pass on reality, you let a satisfied sigh fall from your lips.

Andy’s lips find yours again, and you kiss until you feel floaty and boneless beneath him, head empty of all thoughts.

When the fervency of the kisses finally slows into a languid calm, Andy finally rolls off of you. He reaches for the switch to turn off the soft lights that had been on, then settles on his side, facing you. He traces lazy patterns over your form with his fingers, and you close your eyes and simply feel.

You didn’t know you had fallen into sleep except that the motion of Andy pulling you into his chest so he can spoon up behind you pulls you back into consciousness. He chuckles softly at your little mewl, and then pulls you a little closer to his warm chest and plants a kiss on your neck, just below your ear. You settle against him without complaint.

You’re exhausted, and you don’t know where he finds the resilience, but his hand snakes down to cup your cunt again, and you hum as he begins to work your clit. You have no strength left in you, but if you don’t have to work for it and Andy’s going to give it to you, you’ve learned under his hand that he always knows how to coax out one more climax from you when you think you’re already spent.

Your breath speeds up again, and you can feel the promise of pleasure pulling at your muscles, tightening them for one final release.

As he works you quickly up to that point, he speaks directly into your ear. “You said tonight was for you, not for me. It’s the lie you needed to tell yourself to let go, and that’s fine, but know that your pleasure is always pleasure for me.”

And so unfairly, your body comes for him right then, exactly as he wants you to, and you cry out before going even more limp in his arms. He presses another kiss on your neck, and you can feel his satisfied smile against your skin. You desperately wish you could break out of his arms and roll away from him, but you do not have even an ounce of strength left, and so you simply let the exhaustion overtake you and escape from him in sleep.

You’re vaguely aware of how close Andy keeps you all night. Since he typically does, it’s a surprise when you wake to an empty bed. There is only a vague suggestion of sunlight beginning to come in the windows, so you know it’s still incredibly early. The sheet is down around your waist, and you splay your arm out to where Andy should have been. The bed isn’t cold, but there’s only a hint of warmth, so you know he’s been up for a while.

As if unnervingly on cue, Andy comes in from the ensuite bathroom and hums at seeing you awake. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

He strides right up to the edge of the bed, leans down, and plants a kiss on your cheek, then rubs his hand softly over your jaw.

“Morning,” you respond.

You hate how lovely this scene should be. Your heart wants it, but your brain reminds you not to accept this contrived intimacy he pretends is real and normal.

He crosses the room and retrieves his phone, starts to put on his watch, the finishing touches before he embarks on his day.

“You can sleep in,” he says softly.

“Why are you up so early? It’s Sunday.”

“Early tee time at the country club,” he answers.

You make a vague sound of acknowledgement and pull the sheet and duvet back up to burrow in for a lazy morning of more sleep and maybe some reading.

“Enjoy lunch with your mom, by the way,” he says at the door. “I’m teeing off with your father, so I’ll persuade him to have lunch with me to give you two time as just mother and daughter.”

You suck in a sharp breath and he departs, dropping this revelation, and leaving you to seethe at his making yet another bold move, seeping steadily further into the foundations of your life.

SO

YEAH

Still with me here?

Even though I figured out the plot point for this chapter a while back, when I wrote it, I had to take a break a few times because I was upset over how some things were playing out.

I was also surprised by some of the development with her security detail of Mark and Shep. I randomly made them up really quickly during Prepare for Takeoff, but then here I learned they were going to end up being even more important than I thought (including something key for two specific future plot points).

next part: Burned Off the Haze

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[monarchberrysblog]

UNDER THE STARS ⋆⭒

⋆｡°✩ part two to: NOTHING BUT TROUBLE

credit to: @mar_marOu on Instagram & @/marmarOu on X and Tumblr!

✭ 🔞 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✭

✭ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: sometimes, a hero and a vigilante need a break from the hectic city environment.

✭ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃. miguel and the reader are in an established relationship, brief mentions of kleptomania, exhibitionism (both of y'all literally don't give a fuck but seriously, don’t do freaky stuff outside), cumplay (?), cum eatting (we are going there too), uncircumcised peepee 🤭, hard? dom! miguel, assertive behavior from the reader, cunnilingus (f! receiving), unprotected p-in-v (please go to your local planned parenthood to educate yourself), and heavy breeding kink. (he scrambles your eggs 😝)

✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: +1.6k words 🤭

✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Nothing But Trouble blew up overnight! thank you for your undying support! it means a lot to me 😭 if there are errors, i do apologize, it's been a month since I looked at this. I'm slowly getting back in the groove.

here’s to my followers! y’all live in my basement now 🐈‍⬛ 🩵

The low clouds in Nueva York cascaded onto the ground, creating a murky environment in now empty streets. It was a quiet night, even for Nueva York. Within the apartment buildings of the hustling city, many were home, sheltered away from the smog air. Some were fast asleep in bed with their blankets, and others were cooking a warm meal for the evening. But for you, you were dragged out of your soft, cozy bed past the window edge decorated with many potted plants and small trinkets. You were now climbing the fire escape, wearing your pajamas and a simple black sweater.

The cat dragged you out into the cold environment, away from your warm, cozy bed. You yawned as you climbed up, swiftly up the fire escape, feeling the now wet bars against the palm of your hand.

The memory of seeing a text message from Miguel immediately came to mind when your slipper fell off your foot, causing you to shoot a web at it to retreat.

The "I want to see you real quick" text meant nothing but trouble from him. He was always up to no good, leaving a little mess behind, like a cat playing with a ball of yawn, only for the poor creature to be tangled in its consequence with big, teary eyes.

Nonetheless, you continued your climb up, finally reaching the rooftop.

The cold air nipped at your skin, piercing its cold air needles through your sweater and pajamas. Bringing your hands close to your mouth, you exhale warmly to your freezing digits, rubbing your hands, seeking friction to warm your dead, lifeless fingers temporarily.

You stand idly, waiting for his arrival.

A puff of smoke escaped your lips while you yearned for your return to your warm bed and away from the cold weather. Then, your vision darkened. A pair of large hands shield your eyes from the skyscraper lights of Nueva York. "Miguel!" You squeaked, reached to grasp his hands, and forcefully attempted to pull them away from your face. "Seems like you're happy to see me." He croons against the shell of your ear. His voice vibrates against your eardrums, reverberating down to your core. "Tell me why you're here...!" You finally pull his hands away from your eyes and turn around to see him.

"I can't see my favorite person in the whole wide world?"

"No, no, you can't."

"Ouch, I'm hurt." He feigns pain, placing a hand against his "aching" chest cavity. You chuckle, delivering a punch against his shoulder, and sigh. "Really, why are you here?" He chuckles at the question, his palm rubbing away the aching punch that blossomed under his skin. "I have something for you-"

"Did you steal it?"

He frowns at the question. Sure, it was a given that he tended to snatch the next shiny thing in sight, but this time, it was... different.

"No...!" He hisses. "I bought it with my own money." He reaches down to his toolbelt and grabs a drawbag. He opens the tiny draw bag and retrieves a small royal blue box. "It's for you." He tosses the box to you. The little box jumps around your hands before it settles down on your palm. "I hope you like it." He huffs a bit of his cheeks while watching closely.

Your hands move independently, opening the tiny container. The velvet plush container revealed a heart-shaped necklace; the midnight blue stone glistened in the moonlight, shining independently. "Miguel...?"

"Now, don't get sappy on me." He scoffs, displaying a frown. Behind the frown, a smile waits to be displayed. He browsed at multiple boutiques, hoping to find something that was meant to be for you. Something that stood out from the rest. Simple, but it was made for you. "You got this for me?" You pout and soon retrieve the necklace from the velvet box.

"Do you like it?" The question felt boyish, even for him. But it was such a cute action coming from him.

"Yes! Oh my god! Help me put it on!" You bounced on the balls of your feet, ready to be climbing on the walls. "Put it on me, put it on me!" You repeat the phrase as a mantra, handing him the necklace to help you put it on. His frown breaks as he chuckles and assists you put the necklace on. "Do you like it-" He repeats and immediately gets jumped into an unsuspecting embrace. "Stop asking the question! Yes, I love it!" Your laughter fills the space as Miguel's hands work to get a proper hold of your bottom. Your laughter filled the space before the slowly descended to soft giggles and sighs.

His nose nudges against the tip of your nose, slowly creating a gap of silence between you. "Hi..." you whisper, nudging your nose against his. "Hey, " he croons as he nuzzles closer, planting a gentle kiss against your lips, molding your lips perfectly. You hum at the contact and enable the soft kiss. His fingers dig into the plush of your bottom as his claws sink deep into your skin.

Soft suckles and sighs fill your personal bubbles before pinning you down against the ledge. Your hands grasp Miguel's bicep before his chuckle greets your ears. "C'mere..." His hands move to hold onto your hips and drag you closer to his hips, rubbing himself against you at a slow, agonizing pace. "Even when it's cold out, you are warm."

You turn to look down, seeing the hustle and bustle of the streets, the lights looking nothing but a speck of light. "No one is gonna see us." He hums before he nuzzles his way to the crook of your neck, slowly placing soft kisses and trailing them back to your lips.

"Are you sure?" You push the question and lean closer to the soft butterfly kisses against your skin. "It's dark, no one is going to see." He rubs his straining member against your aching core, fluttering and waiting to be penetrated. His hands tug away at your sleep shorts, desperate to cease them off your body.

The thin line of arousal builds up against the gusset of your underwear, the slick, clear arousal clinging against your folds. "Let me get a taste." He pulls away the gusset, his fingers feeling the warmth and heat against his digits. "Look at that; you were already preparing for me..."

He kisses his way down to your core, almost moaning at the scent. You were his catnip, the temptation luring him to you, to roll his tongue at the liquid, sticky ecstasy, to drown in it.

His nose budgets against your clit as his tongue laps at your entrance, collecting the taste. The cold air, accompanying his warm breath, nipped at you as your walls clenched around nothing. You are opened up to him like a blooming flower, exposing more of your now sensitive clit. “You are too sweet…” His voice is muffled thanks to his tongue licking your entrance from the bottom to the top.

Your eyes shoot open when you feel his middle finger linger at your entrance, tracing the opening slowly. Your breathing catches you, also as if you were sprinting in a marathon. He pulls away from the intimate kiss from your lips, his lips coated in your mess. "C'mon… let everyone hear you." He purrs and pushes two fingers in, feeling you clench against his digits. "Easy there, quierida." He keeps at a steady pace, immediately hearing the wet slaps. "There we go, there we go..."

The small whimpers evolved into full moans, your moans only audible to him but immediately drowned out by the sound of honking cars and noises in every other corner of the gloomy city's lively life. "Let me hear you, let me hear..." He slurps the sticky discharge before he is immediately shoved into you by your hands. You wailed out, squirming about before he pinned you down. "Open your mouth, now." His demands muffled, not daring to move away from your puffy folds.

You did as he said and screamed out an orgasm, nearly waterboarding him. He pulls away from your puffy folds and is wholly doused. You croak out a noise, ready to say something, but get stopped. “Just keep your mouth open.” He pulls down the zipper of his suit before he frees the strained tent between his legs.

Not earning a warning on time, he spits into your mouth, giving you a taste of your cum. The strong tangy taste and substance stayed in your mouth as you kept your mouth shut in shock. "Swallow it." He heaves before he reaches down between the two of you and lazily pumps his aching cock. You reach down and pull back at the foreskin gently, allowing to see the mauve tip peek out from the extra skin.

You grab his cock, pulling him close to you and pushing him into you. He groans softly at the sensation as he rocks himself in and out of you.

You swallow your cum and bounce on him, following his lead and feeling the familiar pressure between his tip and G-spot. You flutter against his length, trying to create a consistent rhythm, but the rhythm comes out staggered and messy. "You've been working on your kegals? You little slut." He hisses while pushing you down on the ledge.

"You're getting there. I can feel it." Strands of hair begin to stick to his forehead, and sweat soon drips down onto you, landing on your blouse and occasionally on your face. "Together now, you can do it. Hold it, " he demands as the pace increases. You look over at him, mouth agape and eyes pleading. Your hands grasp his exposed bicep, fingernails leaving crescent indents and red streaks.

"No, I know what you're thinking. Not yet." You pull him close, feeling your lower stomach bubble like a witch's cauldron. He leans down, planting you a harsh kiss, his tongue creeping its way to yours. You eagerly oblige, still tasting yourself on his tongue. "Now, go ahead." He rasps, rubbing his thumb against your clit. With one final thrust, you splash the two of you, your mess landing on the floor beneath the two of you.

"There you go, I'm so proud of you." He leans in to kiss your temple and nuzzles close. He slowly pulls out and looks at your pully walls. Not even a moment later, his cum spills out of you, dribbling down past your swelling folds. "Hold on, nena." His fingers gather his cum and push his cum back into you slowly.

He pulls his fingers out, residue lingering on his fingers before he licks the mess off.

"Don't waste a drop."

[rafeandonlyrafe]

accused (part two)

words: 1k

warnings: established relationship, accusations of stealing, protective!rafe (hes such a good boyfriend <3)

followed (part one) / accused (part two)

“hi.” you smile, cheeks slightly blushed.

“hello, beautiful.” rafe doesn't give you time to be nervous, pulling you into a hug.

you relax into his hold, taking a deep inhale and exhale as your cheek rests against his chest, remembering the solace you found in his arms when you needed it most.

“excited?” rafe asks.

“we are just getting ice cream together.” you giggle.

“yeah, sure.” rafe joins in your laughter, loving the way it sounds in his ears. “but it's an ice cream date.”

“does that mean you're gonna kiss me goodnight?” you look at the rapidly setting sun. 

“of course.” rafe loops your hands together, guiding you towards the line to order.

-- 6 months later --

“missed you.” you wrap your arms around rafes shoulders, pulling him down into a strong kiss.

“missed you too, baby.” rafe doesn't point out that it's only been a couple days, having to spend the weekend apart as you were out of town with your parents.

“what are your plans?” rafe asks, hands gently massaging up and down your back.

“hanging out with you all day-”

“and night.” rafe interrupts you, smirking.

“anyways, then shopping with the girls tomorrow. we might also go out for dinner.” you shrug.

“sounds fun.” rafe nods. “just staying on the island though, right?” rafe knows you usually like to go inland or up the coast to shop, but that's usually a longer planned trip.

“mhm. just gonna hit all those little boutiques.” you shake your head, “but i dont wanna talk about tomorrows plans.”

“what do you wanna talk about then, sweetheart?” rafe asks.

“don't wanna talk.” you admit shyly. “just wanna kiss you.”

rafe bends down, lifting you up with large hands under his thighs, rushing up the stairs. “we can definitely do that, baby.

--

“that looks so cute on you!” you squeal, grabbing your friend giannas hand and pulling her over to the mirror.

“i love it!” she gushes before checking the pricetag. “only $85, im absolutely buying it.”

“oh, girl that's a steal!” you nod. 

“it's not like you don't have rafes credit card.” tina rolls her eyes, but there's a smile on her face to convey she's not serious.

“he says to buy whatever i want, as long as i give him a fashion show when i get home.” you say as gianna heads back into the changing room to get back into her clothes.

you pull out your phone to text rafe an update as tina does the same to her boyfriend.

hey rafeyyy miss you! shopping is going so well 💕 I think we're gonna hit up like two or three more stores and then ill be home!

alright, princess. have fun. see you real soon ❤️

“can i take some of the dresses?” the voice makes you jump, not even realizing that the shop owner was standing in front of gianna, hand outstretched.

“uh, yeah.” she hands over two of the hangers. “im not getting these two.”

the owner makes a disgruntled face, looking over the other two dresses gianna is still holding. “where's the other dress?”

“what dress?” you interject.

“yeah, she only tried on four.” tina adds.

“well, i saw five go in. you'll have to empty your bag.”

gianna is only wearing a small purse, no way a dress would even fit inside of it, but that's not the point, it's the principle that counts.

“hell no!” you say. “check the security cameras if you want, but we aren't allowing you to search us.”

“really?” the shop keepers eyebrows rise, like she expected you to just bow your head since you're a group of younger girls. “i guess you'll just have to pay for the dress i saw go into the dressing room and didn't come out. its $500.”

you pull out your phone, furiously messaging rafe and sending him your location.

“you messed with the wrong person.” tina shakes her head.

“and here, i don't want these either.” gianna hands the owner the other two dresses, even the one she loved.

“yeah, we will never shop here again.” tina says.

“we don't need thieves like you, anyways!” she grabs the dresses. “just pay for the one you're trying to steal and get out!”

you're sure if she pulled this scam on other people that they'd just get sick of the arguing and pay up, but you're absolutely refusing to play into her little game.

you smile as you hear the door open then slam closed, turning to see rafe with an angry look on his face.

“thank god you're here, rafe. this lady is trying to say we're stealing from her but refuses to watch the security cameras.” you inform him.

“is that so?” rafe looks around the shop. 

“rafe…” the shop keeper mumbles, trying to figure out why she knows the name. “you're rafe cameron?”

“yeah.” he crosses his arms. “like cameron development cameron. you know, the ones who own this entire block? including your landlords?” rafe tsks, shaking his head side to side. “i wonder what my dad would say if he knew you were accosting his son's girlfriend.”

“im-im sorry. i think this is all a big misunderstanding.” the owner quickly quoted, rushing away back to the counter.

“gianna, tina, you girls okay?” rafe asks.

“yeah.” tina twirls her hair around her finger, making you give her a quick glare.

“all good, thanks rafe.” gianna nods.

“lets get you girls out of here.” rafe wraps his arm around your shoulder, leading you out of the shop. 

he presses a kiss to the top of your head once you're outside, leading you a couple steps away from your friends. “want to keep shopping? or are you done?”

“maybe…” you pout your lower lip out and look up at rafe. “maybe you could come with us to the next couple shops?”

rafe can't control the smile that stretches over his cheeks. “id be more than happy to, baby.”

you let out a little squeal, pressing your lips against his cheek. “i hate to say it, but thank god that guy followed me that day. cause i got the best boyfriend ever out of it.”

sfw taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

[jjunberry]

Tied up reader for jeonghan 🤓🤓

❝ with a bow ❞

yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

genre: established relationship, smut

warnings: dom jeonghan, brat/sub reader, rope/ribbon play, pet names, degradation, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating

wc: 1k mlist

jeonghan has a box under the bed filled with different ribbons and ropes. he used them rarely, only really when you were a brat and he had to teach you a lesson. your goal today was to get him angry enough for the box to come out. you’ve decided to be a brat all day.

it started when you changed his alarm for work, setting it an hour later than normal. when his alarm went off he noticed how much brighter it was outside. “what the fuck?,” he groaned, moving your arm from his waist. he angrily got dressed and left the apartment.

you giggled sitting up in bed, you grabbed your phone seeing it was 8:35am, he was due at the studio an hour ago. scrolling through your notifications you seen a text from your boyfriend.

jeonghan ♡: changing my alarm really baby? don’t be such a brat.

you smiled accepting the challenge. after a quick shower and short breakfast, you got dressed for the day. a day of shopping with jeonghan’s credit card. you first stopped to get coffee, you knew jeonghan had notifications on his phone. deciding the mall was the best place you headed there.

ulta beauty was first, five-hundred dollars here. next was victoria’s secret, two thousand there. you of course had to stop and get some new clothing, another thousand spent. your arms started to get tired from all the bags, usually jeonghan carried them for you.

with one last stop to the jewelry store you bought a few new necklaces, a ring set and a new watch for jeonghan. another two thousand dollars spent. part of the plan was ignoring jeonghan while he worked, so the 40 missed texts, and 15 missed calls didn’t really surprise you.

you couldn’t wait to get home, you found a cute baby pink set. the thin lacy material barely covering you. left nothing to the imagination. once you got home you changed into the lingerie set, and used your new makeup.

satisfied with how you looked, you posed in the mirror taking photos. of course you made sure the bags were visible in the background. with a giggle you sent your favorite photos to jeonghan with the simple caption “thinking of you.”

it didn’t take jeonghan long to answer you.

jeonghan ♡: i see you went shopping, 5,500$ that’s a little low baby, perhaps because you didn’t ask. i’ll be home in 20 mins. i expect you to be waiting on that bed for me.

the chill that went through you was quickly replaced with excitement. the thought of jeonghan punishing you had you soaked. you laid on your bed, your fingers finding your clit. you rubbed slowly, bringing your other hand up to pinch your nipple.

to caught up in the moment you didn’t hear the front door. jeonghan made his way upstairs, his body leaned against the door frame of your bedroom, eyes taking in your body dressed in the lacy pink fabric.

“cum and i won’t touch you for a month,” his interruption had you halting your actions. “h-hannie, you’re home early.” you said closing your legs. “don’t play dumb, you’ve been a brat all day.”

he walked towards the bed and crouched, you sat up on your knees peering down at him. jeonghan pulled the box from underneath, and when he lifted the lid his eyes scanned the contents.

“you’ve been a naughty girl y/n,” he reached inside and grabbed the pink fabric. “i’ll have to teach you a lesson.” he closed the lid and stood quickly. he flipped you on your stomach, bringing your hands behind your back.

he wrapped the pink ribbon around your torso, securing the knot around your wrists with a bow. you wiggled attempting to move but the ribbon restricted your movement. he grabbed the extra ribbon and tied your legs together, securing the knot around your ankles with another bow.

jeonghan took a step back from the bed, taking in the view. “hannie,” you whined. he ignored you as he unbuckled his belt, allowing his pants to drop. out of the corner of your eye you could see the outline of his erection.

jeonghan freed himself from his boxers, his hand pumping himself. precum leaked from his tip, you bit your lip to stop the whines. “be quiet and maybe i’ll let you cum,” his voice was low.

his hand spread you apart, your juices leaking around his fingers. “such a slut,” he tsked. he could see you clenching around nothing, “so desperate for me, aren’t you?” he smirked. before you knew it he was pushing himself into you.

you could taste blood with how hard you bit your lip, trying to be quiet so desperate to cum. jeonghan moaned as he bottomed out, “fuck, you take me so well baby.” he rocked his hips, his tip brushing your cervix. “mhm fuck,” his moans were like music to your ears.

the knot in your stomach was quick to grown, but you couldn’t let go in fear of him denying your orgasm. jeonghan had his head thrown back as he snapped his hips into yours.

“mhm fuck baby i’m gonna cum,” his hips snapped into yours roughly before his actions stilled, his cum spilling into you. painting your walls white, the hot cum leaked out once he pulled away. your body shook at the loss of contact. “should i reward you?” he asked backing away slightly.

your tied up form making his dick twitch again. “p-please hannie, i’m sorry i’ll be good,” you begged. he smirked before diving into your cunt, lapping up the mixture of your wetness and his cum.

his tongue and fingers were quick to get you there, the knot in your stomach snapped. you came all over his tongue, squeezing out the last of his cum and yours. jeonghan wiped his mouth and smirked. “there’s my good girl,” he untied you allowing your limbs to rest.

you ignored the ache in your limbs as you threw your arms around jeonghan’s neck. “i-i’m sorry hannie, i’ll be your good girl,” he smirked holding you close. “i know you will baby, but even good girls deserve some fun,” he guided you to the bathroom. there he ran you a hot bath, and sat with you.

you smiled, it was so worth being a brat sometimes.

🗒️: thinking of requesting? read my guidelines.

author’s note: i swear i’m not a rope bunny y’all but for jeonghan i would be 🤭 hehe

love, echo ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪

© jjunberry - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[love-quinn]

— PARTIAL CREDIT

summary — when a new member of the waitstaff starts undermining you, you worry that your job might be in jeapordy. carmen knows you better than you think.

warnings — swearing, i think that's it

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, semi (?) established relationship

pronouns — she/her

word count — 2.2k

note — i know i fully dropped off the face of the earth but unfortunately i was too busy channeling waitress reader a little too hard, i actually have to leave for work in a few hours but i really wanted to get something out. this 100% isn't inspired by true events or me projecting in any way, anyway i hope you enjoy!! <3

Being the only waitress at a successful restaurant is hard. During the dinner rush, between wiping tables, grabbing drinks and running food, you’ve slowly learned to be more adaptable to the Bear’s new clientele base. That’s not without its struggles, of course. 

Fortunately, Carmy and Natalie seem to understand that it’s a major handful to simply do your job. Which is why Richie thought it appropriate to call you in two hours early to meet the new waiter.   

Liam’s nice from what you’ve gathered. He’s been working with you at the Bear for about two months at this point, most of that has involved you and Richie training him, and he’s been very receptive to your instruction. 

Sure, sometimes he mutters under his breath when a customer asks him for something, but hey, they’re annoying sometimes. And sure, sometimes you find him in the walk-in on his phone, but you’d be lying if you said you were never on your phone at work. He’s had no complaints, and the work is always done to a standard that’s expected (he is still in training, you’re not delusional). 

You’ve worked at the Bear since they were still the Beef, right after Carmen took over. He realised Richie couldn’t keep up with the stuff at the front by himself, so he’d gone with the cheapest option available and thanked god every day that you weren’t awful at your job. You had just graduated from UofC and if you didn’t get a job when you had, you would have been pretty much out of options. You had no work experience outside of being a TA in college (which apparently didn’t have a lot of transferable skills, according to most of your potential bosses). You hadn’t been able to score an insane internship, you didn’t make super stellar grades, you’d been too busy being desperately poor and struggling to keep up.

You’d been really lucky that Carmen had taken a chance on you when he had, and you had been desperate to show him you were aware of that. Liam didn’t seem to have the same sentiment.

He was the same age as you, and he’d actually gone to UofC as well. He’d gotten a pre-med degree but wanted to take some time off before he went for his MD at Rosalind Franklin. 

He picked up on the work fairly easily, remembered when you showed him where the cleaning supplies were, showed him how to work the buttons on the till to ring in orders, and introduced him to all the staff. They were nice to him, nice enough. It took them a while to warm up to him, just like it took them a second to warm up to Carmen, to Sydney, to you. 

But now, several months in, they all got along enough that work was going well. You didn’t have to work six days a week if you didn’t want to now that Liam was there to lighten the load (you did, you made sure Natalie knew that). Now, you could actually take your lunch break without worrying they were being completely overrun. 

On the whole, things seemed to really improve. 

Until, of course, they didn’t. 

You started hearing whispers, soft remarks of “Oh, I did that for her,” to Richie about greeting table seventeen. Small “I wonder why that wasn’t done, I’ll just do it quickly.” 

“Not to be that person, but I noticed that a lot of the straws haven’t been stocked up. I feel like I have to do it every time. I just wonder what she’s doing when she’s back here…”

You do your best to not let it get to you. He’s never worked in the service industry before, he’s probably just doing his best to make sure that his efforts are being noticed. You were almost lucky, in that way, that you were the only real waitress they’d hired. 

It’s an unusually warm day as you slide in through the back entrance to work. You’re your usual twenty minutes early, lucky that there’s enough work to do that Carmen often encourages punctuality (and thus, fairly compensates for it). 

Liam is scheduled today, but he’s leaving after the lunch shift. You get your break while the kitchen does prep-work for dinner, and then you’re coming back for dinner as well. 

Marcus is in his corner, kneading bread dough with a concentrated look on his face. You brush past him with an airy hello that he returns with a half-hearted wave, not looking up from his task. 

Tina is on vegetables, and she stops you for a moment to ask about a shipment arriving. You assure her that you’ll check when you get to the other side of the kitchen, making your way to the front.

The chairs are already all down, table cloths clean and freshly washed. Sydney went down to the laundromat to get them all clean that morning; she’d texted you and asked if you wanted to come but you told her that you really, really didn’t. 

Your first job is a pre-opening sweep, then a restock, then a menu review. You have 87 minutes until service, and Liam should be here in the next fifteen minutes or so. You have just enough time to go and bug Richie into showing you more pictures of Eva’s last birthday party. 

You stick your head into the office just in time to catch the tail end of a sentence that you definitely weren’t meant to hear; “...doesn’t even stack the chairs? What is she doing here?”

Your work anxieties - the idea that every time something goes wrong it was your fault, that one missed drink or late appetiser would have you fired, that every time a customer berated you it was actually your fault - had definitely eased some in the six months you’d been working there. You’d stopped thinking that every time someone was complaining it was about you, but that meant that when they really were talking about you, you knew. 

Liam’s standing there, leaning up against a pile of papers that Carmen is staring roughly at. He looks tired - when doesn’t he? - and like he doesn’t really want to hear whatever it was that Liam was saying. 

“A lot more than you do,” Carmen grumbles. He runs a hand over his face from the bottom up, coming to a rest when it’s gripping onto his curls. 

“I’m always covering her sections,” Liam groans. “The amount of time that Rich’s given me her table’s drinks, it’s insane. We should start pooling our tips.”

Carmen wants to say a lot back to that. That his name is Richie, and calling him Rich doesn’t make him any more like the finance frat bros that Liam is so desperate to associate with. That tip pooling would be insanely unfair to you considering Carmy’s pretty sure Liam’s made less than what you make in a day. That he stacks the chairs because he likes to, and you know that. 

Instead, he settles on “you’re always covering her sections because she’s always covering up for you when you screw up.”

Liam looks like he’s unsure whether or not to go ghostly pale or beet red at the statement. “Wh- has my performance not been up to scratch, sir?”

Carmen stands. “I didn’t really notice it, at first, cause everything was going so well. She’d never tell on you, she knows what it’s like to struggle at a job.” He looks disdainfully down at Liam’s too-new dress shoes. Professional but impractical as a waiter. From what Carmen’s noticed, this is the second pair he’s ruined. “She’d never tell me that your silverware is never rolled, so she’s been staying late and rolling every single one of them. She’d never tell me that your tables are never cleared away. She’d never tell me that you had six meals comped in your first month because you couldn’t be fucked writing shit down.

So yeah, maybe you get her tables a refill when she’s too busy telling one of us one of your guests was coeliac because you forgot to, but that does not give you the right to look down your entitled fucking nose at her.” Carmen gets close, not close enough to the point where it could be uncomfortable, but much closer than he’d ever get to Liam if he could help it. 

“You don’t like picking up her slack? That’s fine, that’s fucking fine, because to be honest, it seems like you’re creating more work for her anyway. You’re done.”

He looks pointedly towards the door to the small office. 

Liam knows exactly what Carmy’s telling him. “Sir, I-”

Carmen raises a finger and points. “You’re fucking done.”

Liam scampers away so quickly he doesn’t even see you eavesdropping. 

Carmy knows, though. He seems to have a sixth sense for when you walk into a room. If you’re not planning on coming in to confront him about firing Liam then he has no intention of bringing it up with you. He sits down, putting his forehead on his fist. “Sir.”

You’re standing right in the door, it’s practically impossible for Carmen not to notice you. But he pretends, allowing you the chance to slip away and act like you hadn’t just witnessed him firing Liam for being slightly mean to you. 

He opens his eyes to see you standing there still. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” your voice is soft. The collar of your shirt is tucked underneath on one side, and Carmen has to resist the urge to reach up and smooth it out. He’s not quite sure why and he doesn’t feel like unpacking it. “He’s still learning, I don’t mind helping him out.”

Carmen doesn’t mince his words. “He’s a dick, don’t defend him.”

He swivels away from his desk and gestures for you to sit. After a second of hesitation, you perch yourself on top of the small surface. You’re not sure who moves first, Carmen to reach up and take your hands or you to reach down to let him. Neither of you have ever spoken about it, like a lot of things. How he always makes sure you get extra food and you make sure Carmen isn’t bothered while he sets up the dining room. 

You hadn’t realised how much Liam had been heightening your anxiety while he was there. “He’s not allowed to do that to you.” Carmy sounds genuinely pissed. “You do fucking everything out there, he’s not allowed to come in and treat you like some sanctimonious fuck. You… you should’ve come to talk to me about it.” He gives in. “You could’ve.”

“I didn’t want to be a problem.” You admit quietly. “You have enough without me.”

Plenty goes unsaid between you and Carmen. You don’t talk when he drives you home in the dark, in the snow. But he’d be naive to believe that the same rules applied to everyone else. The kitchen staff talks, none more than Richie. Carmy is surprised he hadn’t decked that pre-med asshole already. 

“You’re not a problem, honey,” he says gruffly. You stay silent for a moment before realising that’s probably all you’re going to get out of him. 

“I need to go prep dining for service,” you say after a moment, not wanting to speak too loudly. 

Camry’s grip on your hand tightens and for a brief second he feels panic set in. You clearly are feeling okay, so it’s not that he needs to check on you. You’re well ahead of schedule. There’s no reason for Carmen to keep his hand enclosed around yours. And yet he does. And yet you let him.

“Liam was just in here bragging about how dining room prep was already done,” he says after a short while. “You’re well ahead of time.”

“He is,” you point out airily. “I’d never want to take credit for his work.”

Carmen squeezes your hands once, eyes crinkling at the sides. You both know you need to go over everything Liam did in an attempt to make himself look better, not one hundred percent trusting him to have done it properly. There’s 56 minutes until service before Carmen finally lets you go (and only because he has prep he needs to get done).

Plenty goes unsaid between you and Carmen. You don’t say anything when he cracks his office door open for you when you need a breather. You don’t say anything when his station’s been cleaned for him miraculously while you’re waiting for him to finish paperwork.

Luckily for you, the rest of your coworkers seem to understand this time. Nobody mentions Liam or his absence. No one mentions the stars drawn on the band-aid on Carmen’s wrist. And, most surprisingly pleasant, no one mentions how Carmen has started calling you honey more than perhaps your real name.

It makes it even nicer when everyone heads out, leaving you and Carmen alone in the restaurant for the night. They seem to have miraculously developed tact over the last 24 hours, but you’re pretty sure nothing could have stopped Richie from telling everyone about the way that Carmen holds your hand the entire way to your apartment. 

[hongcherry]

pretty please (love me) || c.sc

Seungcheol knows he can't force you to say the three words he wants to hear, but seeing you avoid the topic entirely makes him wonder if he's done something wrong, or worse... Do you regret being with him?

🍒 Pairing: Seungcheol x Reader (f) 🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: PG13; Angst, fluff; Established relationship, Pretty Please couple 🍒 Warnings: None, but lmk 🍒 Word Count: 1.2k 🍒 Author’s Note: Can be read as a standalone. This is just something I've had in mind after writing "rid your worries". It's short, but I wanted to give some insight on this topic 🤭 😉

pretty please masterpost | seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty! (ageless/minors/blanks blogs will be blocked)

The room’s dark except for the TV.

Seungcheol has an arm around your shoulders while the other rests on your legs that are across his lap. Your head leans on his body, watching the movie fading to black and cueing the ending credits. You both sit quietly as you let the music fill the silence.

“Are you happy with me?”

Seungcheol’s abrupt question makes you shift to look at him. The TV light casts him in a glow of various colors.

“That was random,” you comment. “Did the movie make you sappy?”

Your teasing smile fades when you realize Seungcheol isn’t humoring your question.

“You’re serious?” you ask, but it’s a mix between a question and a statement.

“Yeah,” he mumbles and glances at the TV again.

“Where did that come from?” you ask.

He sighs and gently untangles himself from you, removing your legs from his lap. He grabs the remote and plunges you both into silence by muting the TV. He cards his fingers through his locks like he’s seriously troubled.

Your hand starts to lift to grab his but stops. You drop it and adjust the blanket you have instead.

“Yes, I’m happy. Are you?” you wonder, heart racing with the possibility of him feeling otherwise. Your fight or flight response tingles in your veins. Surely, this isn’t the beginning of a breakup speech. You’re just overthinking.

“Yes, but,” he starts to say. His two-second pause is enough to make your toes twitch with a need to run. Your heart clenches painfully in anticipation.

“I just feel like I’m not doing enough.”

Your lips dip down. You know you’re not the most affectionate, or when you are, it’s not normally you who initiates it, but you thought Seungcheol knows it’s just because you’re not used to it.

At least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

You stare at Seungcheol and see the sadness in his eyes. You slowly realize just how much words mean to him.

You hesitantly reach out. When he doesn’t pull away, you intertwine your fingers.

“You are,” you urge. “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way.”

“It’s just,” he trails off like he’s not sure if he wants to continue.

“What is it, Cheol?” you ask gently, still nervous for his response.

He heaves a sigh and stares down at your clasped hands.

“I love you,” he says and raises his head to meet your gaze. “I love you and it’s been nearly four months since we’ve gotten together, and I haven’t been able to tell you that. Any time I’ve tried, you’d cut me off. I thought it was a coincidence at first but even now I can see the panic in your eyes. Did I rush you into this? Do you not like me like I like you?”

You try not to avert your eyes because he might get the wrong impression, but you can’t help it. You look down at the blanket.

You can’t deny he’s not entirely wrong. It wasn’t a coincidence. Your heart would race anxiously anytime he’d start saying those three words. However, it wasn’t his fault you felt this way.

“No, and I… It’s not you, Seungcheol,” you say.

“Did someone say something to you about me? About us?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“I’m… scared,” you finally confess quietly.

“Of me?” he asks, pain in his voice that feeds the growing guilt in your chest.

“No,” you say. “Of making it real.”

Seungcheol squeezes your hand. “We are real. This is real. You, me, together. It’s been four months since making it real.”

His voice is strained from worry and confusion.

You nod and swallow the lump in your throat.

“I’m scared that if I say it, then I’ll be too attached. Too dependent,” you say.

You’re scared that he’ll leave you one day. 

You learned that depending on people only ends in disappointment. You had leaned on your mother, and she left. You had leaned on your father, and he withdrew. You had tried to lean on your old friends and boyfriends, and they’re no longer by your side. The only constant has been Dae, but that wasn’t an easy journey. For Seoah, she’s always been here but has never been close. No thanks to you. Though, you’ve been trying to change that lately. You wonder if Seungcheol will join that list in the future. It would be easier to move on if you didn’t feel so strongly about him.

But even as you tell yourself this, you know it won’t matter.

You’ve already given him a piece of your heart unconsciously. 

“That’s a bad thing?” he asks. “I want you to want me. I want you to confide in me.”

You want to do all those things. It sounds so nice to be able to rely on someone for once. Though any time you’ve nearly caved in, things would go awry. People would leave.

Seungcheol covers the back of your hand with his other. His warmth races up your arm and to your heart.

“I’m not going to hurt you or leave you. Don’t put me in the same category as them,” he says softly.

You bite your lip as you try to push past your fears to believe him. You want to, but it’s not easy to do. It’s not a switch that can be flipped.

“I’ll try not to,” you whisper.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, then releases it gradually.

You’re not sure if he’s pleased with the answer, but it’s the best you can offer for now.

“I don't want to rush you. I know, or at least I think, you love me too,” he says, “but at least let me say it. I know it’s not easy for you to say it, and I know actions are important too, but I want to tell you it more. Please let me.”

You nod slowly. Maybe if you surround yourself with love, it’ll get easier to show and say it. Even if you try to deny it, you know you love him. And while that scares you, the severity of which you love him scares you more.

Seungcheol lifts your chin so he can see your face.

“I love you, Cherry,” he murmurs.

Your heart flips at his sincerity. It still makes you nervous, but there’s also a bubbly feeling that you focus on instead. While he looks so honest, there’s a hint of desperation. He wants to hear it. 

Your eyes drop down.

“I love you too,” you say quietly. 

Seungcheol exhales almost a sigh of relief. He raises your chin again with a smile.

“Wanna try that again and look at me?” he asks, a little playfully to calm your nerves.

You fidget under his stare. Shaking your head, you wrap your arms around his neck and burrow your face.

“Maybe next time,” you mumble. “For now, it’s just I love you.”

Seungcheol chuckles and engulfs your body in a tight hug. He pulls you into his lap and gently rocks you back and forth.

He kisses the side of your head tenderly and says, “I love you too, baby.”

You hum, snuggling closer into his warmth. You hope his words are true. You hope one day you can give yourself fully to him—to love him without worries. You just need time.

Hopefully, Seungcheol is patient.

A/N: I've got a few more fics of this couple lined up that I'm eager to share with you all! I don't want to post them all at once, but know they're on the horizon!!! 💗 hehe

Taglist: @musingsofananxiouspotato, @christinewithluv, @lockburn-castle, @iammisstora, @maknae00, @morklee02, @kittyhui, @aeerio, @cherrylovescheol, @ellllsia, @gyuguys

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[solarmorrigan]

Deck the Halls - Spooky Scary Remix

For the @steddie-spooktober day 7 prompt: Skeleton Rated: G | Words: 682 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, modern AU, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a menace Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

“Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

“Those are skeletons.”

“They sure are.”

With an air of satisfaction, Eddie deposits the two life-size, plastic skeletons onto the couch, where they preside over the boxes of decorations sitting on the living room floor like a bony king and queen (or two kings. Or two queens. Steve guesses he can’t say for sure, since they’re skeletons).

“Eddie, it’s December,” Steve says.

“You know, your observational skills are one of the things I really love about you,” Eddie shoots back.

“Fuck off,” Steve snaps, with no real heat. “We’re supposed to be decorating for Christmas.”

“And so we shall!” Eddie claps his hands together. “Where should we start?”

“Let’s start with why there are skeletons on the couch,” Steve says, and Eddie tsks, like Steve is the one being weird.

“We’re going to decorate with them, obviously.”

“Skeletons are for Halloween, not Christmas.”

Eddie eyes Steve with that shrewd tilt to his mouth that never bodes well for Steve’s chances in an argument. “Says who?”

“Uh, everyone?”

“Oh, everyone. Is that all?” Eddie waves his hand dismissively. “You know, skeletons don’t stop existing just because it’s not October. In fact, I’ve got news for you, baby.” He steps closer to Steve, bringing his hands up to Steve’s hips and giving them a squeeze before leaning in to whisper, “there’s a skeleton inside of you right now.”

Steve scrunches his nose up in distaste. “Don’t say it like that,” he implores, and Eddie snickers.

“Too late, thought’s in your head now.” He leans in and pecks a kiss to Steve’s cheek before stepping away. “Besides, I have a plan to deal with the Christmas skeleton nay-sayers such as yourself!”

He goes to dig through the plastic shopping bags he’d come home from the store with, where Steve had only sent him to get another box of lights and some extra hooks for the gutters, not these new spooky-scary interlopers, who are still sitting on the couch, eyeing Steve with their empty sockets.

“Where did you even get these things, anyway?” Steve asks as Eddie digs.

“They were on sale, can you believe it?” Eddie says. “No one wanted the poor, bony bastards, so I brought ‘em home. Aha!”

From the depths of the rustling plastic Eddie unearths his treasure: two fur-trimmed Santa hats.

With what seems to Steve like a disproportionate amount of delight, Eddie sets about placing the hats onto the two bare, plastic skulls, tugging them around carefully and setting the pompoms at jaunty angles before he steps aside and gestures with a theatrical sweep of his arms.

“What d’you think?”

Steve blinks at two festive skeletons on the couch. What does he think?

He thinks that they only moved into this house a few months ago, and he doesn’t want anyone in the neighborhood to think they’re weird.

Which– okay, they are weird. Obviously. Everyone is going to find out. But Steve had been hoping that the idea could sort of bake in; that they’d have time to settle and become a part of the community before everyone figures it out, so they’d have a better chance of not getting frozen out. He’d had a plan.

But then again– Eddie is standing there grinning at Steve, so hopeful and pleased with himself, practically begging Steve to tag along with him on his weird little endeavor, and honestly? Steve would rather live as a socially ostracized hermit until the end of his days than make Eddie unhappy.

“I think you’d better find a good place outside to put them, and they’d better stay there, because if I wake up one morning and find out you moved one of those things outside our bedroom window, or somewhere inside the house, I’m divorcing you,” Steve says.

If anything, Eddie’s smile only grows. “I wouldn’t dream of it, baby,” he says, his tone implying that he absolutely would.

All the same, Steve allows himself to be smothered with grateful kisses, and braces himself to deal with “mysteriously” moving Christmas skeletons for the rest of the season.

The things he does for love.

[ylangelegy]

Can I request idol!jeonghan ANY PLOT CAUSE I MISS HIM BADLY, THIS URGE TO GO TO KOREA AND FIND HIM AND HUG HIM 💔💔💔💔

🐈‍⬛ keeping company (jeonghan x reader)

or: the one where jeonghan leaves you with some 'company' so you're not lonely while he's on tour.

★ includes: established relationship, pet names, mildly irresponsible pet ownership c/o jeonghan, fluff. inspired by the recent rumor [?] that jeonghan and seungkwan have adopted a cat. ★ footnotes: the timing of this is impeccable. i've also been missing jeonghan like crazyyy and so here's a quick drabble! (°◡°♡) not proofread lol ★ word count: 1.8k

"This is a decision that's usually made as a pair."

If Jeonghan is bothered by the annoyance edging your tone, he's good at not letting it show. He remains perfectly calm as he cradles the orange-and-white shorthair kitten in the crook of his elbow.

"You said you wanted a cat," he points out. His voice is modulated just a little bit lower, and you realize it's because the kitten is snoozing against his chest.

"I do," you respond, matching his tone. It would be comical, how the two of you are arguing like a married couple trying not to wake their child. "But not right now!"

Jeonghan has always been just a little bit on the impulsive side, especially when it came to giving you gifts. Sure, he got you absurd presents for shits and giggles— but this? A live animal, an actual pet?

"This is irresponsible, Jeonghan," you insist.

A pout overtakes his features. "Excuse me?"

You could almost laugh. Jeonghan's not affronted that you've called him out for being irresponsible. No, his gripe is with the fact that you've foregone his pet name. "Baby," you amend.

His pout pulls into a thin-lipped smile. He's still cradling the kitten, rocking it back and forth with surprising gentleness. "It's not ours," he notes, finally answering the question you'd posed since he first walked through the front door of your shared apartment. "It's a foster."

"A foster."

"For only about four months or so."

Four months would seem like an oddly specific timeline for anybody else, but the sudden information drop has everything clicking into place in your brain. "You did not," you say exasperatedly.

A proper grin breaks out on to Jeonghan's expression. "I did," he sing-songs.

His steps are careful, measured as he crosses the room over to you. The two of you share a brief look, and you almost protest at his silent request. But then he shakes his head and you're helpless to comply— gingerly extending your arms until Jeonghan has deposited the drowsy kitten into your arms.

It curls right into you despite your initial stiffness. Try as you might, you can't help the way your expression melts at the sight of the cat cozying up to you. Jeonghan doesn't miss it; he plants his hands on his hips and smirks ever so slightly.

"He'll keep you company while I'm gone," he says, all but divulging his ulterior motive in fostering.

You shoot your boyfriend a half-hearted glare. It's difficult to look stern when you're holding a kitten that's dozing off. With a resigned sigh, you prompt, "Does he have a name, at least?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Bright-eyed, Jeonghan leans over to press a kiss to your cheek. He's still got that boyish grin on full display as he carefully moves so as to not hurt the temporary addition to your home.

"His name's Hannie, of course."

Your shoulders shake with quiet laughter. "Of course," you echo.

You have to give Jeonghan some credit: He prepared virtually everything to ensure that Hannie would be comfortable. Your boyfriend cat-proofed the apartment in between preparations for his impending world tour, and he left you with more than enough food and toys to last Hannie more than four months.

A part of you wonders if it's intentional— Jeonghan's choice of a foster that was essentially just him in animal form.

"I swear," you whine over video call. "It's as if you were reincarnated as a cat."

Jeonghan is at their twelfth or so stop, roughly two months into the tour. There's a twelve-hour time difference between the two of you. It's morning on your end; evening on his. He's only stealing away a quick moment to call with you before going out to dinner with the boys, and so you make your complaints and gripes quick.

"You know, his favorite thing is the mirror," you say. "He bumps his little head into the glass, like, three times a day. He likes how he looks just a little too much."

Jeonghan, on the other end of the call, pulls an expression of mock offense. "And you said he's just like me," he snipes from his perch on his hotel room bed. "Are you calling me vain?"

You pause, feigning thoughtfulness.

"Yah!" Jeonghan whines, and you break character to laugh.

"He's a cutie, though," you concede. "He can get clingy, and he's the absolute sweetest."

"Now that's a comparison I don't mind."

You shake your head at Jeonghan's jab. Your eyes flit over to where Hannie is— busying himself with the cat tree in the corner of the room.

Jeonghan's tone takes on a more delicate lilt. "Is he giving you a hard time?"

"No," you answer instantly. It's not the full truth. It is a bit difficult, having to adjust to the fact that you have an entirely new presence to consider outside of your own. But—

"No, he's good company," you say, your gaze moving back to the pixelated version of your boyfriend on your phone.

He's smiling into his camera, looking at you in that soft way that he often does. It's not the same as the real thing, as being able to see it in person, but it will do for now.

"I'm glad," he says, and you know by the glint in his eye that he means it.

On some of the particularly lonely days, you find yourself confiding in Hannie.

At first, you feel foolish to be talking to this six-month old shorthair. He's an obliging audience, though. His boba-shaped eyes only stare up at you as you rant about how much you miss Jeonghan, how you wish he could just be home at this very instant.

That's why— on the night he comes home— Jeonghan finds Hannie asleep at your side, the two of you curled around each other like parentheses. Jeonghan snaps about a dozen photos from five different angles before placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Baby," he murmurs. "Hey, baby."

He'd been hoping to catch you awake, to greet you a lot more properly with his surprise homecoming. Instead, he finds his amusement growing as you only snore into your pillow, a protective arm placed around the equally knocked out kitten.

"Baby," Jeonghan calls again, giving your shoulder a light shake.

In your sleep, you grumble and shift closer to Hannie. Jeonghan can only marvel at how your body seems so attune to Hannie that you avoid all the ways you might crush him.

All Jeonghan can do at this point is shake his head with slight helplessness. "Damn," he grumbles, though— for what it matters— the word is said with blinding adoration. I've been replaced, Jeonghan thinks to himself as he makes his way out of your bedroom.

Couch it is, then.

You drop Hannie when you find Jeonghan on the couch the next morning.

Thankfully, Hannie lands on his feet. He lets out curious, high-pitched mewls at the sight of the new presence in the household, bounding over to the couch.

For a moment, you think you're hallucinating. But then Jeonghan rouses at the sound of Hannie's mewing, and his hand reaches out to give the cat a half-hearted stroke on its chin.

"Hey, bud," Jeonghan grumbles Hannie, his voice a bit rough from sleep. "Are you done stealing my girl away?"

If the words had been any less ludicrous, you might've faulted Jeonghan for addressing the foster before you. But, as it stands, you can only bark out a disbelieving laugh at the sight of your half-awake boyfriend trying to pick a fight with a kitten.

Hannie, none the wiser, merely tries to swat its little paws up at Jeonghan.

"Oh, it's like that? Let's square up, then—"

"Jeonghan."

Jeonghan glances up at you. He seems hardwired to resist any time you refer to him with his given name, and it shows in the way he practically side-eyes you despite his haze of sleepiness.

"Baby," you correct. "When did you get in?"

"Last night." Jeonghan is sitting up, now, stretching his arms over his head in a bid to wake himself up a bit more. Hannie— seeming no longer interested in the new character— wanders off to go play with one of his toys.

"I tried to wake you up," Jeonghan says. "But you were preoccupied with Jeonghan two-point-oh over there."

It's not quite the post-tour reunion that either of you imagined. Still, it encapsulates your relationship perfectly. Jeonghan's teasing, your fond exasperation.

Your boyfriend beckons at you with one hand. You pad over to him with a slight shake of your head, though you're also quick to sink into his side. Jeonghan doesn't miss a beat; his arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close to him.

The two of you let out twin sighs of contentment.

Jeonghan beats you to the words. "Missed this," he says, tilting forward to press a kiss to the top of your head. "Missed you."

"I missed you, too," you respond easily, your hand resting on his thigh.

As you trace nonsensical shapes over his skin, Jeonghan hums absentmindedly. "I doubt that," he goads. "You had me in cat form the entire time."

"Are you really jealous over a pet that you got me?"

Jeonghan's eyes narrow slightly at your question, because he can hear the way you're trying to conceal your laughter. "Of course not," he answers haughtily, giving your shoulders a slight squeeze.

A beat. And then—

"Maybe a little," he grumbles, because he's never lied to you.

When the laugh breaks free from you, it's not anything cruel or judgmental. It's a tender thing, almost overwhelming in its affection. The sound of it soothes any and all of Jeonghan's petty concerns that you might've learned to love the little menace more than you loved him.

"No one can beat the original," you say.

"Damn right."

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, basking in each other's presence. You've had dozens of reunions throughout the course of your relationship— heated exchanges, passionate kisses— but this is something new entirely. It feels a lot like a fulfilled promise, like the soft starting notes of a song.

Jeonghan thinks he could get used to this.

You watch Hannie tussle with a rubber mouse, and Jeonghan watches you.

You break the silence with a terse question of "We have to give him back soon, don't we?"

Jeonghan huffs out a mindless 'mhm'. His thumb traces letters over your clothed shoulder, almost in a soothing motion. I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.

"Or," he drawls. "We could fill out the adoption papers on my desk."

When you glance up at him, your eyes wide with disbelief and poorly concealed elation, Jeonghan is suddenly so grateful for his foresight. He cackles at your expression before leaning down to press a kiss right between your furrowed brows.

"What do you say, baby?" he prompts, even though he already knows the answer. "Think you have some room in your heart for another Jeonghan?"

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

I know you've written something similar with Bucky hearing the heartbeat of his unborn child buy what if the reader and Bucky weren't in an established relationship in fact the two don't really get a long at all but they hooked up once and Rayleigh got pregnant. After a mission they end up in a safe house and Bucky realizes that he's hearing the heartbeat of their unborn child

hii!! I did change some things, hope that’s okay (about the hearing heartbeats as don’t think he can do that) but I love the idea!! other fic is HERE. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

FIVE WEEKS SINCE.

bucky barnes x fem!reader — fluff/ angst?

word count. 957

Over a month ago, you and Bucky made the mistake of sharing a hotel room, and it consequentially led to the pair of you indulging in those romantic feelings you knew you always had for each other. At the time, it felt far from a misstep, but the awkwardness that followed made it all feel like a huge mistake. 

A following three weeks later —two weeks ago— you found out some life-altering information - discovering that you were pregnant. You knew that it was the work of you and Bucky during that night, but you couldn't bring yourself to share the news. Recently, he's acted like he wanted nothing to do with you, and you felt completely isolated as you wallowed in the feeling by yourself.

During those weeks of uncertainty, you confided in Natasha, essentially using her for support until you worked up enough courage to tell Bucky. She was far more helpful than she gave herself credit for, and slowly but surely, you started to get there in terms of bravery.

You were all currently spending the night at a safe house, sleeping over to resume your mission the next day. Everyone grouped off to share rooms.

It was late, all but you sure to be fast asleep. But you couldn't drift off, something undecided going on with your body - you couldn't figure out what it needed; was it food, water? Something to steady the nauseous feeling in your gut? You weren't sure, so you decided to head down to the kitchen, creeping out of the room quietly, trying not to wake Nat.

As you make your way downstairs, you see the silhouette of someone in the fridge, their back dark - the outline of them lit up by the yellow-white light. You wanted to turn around, not wanting to talk in your moody, tired state, but it was too late. The creak of the last few steps alerting them of your presence.

It was Bucky. And the look on his face was just as uncomfortable as yours.

"I'm just about to go," he murmurs, avoiding you, turning his attention to the open cupboard of glasses.

You roll your neck, working out the kink as you step into the kitchen - it wasn't small, but the space was far too tight for two people who couldn't bear to be in the same room. "No, it's fine. I was just getting a drink," you shrug, standing off to the side of him as you wait to collect a glass. 

Instead, he turns to you, handing you one. "Juice is on the counter," he nods, gesturing to the island behind.

"Thanks," you smile reasonably, uncapping the bottle and pouring yourself a glass. But when Bucky steps over, you hand him yours, taking his to fill for yourself. 

He takes a quick swig and thanks you, looking around the room awkwardly.

"Do you know where the cookies are?" you ask, trying to ease the tension.

He nods softly and reaches into another cupboard, pulling out a pack of cookies. He opens the packet and hands it to you, acting courteous.

"Thank you," you smile sweetly, offering him the first one. 

With a soft shake of his head, he declines.

"Can't sleep?" you ask. 

"No. You?"

"No."

And as he begins to step back, you decide to speak up - not wanting him to leave just yet. "Hey, uhm," you pause, fiddling with the cookie wrapper. "We haven't really spoken... how you been?" 

"Uh, doing good," he nods faintly, clearly holding back. "Have you— are you good?" 

You nod, also holding back. 

"Good," he nods, lips in a forced straight line. Feet turning away, itching to leave the room.

"James," you hesitated, clutching at straws - desperate to keep him around just a little longer.

His movement halts, and he twists back to face you. The simple call of his real name brings back memories of the two of you before all the awkwardness. 

"I'm..." you inhale sharply, thinking of the words. "I need to tell you something, and I—" you shake your head, stilling your wavering voice. 

He takes a small step closer, leaving a comfortable distance between you. "Tell me what?" he asks, the desperation clear in his eyes - his body language growing anxious.

"A couple weeks ago... I found out I'm pregnant," you whisper, momentarily closing your eyes - cowering away. "And I don't know what to do," you shake your head, avoiding his eyes. "It's a lot... and I didn't know how to tell you, but you should know."

The silence is deafening. Bucky's being far too quiet, and it makes you feel sick. You finally meet his gaze and watch the contrasting emotions play out on his face - he's clearly trying to process it all. 

"I know the timing isn't great, and things aren't good with us," you try to be mature, attempting to patch things over. "It was a shock for me too, but I just..." you sigh, waiting for him to say something. "I don't expect anything from you, it's okay. I get it."

He nods, seeming to have collected himself. "Let's talk everything over, okay? Talk it all through, clear the air," he offers with a half smile, closing the gap with another step forward. 

"Now?" you ask, thrown off by his sudden cooperation and interest. 

"Yeah, we'll sit on the back porch," he nods through the kitchen window, gesturing to the deck chairs. "You tell me everything, I'll tell you everything. We'll sort this out."

You're pleased with the progress you're making, and your forced smile turns into a real one - the first real one he's seen of yours in a while. "Yeah. I'd like that."

I spent way too long trying to understand the pregnancy time frame of conception and implantation😭😭

[mx-pastelwriting]

MHA Heroes HC - Celebrating Your Anniversary

MHA Heroes x GN! Reader

Summary: How they would celebrate your anniversary.

Warnings: Established Relationship, Fluff, Anniversary

Characters: Endeavor (Enji Todoroki), Gang Orca (Kugo Sakamata), Eraserhead (Shota Aizawa), Vlad King (Sekijiro Kan), Fat Gum (Taishiro Toyomitsu)

Endeavor (Enji Todoroki)

- Would have the date written down on his work calendar, working meetings, and training around it. Still having to go to the office on those days, leaving early to pick up your favorite things from the store.

- Having to celebrate yearly because of his work as the number one hero, but if you wanted to celebrate monthly, he would compromise. Taking you to a more extravagant dinner or even going to Greece for the day.

- Mostly leaves the plans for the anniversary to you, whether asking you what you want to do or giving you his schedule and credit card to plan. But if you left planning to him, he would panic. Asking around what you wanted, trying to remember what places you wanted to go in the past.

- Would miss your anniversary for work. Not because of overscheduling; it would be from a big villain destroying half the city and all other heroes struggling. Would try to wrap it up quickly, not wanting to miss the plans you had; even when missing them, he makes it up with gifts and dinners depending on how upset you are.

- The celebration would last a day or two, with him being busy and not a big celebratory guy. Some mornings, when it's your monthly anniversary, he brings you breakfast in bed or rents out your favorite place for the day. He just wants to see you smile when it comes to your anniversary.

Waking to the feeling of being showered with warm kisses, opening your eyes to see Enji's red hair as he leans down, attacking you with kisses.

Pulling away, succeeding in waking you. Seeing as Enji had a big closed-lip smile before watching as he turned to your nightstand, picking up the small bed table that presented a beautiful breakfast.

Waiting patiently for you to sit up before placing the table down in your lap, then sitting by your feet, allowing you to look over him fully. Enji was dressed for work, adding a bit of sadness to your morning. Taking notice of where your eyes took focus, he moves, cutting a piece of the breakfast, then holding it up close to your mouth. Smiling as you took a bite, though not being able to stay the day after your anniversary, he still made the day after a little special.

-

Gang Orca (Kugo Sakamata)

- Would definitely remember your anniversary. Teases you about his plans days leading before. Clears out his calendar as much as he can for the week that the date lands in.

- Celebrates your yearly anniversary as more of a bigger event than your monthly. For your monthly anniversaries, he would leave little surprises around your environment, whether it be jewelry, flowers, or your favorite snacks tapped with little notes that told how you took his breath away.

- Plans everything. Taking you on vacation to a private island or spending most of the week in the middle of the ocean on his boat. Anything to do with sharing a private moment with you in his home ocean.

- Very unlikely he would miss your anniversary, but if the city was under threat, then he would let you know before setting off to help the city. Making it up to you as soon as possible, just say where, and he will have the plane or boat ready in minutes.

- Celebrating the entire week the date falls in, even calling the month special for being your anniversary month. Would leave your monthly anniversaries to be a one-and-done thing either, doing something special for the first day and last day of each month. Especially through your first year of being together.

Laying on warm sand, soaking up the hot sun, hearing as waves crashed in the background—that was until a shadow was cast onto you.

Opening your eyes while lowering your glasses and seeing the Orca hero standing above you dripping with water. Scanning over his figure, seeing as Kugo's muscles simmered in the sun's light. Noticing your open, flawed reaction, Kugo laughs before extending a handout, inviting you to swim with him in the salty waters. Meaning really, "Would you like to ride me?" even though knowing your answer would always be a "yes."

-

Eraserhead (Shota Aizawa)

- Yes, he would remember, but only a few days before, making him pull something together in a short amount of time. Never meaning to do this on purpose, but with his sleeping schedules and teaching, the man is running on fumes most of the time.

- Only really able to celebrate yearly, though he still tries to do you something special every month on that date. Whether spending a late night with you instead of working late at the academy or buying your favorite things and placing them beside your nightstand early in the morning when he has to go to work. The man tires.

- For your yearly anniversary, he takes the day off, spending the whole morning with you in bed. Then, as lunch rolls around, he lets you take the reins, doing whatever you wish, but for dinner, he tells you to get ready. Takes you to an expensive restaurant, having saved up for the whole year for it.

- Shota missing your anniversary would be very likely, but it would never be on purpose. Being because of falling asleep or work, he would always make sure to make up for it days later. Dipping into his vacation days and savings to make it to you.

- After your anniversary, he would have to go right back to work, but for days after, he would spend his late nights watching movies or in your arms instead of working overtime. Knowing his co-workers would understand and help him with the workload.

Sat on the couch, Shota's warm arms wrapped around you. Watching the movie that played on the TV, Shota watched you. Scanning your features as if falling for you all over again, only stopping when you caught him.

Watching as his face burned red as he pretended badly to watch the movie. Laughing at his reaction, you cuddled closer, causing him to kiss the top of your head. Feeling his hand rest atop your arms, gently caressing it, acting as more comforting to your late-night cuddling section.

-

Vlad King (Sekijiro Kan)

- Totally forgets, but thankful always remember at the last minute. On his way home, he makes dinner reservations using his connections as a hero and drops by some expensive shops to get you something. When finally getting to you, he acts like he definitely didn't forget your anniversary.

- Yearly anniversary only, as he can barely remember them, but if you bring up it's your monthly anniversary, he will plan something for that night. Sekijiro's plans always come out sweeter than he expects, especially on your yearly anniversary. As much as he denies it, the man is romantic.

- If he actually remembers, with enough time, he plans a day off of work and rents out your favorite places with a dinner to end the day. A dinner made by him, refusing to let you help with anything, just letting you sit and watch him in his 'kiss the cook' apron cooking you a delicious meal.

- When making up for his lateness on your anniversary or even when he forgets entirely, he basically begs for your forgiveness in words and actions. Dinners, your favorite place, and vacations—you name it—happen, but you only want to stay in. He melts in a puddle, still apologizing.

- Celebrates your anniversary for as long as he can with work and all, whether it be ordering in breakfast for you, setting up a little lunch date, or having home-cooked dinners. Sekijiro tries to at least keep this extended celebration going for a week.

Arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you along out of the kitchen with the sounds of food sizzling in the background. Giggling as Sekijiro leads you out of the kitchen, not wanting you to lift a finger on your anniversary.

Letting you go with a kiss on the neck before turning back to the pan that let the aroma of your favorite food in the air. As Sekijiro cooked, he couldn't help but sneak glances at you. Risking injury just to look over your face little by little, with every glance soaking in your smile that adored him.

-

All Might (Toshinori Yagi) - Works for small & big

- In the beginning of your relationship would remember every year and monthly anniversary, but as he got old and with events of him retiring, he forgot the monthly anniversaries, but never misses your yearly.

- Would celebrate both, monthly and yearly, in the first year, but the monthly anniversary would die down after the first year. If you pointed it out, he would try and make sure he remembers, but if work came up, he would have to miss your little dinners instead of buying you a big gift to make up for it.

- For your yearly anniversaries, he tries to focus on the meaningful things instead of vacation or a big dinner, but if you would want all of that, he would still try to work some meaning to it all. Whether it would be a dinner overlooking the spot where you first met or vacationing at a place that reminds him of you.

- When he misses one of them, though, he takes days off, feeling terrible as you mean everything to him. Even if it's not that serious, you're the most important thing in his life, and he wants you to know.

- Your normal yearly anniversaries would last a couple of days before having to go back to work. Even when you had done everything exciting, he would stay with you snuggled up in bed or on the couch, spending the rest of his time off relaxing with you.

Warms arms and plush blankets wrapped around, breathing in the morning air while hearing Toshi snoring away. Turning in bed facing the hero's sleeping face, watching as his mouth was a gap, moving slightly with every snore.

Failing to hold back a laugh, waking Toshi, smiling at the sight of you giggling away trying to guess what was so funny. Finally calming, you snuggled closer, welcoming the close morning cuddles, kissed your cheek that rested atop his shoulder before falling back asleep, mouth a gap once again.

-

Fat Gum (Taishiro Toyomitsu) - Works for small & big

- Always remembers every monthly and yearly anniversary. The date is engraved in his head, having a framed photo of you and him with the date on it to remind him of sitting on his work desk.

- Celebrates both yearly and monthly anniversaries. Doesn't matter how many years you two have been together; he always celebrates them both, always finding something new to do for every single one. Even when you want to stay in for the night, he always finds ways to make something new happen.

- Mostly he would take you to a big dinner, not always an expensive place as they don't always have the best-tasting food. Bringing you to the best food shops in all of Japan, though, doesn't tell you that the food there reminds him of you having eaten at those places after the biggest milestones of your relationship.

- Would happen very rarely, but if he does, his blood runs cold. Racing to you with gifts of your favorite foods, pulling strings for a dinner at a really fancy restaurant where the food actually tastes good.

- The food feast that is your anniversary would last for as long as you wanted it to; he would even celebrate it for a year if that's what you wanted. Days later, he would come over at lunchtime with food and sit with you, allowing you to pick anything off his plate with a smile.

Bitting down on the delicious food, Taishiro held up to feed you, both smiling at the sweet moment. Knowing always what you liked to eat, he took you to a new place in the city, hidden away in the busy markets.

Thankfully, the place wasn't too busy, allowing you to eat without cameras sneaking a picture of you two lovebirds. Watching as he took a bit of his own while chewing, his eyes filled with love as if he were tasting the love he has for you.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

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Taglist: @g0dwat3r @bimbo-bunni @lokis-right-femur

@urlocalfanficwriter @vaexox @needa-sum-luvn

[littleredgun]

Worship - Part One

18+ - better not see any of you minors knocking around here.

Warnings for all chapters: Established relationship, female reader, pet names, swearing, guns, violence, restraints, chloroform, knives, death, blood, angst, fluff, SMUT, soft Jason, p in v sex, unprotected sex, size difference, size kink.

I do not own any of the characters in this fic and GIF is not mine, credit to the owner!

My work is not to be translated, copied / posted anywhere else!

Part Two

Jason worshipped the ground you walked on.

His soft, loving side was only reserved for you.

You were a delicate flower and he was an icy river.

May God have mercy on the sorry asshole who hurts you.

Nightfall settled over Gotham, illuminating the skyline Jason loved so much. The rain pelted down on this helmet and the wind blew through his jacket, making him shiver ever so slightly. He couldn’t wait to get home. Home to you.

Jason had met you, ironically enough, on patrol.

You were stupid enough to walk down alleys alone at night and he stopped you getting attacked by smashing the butt of his gun against the creeps temple, he was dead before you could open your eyes. And man, oh man were you a sight he could get used to, even with a bust lip and your blouse torn. When you opened your eyes you breathed “Red Hood”. He gave you a ride home without saying a word and walked you into your apartment. It was cosy. Something he’d expect from a girl who looked like you.

“Thank you”, you whispered, standing awkwardly in your kitchen. Again, without saying a word, he removed his helmet with a shaky breath and gently lifted his hands to your jaw. His stomach flipped at the sheer size difference between the two of you, one hand was the size of your whole face. “Got a first aid kit?”. Those were the only worlds he could force out. You nodded sheepishly before pointing to the bathroom. He moved swiftly and found it under your sink, rummaged through it and was back in the kitchen. In that time you had managed to change into an oversized t-shirt and some shorts and were sat waiting prettily for him to return.

You were going to kill him, he was sure of it. You somehow looked even smaller. “This is gonna hurt, I’m sorry”, he muttered. He took some disinfectant and a cotton ball and gently placed it to the cut on your lip. You inhaled a sharp breath through your teeth before replacing his hand with yours on the cotton ball. He stood and watched you dab the cut, shifting nervously. “So, you just gonna stand there or are you gonna tell me your name?”.

Jason was take back by the sudden comment, he attempted to keep his cool. “You know my name”. You chuckled and placed the cotton pad in the trash. “No. I know your vigilante name. I don’t know your real name”. Without thinking you grabbed two cups and began preparing two cups of coffee. “I can’t tell you that, sweetheart”.

“Oh yeah? Then why’d you remove your helmet? I know what you look like now”. Ah shit. He hadn’t of thought about that. With a heavy sigh he answered, “Jason”. You hummed quietly before speaking. “I prefer Jay. Jason makes you sound like an old man”. He laughed. Really laughed, for the first time in months. “Alright. Jay it is”. Your eyes scanned over him, his eyes crinkled when he laughed. You watched him lean against your kitchen counter and only then did you realise how big this man was. He came through your door sideways. You told him your name. “But people call me Little”. Jason furrowed his brows. “Because I’m small”. His lips made a silent oh..and the rest was history.

That was a year ago. Almost every night since then he’d appear at your apartment door. Countless nights were spent sat on the couch talking, playing games. He told you about his encounter with the Joker. How he died and came back, he showed you his scars. You cried like a baby that night, your fingertips tracing the pattern of each mark on his body. You told him about your father dying when you were young and your mother choosing her boyfriends over you.

Anger consumed him, but he pushed it aside. That was the night he kissed you. Made love to you, told you how madly in love he was with you. He loved each and every part of your body, lips and tongue dancing across your skin, heated whispers and purple marks littered your body. He’d stayed in your apartment ever since, and by God did you worship that man.

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Protection Spell [Spencer x Reader]

Photo credits: Center Left (@thinkpink212) Center (@reidcoffeemoon) Rigth (@flowersforfrancis)

Prompt: The reader reflects on when she and Spencer found out they were pregnant with their first baby, a little girl, and the reader asks Spencer what he whispers to their child every morning when he gets up. 

Pairing: [established relationship] Spencer x BAU!reader, pregnant!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns. 

Category: fluff/comfort 

Word Count: 2.7K 

Content Warnings: Pregnancy [reader], morning sickness, prayer {no deity named], lots of fluff. Let me know if I missed any. 

A/N: Hi loves! This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins wonderful March and April Prompts. The Prompt I used was “The couple enjoys trying for a baby.” These are tropes/plots that I have never written for before so I hope you like it. I did some research on pregnancy but not a ton, so forgive me if some things are off. I love being challenged as a writer to try new things. I hope you like this little fluffy fic and that you are having a great start to your week!. This was really fun to write. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you’re having a great start to your week and thanks for reading. Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

_y/f/f_ = your favorite food 

At first, it was the best thing to happen in the world. And it was still the best thing in the world. The little baby girl growing in y/n’s belly over the months had not only brought her and Spencer unbridled joy but also brought the team together in a stronger way. The way everyone had come together to help y/n and Spencer ensured her that their baby would be the most looked after and safest baby in the whole world. How couldn’t she be if with the BAU and half the Quantico office knowing about her already? As y/n lay in bed next to Spencer who was still asleep, belly round in the largest size paternity pajamas that the store had, she reflected on when they’d first found out they were going to be parents. 

y/n and Spencer had been trying for some time now. They had been to the doctor multiple times about it, both getting checks on their sexual health. Both y/n and Spencer got an all-clear from the doctor, however, y/n’s OBGYN had told y/n that her stress level and anxiety might be factors that might be affecting their chances. But despite these issues, Spencer and y/n had continued trying. They always made love at the peak window for y/n in her cycle, as well as much much more than that. y/n loved Spencer so much as he did this. It never felt like a chore to either of them. It was a joy to even be trying. They’d had a difficult conversation and both agreed that they wanted a child and wanted to give it the best life possible. So that fateful morning when y/n walked out of the bathroom feeling sick and just trying a pregnancy test that they now seemed to stockpile, and she saw the two pink lines, y/n screamed with joy. Of course, Spencer hadn’t taken it that way. He rarely heard y/n scream, so he rushed into the bathroom expecting something bad, but instead, y/n was standing in the center of the bathroom holding something in her hand like it was the most precious thing she’d ever seen. He was confused. The tall agent walked over to y/n and asked, “y/n, what’s happening?” With a kind of happy dazed look, y/n opened her palm so Spencer could look over her shoulder and see the positive pregnancy test. As soon as Reid’s brain registered what was happening, he froze. Suddenly his brain which could work ten thousand miles an hour came to a standstill. In a half whisper, Spencer asked, “For real?” y/n felt the tears building in her eyes as she nodded her head yes. 

As soon as the non-verbal gesture was done, Spencer rushed forward and covered y/n in an embrace. He hugged her tightly and picked her up off of her feet as he placed his head in the crook of y/n’s neck. He just took in the wonderful woman in his arms, not even having the right words to tell her apart from that he loved her over and over again. The couple waited a few weeks to tell the team. They didn’t want to give anyone false hope. Not even themselves, though immediately they started talking about names and baby rooms and the crib They couldn’t help themselves. They started making a list of names but decided to wait till their baby was born to name them. When Reid and y/n were more sure, with the advice of the doctor that things looked good, they broke the news to the team. The members of the BAU responded with jubilation. Everyone had asked y/n how she was feeling and if she needed anything like she might break if she as much stepped down the stairs. y/n reassured them all that she was fine to work, just a bit more nauseous than normal. After everyone had calmed down and y/n and Spencer had reassured them all that they would keep them updated, things went as back to normal as possible when a member of the team announced they were pregnant. 

Later that day, Aaron pulled y/n aside in his office for a little talk. For whatever reason y/n was a little nervous, but she did not need to be. Hotch asked her to sit, and she did. Aaron moved behind her to his desk and sat down as well. He had a small smile on his face and he started by saying, “Congratulations, y/n. I’m so happy for you and Spencer.” y/n blushed and replied, “Thanks Hotch. It means a lot to us.” Aaron nodded and then continued, “I want you to know that I’m not going to baby you. I’m going to let you do your job here, but I need you to tell me if you need a break. For anything. If you’re sick or just need a minute, I fully understand. You just need to let me or Rossi or anyone on the team know.” y/n nodded appreciatively that he wasn’t treating her like glass, but that he also understood that she was going to need time and space sometimes too. y/n had rarely seen Aaron like this, to take this tone. She assumed it was from his experience with Haley and Jack. He’d pretty much seen it all with that pregnancy. Of course, y/n was aware that all pregnancies were different, but it was nice to know someone who had seen this before with a job like theirs. Of course, Aaron didn’t give birth to Jack, but he was as attached to Haley as he could be when she was pregnant with Hotch’s son. Aaron broke the peaceful silence and concluded, “Obviously, when things progress I want you to be as safe as possible. We all will, so when that time comes, you, Spencer, and I can have a conversation, okay?” y/n nodded and Aaron couldn’t help himself from asking, “So, how are you feeling? Everything okay?” At the honest question, y/n’s face broke out into a huge smile and she said, “I’m happy Hotch. We’ve wanted this for so long, and it’s finally happening. Sometimes I don’t even know what to think.” Hotch nodded and said, “Well take your time, there will be plenty of that before it’s all over.” 

Aaron had been right. There was a shocking amount of time, and yet it seemed to fly by at the same time. All the things had happened mostly normal. Spencer and y/n had found out the sex of their baby girl at twenty weeks, then there were the more constant checkups and ultrasounds. y/n had raised blood pressure and bad morning sickness. Later The BAU ladies and some of y/n’s friends had held her a baby shower early just in case a case popped up. Then there were the more obvious signs of pregnancy like her belly swelling and the first kicks of the baby that nearly had y/n in tears. As great as being a new mother seemed, and as excited as y/n was, it was still hard. As her baby and body accommodated to the changes happening, y/n found it harder to move and her emotions started to play up more than normal. Like the first few days before a period but all the damn time. 

Hotch had slowly been phasing y/n off the active team and keeping y/n more and more in the precincts and sites that didn’t have any imminent danger on cases. By the third trimester, Spencer had encouraged her to take a full-time roll back in Quantico until their baby girl came. Aaron had agreed with Reid and said he’d approve the paperwork for the temporary shift in roles. After a few conversations with Spencer, y/n agreed. The stress on the field, even if she wasn’t on on a case, could still be bad for her or the baby, and she didn’t want to risk it. This was fine for a bit until y/n got bored silly with the work and wanted back on the field. The only thing that saved her was Garcia sharing her lunch breaks and telling her all kinds of amazing stories that y/n was certain were made up. 

By the middle of the third trimester y/n was ready to step back as things were hurting her more, and she had the instinctual desire to nest and to make their home ready for the delivery of her and Spencer’s baby. y/n asked for the last month off and Aaron granted the time. It was on the first day of y/n’s rest and preparation period that the crib came in. It had been a conversation y/n and Spencer had had time and time again about what model looked most comfortable and safe. Which was the best for the money they had. So when a delivery man came to the front door with a large, heavy package, both y/n and Reid were baffled. Spencer signed for the delivery and the man moved the package inside the living room. y/n and Reid moved toward the package and Spencer grabbed a pair of scissors and carefully opened the top of the package. Nestled inside with a lot of newspaper and other protective material was a dark crib that clearly been handmade. It shone with a dark stain and at the top was a letter in a cream colored envelope. Reid pulled out the letter and opened it up. He already had an idea about who it was from, but the carefully crafted note that brought small tears to his eyes told y/n what she needed to know. After Spencer had taken a few minutes to read and reread the letter, he handed it over to y/n. She took it with trembling hands and read the contents: 

Spencer, y/n, 

I might have heard through the grapevine, or a very communicative and persistent technical analyst, that you were expecting someone special soon. I’m sorry I can’t be there to support you more practically right now, but the road calls, and I must follow. I hope you find this gift useful. I miss you both and I wish you all the luck in the world. I know you will both be the best parents. Please let me know when my Godparent duties begin. All my love, 

Gideon. 

y/n had the same emotional response as Spencer, and they embraced and spent a good part of the day deciding where it would go in the baby's room. 

At this stage in the pregnancy timeline, y/n was very dependent on Spencer but also felt the need to make everything ready. Their baby was due in a little under two weeks, and y/n could be found sometimes scrubbing the floors and counters, as well as going through her hospital bag again and again and again, even though Spencer had helped her pack it with her most comfortable clothes and supplies she would need for the day of the delivery. y/n had spent hours over this period talking about what she would want to eat after she gave birth and how her favorite _y/f/f_ would taste so, so good. Their normal routine now, when Spencer was home, was that he’d wake up and make her breakfast, then help her with things in the bathroom. Often y/n woke and Spencer would have his hands on her belly feeling for kicks from their baby girl, and more often now, he would be hunched over and talking to their baby quietly, like they were sharing some secret conversation just between the two of them. Spencer had read every book he could get his hands on about parenting and pregnancy. After a while, y/n had called for a ban on buying new books and reminded Reid that he had his public library card and access to databases from all of his prior universities. Spencer had known about talking to babies in the womb, and he’d questioned the science behind it, but as y/n had needed to spend more time in bed in the mornings, she’d find him talking to her belly, and she found it very cute. Even though she did wonder what he was saying. 

This morning, y/n woke before Spence who was sleeping soundly beside her as the baby gave a few sharp kicks to y/n’s side. y/n placed her hands on her side and said softly, “I know baby. I’m just as excited to meet you too. It going to be a big day when you come, sweetheart.” y/n lay back and considered turning on her side but didn’t. y/n did move her hand up to Spencer’s curly hair and threaded her fingers through his locks. Spencer naturally turned on his side toward her. After a few more minutes of slumber, Spence lazily opened his eyes. He smiled when he saw y/n and he sat up with a stretch. “How was your sleep, sweetheart?” y/n smiled over at him and replied, “I’m good. I had to get up a few times to use the bathroom, but I slept well. I had a dream I was on the field again, but I was this far along. It’s safe to say I wasn’t very useful.” Reid chuckled and said, “Well I’m glad you slept well.” Spencer leaned over and kissed her softly on the mouth and said, “Let me just say good morning to our baby girl and I’ll get you your breakfast in bed today, love.” y/n smiled and nodded as Spencer leaned over and kissed her tummy, running his hands over it before he leaned over and softly, almost inaudibly spoke to their baby. This procedure happened every morning. y/n assumed it happened even when she was still asleep and Spencer went in early. y/n’s hands found their way back into Reid’s soft locks which she massaged gently. Spencer’s eyes flickered up to hers and then back to his task. When he finished, Spencer looked up and y/n had to ask, “What do you say to her every morning?” 

Spencer's smile brightened and said, “Promise me you won’t think it’s silly?” y.n cocked her head and said, “Of course not Spence.” His response made y/n wonder what he was going to say even more. Reid let out a little chuckle and said, “Well, I start by telling her good morning. And then I tell her how excited we are to meet her. Most times I count down the days till she’ll come so she learns her numbers.” y/n nodded along and then Spencer said, “And I also pray to every goddess of pregnancy and fertility I know for a safe delivery and good day that she’s born. Just asking for some help when I get very stressed out on the day of.” At this admission, y/n quicked an eyebrow. She didn’t laugh, she thought it was cute, but not much in Spence’s character. y/n ran her hand over Reid’s sharp jaw and asked, “You never came across as much of a religious person Spencer? Is this something new?” Spencer sheepishly looked at y/n and said, “Well, I don’t know if I believe my prayers are reaching anyone I’m asking for help. But, I’ve learned as much as I can about what’s coming, but that doesn’t mean I know what’s coming. I suppose I can’t predict everything, and having some extra help, even if it’s a placebo can’t hurt. Think of it like a little protection spell. You and our baby girl are the most important thing in the world for me. And I’ll do anything, anything to keep you safe. Even participating in a bit of superstition to make sure it happens.” y/n smiled warmly and pulled Reid into a hug, burying her face into his chest. y/n knew that Spencer was going to be the best father ever. They had a team behind them ready to support them. But as y/n took in just how special Spencer was to her and their baby, she sent up a little prayer of her own for anyone who would listen, thanking the universe for bringing them together. 

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[the-marshals-wife]

Refuge (Sierra Six x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐑𝐘𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: It's official: I'm obsessed with The Gray Man. I've watched it 3 times so far in under 2 months, and I really wanted to write something sweet for my current favorite Goose character.

Description: Sierra Six/Courtland Gentry x Fem!Reader, established (secret) relationship; flirty, steamy fluff + angst if you squint | Warnings: suggestive themes, kissing, alcohol | Setting: post-movie | Word count: 1,746

Gif credit: user magnusedom

Imagine Six returning to you, his best kept secret, and asking you to come away with him

There was only one thing in the world that could make you open the front door of your apartment after midnight. The instant you recognize the familiar, distinct sequence of knocking, you shoot upright from your slumber and scramble off of the sofa, the book on your chest flying across the floor from where you had dozed off. Having almost tripped on the rug, you release the dead bolt and frantically fumble with the chain lock. Heart pounding, you slide it loose and jerk open the door.

Waiting on the other side like an apparition was a smiling face you weren't sure you'd ever lay eyes on again.

"Sorry for the late hour, ma'am. Could I trouble you for a cup of sugar?"

"Court!"

You couldn't help it. His name, the name only you could use, escapes your lips like a cry.

"May I come in?" he gestures.

You grab his arm and usher him inside.

"Where have you been?" you asked in a hushed voice, looking over him.

"Here, there, everywhere," he answers, leaning back against the closed door. "Spent a little time in nowhere too."

"I've been so worried about you! I haven't heard from you in months. I know that's the job, but it's been so long without a sign or anything. I was afraid something happened to you. I didn't know what to think," you say all at once.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'll explain everything, I promise. Just, let me look at you first," he says, gazing on you softly, "Wow. How is that possible?"

"What?"

"How are you more beautiful than the last time I saw you?"

You feel your cheeks turn red, but it doesn't keep you from pointing a finger to his chest.

"If you think being a smoothie is going to get you out an explanation, think again, buster."

He wraps his arms around your waist.

"Fair enough," he nods, "It's still true though. You're even prettier when you're angry."

"I must be stunning then," you smirk.

He brings his hand up to lift your chin, leaning in close, "Incredibly."

The waning space between you vanishes as he captures your lips. You lean into his touch, savoring every sensation you'd missed so much. From the warm, smokiness of his scent to the gentle scratch of his beard on your skin. When he finally pulls away, you're nearly breathless.

"Why don't you make yourself at home, stranger?" you propose, composing yourself, "You want a drink?"

"I wouldn't say no to a beer," he replies.

"Coming right up," you say, turning towards the kitchen, "They feed you in 'nowhere'? I got half of a leftover sub here, and some really leftover pizza I can nuke in the microwave."

"Tempting, but I'm good for now, thanks. Just the beer," you hear him say as you grab two bottles from the fridge.

"Good call, honestly. We can just order take out or something."

He doesn't respond, and it immediately catches your attention. You grab the bottle opener from the drawer and make quick work of the caps. With a faraway look in his eye, he stands on the other side of the modest island that separates the kitchen area from the living area. You extend the bottle towards him, and even when he takes it from your grasp, he's barely shaken from his silent reverie.

Too worried to imbibe, you set your own drink down on the counter. "Court, what's wrong? I can tell something is bothering you."

He takes a drink, which is followed by a long pause.

"Do you remember Fitzroy's niece, Claire?"

You nod. "Of course. Is she alright?"

"She is now," he sighs, setting his jaw, "Fitzroy is gone."

"What?" you say, rounding the island to be at his side.

"It's a long story, but some bad people got ahold of Claire to get to him, because of something that I did. We took care of it in the end, but...he didn't make it."

He takes another hefty drink and puts down the bottle.

"Court, I'm so sorry," you say, touching his arm, "I know how much he meant to you."

He turns to face you. "He did. Now Claire has no one, except me. And that's what I came here to talk to you about."

Your pulse quickens at the seriousness in his voice.

"Her and I have been on the run the past couple weeks. Staying ahead of Carmichael and his goon squad."

"Wait, you escaped the agency?" you ask, shocked.

"Didn't have a choice after they tried to use her as leverage to get me to keep doing their dirty work. I got her out, which means I'm out too, for good," he confirms solemnly, "I've found a place for us where we might actually have a shot at a normal-ish life."

You stare at him wide-eyed.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying...I'm all she has left. She needs me. And I need you," he says, gently rubbing your upper arms, "Before, I couldn't give you the life you deserved. But this could be my second chance. I think I might have finally gotten to the top of the hill, and I want you there with me."

"Oh Court, I don't know..." you hesitate, mind reeling, "I don't know anything about raising a kid."

He grins. "Neither do I. We can figure it out together. I mean there's gotta be a manual or something, right?"

You can't help but snort at the idea. Just as more protests are forming on your tongue, he gives you a look so disarming that you forget the words entirely.

"Come away with me, Y/N."

He takes your hand in his.

"It won't be easy, and it definitely won't be perfect. I know I've got no right to ask you to leave everything behind. But I've loved you from the very beginning, and I will protect you with everything I have."

His vow brings tears to your eyes. He laid his heart bare, and in doing so, he'd banished the last of your meager doubts.

"Well, when you put it that way," you say.

You grab the collar of his jacket in your fists and pull him into a kiss. He hums in pleasant surprise and laces his fingers through your hair. After another heated moment of rediscovery, you at last loosen your grip and surface from the embrace.

"Is that a yes?" he chuckles.

"It is," you answer, your smile becoming nervous as your thoughts turn to the future, "Do you think Claire will like me?"

"Oh, don't worry, she's going to love you," he smirks, letting you go and walking over to the window. "Honestly, I'm not sure I'm going to survive you two. This was probably a bad idea."

"Now I really I can't wait to meet her," you tease.

Your amusement fades, however, as you watch him part the curtain and cautiously peer up at the surrounding rooftops.

Dread stirs in the pit of your stomach.

"How much time do we have?" you ask.

"We should probably get you packed up," he says over his shoulder.

"Really? I thought we'd at least have tonight. Are you being followed right now?"

"Not yet. No one knows about this place. But the longer I'm here, the greater the possibility that changes," he frowns, "I need to get back to Claire. I took a risk coming here. She can't be alone for long."

You mind begins to race as your gaze darts around your apartment and belongings. The framed pictures scattered across the walls of old friends and family you hardly see suddenly meant more than anything tucked away in the safe beneath your bed. But could you even take them? Would having any ties to your old life be too dangerous?

Old life. The thought makes your head spin.

"This is happening so fast," you say as you rub your temples, "I never thought I'd just leave everything. I don't even know what to take with me."

"Hey," he says, stepping back over to you, "It's alright. Listen, I know I got caught up in pouring out my dumb old heart a minute ago, but you don't have to do this, Y/N. If you want to stay, I understand."

"No, I'm coming with you," you deny, "I want to be with you, no matter where we have to go. I've never wanted anything more. You have made it to the top, Court, and I wouldn't miss the view for anything."

All this time, you had been the only refuge in the world for "Sierra Six". Now, more than ever, he was becoming yours.

He kisses your forehead softly and smiles down on you.

"How about we just start small, and go from there. Baby steps. Like, maybe a suitcase?" he suggests.

"Sounds good," you agree, "Guess I don't need to pack the kitchen sink for wherever we're going?"

He snickers, "No, we have one of those. Got one in the bathroom too. We even have a toilet."

"I wasn't expecting such luxury," you smirk.

"I mean you have to hold the handle down a little to get it to flush, but other than that," he quips.

"Well, I suppose I'll survive," you say in mock exasperation.

"We do have a TV, so that kinda makes up for it. Plus, I got queen bed all to myself. I might could be persuaded into sharing, though."

You cross your arms, eyeing his suggestive look.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, but you'll have to sleep on top of the covers. I don't wanna get your girl germs on my sheets."

"Courtland Gentry," you grunt, smacking his arm.

You take off down the hall to your room, and he follows after you laughing.

"What? What'd I say?" he asks, knowing full well.

"Why don't I just sleep on the floor?" you pose.

You bolt over to your dresser and start rummaging through your clothes, keeping your back to him.

"Okay, you're right. That was unfair of me," he concedes.

Biting your lip, you spin around with your eyebrows raised.

He stands in the doorway, pulling a stick of gum from his pocket and unwrapping it, "You can get under the comforter."

You throw a shirt at him, shaking your head.

"Shut up and help me pack."

He pops the gum in his mouth and smiles.

"Yes ma'am."