#i might ask if there's one or two that could just be monitored instead

[pearl-kite]

I have to get four gotdam fillings done tomorrow after work, and as proud as I am that I'm generally very chill with the dentist despite what could be considered childhood trauma, I am desperately not looking forward to it :C

[kinkandkreep]

♡︎ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♡︎ 𝑪𝑾: 𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒅𝒖𝒃𝒄𝒐𝒏, 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎, 𝑴𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒑, 𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒖𝒕

♡︎ "__" 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

♡︎ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

You hadn’t heard from your cousin or friends in 2 weeks.

Normally, you kept in fairly regular contact, but for the past 14 days it had been radio silence. 

You were almost too afraid to think of what that could potentially mean. 

Two possibilities were most apparent to you.

A.) Miguel had made good on his word and-...harmed your friends

B.) Miguel had made good on his word and frightened your friends and cousin so badly they’d been successfully coerced into cutting off contact with you

Either way, you knew Miguel had something to do with it. 

It also probably didn’t help that after he’d kidnapped you, he forced you to begin using the bugged phone. Even if you had talked to your girls, you assumed that Miguel would just be listening in on the conversation. 

You sighed, brows turning downward in frustration. You were tempted to just throw the damn brick at the wall, but, as much as you were ashamed to admit it, you were a little terrified of how Miguel would react if you were to destroy his means of tracking you while he was away. 

He would probably see it as a means of rebellion and obstinance, and might use that as justification to hurt you. 

Your arms were still bruised from earlier, and though the bruising on your wrist had dissolved, the skin was still slightly tender to the touch, the bone creaky and sore. 

You cradled the appendage in your other hand, sighing deeply. 

You tried to be positive about the situation to the best of your ability. 

It wasn’t all bad being with Miguel. He took very good care of you, when he wasn’t hurting you. He bought you everything you wanted and more, though you didn’t really care about material things. You still had access to the internet and television, albeit very limited. He didn’t allow you to sleep in the guest room as you’d requested, saying that “husbands and wives should sleep together, it’s only natural,” but at least his bed was very comfortable, and he said he’d let you redecorate however you desired. 

You could eat pretty much whatever you wanted, though you could only order out when Miguel was home, so he could monitor the exchange between you and the delivery person. He made you breakfast every morning, and it was always delicious, but he rarely ever let you make yourself anything involving knives, for several obvious reasons. 

It wasn’t all terrible.

Except for the fact that you no longer had any real autonomy, and there was a chance your best friends and favorite cousin had been murdered, which was, admittedly, a  couple pretty major things. 

“__! I’m home!”

A few days after your incarceration, Miguel had begun insisting that you greet him when he returned home from work or other outings. 

“As a proper wife should,” he’d said, expression flat and chin tilted upward. 

At first, you completely disregarded him, not even answering when he would call out for you upon his return. 

After a little while though, Miguel’s patience ran out. 

One day, he neglected to announce his return, and instead barged into the bedroom where you were, red eyes blazing with anger. Not even giving you the chance to speak, he snatched you up from the bed, dragging you out into the living room and tossing you to the floor. 

A quiet “oomph” sounded from you as you landed on your knees, the skin covering them burning from the carpet. 

“Why is it so difficult for you to follow simple instructions, __? I only asked you to begin greeting me when I come home from working to continue providing for you. Is that so much to ask?”

You didn’t speak, unsure of what might come out of your mouth in the moment. 

Miguel had begun pacing, a signature sign of either his distress or agitation. 

He stopped suddenly, bending down to grab you tightly by the shoulders, forcing you to look up at him. 

“Well? ¡Contéstame!”

You held his stare for a moment more, before finally beginning to speak. 

“You are…delusional, Miguel. I don’t even want to be here, stuck in this house with you. You think I’d honestly begin happily rushing to the door to appease you, when you’ve hurt me, and presumably other people that are important to me?! Are you insane?!”

You shook out of his now loose grasp, scooting back til you were on the other side of the room. 

“You’re crazy, and I want nothing to do with you.”

The two of you sat in silence for quite a few moments, Miguel being oddly still, not meeting your eyes. 

“Is that so?” Miguel’s voice was low, his breathing having picked up. 

You watched with wide eyes as he quickly advanced on you, not even giving you time to move before he’d snatched you up again, a single hand wrapped tightly around your throat. 

Your feet kicked in a panic, hands clawing at Miguel’s wrist. 

You knew he was strong, though you’d never seen his strength in action like this. You weren’t the lightest person, and for him to be able to lift you almost a foot off the ground singlehandedly was alarming. 

His gaze burned into yours, and you could swear that beneath the dark spots slowly clouding your vision, there was a sick sort of satisfaction causing a dull glow to emanate from Miguel’s red irises. 

“If you don’t want anything to do with me,” he began, grip tightening further, “then perhaps I should just…make you go away.” His expression remained scarily flat, his tone even more so, though his words shook around the edges. 

You could feel the energy steadily seeping out of you, and for a moment, you were genuinely afraid that Miguel was going to kill you. 

After a few more torturous moments, your vision dimmed to almost completely black, and you felt your body go limp. 

At the same time, Miguel finally released you, and you weakly dropped to the floor, sprawled out and exhausted from your ordeal. 

The much larger man crouched down beside you, leaning forward til his lips nearly brushed yours. 

“Never forget, that the only reason you still have breath in your lungs is because I give it to you. And just as I give, I can take it all away. You don’t want anything to do with me? Without me, you’d be nothing.”

He stands, leveling you with the most dismissive, scathing look you’ve ever seen on his face. 

“I’m not crazy, __. You’re crazy for thinking you could ever leave me.”

Back in the present moment, you shivered at the memory, hand subconsciously coming up to massage your throat. 

Looking at the time, you noticed that Miguel would be returning soon. 

Begrudgingly, you stood, dragging your feet out into the living room where you took a seat on the couch. 

“Any minute now,” you spoke to no one in particular. 

You sat there waiting for just a bit longer, before you could hear the telltale beeping coming from the front door. After a second, Miguel entered, an expectant expression on his face. 

Even after the encounter from before, you hadn’t quite worked up the fortitude necessary to actually greet him at the door, but at least now you acknowledged him. 

Miguel recognized this as a small victory and decided to grant you mercy accordingly.

In the moment, he turned to you, brow raised. 

You rolled your eyes, looking away momentarily before looking back to him. “Welcome home, Mig-...”

“Ah ah, that’s not my name. Not to you anyway.”

You glared at him momentarily, though it seemed to have no effect on the man. 

“Welcome home, Gigi.”

Miguel grinned, beginning to walk into your bedroom. 

“Muy buena, __.” 

You watched him leave, huffing angrily. 

He was so…infuriating. 

He tried to be almost unbearably sweet and accommodating while at the same time being more than willing to toss you out of a window if you said anything similar to him being “crazy” or you not loving him. 

He was crazy, as you’d said before. And it drove you nearly insane that he couldn’t see that his actions were wrong. 

So caught up you were in your thoughts, that you almost didn’t hear Miguel calling your name. 

“__!”

Your head snapped up, and in a brief moment of panic, you wondered for how long he’d been calling you. Seeing as you hadn’t been doing anything and seemed annoyed when he left, he probably thought you were intentionally ignoring him. 

You both knew how much of a poor idea that was. 

Quickly, you stood, making your way into the bedroom. 

Miguel was in the middle of undress, and you were sure he’d called you on purpose, to see what you’d, since the beginning of your incarceration at least, been denying. 

So far, he hadn’t forced you, but you didn’t put it past him. 

The thought made you shiver. 

“Yes Mi-...Gigi?”

You quickly righted your mistake at the eye Miguel gave you. He relaxed after a moment, turning back to what he was doing. 

“I asked what you’d like for dinner.”

You paused, knowing it was too soon to ask to go out, but also not really being in the mood to eat anything he made.

“Uh…I was thinking we could order out.”

At that, Miguel paused, turning and giving you a critical glare. 

“You’ve been wanting to eat out a lot lately. And always from the same place.”

Miguel began approaching you, shirtless and clad in only a pair of black shorts. You kept your gaze on his face as he stopped in front of you, expression familiarly, terrifyingly flat.

“Come to think of it, that same little delivery boy seems to be quite fond of you. Would be a shame if he became unable to continue making deliveries because of you.”

“MIGUEL!” The word shot out of you before you could stop it. You were beyond appalled at the implication, and beyond sick of him harming others and/or threatening to do so indiscriminately. 

“You are supposed to be a hero! You cannot threaten to hurt people just because they speak to me! That boy is a child, Miguel. He’s done nothing wrong and he is not a threat, regardless of what you think.”

You were breathing harder now, feeling an anger you thought had been worn out of you speedily rising to the surface once more.

“You will leave him alone, you will leave the rest of my family and friends alone. Get a grip Miguel! I’m so sick of this insanity!”

You hadn’t realized you felt so strongly, and you certainly hadn’t considered saying anything like this to Miguel’s face. You knew that once the adrenaline wore down, you’d probably be in for a world of pain, but in the moment, you couldn’t care. 

All this time spent having to bend over backward and walk on eggshells just to placate the volatile man and keep his temper in check had worn you down, and you were just…tired. 

With this realization, you deflated, plopping down onto the bed and rubbing a hand down your face. Your skin was a little dry (you’d been somewhat neglecting to care for it like you normally would, what with all the stress you’d been under) and you could actually feel the puffiness beginning to form under your eyes. 

You felt like crying, but you refused to let Miguel see you in such a weakened state. 

So, you closed your eyes, and put aside your pride for just a moment to utter out an empty, “Sorry, Gigi. I don’t know where that came from.”

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on endlessly, and you took deep, even breaths, waiting for the outburst that you knew would inevitably come. 

…

Except, it never did. 

Instead, when you looked over at Miguel, you found him staring hungrily at you with lidded eyes, hands twitching with want by his sides. 

‘Oh no…’

“G-Gigi?”

He didn’t respond, hands still twitching. 

Finally, after several tense moments, he spoke. 

“Wow, __.” Miguel chuckled as he spoke, slowly beginning to stalk towards you. “I don’t know if I should be angry or turned on right now. You’ve never spoken to me with such authority, and for the fact that you no longer have any, it makes this little outburst all the more astonishing.”

You scream as Miguel pounces on you, sound muffled by his lips smashing into yours. You try to wiggle out of the unwanted kiss, but Miguel holds fast, boxing you in with his knees and arms. 

The kiss is loaded and sloppy, full of clashing teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. It’s so intense, that you can feel yourself becoming dizzy from both it and the lack of air. 

When Miguel finally decides to pull away, a thin string of saliva ties you both together, which Miguel quickly dips in to lick away before you can swat at him. A very satisfied grin plays on his lips, and as he leans back, one of his thick fingers begins trailing down the length of your torso, starting by drawing ticklish circles around where your larynx rests in your throat, down between the valley of your breasts, across the soft, cotton covered expanse of your stomach and eventually resting right atop the border of your panties. 

You hold your breath the entire time, afraid that even the slightest movement would upset the entranced Miguel.

“Muy valiente, pequeña mascota. Perhaps I should reward you.”

“Gi-...”

The word became caught in your throat when Miguel, with seemingly little effort, ripped your shirt down the middle, exposing your bra and underwear. You could see inside Miguel’s slightly agape mouth; his fangs had begun to drop, and you were very afraid in that moment that he would use them.

“Gigi, wait! Please stop. I don’t want this.” 

You couldn’t help it now, and tears had begun streaming down your cheeks. 

Miguel watched silently, his expression not really changing. 

“Oh cariño, there’s no need to shed tears. I promise to make you feel so good. And you’ll make me feel good too, right?”

“NO! I don’t want this Miguel!”

“Well you don’t have much of a choice, now do you __?!” Miguel's eyes had begun to blaze an even more vibrant crimson, his whole face pinched in anger. 

“I let you have your little moment, and now you will shut up and take responsibility for this! All this time I’ve spent being denied my urges because of your selfishness, well that comes to an end now. I’ve given you more than enough time to become comfortable, and now I will have what is mine.”

You watch, stunned as Miguel completes his spiel. 

What on Earth had happened to the man you used to love? Who was this cruel monster that now stood in his place? 

What if…what if, in reality, he’d always been this way, and just knew how to hide it well from others?

“What…what has come over you Miguel?” The words come out hiccupy and quiet, your watery, red eyes wide as you await the answer. 

“Love.” 

Miguel’s response is almost immediate, and somehow, his expression softens. 

“I love you, __. So much, you simply don’t understand. But that’s ok! Because I’m here to help you understand. And in time you will. It’s ok to go to extremes to protect the people you love, and I would kill for you, __. Again and again. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you see that my love for you is true, that anyone who would try to come between us is a pest, and that pests must be exterminated.”

Miguel leans forward, eyes lidded once more and lips nearly brushing yours. 

“Do you understand me, __?”

Unable to do much more beyond stare in shock and horror, you absentmindedly nod, barely registering Miguel’s pleased smile. 

“Buena ninita. Good girl, __. Now...,”

Miguel leans back, a smirk shaping his mouth. 

“Tell me you love me. And let me turn those tears of fear into tears of pleasure.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

Buy Me a Kofi?

[macabr3-barbi3]

CTRL ALT DELETE- Task Manager (Vox/Reader)

Something's up with Vox and you offer to help troubleshoot- it both does and does not go how you're expecting it to.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54688282

The least serious thing I've ever written: inspired by the time i started a timer in class one day to see how long my teacher talked about her son instead of teaching us; i ended up realizing 4 months later that i never stopped the timer and it was just running in the background and making my shit slow that entire time lmao there's a screenshot in the ao3 notes

Tags: Stress Relief, Sexual Tension, Chair Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Begging, Computers. Dirty Talk, very basic knowledge of computers

<3<3<3<3<3<3

Your new boss seemed stressed. 

Not in the usual way that he was stressed, either- the note from the assistant you had replaced was that usually when Vox was having an off day he would call for Valentino or have you pull a list of low earners for the month, banishing you from the room in either case. But he hadn’t spent any time with Val in months, basically the entire time that you’d been working with him as a personal assistant after getting promoted from a stage grunt for the news channel.

You had thought for a bit that he might make a move- that maybe that was why he promoted you, that he was charmed enough by you to end the on/off thing he had going on with Val, which made sense based on the timing. But when you tested that theory recently- made double entendres, brushed your hands against his arms or leg or back, blatantly invited him out for dinner and drinks- he didn’t seem interested. He declined your invite, allowed you to touch him without being overcome with lust, and the sex jokes just seemed to go whoosh. 

Right over his head. 

He was on edge and twitchy. He took longer to respond to things than he normally did, his processors slow, occasionally getting a ‘buffering’ message that flashed across his screen when someone asked a question. His hypnotic eye seemed to be suffering as well, the swirls having slowed down now to the point that they were no more mesmerizing than watching paint dry. It was frustrating and enraging him, and in turn frustrating you- he was fucking hot when he was angry, which didn’t help your attraction to him that he was ignoring. 

He was sitting at his desk in the control room when you entered, head in his hands as he stared at a piece of paper on his desk. The monitors were all lit behind him, showing recorded footage of the Tower throughout the day- you spotted a short recording of yourself talking to some of the marketing team a few hours ago. Like a Valentino caricature he read the paper, blinked his eyes a couple times, read it again. Picked it up and pulled it closer to his face like that would help, and his screen scrolled the words along the bottom like his internal system was trying to transcribe it so something he could understand. He finally dropped the paper with a groan, letting it flutter to the floor where it slipped under his chair and stopped just before you. 

“Are you okay, sir?” The question is out before you can stop it, and as was the normal recently it took a few minutes for him to answer. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered, swiveling around to look at you. He clutched the sides of his screen, eyes narrowed and mouth delayed in its movements as he spoke. “I feel like I can’t focus on anything. I can’t process anything. My- just, fucking everything is slow and useless in my head right now! How am I supposed to be a master media manipulator when I can’t fucking concentrate for more than two minutes at a time?”

“You have seemed more… stressed than usual,” you agree. “Are none of your usual relaxing activities helping? Or have you done any troubleshooting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Troubleshooting,” you say again, and at his blank stare you chuckle a little. “You know, doing a couple ‘quick fix’ things to see if that’s what’s causing the problem. Do you have like, a cache or something that you have to clear? An archive dump to get rid of old files?” You let your eyes track his body from top to bottom. “I’m not super familiar with how your… anatomy works?”

God, but you wanted to be.

He blinks a couple times. “I think I used to have someone that did that for me,” he says. “Years ago. I fired them because it didn’t seem necessary, I was running perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well, that might be what the problem is.” You offer him a soft smile. “Sometimes stuff will work in sub-optimal conditions for a while before it starts causing issues. I used to do programming customer support when I was alive- it’s been a while but I could take a look if you want?”

His mouth twists in a frown. “I guess so,” he agrees. “I’m desperate enough to try anything. I need to be able to fucking concentrate if the Vees are gonna stay on top, everyone fucking knows that Val is hopeless with the business aspect of everything.” He gets the buffering symbol on his screen for a few seconds, groaning and shaking his head as he clears. “What do you need access to?”

“Do you have a way to access your… system? Externally,” you clarify. “I’m not a surgeon- I don’t plan on cutting into you to get to anything.”

Vox gestures behind him. “I can hook up to the monitors,” he says, “but we’ll have to be pretty close, doll. I have to be sitting here to be hooked up, and since this is the only chair, looks like this will have to be your seat.” He pats a hand on his thighs, not so much an invitation as a statement.

You fucking wished. You know this isn’t him trying to initiate anything though- you’d been trying for long enough that you’re ready to give it up and just accept that your hot, overlord boss didn’t want to fuck you. Helping him out felt more important than that anyway, so you would do your best.

“You got it,” you say, and cross the remaining space to perch yourself gracefully on his lap. You push the inappropriate thoughts about how firm his muscles are underneath you- how exactly did this man’s body work? Was it really just his head that was not organic matter?- and let him rotate the chair back to face the monitors.

The sight is intimidating, as is the position- you’re surrounded by reflections of yourself from every angle, Vox’s lithe frame seated behind you. This is where he does most of his business, the background site of everything that VoxTec handles. And he’s trusting you to help him fix whatever is wrong with him so he can get back to handling all of that, free of distraction.

You watch as thick wires come up from the floor to plug into the back of his head, the sharp hiss making you wonder if it was painful or intrusive. You won’t ask though, not when you’re getting ready to try to restore him to his usual ruthless self; he might consider that to be prying.

He pulls something up on the main monitor, the one that sits directly across from you, and waves a hand to it. A little keyboard and mouse emerge from the desk as the monitor powers on, and when you glance back you can see the same thing reflected on his face. “Have at it,” you hear him say, even though you can’t see his mouth moving.

Ignoring his open programs for the time being in case he needs any of them, the first thing you do is go in and clear his archived files. He’s got entire terabytes of useless information; employee records for people that have been dead or fired for decades; funny videos that he saved; resources for old news stories that are no longer relevant. Some of it you help him upload to a cloud server- after explaining to him what a cloud server is- and create files to designate for actual important shit.

You find the internal browser that he uses to pull information on the fly and help him clear the cache and cookies.

You help him sort security footage from Vee Tower and get rid of stuff that wasn’t actually necessary, like the short bits of static and dead air that happened whenever he used the cameras to teleport around the building. Everything that he has saved about mentions of that fucking radio demon also goes into the garbage. There are some files you can’t access, things like his memories and day to day recordings of conversations and things that he personally is part of. 

You delete what you can and empty the recycling bin.

As the process has gone on, Vox has relaxed more and more behind you. “I still don’t feel completely back to normal,” he murmurs, “but this is already loads better. It’s like a massage directly on my brain. You know, if I still physically had one.”

You hit the keys to open his task manager- CTRL ALT DELETE. “Unholy fuck- Jesus, sir, if you thought that was good this is gonna feel orgasmic,” you say absently, scrolling through the opens apps and programs that he has running. Has this man ever closed anything? You hadn’t realized a person or device could even have so many things going at once. “Do you just leave everything open in the background?”

He peers around your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips as he sits up a little straighter. The movement causes your stomach to drop, arousal threatening to make itself known, but you push the notion down as he sets his hands back on the arms of the chair. “I guess so?” He watches you scroll through the extensive list. “I guess it just never occurred to me to close them. Opening the programs to use is just like my stream of consciousness I suppose.”

“Kay, well, that’s stopping now.” You click on the first item on the list- VoxtaGram. “I recommend closing non-essential stuff out at least once a month. More, if you have the time to go through everything. For now, just in case, there is something important we’re gonna go through some of the more recently opened things, set them up to open automatically when you start up, before we reboot your system- wait, can we reboot your system entirely without killing you?”

“No worries there, dear. I can, I just haven’t done it in years because it can take a while to start back up afterwards.” He sneers at the social media page. “You can close that shit. Any of Velvette’s crap she can handle on her own. Same with any of the fucking games that Val loads up when he’s bored- can I delete those entirely? Or block them? Fucking moth and his blue-light addiction…”

You get through a lot of the list, Vox kind of dozing off and only passively participating in the process. You’ve got the gist of it; things like his news sources, contacts list and phone, and the notes app are staying open and set to automatically launch when he does reboot and start back up. Pretty much everything else is closed out, things he pulled up for two seconds weeks ago to check on something or another before abandoning it. You’re making excellent progress when the next thing on the list gives you pause.

“Vox? Why is this- oh my god.” You can’t help it- you start laughing, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder as you look at what’s now displayed on the screen.

A stopwatch had apparently been started and never stopped. The elapsed time was over three thousand hours, which came out to something like four months if your mental math was correct. He had had this running constantly in the background since you had started working for him, possibly even before. “I think I found the problem,” you chuckled, and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at the timer continuing to tick. “What is this?”

“What the actual fuck?” He buffers for a second- and you’re pleased to note that it’s already much faster than it has been lately- before you hear a dinging sound coming from him. ‘Fucking Hell, I should have known this was all Valentino’s fault.” He drags a clawed hand down his screen in an imitation of a facepalm. “I was timing him. He was fucking ranting about Angel Dust again while we were in a strategy meeting with Velvette- I had the stopwatch going to see how much of the hour session he wasted talking about that whore. I must have forgotten to turn it off.” He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it while you look at him with amusement. “I’m gonna owe you big time for this, doll, you’re a lifesaver.”

You close the app out with a smile. “Just trying to help,” you say. “I think that was probably the worst of it- do you want to just try rebooting now?”

He lets out a groan when the app closes, and the sound shoots through your body straight to your core. “Go for it, hun,” he says, eyes closed as he leans back against the chair. “I think I’m good to go now, but it can’t hurt. You were right, sorting this shit out feeling fucking good.”

You’re suddenly very aware of the dampness of your panties as you bypass ‘kinda horny’ straight to ‘fuck me on this desk.’ You scold yourself mentally: Don’t jump your boss. He’s trusting you to help him right now- do not take advantage of that. Do not ride his leg like you very clearly want to because his voice is fucking hot. Fucking focus.

You clear your throat, closing out the task manager and hitting the button to restart him. “See you in a bit, sir.”

You stay seated on his lap just in case- he might still have something he wants you to do when he comes back online, some settings you could apply to close out things that are used for more than a week or so. It’s definitely not because you like the feeling of his strong thigh underneath you, tantalizingly close to your cunt if you, by chance, decided to tilt your hips forward and start grinding down on him. 

After just a few minutes get a message on the main monitor telling you to wait a moment- things start popping up on the other screens surrounding the central one, and it takes you a moment to recognize the pattern.

Its all videos of you- shot from Vox’s perspective, and a mortifying blush takes over your face. They’re all the moments that you had tried coming onto him. The innuendos and subtle entendres, the times that you touched him, pressed yourself against him in a tight space despite having another way to get to the copy machine, when you had invited him out for dinner. There’s also videos where he had just been watching you, apparently, taken from a distance as you spoke with Velvette or passed instructions along to a member of the team or discreetly tried to hide behind a vending machine when you noticed  Val coming into a room. 

There’s a satisfied grumble behind you, and before you can turn to look at him Vox has settled his claws onto either side of your waist and shifted you over a bit, to rest directly on the erection straining his pants. 

Which is a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

“Thanks for the reset, doll,” he says, and his voice is a quiet growl as he lets his hands wander from your waist to your hips and back again, claw tipped fingers catching on the fabric. “I got a chance to look at some files while I was under and found quite the treat in your logs.”

This could either be very bad or very, very good. “Sir-”

“You know, I’m usually pretty good at picking up what a woman is putting down. Imagine my surprise when I realize you’ve been coming onto me for weeks and my shit was so fucked up and bogged down that I didn’t even notice. Like that?” He uses one hand to point to a screen in the far left of the central monitor, while he snaked his other hand down to rest on your thigh, his hand large enough to encompass the muscle at the edge of your skirt. On the screen, you had come to his office to drop off meeting notes for something you attended on his behalf. You had dropped the stack as you came around his side of the desk, and got down fully on your knees to pick them up, glancing up at him through your lashes. You blush watching it now- it had seemed obvious to you even then, but watching it now, the way that Vox had seen it? When he didn’t say anything about you being face level with his prick you had used a hand on his thigh to brace yourself to stand up, letting your fingers run along the inner seam of his trousers when you rose back to standing. Still no reaction, and you had left his office equal parts turned on and irritated with yourself. Him not having acted on it had been the final nail in the coffin cementing the fact that he was not interested in the slightest.

You let out a weak exhale as the Vox sitting under you gets his other hand in the same position as the first, using his grip to ever so slightly spread your legs on his lap. He lets his fingers skim your inner thighs and you shake with the effort of not begging him to just touch you. This was delicious, agonizing torture.

“Had I been in my right mind for that display, baby, I would have fucking ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡.” His voice crackles and glitches on the last words, and the sound of it forces a moan from your throat as you let your head fall back. You clutch your hands to the arms of the chair as his tongue- and who even really knew he had a tongue, what the fuck?- licks down the side of your jaw and at your exposed neck. “I would have had you choking on my cock before getting a taste of that sweet cunt and fucking you into the desk for hours.”

One hand finally slips under the edge of your skirt and you shiver when his fingers make contact with your soaked core. “Is that what you want now, babygirl? You want me to give you my cock as thanks for helping to set me straight? To make up for lost time?” He slides a finger under the thin material of your panties, groaning in your ear at how slick he finds you. “That’s what I want, doll. I want you to ride me so hard you go stupid with the feeling, and you never feel whole without some part of me in your cunt for the rest of for-fucking- ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧv̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.”

“Fuck, please,” you gasp out, the word devolving into a cry as Vox finally slides a finger into you, mindful of the claws as he pushes in and quickly follows the first with a second. He uses his free hand to hold your hips still as you try to grind into his digits, keeps you held firmly against his erection as you squirm in pleasure.

His sharp fingertips angle to prod gently at a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars; your eyes are clenched shut as you ride the feeling, so close to the edge you feel like you’re going to implode with the force of it when you finally tip over. “Fuck, sir, please, so c-close,” you mumble, and his tongue is back to licking at whatever parts of your skin it can reach.

“You wanna come like this, sweetheart?” The main monitor in front of you glitches out, and when it comes back into focus you see yourself on the screen- like a mirror, you’re reflected, and you can see Vox’s grinning face behind you. Your skin is flushed, sweat dripping down your face, the hint of tears along your lashline as your mouth drops open when he adds a third finger. “Look fuckin’ beautiful, baby, you were made for this- maybe we give Valentino a call, he could-”

“No!” You release the arms of the chair to grab onto his wrists where his hands meet your body. “No one- no one but you, sir. Vox, please, l- let me come. Please?” You let a little whine into your voice, and you can see the way his mouth goes lax and his eyes laser-focus on where you’re grabbing at his hands.

“I didn’t mean to join us, dollface, just to record- but you’re right, you’re right.” He pulls his fingers from your pussy, slicing the center of your panties in the process before he brings his digits to his mouth- you watch on the screen as he curls his tongue around each one, licks the flavor of you from his skin and glitches out at the taste. “How could I possibly share such a fucking vision with anyone else?

He shifts you to one side so he can get his dick out, and the sight of it in the monitor, his own arousal beading at the top and rock hard, has you whimpering before it’s even inside of you. He carried himself like a man with a big cock, but Christ.

“Hope you like what you see, hun, cause it’s all yours.” He scoots forward in the seat, tilts his hips forward for the right angle, and moves you back into your previous position with ease- this time, the tip of him is pushing inside you, and you watch in the monitor as you sink inch by glorious inch onto him.

Once you’re fully seated, Vox seems to lose capability for rational thought. “Fuck me, you’re perfect,” he moans, bracing his feet more firmly on the ground to thrust up into you, getting a firm grasp on your hips to pull you down into it. The result is a beautiful stab at that sweet spot inside of you that makes you clench and cry out, watching Vox’s hypnotic eye start spiraling at its normal speed on the screen, and you can see backwards scrolling text of his stream of thoughts- a bunch of nonsensical letters and cuss words interspersed with your name. “I want to fucking- chain you to my desk so I can have this perfect pussy whenever I want it. Fuck, I can’t believe we- we could have been doing this for weeks.” He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust.

“A-all the more reason to regularly clear your task manager, sir,” you say, so caught up in the feeling of him railing you from below that you can hardly believe you formed a coherent thought. He feels so fucking good and you’re a hair trigger away from collapsing and wringing him for all he’s got.

With one quick movement he’s shifted, and there’s a hand on your throat arching you backwards at the same time that he gets a couple clawed fingers rubbing at your clit. The shock of the combination makes you flutter around his length, a choked noise escaping your throat before he tightens his grip- not enough to really cut off your air supply, but enough that your brain starts going soft and mushy and the vice grip your cunt has on his cock gets impossibly tighter. You can see the shine of your slick arousal coating him every time he pulls out to rut back into you, and the sights and sounds are threatening to rip you into the chasm of ecstasy that you’re flirting with. 

“Vox,” you whine, “please, I’m so fucking- please please please-“ 

“Christ, babygirl, whatever you fucking want.” His eyes are wide and frantic as they watch the place you’re joined, his mouth set in a snarl as he fucks into your pliant body. The cry you release is nothing short of agonized- it’s so fucking close you can taste it, nearly overwhelmed with the tension.

“You wanna fucking cum on my cock? Do it, angel, let me see it- come on, baby, cum for me-“

Your walls clench down hard as you reach your orgasm, Vox’s grip on your throat making your vision and mind go fuzzy with the force of it as you choke on a moan that tries to escape your tensed muscles. You’re distantly aware of Vox thrusting hard into you, more praise and curses falling from his lips as he hits his peak as well, pressing his screen to the side of your face when he relinquishes his handle on your throat to clutch at your hips and grind into your cunt as he spills inside of you. The aftershocks of your release leave you twitching, milking his cock of everything he has to offer before he collapses into the chair behind you, a boneless pile of a man now simply running his hands over any bit of skin he could reach. 

It’s truly a testament to how helpful the reset and reboot had been that Vox’s system doesn’t simply crash. “Fucking Hell, I haven’t felt this good in decades,” he mutters in your ear, and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue brushing the sensitive skin.

“Ha, you think that’s the reboot or the mind-melting orgasms?”

He hums contentedly. “Jury’s out on that, doll. Guess we’ll have to do a re-run on both and see how it stacks up to this one.”

“I’ll make sure to schedule some time out for it,” you chuckle before fixing him with a stern glare through the monitor. “I’m serious about clearing your apps and shit more frequently though. Christ, you had decades of backed up shit open-“

“Don’t berate me while my dick is still inside you, fuck.” He leans you forward far enough to pull out, and you grimace at the feeling of his cum starting to spill back out of you. He notices the expression though- “Whoops, sorry,” he says, and after a quick second during which he tucks his softening prick away he scoops you into his arms, standing from the chair and stepping away from the desk. “Let’s get you cleaned up at the penthouse, angel, what do you say?”

“If you’re carrying me then lead the way.” You gesture towards the door out of the control room. “Just don’t start any timers to see how long it takes to get there or anything and we should be good.”

The glare he fixes you with shouldn’t be hot, but it fucking is. “Hardy har,” he deadpans, and rolls his eyes while he stalks towards the elevator, control room door closing behind you; but there’s a small smile on his screen despite his ire and he’s functioning normally, and when you see the little stopwatch icon pop up in the bottom right corner of his face and start counting, you can’t help but laugh.

[loves4ge]

jealousy, jealousy

gojo satoru x gn!reader

established relationship

gojo satoru is a menace.

"toru, stop glaring." your voice is low, a strained smile stretched out as you whisper through your teeth. your grip on his arm tightens towards the end of your sentence.

satoru, however, makes the decision to ignore you and opted to pat your hand on his arm lightly. as if he was acknowledging a comment you made on the weather or the little tea cakes the venue was serving rather than placating you while he glared at your coworker.

or ex-coworker, you think. maybe he'd die by satoru's hands tonight. you shudder to think of it; imagine all the blood.

"erm, it was a pleasure to meet you," your coworker says, features pulled tight in discomfort. you wanted to scream.

"shame. i wish i could say the same about you." silence.

your hold on his arm became suffocating. satoru didn't flinch.

your coworker, flustered, turned to you and murmured a goodbye. he spun on his heel and left.

"satoru, care to explain what just happened?" you release his arm, your own crossing over your chest. the glare he wore melts into a grin as one corner of his lips turns higher than the other. god, you hate when he grinned. you couldn't stay mad at him long when he did.

"jus' protecting my baby." he says it like it's an accomplishment. something he'd put on his resume (he would). maybe you should monitor his linkedin for a while. for the foreseeable future at least.

"satoru, not everyone who knows me is in love with me. please understand that." this is ridiculous.

"he might not be in love with you. maybe he just wants to hit." you raise your eyebrows at that.

"that is a truly appalling statement, baby. look, all you have to do is say hi to my coworkers, ask them about family or work or the weather. that's it. if they want to hit," you pause, feeling weird about saying it aloud, "they can either talk to me and i can turn them down or they can wallow in their feelings forever. either way, i don't care."

satoru's hands creep lower and lower down your back. he tries listening to your words but they blur in his mind. all he can think about is that guy. with his tattoos. and black hair. and fucking blue eyes. he knows that's your favourite feature of his. he might just have to kill every blue eyed person he comes across. god, geto's psychotic tendencies were rubbing off on him. if people could read minds, he'd be dragged off to an asylum.

and then the audacity he had to call you by your name. your first name. and so sweetly. it made him sick.

you had stopped talking when you realized he wasn't listening. you sigh, moving in closer into his space. his hands automatically place themselves at your lower back. then they slip further down. he squeezes, lightly. he takes note of your styled hair, and remembers when he hugged you earlier before entering the venue. you hair smelled nice. he'd have to ask you which shampoo you used today.

"hey?" his eyes snap to yours.

"yeah?"

"love you, satoru."

he grins.

"i know." your mouth forms a half pout and a half frown. you try to glare at him but you don't have a good pretend frown. you never could be mad at him for long, and it's harder to set your foot down when your anger's all worn off.

"say it back, bitch."

he kisses you instead. in the middle of event. the place wasn't exactly jam-packed and apparently this kiss was the most exciting thing the attendees were subjected to since the event started two hours ago. you could feel eyes on you. so many eyes.

you grab his collar, and kiss him back harder. his tongue swipes your lip. you try biting his. his smile presses against your mouth. cheeky. he pulls back, panting.

"i love you too."

[milaisreading]

How about a Valentine's day story in a Blue Lock x Japan U20 match with manager y/n? Like while in the match and the breaks y/n gets lots of chocholate, flowers or gifts from the male fans which causes the players to be jealous and also some of the fans go even far as kissing y/n hand like a gentleman. The players had no idea that y/n made chocholate for both of the teams. She is kinda shy and scared to give them because she thought the boys wouldn't like the taste of the chocholate, the shapes of the chocholates or the color of the packets.

🩷🌱: Happy Valentine's Day, anon! This was such a cute idea, I hope you like what I wrote! Thanks for the request!

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

"Oh, damn. There are a lot of people here today!" (Y/n) gasped in surprise as she looked at the stadium that was more packed than on the previous match. Today, the JFA had organized a special match between the U-20 and Blue lock. It was nothing serious, and more meant as an entertainment program for Valentine's Day. The board members of the JFA thought it would be a good idea to organize the event as a cash grab for the holiday,which (Y/n) had to admit was a good idea. The ratings and money from the merch shops will definitely give them extra money.

'Greedy bastards.' She thought while side-eyeing the board members while she stood next to Anri and Ego.

"(Y/n), what's with that bag you brought?" Ego questioned as the boys were warming up. (Y/n), confused for a moment, looked at the item and then blushed in embarrassment while scrambling for words.

"I... I made some chocolate for the players of both teams." She whispered to the adults, which caused Anri to squeal at the cuteness.

"That's adorable! When are you giving it to them, though?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I... I don't know. I am a little embarrassed about the possible attention I might get from them... If only I could somehow avoid it." Anri and Ego kept quiet for a moment as they thought of a way to help her. Well, it was more Anri who did the thinking while Ego was busy monitoring the interaction between Rin, Sae, and Shidou.

"Ah! I know what we can do!"

"You do?" (Y/n) raised an eyebrow as Anri happily nodded her head.

"How about you anonymously leave the chocolate in their locker rooms while they are on the field. We should go there once the game starts." Anri suggested, which made (Y/n) smile at the idea.

"Sounds great! Is that ok with you, Ego-san?"

The said man thought the whole idea was stupid, and he wanted to say so, but once he saw the two give him puppy eyes, he sighed and nodded his head.

"Fine. I will just inform the other coach that you will be going into their locker room. Don't be gone for too long." The man said as the two cheered and thanked him.

"Keep it down-"

"Uhm, is someone named (L/N) (Y/n) here?" One of the maintenence staff members asked as he approached the trio.

"Why?" Ego asked bluntly, causing (Y/n) and Anri to facepalm.

"There are some fans who want to see her." The man answered as (Y/n) raised an eyebrow.

"I am her. But, what do you mean by fans?" She asked the man, and Anri and Ego looked back with the same amount of curiosity.

After explaining it to them, (Y/n) followed the older man to the field where some people were. To be fair, they weren't om the field, but on the stands close to it.

'Good God...' The girl gulped as she saw some guys and a few girls looking back at her in excitement while holding some gifts, she assumed at least.

"Don't take too long." The man warned as (Y/n) nodded her head.

"H-hi. How can I help?" (Y/n) wondered as the group smiled, holding out some gifts to her.

"Hello! I brought you these flowers-"

"Happy Valentine's Day! Please be my-"

"You look very cute today! Hope you like this chocolate! It's handmade-"

"I found these flowers! Heard you liked them-"

"Take mine instead!"

"My chocolate is way better!"

"I got you this plush toy!"

(Y/n) watched in shock and confusion as the group showed the various gifts that were meant for her by the sounds of it.

'Why... why are they giving those to me? I am not a player.' (Y/n) thought as she slowly approached the group, not wanting to be rude or anything.

"Th-thank you. You all shouldn't have brought me anything. I am really honored." The group stopped arguing as they watched the manager bow and smile at them.

'So respectful!'

'She looks so cute!' The group thought as they started arguing who will be the first one to give her a gift.

'Ahh... I hope nobody sees this mess. I don't want the attention to be diverted from the players. It's their day.' (Y/n) thought as she went to take the items, thanking everyone individually.

Meanwhile, what (Y/n) didn't notice was the players had already noticed the ruckus that was going on, and they were less than pleased.

"Who are those losers now?" Sae raised an eyebrow, not liking what he wa seeing. The same could go for Rin, who was silently growling as he saw (Y/n) accept those gifts, even going as far as smiling at the people.

'That's my manager. Don't get so comfortable with her.' He thought as Shidou was for once not sporting his usual cocky smile.

'Now, why is she paying attention to those nobodies?'

Aiku was about to speak up, but the 4 froze up when they saw one of the guys take (Y/n)'s hand into theirs and planting a kiss on it.

"Ok, that's about it. I have had enough." Aiku cleared his throat as he walked over to where (Y/n) was, the trip following close by as the rest of thebtwo teams glared daggers at the boy.

While that was going on, (Y/n) was getting more and more uncomfortable with the attention and tried to cut this gift giving short.

'Why did they even give these to me?' She still wondered, unaware of the 4 players approaching her.

"T-thank you again for the gifts. But, I really need to go now-"

"Can't you stay a little longer?"

"Yeah, the game didn't start yet."

The group protested as (Y/n) tried to find a way out. The gifts were too much for her to hold for so long.

"I'm-" She started speaking, but got interrupted by the familiar monotone voice Sae had.

"Having fun? Good, fun is over." (Y/n), surprised by his appearance turned around to scold hin for the rude tone.

"Don't be so rude, Sae-" But, she pretty much cut herself off when she saw the murderous looks Rin, Sae, Shidou, and Oliver were giving the group.

'What's up with them?!'

The game had eventually started after a good 30 minutes and Anri meanwhile dragged (Y/n) away to put the chocolates into the locker rooms. The chocolates were pretty simple. Milk chocolate with a few decorations, all wrapped up in colors that reminded her of the boys. It was pretty cliché in her opinion, but she hoped they would like them and not suspect her as the culprit.

'I really tried to make them look as different as possible.' (Y/n) thought as she put the last one into Neru's jacket pocket, blushing at the thought of them discovering her.

'That would be something I could never live down.'

The game had ended with the Blue Lock team winning after the time got extended to a whole 105 minutes, (Y/n), Anri, and Ego could see the team was exhausted, so they told them to take their time in changing and showering. Meanwhile, the trio would take care of the press or the gifts the Blue Lock team was receiving, which was something (Y/n) ended up taking care of.

'All these gifts look so much better than mine...' She thought, trying not to look sad as she wrote down what was for who. She didn't need fans going after her or spreading rumors.

'Well, at least I hope they taste good.' (Y/n) thought nervously as she took another gift, wondering if they found the chocolates by now.

Blue lock room 💙⛓️

"Hm? There is something in our pockets?" Otoya wondered as Anri giggled while closing the door.

"Yep! (Y/n) made some Valentine's chocolate for you guys! Don't say I told you, tho!" With that, the woman left the teens in a shocked state. That soon disappeared as they quickly looked through their pockets, and sure enough, the chocolates were there. All neatly wrapped.

"Woo-hoo! This is like the first time I got one! She even wrapped it in my favorite color!" Bachira cheered as he looked at the yellow wrapped item. Otoya quickly unwrapped his and took a bite.

"It's so good!" He cheered.

'Ahh! I can die now happily! Wait, is this (Y/n)'s way of confessing?!' Otoya thought as Karasu and Kurona took a bite from their's as well.

"It tastes the right amount of sweet. The decorations look adorable as well." Karasu chuckled while blushing.

"Just like her..." Kurona silently said as he continued eating his, trying to savor the taste as long as possible. Isagi, who took the time to read the message she wrote on the chocolate blushed and smiled.

'You did an amazing job!' He read, feeling his heart beat quicken when he saw the heart at the end.

"She is the best. This tastes amazing." He mumbled, earning nods from Niko and Hiori, who were sitting next to him.

"It does! It does! The packaging are adorable, too. She really put a lot of thought into them." Hiori said in adoration.

"You think she will bake for us one day?" Niko wondered with a red face as he read the message over and over.

"I mean, we could always ask her. (Y/n) is nice, I am sure she would." Reo announced, earning nods from the rest.

"I hope it will be a chocolate cake. Didn't have those in a while. She really made my day with this." Gagamaru smiled warmly, not used to getting chocolate on Valentine's Day from anyone. Nagi kept quiet as his face was a uncharacteristic red shade. The whole time he was staring at the wrapping paper while taking small bites of the chocolate.

'I am keeping this one forever.'

Barou was a blushing mess along with Tokimitsu, so they decided not to say anything as they ate their chocolates. Both were flattered and happy over this surprise. It was better than winning the match in their opinion.

"It has a really good taste to it. Not too sweet and not too bitter. She really thought of everything. So cute." Yukimiya smiled brightly, earning a nod from Aryu.

"Well, it is (Y/n) we are talking about. She is amazing and thoughtful." The brown-haired boy added in. Rin was looking for once relaxed and felt happy as he ate his piece, enjoying every moment of it.

'So good. Definitely better than winning against my brother. I love her so much.' Rin thought, his face turning redder. There was a silence in the room for a while, the team busy eating and thanking (Y/n) mentally for the gift. But, that silence was soon cut off by Chigiri.

"Now, we need to think of some good presents for White Day. Some that will make her forget about the gifts those people gave her today."

The rest of the team quickly nodded their heads.

The U-20 room 🇯🇵2️⃣0️⃣

"Huh?" Shidou hummed as he felt an unfamiliar item in his pocket and quickly fished it out, only to freeze up when he saw what it was. It was a neatly wrapped pink present, and by the shape of it, it was definitely chocolate.

"What is it, Shidou?" Teru asked, noticing the boy's frozen state.

"I got chocolate." The boy answered in confusion as he showed Teru the item, causing the rest of the locker room to look at him.

"You?! Why did you get chocolate?" Sendou yelled out, jealous at the blonde, which earned him a grin from Shidou.

"Probably because the ladies like me more."

"Hm? I got some as well." Sae pointed out as he showed the the team his burgundy wrapped item.

"Ha? And you two didn't put it in there yourselves?" Niou asked skeptically.

"Why would I do such a pathetic thing?" Sae questioned.

"You guys mad that you didn't get any?" Shidou snickered, earning glared from Sendou and Niou now.

"Hey! I got some as well! This is rare for me!" Neru said in excitement as he found a beige wrapped item in his pocket. Now this was a surprise for the rest.

"You as well?" Itsuki and Miroku mumbled as they discretely went through their pockets, only to find chocolate int them as well.

"Hey! I got some as well!"

"Me too!"

"This is weird..." Hayate said silently, blushing as he stared at his present as well.

"Woo-hoo! Hey! I got chocolate as well!!" Sendou blushed in excitement as he took put the present from his jacket pocket. Oliver, who also found a green and purple wrapped present, stared at it in confusion as Teru started eating his chocolate.

"It tastes good as well! It also has some cute decorations on it."

"Mhm!" Niou nodded as he ate his along with Hayate and Neru.

"But still, who put it into our pockets?" Sae asked out loud, earning silence instead of an answer.

"It certainly is weird. We didn't notice anyone near our stuff." Miroku chimed in as their coach walked into the room.

"Ah, I see you found those chocolates. Eat up and let's go." The team stared at the man in horror for a moment as Oliver spoke up.

"Please don't tell me you put these into our locker room."

"Yuck!" Shidou shivered at the idea, earning a glare from the coach.

"No, I have better things to do then make Valentine's Day chocolate." The man rolled his eyes.

"Blue Lock's manager made those for you, as surprise or something. She put those here while you guys were playing. Now, stop acting like school boys and pack your stuff." The man ordered as he walked out of the room, leaving the team in a stunned silence.

'The... The manager...made these for us?!' The team thought as they slowly started blushing at the thought.

"Aahhh~" they sighed happily as Sendou spoke up.

"Lucky bastards at Blue Lock probably get this treatment all the time." He said, sounding jealous as the rest tried to ignore that thought, opting to just enjoy the sweet gifts.

"Achoo!" (Y/n) sneezed as Ego looked at her in confusion.

"You ok?"

"Yeah. I think I am just getting sick." She said back, oblivious to what had happened in the locker rooms.

[notjustjavierpena]

Longing

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is a collection of !!!!5!!!! asks because y’all are desperate for Javier being a great husband and lover, and I am happy to give you what you crave.

Summary: You make love to your husband the first time after giving birth.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, husband!javier, domestic life, breastfeeding, f masturbation, showering together, insecurity and nervousness, longing kisses and lots of them, body worship, breast play, lactation kink, javier is HUNGRY, nipple play orgasm, checking in, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, clit stim, unprotected piv sex, emotional and desperate sex, creampie, crying and aftercare, sweet javi is here to make you comfortable and make you come 

Word count: 5.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53944708

Longing

Javier gets up early every day for work during your maternity leave and the routine is the same; coffee, breakfast, and a shower, and then he gets Lucas out of his bassinet so he can feel his son’s tiny body against his naked chest before he finally brings him to you because he knows you love bed-sharing with your newborn. It’s so you don’t miss me, he jokes each time after kissing your forehead, knowing that his son might as well be his clone, at least not too much.

You’re nursing Lucas as Javier gets dressed. Today will be the first break in your newfound routine, and you barely know how to begin. Something is playing on your mind and you distract yourself by running three fingers over Lucas’ head as he feeds, hoping it’ll make the words you’re about to say seem less clumsy.

“Javi,” you try to get your husband’s attention.

“Sí, mi amor (yes, my love)?” Javier is standing in front of the mirror, tying his tie. He looks at you through the mirror and smiles gently as he catches Lucas’ tiny hands reaching for your chest. You let the infant grab at your finger instead, warmth in your grin as you bond with him.

“I was thinking we could do something tonight,” you begin and your voice sounds almost absentminded. It feels silly to ask for sex when you think back to how ravenous both of you were before and during the pregnancy. Lucas is nearly two months old. You haven’t been intimate with each other for two months. 

“Do what?” Javier goes back to tying a knot on his ridiculously patterned tie. 

“You know…”

He tenses up, almost looking like when a cat’s ears perk up in interest.

“Is tonight the night?” He asks, catching on. He turns away from the mirror to face you, expectant but careful not to assume. 

“Two months,” you say simply, “I think I’m ready.”

“Two whole months. How the fuck did we manage that?” He snorts. You tut at his foul language but cannot help but smile since you know he is right. It boggles your mind too. 

“We’ll have to take it slow. Would that be okay?” You look down at Lucas as he gurgles slightly, moving him a bit in your arms. 

Javier finishes dressing for the day. He walks across the room and bends down over you, kissing your forehead, “Is it okay that I get to take care of my beautiful wife? I think I’ll suffer through it for you.”

When you tilt your head backward, he also kisses your mouth. You smile against his lips. You say, “I think you’re late for work.”

“And maybe I’ll go home early too,” he pecks your lips repeatedly, “Rush home and into the bedroom.”

“We’ll be waiting here for you,” you let him know. 

Javier runs a finger down over Lucas’ nose, “Your momma better change the batteries in the baby monitor, mijo (my son). We won’t have time to check on you as often.”

“Oh, just go,” you grin.

“Te quiero (I love you).”

“I love you too, now go catch some bad guys.”

Javier gives you one last kiss before he heads out the door, and it’s enough to leave you aching for another. He lingers until your breath is torn from your lungs, slips his tongue inside your mouth until you are reminded of what he can do with it, and his fingers slide through the hair at the back of your head - all he has to do is yank but he doesn’t, not with his baby in your arms.

“More later,” he whispers and your pulse goes south at the promise. 

“O-okay,” you only manage to stutter.

—

When Lucas has been put to sleep, Javier and you take a warm bath together to get you all relaxed. He helps you under the spray, guiding you into the cubicle by the hand, and smiles as you sigh deeply at the warm water. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he praises when you run your fingers through your hair as it wets. You give him a shy grin. He proceeds to kiss your neck, not caring about water running down over his face when his lips on your body make you less tense with nerves. 

You tilt your head back, letting out a sigh as he drinks in your skin, going upwards until it is your mouth he captures. His hands dig into your fuller hips, fingers denting what you call your baby weight and what he tells you he’d fall on his knees for.

“Can I touch you?” He asks when he needs air. 

“I’m nervous,” you answer truthfully. 

Carefully, as if seeking permission, he takes your hand in his own. He kisses your palm softly and you feel a spark of electricity in your belly, knowing that you are lucky that it is him who is here to guide you through this. He moves your hand down between your legs, “Perhaps… these gentle hands.” 

“You want me to touch myself?” You blink.

“Who would be better?” He grins boyishly. 

A part of you wants to say that you think he might know you better than you know yourself but there’s a plan here. You follow through, never breaking eye contact as you find your clit and start going in circular motions. It takes a second but when your body finally reacts, you let out a gasp at the flutter that spreads out from the little nub. 

Javier looks ravenous at having the privilege to witness you like this. He talks quietly over the sound of the water, and soon you feel his cock poke into your thigh, “That’s it, mi amor (my love). God, look at you. Doing so good.” 

“Javi,” you sigh gently. Your fingers speed up, feeling your heartbeat slowly increasing in speed. You chase your high, mouth slightly open and eyes locked on Javier’s.

“Yeah? You’re gonna make yourself come?” Javier’s hands find your hips again. He holds them in place, joins in the way that he can. You nod with a higher-pitched yeah, eyes falling closed during a louder moan.

Your fingers are more frantic after that. You touch yourself with him looming over you, core burning with need as you can feel his eyes bore into you. Your clit jumps occasionally as you work yourself toward the edge and a crease in your forehead forms. 

“I’m gonna— fuck,” you announce. The sound of water cascading down your body blurs until it becomes almost silent to your ears.

“Yes, you are,” his voice has dropped an octave, “Oh, you really are, aren’t you?”

And then you snap and the fact that it isn’t in privacy and that you have Javier swearing under his breath makes it feel incredible. You can feel your cunt clench from clit to slit repeatedly, seeking more than you can give at the moment but oh, it feels so good. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted your husband inside of you more, walls aching to be stretched.

Time stands still in the shower. You find yourself resting against the cold, tiled wall. Javier looks at you, has pushed his wet hair out of his face, and is smiling triumphantly, “Mi esposa hermosa (my gorgeous wife).”

You roll your eyes, cheeks heating up from both post-orgasmic bliss and sudden shyness, “It felt good. I don’t think you know how wet I am for you.”

“Well you are in the shower,” he jokes when he spots your restraint, hoping to get you to relax even further, and you step forward to punch him playfully. He shies away, laughing to the point where your head swims with love and tenderness for him. 

It ends up being an occasion to kiss once more. Javier holds your face, thumb smoothing over your chin as he slides his mouth over yours. You melt into him, holding onto both of his wrists as you suck on his tongue and it doesn’t bother you that you accidentally swallow a few droplets of water; his lips on yours make everything else fade. 

He has rarely kissed and touched you like this over the past few months, having agreed with himself to not tempt you too much with something that neither of you would have been able to follow through on, so the promise behind his touch - his hands are going down to your hips and your arms are linking together around his neck - makes you shiver as goosebumps rise on your skin underneath the hot spray of water. 

Eventually, you realize how hard he is and you almost feel bad for being so selfish but when you reach down, Javier stops you. 

“I can wait,” he promises, breaking the kiss to look down between your bodies. He twitches in your hand, even more when you reluctantly let go. 

“Javi,” you whine.

“I don’t want it to be over already,” he explains with color on his cheeks, “Think about how much we’ll enjoy it later. I’m sorry, mi amor (my love).”

“No, I understand,” you reply with a soft sigh, “I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Mhm, bet you will,” he hums and then drags you close to kiss you again.

You agree on finishing the shower and getting into your sleep clothes because Javier argues that it might help with your nerves to be undressed by him, a thing you absolutely love. You settle for a loose t-shirt - in case you have to nurse - and panties, something comfortable with an ability to leave the covered parts of your body up to the imagination.

Earlier, before checking on Lucas, you took painkillers to let your muscles relax even further. Now that they are working, you meet him in bed. He smiles at you as he sees you enter through the door and watches you come closer as he is sitting with one leg dangling from the side of your shared bed.

“Hey,” you say shyly.

“Come here,” he smiles.

You may have relaxed muscles but your heartbeat races in your chest, feeling like you might have butterflies trapped behind your ribs. Your body is humming as you crawl onto the bed, sitting on your knees in front of him. 

“You still want to do this?” He asks, taking one of your wrists in his hands. He rubs it with his thumb, giving you his usual concerned expression that could compete with that of a puppy. 

“Yes,” you confirm, leaning forward to initiate a kiss. 

He catches on quickly and meets you halfway. He tastes like toothpaste, kissing you softly at first before he grows hungry from having denied himself during the first touches in the shower. 

You sling your arms around him, just about to be bold enough to straddle him but he is quicker, and suddenly flips you around until your back hits the mattress and makes you bounce slightly. You respond with a half-yelp, half-giggle, and try to ignore any anxiety that might arise. 

However, any noise quickly dies in your throat because Javier moves on top of you. He moves close until you can get drunk on his scent, inhale the distinct smell of only him that gets you so high because you know it’s only you who gets to be so close to it. You can feel your heartbeat in your sex, your underwear starting to dampen. 

“You know I struggle to be gentle,” he rasps against your ear, placing a lingering kiss right below it to make your heartbeat spike. His hands curl around the bottom of your t-shirt. He pulls back to look at what he is doing to you and for a moment, you think he might rip the fabric apart from the way his nails dig into it, the same urgency in his eyes like someone who has gone without food and drink for weeks and is now looking at a whole buffet, “When it’s been so long since I have had you like this.”

You hum in understanding, mouth slightly open and squeezing your legs together with a sigh, causing Javier to look down between your legs. He looks like someone who is making a plan, a list of steps forward about what he wants to do to you. You can only wait in anticipation.

Your top comes off then. He yanks it upwards and you lift your arms above your head to help him rid you of it completely. Your tits bounce slightly as there is nothing to hold them anymore, and Javier groans at the sight of you. He practically latches onto your neck, sucking his way down your throat until he has made a trail of glistening spit down over your shoulder, your collarbone, and finally down between your breasts. It’s nice but it’s a lot.

“Stop,” you say to him as he seems lost in the moment. You rest your hands on the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the soft curls there. He lifts his head to look at you, and you smile gently. Your face feels hot, “I need you to go slow… Sorry, I’m not ruining it, am I? I just told you to stop…”

“What? No. No, mi amor (my love),” he reassures but even if his kisses have made you wet, you feel overwhelmed with the idea that things might not be the same ever again. You shift slightly underneath him, and he presses a soft kiss to your collarbone whilst watching your expression in case it’s still uncomfortable for you. 

“I think it might take a while for me to be ready tonight, I can’t just jump back in,” you swallow after confessing it but Javier nods in understanding. 

“That’s okay, baby. It’s only been two months,” he crawls up to hover over you, abandoning whatever he was doing even if he was enjoying it, and you still rest your hands on the back of his neck. 

“I mean you’re so,” you decide to feed his ego to make your reluctance up to him even if it’s not necessary, “… Big.”

Javier snorts. He seems to find it more funny than flattering, “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you giggle, “Biggest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Listen,” he turns serious, resting on one of his forearms to reach for your hand on the back of his head. He pulls it down so he can hold your hand in his. He entwines your fingers, “Do you want to stop? I won’t get angry at you.”

“And not even try?” You avoid his gaze.

“Hey, mírame (look at me),” he replies and you do, “If that’s what you want. No matter what you say, we made progress tonight.”

“I masturbated in the shower,” you deadpan. 

Javier laughs but he kisses your lips a few times, “And it was fucking sexy. I’ll be satisfied with just watching that for the rest of my life if I had to, but I do like the thought of Lucas not being an only child.”

“Slow down, Peña,” you teasingly scold him, feeling your anxiety fade as he makes you laugh and thus relax, “You just got your first baby. I am not a factory.”

“What are you then?” He wiggles his brows.

“Your wife,” you say with a grin. 

“Oh, right, that’s right,” he moves to kiss your neck again and you find that you let him. He moves slower than before, trailing his lips across your throat from one shoulder to the other. He takes his time and doesn’t rush the way that he probably would like to, “That’s right, you’re my wife.” 

“Husband,” you moan softly and feel him smile against your skin. He goes further down and goosebumps rise on your skin when the flat of his tongue licks around one of your nipples. You push your chest out, needing more because it starts a fire in your belly. To think that he hadn’t even gotten this far just moments ago. 

“You like that?” He asks, pressing a kiss to the side of your right breast. He looks up at you through his lashes before he licks the little nub again, it has hardened into a peak. The nerves are so sensitive there now that you are breastfeeding, and you hadn’t even given it a second thought that it could be something to enjoy with him. 

“Yeah,” you sigh and stare down at the top of his head. He moves to bend your legs, spreading them apart so he can lie down between them and kiss your tits. 

“I can’t wait to see how wet this’ll get you, baby,” he murmurs as he concentrates. He starts with the right side, letting his mouth fall open until he can press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your nipple and suck just a little as he pulls back. He does it again. You curl your toes and whine. 

“Oh,” you are panting already from the connection it appears to have with your cunt, “Keep going.”

Javier doesn’t hesitate. He skims his hand up and down your side until he dares cup your breast, looking up at you for confirmation that you aren’t uncomfortable. You bite your lip and nod. 

Your husband applies the gentlest amount of pressure. He doesn’t remove his hand again, keeping your breast in his palm as he takes your nipple between his lips once more. However, this time he sucks without pulling away, and much to your surprise, as he massages you too, you feel a few drops of milk slip into his mouth. 

“Javi!” You say in a horrified voice, starting to squirm, “I’m so sorry. Oh my God, ohmygodohmygodohmy—“

But Javier only seems to be spurred on by this. In fact, he starts to coax out more milk to satisfy the hunger that he didn’t even know he had in him. You hear him mumbling something, telling you not to worry about it. He sucks, laps, and catches each drop that escapes his mouth and streaks your beautiful chest whilst your eyes roll back and your clit throbs. 

Your hands find his hair. You tug without making him pull away from you, and pressure builds as his skilled tongue moves in circles around your now-puffy nipple. He takes the peak between his lips again and again, the sound of wet kisses towards skin filling the room, and he drinks like he is parched. 

Eventually, you feel too tender to go on and something inside of you fears that you might actually come from this even if it seems ridiculous to be terrified of that happening. You don’t think you have ever had breasts this sensitive in your life, and whilst it has been nice for you to have Javier pay attention to your chest, this is new territory and it’s overwhelming above all else. 

The grip you have on his hair intensifies, “Baby. Can you switch? I’m getting sore.”

“Of course,” he draws back slowly and gently noses along your spit-slicked nipple and presses one last soft kiss. You twitch underneath the touch. 

“Javi,” you stress. 

But he follows through and switches over to the left. The sensation of him using his tongue on you here as well is exquisite, eliciting a string of higher and higher moans from your throat. 

God, he knows what he is doing with his mouth and soon wetness has started to smear your inner thighs after seeping through your underwear. You know Javier will lose his mind when he sees it.

Though right now, he is busy as his tongue flicks repeatedly across the hardened nub. Milk trails down your stomach at first and then suddenly squirts when he pinches your right nipple without warning. 

“Oh!” You gasp and feel your pulse getting stronger between your legs. You lift your head, “Jesus. This is—“

“The hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he interrupts you as if he knows you are going to degrade yourself in some way. You were in fact going to call it messy. He kisses your breast open-mouthed again, sucking your nipple into his mouth until you give in to a moan, “¡Dios mío (my God)! You taste like candy. Sweetest fuckin’ thing ever.”

“You need to—“ you can barely speak as his tongue curls around your hardened peak. He flicks his tongue back and forth over it afterward.

“Yes?” He stops to let you talk and nibbles right at the roundness of your breast. 

“I can’t do this anymore, we gotta do something else or I’ll come,” you don’t even hear how absurd it is to make it sound like a problem. Below you, Javier nearly chokes at hearing that.

“Jesus, how devastating that would be,” he says sarcastically. With a quick glance up at you, he decides to keep going to which you do not protest. He lavishes you with nips and sucks, building something low in your belly, “Then come, mi vida (my life).”

You try to catch your breath as your cunt pulses but suddenly an orgasm crashes over you and makes you lose it altogether. There’s milk everywhere. You cry for him after a moment of not being able to make a sound, hands falling to the sides so you don’t end up pulling strands of hair from his scalp. Your back arches, your throat scratches from the noise you make, and below you, Javier watches with absolute wonder.

“Are you okay?” He eventually asks, sitting up a little to follow your wishes if you should have any. When you don’t respond, too busy panting, he starts rubbing your thighs soothingly until you come back to him. 

“That’s never happened before,” you say, “I didn’t think…”

“Was it good?” He watches you with a tiny smirk.

You nod.

“Do you want more?” He continues. 

You don’t hesitate despite the circumstances. Twenty minutes ago, you would have doubted even being kissed. You nod.

“And what does my baby want?” He looks down between your legs. When you don’t reply, he starts suggesting things, “Want me to play with your perfect pussy? We can stop anytime you want.”

You whimper instead of using actual words. It’s now that you realize the pressure inside of you telling you how much you need to feel him inside of you, and you’ll take it any way you can. Perhaps it’ll be easier to start out this way. 

“Yeah?” He sounds almost a bit mocking, moving to stand on his knees between your spread legs, “That what my girl wants?”

“Yeah,” you reply breathlessly.

Javier swears quietly as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down and watching the fabric cling to your wet seam. He inhales deeply as if to compose and behave himself, looking starved for more even as he already has a streak of white milk on his chin, “You are so goddamn wet for me, baby. She’s weeping, the poor thing.”

“Imagine how many men would worship the shape of your body,” he praises as soon as he has you naked below him, eyes glazed over by lust. He looks at you as if it’s the first time he has ever seen you, pupils dilated and mouth slightly open. You feel like a deer in the headlights of a car but you don’t dare interrupt him, don’t dare disturb the flow of words falling from his lips because they make your whole body burn with need instead of insecurity.

“I can’t believe that I was the one who got to make you my wife,” he tells you with a smile that shows you how pleased he is with himself as if it’s his greatest achievement - fuck everything else; the job, the money, the fame. He skims a hand over your belly before leaning down to kiss below your belly button, causing your muscles to jump underneath his warm mouth when he licks you clean of milk. Then his palm descends on your body, “Mhm, gonna show you how grateful I am. Stuff you full of my fingers.”

“Please,” you whine, jaw clenching as he slips a finger inside of you and tiny shivers seem unable to stop rolling over you. He straightens again to look at you for reassurance that everything is okay. You give him no reason to doubt.

After a few moments, he adds a second finger. He curls them upwards until he finds the little spot inside of you that makes you sing, and your hands grab at the sheets when he makes a come-hither motion over and over again.

“Javi,” you breathe desperately. 

“Yes?” He doesn’t halt, only slows down slightly to concentrate on what you are going to ask of him. The look in his eye tells you that he’ll give you anything. 

“I love you,” you moan towards the ceiling instead. The wet squelches of your cunt are obscene to listen to, bouncing off the walls along with your continuous gasping for air as he makes you unable to breathe properly. 

“I know, baby, I know. I love you too,” he grinds the heel of his hand down against your mound, reminding you briefly of how he made love to you the first time ever. He rubs your clit on the outside and works the pads of his fingers over your g-spot on the inside. Fast. The world fades away around you until you suddenly find yourself coming again, Javier’s eyes widening at how quickly you have gotten there once more, “Christ, baby. You are just insatiable tonight. Has it been too long?”

“I want you,” you completely ignore the question. You shake through your high, not even planning on begging but it’s almost too much not to have him fuck you, “I can— ah, I can take your cock. I can. Please. I need you inside of me.” 

Javier growls. He shoves his underwear down, moving on the bed for a moment until he is completely naked. You reach for him with newfound confidence, and he enters your embrace and slides both arms underneath you to hug you back. The kiss he gives you is so longing that you almost want to cry from all the emotion it exudes. He loves you so much. He would never do anything to hurt you. It is so clear at that moment. 

“Make love to me,” you moan into his mouth, thumbs drawing down the sides of his face until you can move your hands to the nape of his neck. He is warm against your chest, the curls at the back of his neck slightly damp from sharing your body heat for so long.

It takes a mere few seconds for him to reach down between your bodies. You make a little gasp as he pushes into you. He is slow in his movements, almost making it seem like he isn’t moving his hips forward at all, and he keeps his eyes on yours to make sure your face’s contortion isn’t because of pain. 

You grab at the pillowcase, clutching it into your grip as he fills you up. Your breathing is loud and hard, your eyes a little wider than usual. There’s a little resistance but you try to relax into it, accept his cock even if it’s with trembles of your body.

“This okay?” He asks with a voice that is marked by his own restraint. 

You nod repeatedly. You want to punch the bed. Instead, you reach to grab his bicep and hold on for dear life as he gets deep inside of you. You aren’t sure if you have overdone it by coming two times already because you are so sensitive, your walls fluttering around his length but oh, you want him so badly that you take it with your eyes rolling back into your skull.

After a few very long moments, he is fully inside of you. His chest rises and falls quickly, breathing strained because of how much he has missed being engulfed by your heat. You hold onto his arms which flex underneath your touch, and then he moves inside of you for the first time in two months. 

The cry that releases from your throat makes your voice break and Javier’s groan follows right after. You become a sweaty mess of limbs, clutching at each other as if you can’t get close enough. You pant his name, kiss him deeply, and dig your fingers into his skin hard enough to bruise.

“I’ve missed you,” you tell him through whimpers.

“You’re perfect, mi amor (my love),” he replies in a gruff voice, “I love to fuck you.”

Javier cannot help his mouth when you make him feel like this. He thrusts harder into you, moving his weight to his forearm so he can slide his free hand under you to press it against the small of your back. He lifts your pelvis into his own, arching you until no one would be able to tell where he starts and you finish. 

Then he speeds up his hips and you see stars. You throw both arms around him, holding onto your wrist to keep them there. He drives into you with determination to make you scream, and as you do, you try to imagine how beautiful his golden back is glistening with sweat. 

“Fucking love making you come,” he continues, planting a kiss on your jaw that was probably supposed to be on your mouth, “Over and over and over. Are you gonna come for me?”

“Yes, yes, God, yes, baby,” you can feel his pubic bone grinding into your clit, building your peak quickly, “Keep going— don’t, oh my God, don’t stop!”

“Wouldn’t dream— fuck, I wouldn’t dream of it, my love,” he sounds close to, giving you everything he has to make you tip over the edge a third time. He always tells you how much he loves you choking his cock until he spills inside of you.

So when you come, a hitched breath turning into a series of cries for God, he does too. It is two months of built-up tension and emotions, and you find yourself crying in his arms as waves of pleasure take hold of you and take you with them. You are gone, lost to the world of burning desire and ecstasy. 

After he pulls out of you, the sense of time is an unknown concept in the silence that follows. You cry quietly because nothing else can convey what you feel. After all, you feel so close to him again. Javier brushes each tear away with his thumb, murmuring soft and comforting words. 

“You did so good,” are the first words that actually make sense to you. He noses along your shoulder to kiss you there, “I don’t deserve you. You are the most beautiful woman in this world.”

You chuckle breathlessly but fresh tears just fall down your cheeks. Javier rolls off of you to make things less intense, looking at you from where he is lying on his side, “Don’t cry. There’s nothing to cry about. You were so beautiful.” 

“Sorry,” you say instantly and wipe tears away with the back of your hands. 

“No,” he objects, “That’s not what I meant.”

He is silent for a moment. Then he lays his palm on your stomach, “What do you need?”

“To pee and get cleaned up,” you feel embarrassed without knowing why, “My legs feel like jelly.”

“Fuck it, let’s see if mine do too,” he is on his feet before you can protest, telling you to scoot closer and when you do, he picks you up bridal style. 

He carries you to the bathroom, making a comment about your wedding night, and then lets you pee and wipes you down with a damp cloth afterward, both your sensitive cunt and breasts. You kiss him more times than you can count when he takes you back to bed again. 

In the morning, you watch him bounce Lucas in his arms when he thinks you are asleep. He is making funny faces and blowing raspberries on your son’s chubby cheeks, talking so gently that you can’t help but simply roll onto your other side, smile gently to yourself, and fall back into slumber.

.

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[cybsoo2]

yandere bts profile

╰┈➤ synopsis — Stories of seven men living their yandere lives.

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!bts x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 4.3k

╰┈➤ content warning — murder, yandere behavior, stalker behavior, manipulative behavior, graphic depictions of violence, kidnapping, suicide, self-harm, vomiting, invasion of privacy, talk of religion

—Kim Seokjin

yandere type — manipulative and overprotective

watch out for! — overprotection, isolating, self-imposing, monitoring, spy cams, invasion of privacy

Seokjin speaks sweet lies

He’s such a good liar that he’s even begun to deceive himself

He’ll tell himself these selfish sins are for the greater good

Misleading you and manipulating others is one of his many skills

Although he holds no affection for anyone else and is inclined to ruin their lives through manipulation, he doesn’t dare try it on you

Although the fate of your friends and foes is different, He’d never hurt you, wouldn’t lay a finger on you unless you asked

He doesn’t want your love to be a lie, to become warped and wrecked into images unknown

Instead, he leads you astray when you step too close to his sinful secrets

When a coworker with a crush comes too close for his liking, he’ll whisper the words, “He’s not good enough for you sweetheart.”

Your friends offer an invitation to get drunk one dark night, “It’s too dangerous to drink this late at night, stay inside with me instead.”

And maybe one morning, a slithering suspicion sits still in your mind

You ask him why he’s so protective, so passionate, so possessive, and he’ll tell you, “I love you like no other.”

Jin cares about your safety

He wishes you’d be healthy and happy all the time

Although, his methods of achieving this dream can have some consequences

He’ll worm his way into your life

He looms over you with a loving presence

But if he’s not careful enough, his ‘love’ can be suffocating

He monitors your actions, not stalking, but spying on you through other methods

He’ll set up cameras to make sure you don’t get hurt

Of course a fragile fawn like you needs him in order to survive

He takes the truth from your friends to figure out how you’ve been doing

He’ll read your messages to find the deviant souls that might harm you

He gives biased advice (Though you don't know it) in order to keep you close to him

Misleading your crushes by telling them that you’re already taken

He keeps you away from everyone else, so much so that some friends become distant and disturbed at the sight of him

Jin is willing to be whatever you what so long as he can stay by your side

He’ll be your friend, a brother, a lover

He’s perfect for you, if it weren’t from the looming sense of danger that falls in his shadow

—Min Yoongi

yandere type — obsessive and possessive

watch out for! — murder, codependency, self-containment

Yoongi hides his true nature behind longing looks and a distant friendship

He keeps calm underneath a cold exterior

Yoongi stays to himself and watches you from afar

He may murder any pests that cross your path, but he wouldn’t dream of hurting you

You’d never assume he mutilates men and women while you sleep

He brings you glory through each slash and stab of scarlet

Yoongi just might be a cruel killer, but the worst types of killers are those who’ve become self aware

He holds a court of immoral justice in his head 

Killing based off bias, yet he can’t find himself to care

You’ve made him into a merciless man, which is why he can’t stop once he’s set his mind on something

He’ll put on a plaster face, he’ll be kind, and quiet, and normal 

Yet even if his body stays at shore, a selfish need sings him out to sea

Yoongi believes in codependency, you need him and he needs you

He may put himself in a position that demands him to be close to you

He could be a coworker, a classmate, or perhaps a neighbour

But you can bet that you’ve met him before

Yoongi is too dependent on the normality you two have to act on his obsession

He understands his sick self and knows the consequences if he confesses

Yoongi knows that he won’t be able to hide the horrors of who he truly is, so he doesn’t even take the chance

He believes in a loyal love and couldn’t lie to you if you had a real romance

He’ll take what he can get and make sure no one else can get in the way

His obsession is closed away in the corner of his heart (But that’s not exactly true since his whole heart belongs to you)

His passion is put on the shelf to collect dust in the dark

A distant dream that had no hope of really happening

It rots away in his ribcage, tearing him apart from the inside out

His sickness is a symptom of this strange fixation

He throws up three times a day

The bile burns through his throat and now drops of blood join the rest of his lost lunch

A running list of other side-effects include: sleep loss, hypersomnia, depression, loss of appetite, etc.

Yoongi is always wanting the dream that waits

Sometimes, he sees a sliver of it in his sleep

A feverish fantasy where you embrace like lovers and kiss without consequences

But then he wakes up to reality and wishes this illness had never infected him

Your love is like a leech, bleeding him to the bone and testing his tenacity

But then tomorrow arrives and he sees the smile he’s so lost in love with

His inertia is eternal and he’ll never give up what he has for his unlikely odds

Your life remains pretty much the same except for the missing men and women that hurt you many months ago

You would never suspect that the sweet, yet shy Yoongi has his heart in your hold

—Jung Hoseok

yandere type — clingy, obsessive, and delusional

watch out for! — self-harm, suicide, dependency, delusion, mixing fantasy with reality, insecurity

Despite how intense his love can be, he never acts as more than desperate and delusional when it involves you

There’s no need to worry about mysterious murders when it comes to Hoseok

He doesn’t have the patience, planning, or guts to kill anyone 

He’d rather reap his worries and run away from the issue

He’s comes crying to you at the slightest inconvenience

You’re the savior of his soul who soothes all his sorrows

Such a saint you are, putting up with someone as pathetic and plain as this broken boy

Even when the roles are reversed and your upset under a burden of blue, Hobi will be your crying companion

He can’t help it, seeing you so sad evokes excruciating emotions

Someone as sweet as yourself doesn’t deserve to be depressed, which is why he’ll do anything it takes to be your sunshine in the storm

Hoseok is someone that clings close to you

Always following you around wherever you go and sticking by your side

Hoseok desperately depends on you, he may be your sunshine but you’re his hope

You’re the reason he’s like this after all

You gave him a glimpse of happiness, a unique thing in this large universe

He sees you as his angel, always right and a savior to the lovesick

Your kindness and compassion are what immediately intrigued him

But what made him unable to shake this obsession is how special you made him feel

You look into his eyes and you see him as an individual

You see his soul for all it’s crimson colours and still accept him

That’s when his delusion begins to distort the realm of reality

He truly believes you love him like he loves you

Why else would you take pity on a poor soul like him

His insecurities suffocate him, telling him he isn’t good enough for you

Yet you still stay, never once have you thought of the boy as a burden

This twisted love ties into his dreams

He dreams of the distant future: tangled in each others embrace, whispering your carmine confessions, and living out the rest of your lives as lovers

These fantasies feel so real that sometimes Hoseok swears they actually happened

That kiss you shared in the shadows last week? Totally real!

You falling asleep in his arms after crying out your confessions? Definitely happened according to Hoseok!

But when these fairy tales fizzle out, Hobi is left with lost dreams and a broken heart

Falling down from heaven, he’s struck by the hard-hitting truth

You don’t love him and even if you did he wouldn’t deserve it

He cries and tries to cut himself clean

Emptying out the red as it runs down the drain

He lets out the pain on his pinkening flesh

One day he may fall too far

Running the red blade over his arteries until all he can see is black blood

But he’s hopeful for now, this imaginary event would only happen if you turned to hate him

Screaming that he’s a psycho and a sinner

Crying cause you can never be alone, him always at your side

Telling him how much you hate him

Saying you wish to never see him again

It would take a lot for Hoseok to fully lose his heart

And the loss of your love is the one thing that would sink his sorrows

Without your light to guide him, it would send him overboard into the black abyss

—Kim Namjoon

yandere type — manipulative and devotee

watch out for! — collector, murder, manipulation, worship, extreme obsession

Namjoon worships the water you walk on 

Yet this twisted type of religion isn’t right, it isn’t even real

In his mind, you’re an angel of purity and perfection 

You’re the cause of every good event that happens to him

You single handedly uplift his life and give him guidance 

And he’s just happy to be the devotee to his one and only divine

As aforementioned, Namjoon is a collector

His entire home is a museum of memories

Tiny trinkets are stacked on shelves, and useless objects are crowded into of the corners of his room

But every piece has a purpose, each and every object leads back to you

Outsiders may say he’s a hoarder, but Namjoon remembers why so many red bottles are shoved under his bed

You endorsed a beauty brand and he bought out the entire stock

Now every time he does his nightly routine, he can sense the faint feeling of your skin on his

Shoved in his drawers is the jewelry you just wore

Replicas of bronze bracelets or ruby rings

He wears noir necklaces like a noose around his neck

Chained up under your control, you decide his destiny

When he wears copies of your clothes, sometimes he feels slightly closer to you

Like he can hear you whispering right from wrong in his ear

Telling him what to do and how to do it

Namjoon doesn’t think for himself

His emotions are almost artificial, only responding with empathy when it relates to you

He’s lost interest in the social scene, but still goes out to keep connections

He talks to people only to take their trust and ask for favours in the future

It’s common knowledge to anyone that Namjoon is easily infatuated with you

He doesn’t try to hide it and uses peoples intrigue to gain intelligence

But the occasional onlooker will sometimes sense that this isn’t just a common crush

They might’ve found out about his stash of souvenirs stuffed up in his attic

Perhaps it was how obviously anxious Namjoon gets when you’re not near

Or maybe they noticed the lovesick looks he wishes your way

But when Namjoon finds out he’s got a follower, he knows what he has to do

He’s not big fan of murder, it takes up too much time and it’s a mess to keep hidden, he’d rather it be fast and efficient

So he sends his sins out to sea

He has no time for torture and no desire to drag this out

Namjoon ties up his victim in twine ropes 

The ropes wrap around the writhing fool

Tether twisting around their throat and cutting off their cries

The rope scratches scarlet off the skin, leaving long lines that bruise purple and pink

Namjoon ties a brick to their ankles, bringing them back down to the dark

It’s the murder of a man who knew too much, sinking out in the open ocean with all their knowledge never to be known

The weight of Namjoon’s actions never wrestles with his heart

Uncaring and callous, he never stops to consider that these heinous acts hurt his humanity

Because in his brown eyes, this is all your doing

You told him to get rid of the fool that fell too close to your godly grace

You can do no wrong so this must be the new morality

Namjoon will protect your perfection by never letting any noble men come too close

Your sweet love must be kept a secret, no other weakling worthy enough for it but him

And even though dark doubts still taint his thoughts, Namjoon will spend the rest of his worship proving he’s your lovesick slave

—Park Jimin

yandere type — clingy and psychotic

watch out for! — isolating, self-harm, murder, suicide, dependency, jealousy, hysteria, insecurity, kidnapping

The gods gave Jimin a gift

A double wielded sword weighted with the opposite ends of emotion

His feelings are feverish and burn with a bright intensity

It’s all a sliding scale for him, switching out his soul for whatever worth

All-consuming emotions are what drives him

Day by day, Jimin is mostly described as empathetic and enthusiastic

And while Jimin is an awestruck soul, he also hides his more dark desires

Your love sets him alight

Melting away his walls to reveal the real monster

Violent thoughts flow thoughts his veins

It’s like a venom, monopolizing his mind and evoking his red wrath

Jimin isn’t an apathetic man, he cares too much about the things that make him tick and the love he lusts after

He’s incapable of indifference, always so engrossed in his emotions and their outcomes

Loving him would be like locking yourself in with a lion

Jimin worships you like you no other and makes you feel like you’re alone in ardent

But the burning candle that controls his heart will always end up blinding you

He’s too dependant, always running after you and following like a poor puppy

He’s too jealous, scared you’ll be stolen away by any other man

He’s overly enthusiastic, lovesickness so suffocating you have to beg to break free from his hugs

Jimin takes you two to solitude, liking to rest in your warmth without any else’s eyes on you

While the long list of turmoil may taunt you, it’ll only get worse when he’s upset 

Jimin has widespread worries that you’ll leave him like everyone else

Insecurities lay intimate in his mind and he’ll only ever speak them to his soulmate

He’ll spend countless days crying and trying to seek your sweet reassurance

When these dark doubts are ripe and rip his heart apart, you better not set him off or else the consequences are grave

When he’s like this, clinging to you and crying his heart out, it’s best to shush his sorrows and hold him to your heart

He’ll bawl his eyes out into your blue sweatshirt, white knuckles wrapped around the familiar fabric

He’ll try to hide the hiccups in the crook of your neck, slightly embarrassed for his emotional outburst

Jimin lies limply in your lap, tired out from all the tears but too vulnerable to let go

He chases away the cold in your warm embrace

You speak lovely lies of how you love him 

If this is all insanity and you truly don’t love him, then this outcome would be very different

Was it a rash rejection? Or careless cruelty too much for his heart to handle?

Either way Jimin would explode in a case of confusing emotions

He’d swipe the silver blade down to the bone, bleeding out all over the bathroom tile and trying to tell you how much he loves you

“I’m nothing without you and I won’t let you leave.”

“I’d kill to keep you, I’d die if you don’t love me.”

The universe is always against your relationship and if a situation where to arise where he can’t keep you, he may just kidnap you instead

A much more morbid scenario might even involve suicide

You escape and Jimin must now spend eternity alone

He’d wake up at death’s door with pills pouring out his mouth

A terrible taste lays on his lips and his stomach is swimming in poison

A life without his love is a life not worth living

—Kim Taehyung

yandere type — devotee and stalker

watch out for! — murder, stalking, invasion of privacy, voyeurism, collector, murder-suicide, insecurity, monitoring , worship

Taehyung is a cruel romantic

His thirst for your entirety is insatiable

This growing greed is what makes him so bold

He takes risks none of the other boys would dare to dream of

Of course, he didn’t always act so impatient

This restlessness for your red romance had started small before it spiraled into disarray 

Subtle acts of stalking or stealing is how it all began

He just wanted to feel close to you, whether that be through physicality or by objects tainted with your touch

Taehyung is a collector of lost possessions and missing moral

But it didn’t take much time before he grew tired of absent objects and started stealing glances of you instead

He watches as you wander under the moonlight

Your features burning like fire in his brain

You’re so memorable under the moon that he can’t help himself  from painting 10,000 pictures of your perfection

Taehyung sees himself as an artist and you his muse

His drawings dictate your every move, illustrate your emotions, and reflect your beauty

The days spent drawing last from dusk to dawn, and although he could never be bored of staring at your face and flesh, an emptiness begins to claw at his chest

It creeps in from the corners of the room, a cold wind that washes over him and makes him shiver

It takes hold of your image in his mind, making each brushstroke dull and distorted

Your pretty portraits lack your warmth, as does our poor Tae

He’s persistent in his pursuit of lifelong love, and he won’t stop waiting until your his to take

If Taehyung were to actually take part in your life, you’d live an endless eternity of claustrophobia and catastrophe

It may take some time, but you’ll begin to see the signs of your impending downfall before you can stop it

Taehyung’s love is tender and touching

It’s make anyone awe at the sight, but they don’t understand what goes on in the shadows

You’re an inspiration for his art, so much so that your home starts to look like a house of mirrors

Every element of your eternity must be captured, from the bare bones down to trailing patterns at your fingertips

He studies you like a statue

Staring at you all day, swearing at himself whenever he has to blink

Taehyung believes that your bare beauty is an eternal enigma

Your one in a billion and must be treated as such

He tries to show you his distorted devotion everyday, and this may be the only amount of pure peace you get

He makes you feel special, a divine entity the deserves everything you ask for

You were crafted by the gods themselves just for his sweet satisfaction

You were made for each other and nothing can change that… until it does

Taehyung’s always had a hunch that men and women all over the earth were jealous of your relationship

They try to tear you apart, saying your tainted by his toxic touch

He’s running out of time, slipping through the sands of the hourglass

Lost in their lies, he takes you to the one place where no one can separate your souls, heaven

Taehyung likes to think it’s romantic even, like star-crossed lovers born to be destroyed

He doesn’t flinch in the face of death

He’s so lost in his sick sense of delusion that he honestly believes you two are tied between the stars

Tangled up in each other, meant to meet in every timeline and be lovers once again

Both your sad sorrow would soak the bed he holds you in

He calms your cries with a hand held up to your trembling lips

The shivering steel of the gun touches your temple

He says that death will not be dark with him to guide you

You won’t feel the Reapers cold caress when he’s here to hold you

Taehyung gives your lips one last quiet kiss

Breaking apart only to breathe and whisper the words, 

“I love you in every universe.”

“Till’ we meet again my dearest divine.”

His last moment with you is a memory of red redemption

With his thumb triggering the gunshot, he blows your brains out on the back wall

You’re head snaps back from the force and lays limply on your shoulder

Blood bleeds down and begins to soak the sheets

Taehyung chokes back his cries with his hand still holding the steel

He takes your cold corpse in his tender embrace and readies himself for a restful end

He lays down dark kisses to the bullet wound that tore open your temple

He weeps away his heinous actions and with you still held close to his heart, he puts the last bullet in his brain

—Jeon Jungkook

yandere type — impulsive and delusional

watch out for! — murder, suicide, dependency, kidnapping, delusion, hysteria, impulsion

Jungkook is just a boy with a broken heart

Still learning the differences between desire and devotion

He twists the two into one, his passion is painful and his innocent intentions begin to wither away

That fiery fondness that once burned so bright now sends smoke signals of death and destruction

But what really matters is what moment of massacre you met him

Was it when he was still a shy soul? Susceptible to sin but also ready for redemption

Or was it when he was a man? Matured into murder and wrapped up in wrath

If you arrived early in the timeline of terror, then you’d probably be childhood friends

Playing pretend in a world without worries

Lost in a little kids imagination, you play house, yourself as the wife and him as the husband

This is when his kindergarten crush would begin to grow

As a child you’d call yourselves soulmates, but an adult eye would sense that someone was seriously wrong

Jungkook would throw tantrums whenever you left to leave, and when he didn’t get what he wanted, he’d turn to violence

He’d begin to grow dependant on his only friend

Playdates would pursue sleepovers which would then turn to him refusing to ever leave your side

Scared that you’d be snatched away if his attention fell too far

And as you grew up, got to know more about the horrors and hormones of the future, you’d eventually find yourselves as high-school sweethearts

Jungkook just like his old self, only better at hiding the bloodshed

The obsession would only grow as you get older

More things threaten your relationship and his anger and anxiety amplify 

But your impression of the innocent boy still stays the same

Sure he may be more dependant and delusional then most men, but he’s still your sweet boy

If an artist were to paint a portrayal of a lost lover, it would be Jungkook

Every day is a dream, you drink in his devotion and bathe in bliss

He washes away all your worries and takes on all life's labours

Your life would look pretty normal only because Jungkook’s good at burying all the bodies and biting back his paranoia

But when you bottle up your emotions for years on end, it’ll eventually explode in your face

Jungkook has always been impulsive, acting on his anger and making irrational decisions

His rage causes him to run on a rampage, killing anyone that could come too close

His fear tells him to hide you in the house and cut ties with the outside world

Jungkook is determined to obtain the life and love he obsesses over

Which is why when things don’t go his way, his has a fit of hysteria 

His tempers turns up to 100 and he may try to kidnap you

He’s abandoned all rationality and is recklessly driving your relationship off a cliff

His thoughts are so stubborn and he won’t stop once he’s set on a solution

No planning or preparation is taken in advance

He’s in a fit of frantic fear and reality is slowly slipping

Illusion is in his lungs, he can’t understand that he’s undoing all his progress thus far

So set on the end goal, he can’t see the death and decay until he holds it in his arms

It’s a sudden slaughter and he’s doesn’t processes your passing until you’re pale and purple

After a rainy night spent sobbing and still clutching your cold corpse, he comes to a conclusion

He can’t live with his actions, he’s a monster in a man’s body

He feels sick in his skin, he tries to scratch it off

Peeling off the pink to reveal the red undertones

His hands are still sore from the force he gripped your throat with, he tries to take those off too

He’s disturbed by what he’s just done

Jungkook gathers your blue body in his arms and takes you to the bathtub

He dies by your side, drowning in devastation

most to least dangerous — jungkook, taehyung, jimin, hoseok, namjoon, jin, yoongi

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved ‎

[pigfacedbitch]

Falling In Love With Leo Valdez

summary : title speaks for itself. reader is a daughter of Poseidon. timeline is from the lost hero to mark of Athena.

word count : 0.7k

type : imagines

pairing/s involved : Leo Valdez x Reader, Brother! Percy Jackson x Reader

warning/s : dealing with a loved one's disappearance, depression, and coping

here is my masterlist!

Percy is the amazing older brother anyone could ever ask for. He made sure that you were thoroughly trained and well-oriented on what it means to be a demigod.

The only downside? He is extremely protective, especially when someone is romantically interested in you.

"PERCY!" You see the camper who flirted with you earlier got knocked off of his canoe and almost drowned in the lake.

"What? It wasn't me."

But his face says otherwise. He can be insufferable.

You love him dearly anyway.

So when he vanished that summer, you are a mess. Chiron had to monitor your every move because you might try to find Percy on your own.

Annabeth told you she received a word of where he is and assured you that everything will be okay. Instead she brought back three strangers with her.

One particularly caught your attention with his elf-like features and scrawny build. You found him... cute.

As expected, Leo flirted with you right away. How could he not? You are hot! 😍

"Hey there, cutie. Are you a goddess?"

"No. My name is (Y/N)."

"Leo Valdez but you can call me anything you want-"

"How about dead?" Annabeth cuts him off, giving him an icy glare. That was enough to shut him up.

Leo uses all of his time to be with you. He is so in love, it's almost sickening.

At first, it's just harmless flirting.

Then he notices the little things— you don't eat that much, easily space out in conversations, lethargic, and has always a forlorn look on your beautiful face.

You, on the other hand, have repressed your emotions to look 'strong'. Annabeth tries to be there for you but she is suffering too.

That's why you bawled your eyes out when Leo asks you about Percy one night.

After that, he swears to you that he will be there to help you cope and look for your brother as well.

He lessens the flirting, shifting to jokes and funny stories that make you laugh.

Disobeying the rules in the dining pavilion, he eats his meals with you on the Cabin 3 table.

You're the first person he brings in Bunker 9, letting you use the place for your own leisure. You often nap there.

Despite the instant attraction, trust gradually grows between you and Leo.

You weren't some silly crush anymore but someone Leo can confide in, and he to you.

Those who observe see that you are becoming lively again. Your smile is no longer forced, you're now eating well, and looking forward to training and games.

The moment you realize Leo wasn't just a friend was because of some jerks who think you were out of his league.

"Come on, man. She wouldn't date you."

You quickly walked up to them and kissed him in front of everyone.

To say Leo is surprised is an understatement. He almost blew up right then and there. That was his first kiss.

You had to pull him to your cabin to confess properly. Let's just say Leo had more than his first kiss that night. 👀

You two aren't officially dating yet, probably because of the war that's about to come.

However, you act like you do— displaying affections, acts of service, and most importantly, keeping each other alive.

There were no need to exchange I love yous, actions were more than enough. Though, Leo loves saying that to you whenever he can.

Annabeth knows Percy will likely kill Leo but if he makes you happy then why not?

Flashforward to Camp Jupiter, you walk to Reyna with Jason and the others. By the distance, you see Percy running towards you with his hands reaching out.

He engulfs you in a hug that you're sure will break your ribs.

"How come my little sister got smaller?"

"Shut up."

You both feel the heavy weight of worry on your shoulders disappear, Percy tigtening his hug on you if that was possible.

Even with the danger looming over all of your heads, you felt safe and content in Percy's arms. Everything seems perfect.

Now, there's only one problem...

How can you tell Percy that you're in love with Leo without the chances of drowning him to death?

[vicsnook]

Never Left Me Pt. 1 | Scott Miller x Reader

word count: 2330

warnings: arguing, Scott being Scott

notes: Hello! I’m still here y’all, just been dealing with a lot of personal stuff so haven’t been able to write as much as I’d like. But here is a little something for this brat of a man who had probably less than 10 minutes of screen time but continues to live in my head rent free. Hope you enjoy and part 2 will be up Sunday! As always, please don’t forget to like and reblog 🫶🏼.

A row of desks is all that stands between me and the man who I once thought might have a soul despite what everyone else said. Everyone that is sitting on the desks is thankfully too busy to see me coming and that’s how I make it past the receptionist and to his office.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Scott! You can’t go through with this!” I yell as soon as I walk in. The anger is still cursing through me from where I read the termination email.

His eyes lift up from the monitor and I can tell immediately by his expression that he is very displeased by my interruption. Well that makes two of us now, I think to myself.

“Sorry sir, she ran past me,” says the receptionist from behind me and I don’t need to turn around to know she’s giving me a nasty look.

He looks between us before waving her off. “It’s fine, Kathy. Please excuse us.”

“It’s one thing to have investors when you could do our research with grants and not have to be unethical.” I fume. “It’s another to let the biggest asshole in Oklahoma now own half the company and let him fire half of us without cause.”

He scoffs, not bothering to look at me. “I did what was best for the company. Sorry you didn’t make the cut. If you need any letters of recommendation, please let Kathy know.”

It takes everything in me not to walk over and smack the attitude out of him but I know I might need the stupid recommendation so I take a deep breath instead.

“Anything else? Or do I need to get security to escort you out?” He says, looking at me with those icy blue eyes that once gave me butterflies.

“When this inevitably blows up in your face, don’t bother to call.” I respond and walk out, not bothering to close the door on my way out which I know he hates.

The elevator is slow to get me to the lab where I pick up what little I keep in my office and then with one last look to the place that I once considered my second home, I start to head out. Taking down the picture of Javi, Kate, Scott, and I from the wall and throwing it in the trash can before I get on the elevator.

After eating way too much ice cream for dinner and playing darts with Scott’s picture attached to the board, I realize I have no idea what to do next. Only thing that’s for certain is that bills will pile up quickly if I can’t get another job soon though.

So I dial the only person I know might help me and hope my past job is something he can look past. Hope fills me up when he picks up on the first ring. His southern drawl already making me feel like things will actually be okay.

-

“Good lord, Y/N, as I live and breathe! What the heck are you doing here city girl?” Asks Boone, pulling me in for a much needed hug.

“Well the city didn’t really want me anymore so here I am.” I admit, looking at my feet as I blush in embarrassment.

Boone knows me too well and it won’t be long before I know I’ll have to keep him from punching Scott in the mouth. Even if he really deserves it. He sighs in response, looping his arm through mine and leading me to the rest of the team.

“Look at what the cat dragged in, come here girl,” Dani says, enveloping me into a hug that Lily is quick to join into. “Welcome aboard,” they whisper before pulling away.

“Alright, Alright, let’s not suffocate our newcomer. We still gotta show her the ropes.” He says, and I feel my heart begin to race. Damn you, Tyler Owens for having this effect on me, well actually, on most of the female population.

“Thanks again for the opportunity,” I say, turning around to meet his eye. The past couple of months definitely did him well, I think as I take in his physique.

“Don’t mention it.” He responds, leaving me to get acclimated with my new role in his team.

-

Soon enough we’re racing down the road to where a Tornado has begun to form but before we can turn into the street that will lead us right to it, the Scarecrow truck that I once shared with Scott cuts us off.

“God I hate that asshole,” Tyler mumbles as we resume our journey, now trailing Scott who can’t seem to pick a speed. “Turn left up here, then turn right before the dead end, it’ll put us right ahead,” I tell Tyler who is quick to follow instructions as I buckle into the harness and hold the steering wheel so he can do the same.

But the action is over before it’s even begun as the tornado quickly dissipates before it reaches us. Tyler and I look at each other and down at the computer which shows no other storms in the area today.

“Maybe we’ll have better luck tomorrow,” I say, radioing the rest of the team who suggests heading to the diner down the road for dinner.

“So what happened between Kate, Javi, and Scott? Why did they take off?” Tyler asks, as he drives down the nearly deserted back roads that lead to the town.

“Scott had a majority share in Storm Par because of his uncle and after the stunt Kate and Javi pulled in Reno, he had them pretty much fired.”

“Well, I got that already from Kate and being there but why didn’t they come back?” He asks, and I know exactly what he’s really asking. Why did Kate ghost him?

But I don’t know how to tell him the truth. So I try to do the one thing I suck at. Lie. “They just got busy, I guess. Javi got a job with Kate last I heard and it just worked out better up there for them,” I say, avoiding eye contact.

“I bet it did,” he mutters, and I can’t help the guilty feeling in my stomach. But could he handle the truth?

-

We head up to Texas the following week and the ride is mostly silent except for me giving directions to Tyler every once in a while. I don’t think he takes up very well to lying since he’s stopped trying to make friendly conversation and will only talk about work.

The motel comes into view and it isn’t the nicest. But when are they ever nice?

Tyler hands me my room key and I grab my bag. It feels odd being here without the rest of the team but we need to be in two places at once sometimes to get our data.

“Hey Tyler, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for lying the other day. I really hate to start our work relationship on the wrong foot.” I say, as we walk up the stairs to the rooms.

“So why don’t you tell me the truth then?”

His green eyes lock on mine and I suddenly feel nervous. “Kate, she wasn’t ready to be here. After her and Javi got fired, they figured they could make a better difference up in New York working with NOAA.” His face twists into a frown. “For what it’s worth Ty, she almost came back for you but you’ve gotta understand after what she went through, she just wasn’t ready.”

“I just wish she would’ve called.”

“I’m sorry, Ty. But she’s coming to see her mom in a few weeks. Maybe show up? See what’s up?”

“I just might. Now go on and get some sleep. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” He says, and I nod heading into my room.

-

“Ugh!” I grunt when my alarm goes off the next morning.

Why did I pick this job when I’ve never been a morning person?

I shower quickly and pack my dirty clothes back into my bag and as I put on my shoes there’s a knock on my door. He sure is punctual.

“Hey we’re getting some crazy weather east of here. You ready?” Tyler asks as soon as I open the door. “Yep, let me grab my stuff.”

By the afternoon we’ve already had two F1’s and a whole lot of data collected so Tyler decides we can head for some lunch.

The sight of the Storm Par truck is enough to make my appetite go away as I spot the scarecrow sticker on the back but nevertheless I follow Tyler in and order a burger.

“Hey I gotta make a call, I’ll be right back.” Tyler tells me and I’m left alone in the booth picking at my fries. Unfortunately for me it isn’t for long as Scott slides in to the seat across from me.

“Didn’t think you’d go work for the hillbillies,” he says, stealing one of my fries and I roll my eyes. “What the hell do you want Scott?”

“Just to offer you a job. I need a navigator.”

I scoff. “I told you I’m not working for you again.” I can feel his eyes on me but I refuse to look up.

“Suit yourself,” he says, sliding out of the booth and leaving me alone. God I cannot stand that man.

“Y/N! We gotta go!” yells Tyler, rushing back into the diner and I throw two 20’s on the table and run after him. Noticing Scott also getting up to follow.

The weather has changed in the little time we were in the diner. What was a clear sky is now dark gray and the rain starts to come down hard as I slam the truck door shut.

“It’s coming this way, look at the radar,” says Tyler as he shifts the truck in gear and soon we are speeding down the two lane highway. “Ty, it’s starting, oh God.”

The tornado is forming right ahead of us and as I stare at the screen in my laptop I realize it’s headed straight for the diner.

“Fuck, hold on!” yells Tyler, doing a U-turn and speeding back towards the diner. We need to move fast and get these people to safety.

I hop out as Tyler puts the truck in park and we rush back inside, Tyler yelling out to get to the back since there isn’t a storm shelter. People nearly trample us as they file into the back room.

I turn to the windows, the sound of the familiar sirens is almost deafening and that’s when I see him. Scott is pulling into the parking lot and the tornado is right behind him.

“Y/N! Get in here!” Yells Tyler but it’s muffled. My body is almost in autopilot as I sprint to the door to try to save the man who’d probably leave me for dead.

“Scott!” I scream, the rain is coming down harder and I can hardly see anything. The ground shakes beneath me but I push through to where I think I see him and we collide. “C’mon!” I yell as I pull him with me to safety and it’s like everything is in slow motion.

The windows burst into shards of glass and I duck, hoping Scott did too. My hand never leaving his as I continue to pull us inside and we make it, just barely.

He envelops me in his arms as the tornado goes over the diner and everything around us rattles. The screams of the people around us are terrifying and I think “Is this where we die?”

And just like that it’s over.

We survived.

-

I sit in a booth wincing in pain as Scott and Tyler pull glass shards out of my face and arms. The pain is nauseating and all I want is a shower and a nice bed.

“What were you thinking going after him?” asks Tyler when Scott walks back to the bathroom to get more paper towels.

“I wasn’t.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well that much is clear.”

I nod in agreement as he takes the paper towels from Scott and dabs at my cuts and I wince in pain.

“Yeah, you need to go back home and get some proper rest.” Tyler says, and shushes me before I can protest. “I’ll book you a flight tomorrow. Take a few days off. I’ll be back in Oklahoma by the time you’re good to go.”

I nod reluctantly.

“I can take her back, I’m heading back up tonight.” Scott says from behind Tyler and I stiffen at the suggestion. “Y/N, that's okay with you?” Asks Tyler looking at me and as much as I want to say no, I know if he doesn’t have to buy me a flight, he can use the money to help the community affected so I nod.

“C’mon I’ll take you back to the motel to get your things. Can you meet us there Scott?”

“I’ll be right behind you,” he responds.

The car ride is silent other than the radio reporting the damages and all I can think of is wanting to stay but I know better than to argue with Tyler.

I slowly gather my things when we get to the motel trying to avoid spending much time with Scott. Why did I really go after him?

The hot water feels good on my skin as I wash away the blood and remaining pieces of glass. The alarm on my phone startles me and I step out knowing we have to go soon.

I wince as I apply ointment on my cuts then head out the door to meet Tyler and Scott.

“Drive safe!” Tyler yells as Scott pulls out into the highway and I know it’ll be a long six hours as he turns up the radio.

click here for part 2 🫢

[artemis32]

subjugation vi

i'm on my period and i am dying, so - here's a drabble no one asked for

****

subjugation masterlist

Thinking about EraserMic and how they treat you while you're on your period.

If you thought they were overbearing before, you have no idea how little breathing room you'll have now - literally.

Let's follow the order of events.

First, you'll become snippy with them, even more short off than you usually are. Normally, they can ignore your sharp quips and snarled words and move on with the conversation, but really, with the way you're acting, they can't let that kind of behaviour slide.

There's really no other way to describe it - you were being a bitch. A nasty one.

So they punish you in that strange way of theirs, forcing you to keep them company, overwhelming you with their presence, metaphorically force-feeing you their presence.

That does nothing but make it worse, pushing your already irritable mood to the edge.

Except this time, instead of snapping at them and lashing out as you usually would, you're pushed to the more emotional side of things.

Hizashi is horrified when you burst into tears in the middle of the living room, sniffling as you try in vain to mop up your tears with your shirt sleeve.

He'd expected you to become emotional, just not like this. You hardly ever cried, and even when you did, you tried to make sure it wasn't around the two of them.

You probably thought it made you look weak. What a ridiculous notion.

He lays a hesitant palm on your shoulder, patting it awkwardly as he murmurs softly.

"...you okay?"

As your sniffles grow to sobs, he cringes back.

He discusses it with Shota that night while you sleep, having gone to bed early. It was unusual for you to be exhausted this early in the evening, but the two took the opportunity to discuss your recent odd behaviour.

They talk in circles for most of the night, never settling on one reason for your outburst.

A few days later though, all is revealed.

You could try to hide it for a bit, but you won't last all that long. Not with two observant, seasoned pro heroes monitoring your every movement.

Try as you might, you can't hide the pain on your features, or the odd grimace here and there, or the fact that you're using wads of toilet paper as pads.

Unsurprisingly, you hadn't had your period in the months following your abduction. Who would've thought that extreme stress and anxiety would cause your period to be all but non-existent.

That unfortunately meant that the house wasn't very well equipped to handle a woman or her cycle.

Pads or tampons? Zero.

Pain killers? Ziltch.

Heating pads? None.

Chocolate? Nada.

But once they'd realised what was really going on, the situation was quickly remedied.

That's how you found yourself smothered under a pile of blankets, squished between the two pro heroes on the couch, being forced to drink warm tea by the cupful.

In a way, it was almost... nice?

It was warm and comfortable, and the painkillers Shouta had all but shoved down your throat had done wonders for your cramps. And it didn't hurt that they weren't trying to talk to you, or interact with you at all beyond the occasional shift in positioning.

Not to mention, the crushing weight of their bodies on you felt almost soothing.

(Also Shouta had such nice, warm hands - they're large too, comforting as they encompass your lower stomach, gently massaging the cramping, bloated area).

That's how you find yourself dozing off as some or other reality tv show plays on in the background.

****

They'd act like that all week, treating you like some fragile kitten, careful not to make any sudden sounds or movements.

Of course, they go back to usual as soon as your period is over, but for those glorious few days, it's as if they almost don't exist, only ever bothering you to bring you what you want.

It's almost worth the cramps, back aches, tender breasts and awful mood swings.

Almost.

Except, a few months down the line, Hizashi realises he has a thing for period sex, and it definitely doesn't hurt that it's supposed to help with cramps.

You can't blame him, he's just trying to help you.

So what if he gets off in the process?

****

Hizashi is a period sex kinda man and you can't convince me otherwise. Man's is nasty.

I'll definitely expand on this some other time :))

[milksnake-tea]

━━ 4:00:00 A.M.

in which silver wolf and sunday realize they have more in common than they'd originally thought. 2.1k words.

It’s just about 4:00:00 system time when Silver Wolf finds herself pulling yet another all-nighter.

Sleep doesn’t come easily to her; as much as she needs it (much to her chagrin, as unfortunate as it is, she is painfully human and thus needs sleep as everyone else does), she often finds herself staying well into the wee hours of the night with her room shrouded in darkness and her face illuminated by her various consoles and monitors.

She stifles a yawn as her thumbs move on autopilot across the rhythm game she has up on her phone. To any normie, the bright colors and flashing lights would’ve given them a seizure with how rapidly they blinked. But Silver Wolf is already starting to get bored of it - even at this speed, the game was too boring, too slow.

There’s little to no joy as the victory screen flashes. With a sigh and a stretch of her arms, Silver Wolf leans back in her chair.

She’s bored, so incredibly bored.

Nothing interesting is happening anymore. It’s like the cosmos has gone dead-silent, waiting for the next update or patch to come. Except unlike with games, Silver Wolf can’t just leave this reality and pick up another one.

She stares up at the ceiling despite the lack of light. It isn’t like anyone’s awake at this time, either. Firefly might be, but she’s off in a whole ‘nother star system and probably doesn’t feel like having some fun - not after Penacony. Blade’s knocked out, and Silver Wolf would eat her shoe before she asked Kafka of all people to game.

That leaves two people: Elio, and the new recruit.

And Elio hasn’t left his man-cave for the last three weeks - not like Silver Wolf would play with him, anyways. He’s got to be one of the most boring players of all time; he already knows everything that’s going to happen, and so he’s never lost.

As for Sunday, well…

She raises her hand and violet-blue screens materialize at her fingertips. She sorts through the base’s security camera feeds (made by yours truly), scrolling mindlessly until she spots something, no, someone in the hall outlooking the cosmos.

She grins. Perfect.

With a cartoonish popping noise, she teleports right besides Sunday so she can speak in his ear.

“Whatcha looking at?”

Sunday jumps, wings flaring like a deer in highlights. He unfortunately doesn’t scream in absolute terror, nor does he jump back with a face so scandalized it would rival that of the oldest and most traditional of great-great-grandparents.

Silver Wolf bites her lip to hide her disappointment. Indifferently, she tilts her head and lands neatly on the floor besides Sunday.

As soon as he gets his bearings back, Sunday sighs with a pointed look. “Was that really necessary?”

“Of course,” Silver Wolf snickers, planting her hands on her hips. 

She kind of hates how she has to crane her neck up to look at him - over three years of working with the Hunters, and she’s yet to find someone who wasn’t taller than her. And she’s been drinking a lot of milk, too (never let Kafka find out. If she did, Silver Wolf was going to throw herself off the top of Pier Point)!

“You didn’t answer my question, though. What’re you doing up so late, Mr. Wings?”

If Sunday cares for her nickname, he doesn't show it. He rarely shows anything. “I could say the same to you, Miss Silver Wolf.”

“Well, since you’re new, I’ll let this slide. But it’s pretty well-known around here that I don’t exactly need sleep.”

Sunday raises a brow. “Is that right?”

Thinly veiled amusement laces his tone. He obviously doesn’t believe her.

“You don’t have to believe me,” she shrugs, feigning indifference. “Isn’t the fact that I’m here proof in of itself?”

Her eye twitches when Sunday insteads lets out a breathy chuckle, the corner of his eyes crinkling. Time and time again, Silver Wolf has been looked down on because of her stature and young age, and many more times she’s used that to her advantage. She’s been called a child, immature, a brat - all by people she would eventually bring down with ease.

But for some reason, she doesn’t see that condescending gaze in Sunday’s eyes. No, it’s something different - something… warm, and fond.

It creeps her the hell out.

“It’s rude to stare,” she clips, crossing her arms. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you that?”

Sunday’s gaze becomes downcast. Shit. Did she say something she shouldn’t have?

“My parents were…”

Fuck.

“You don’t have to finish that,” she interrupts hastily. Sunday shakes his head.

“No, it’s alright.” 

Looking up to the great vastness of the universe, Sunday’s eyes become unfocused, as if gazing upon something far, far into the distance, something that couldn’t be seen by the naked eye.

“My parents left me at a very early age due to the Stellaron Crisis,” he begins. Internally sighing, Silver Wolf falls silent. “For as long as I’ve ever known, Robin was the only person I had. We did everything together, from our lessons to sneaking out at night to watch the stars.”

“You? Sneak out?” Silver Wolf raises a brow. Maybe he isn’t as uptight as she thought he was.

“It was mainly Robin’s idea, although I was more of a troublemaker than I am now.”

“You’re a wanted criminal.”

“That’s besides the point.”

Well, at least there’s potential. Silver Wolf wouldn’t know what to do if she had a religious prick with a stick up his ass as a coworker… he’d be fun to tease, but that’s it. Regardless, she nods for him to continue.

“Anyways, it goes without saying that Robin was… is very important to me. All I ever wanted was for her to be happy, even if it meant that Gopher Wood would target me instead of her. And… as much as I owe to Gopher Wood, he wasn’t the kindest of father figures.”

He turns his head slightly to meet Silver Wolf’s eyes. She hopes that her expression is normal.

“So, forgive me, if I haven't learnt anything my parents should’ve taught me.”

Whatever sympathy Silver Wolf had shrinks quite quickly. Her face drops into a pout.

“Alright, geez,” she groans, stretching her arms. “I’m sorry, okay? I said something insensitive.”

Sunday hums. “Are you really?”

Her pout drops into a glower. “If you’re thinking of making me grovel, think again. I’m not going to stoop that low.”

“Alright, alright,” Sunday concedes with a smile. “I forgive you.”

There’s something in the way he speaks that makes it so that she doesn’t even want to grace him with a response. Turning her cheek with a huff, she joins him in watching as the nebulae pass by.

For a moment, the world is still. Silence envelops the base, and the only sound is a distant soundtrack of classical music.

Then, for reasons she doesn’t know herself, she speaks.

“You know, I also had a sibling.”

In the reflection of the window, she sees Sunday’s brows raise with intrigue. Warmth rushing to her cheeks, she coughs and hastily continues. By the End, why did she ever think this was a good idea?

“Well, they weren’t as much a sibling as they were a coworker. But they were the only one who could ever keep up with me. I’ve yet to meet another person like them, and I doubt that I ever will. They were like a 5-star artifact that rolled into all of the right substats.”

“You say ‘were’,” Sunday observes carefully. “Have they…?”

“They’re not dead,” Silver Wolf says bluntly. “They just left. I see them sometimes, but they don’t remember me.”

Sunday’s gaze becomes lidded. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Silver Wolf waves him off. If he’s about to get all sappy or therapist-y with her, she doesn’t want part in any of it. “It was going to happen one way or another. It was in the script.”

“Still, isn’t it lonely?”

Lonely?

Silver Wolf doesn’t know what to make of that word. Loneliness implied the lack of companions, of which she has many - excluding the Hunters, she has Friend, Demon Lord, White Collar, and Servant. They are the ones who have been with her ever since her days in that dingy old fast-food restaurant. With them around, she was never alone.

But that doesn’t seem to be what Sunday is asking.

“I don’t know,” she says nonchalantly. “It is boring without them, though.”

Sunday doesn’t reply. The silence returns, but this time with a heavier weight. Her chest constricts - she wants to sigh, but holds herself back.

It’s stupid, anyways, to grieve for someone who never left. She still sees them, after all. They just… don’t like her as much as they used to.

A memory she’s tried to bury comes to mind - the Astral Express’s cabin, a hologram, and a distrustful gaze, and a word that haunts her more than she’d like to admit: Intruder.

Ugh, whatever. She knew it would happen; Elio had warned her. She’d read the script. She’d taken their memories herself. She even made fun of Kafka when they didn’t fully remember her.

She’s being stupid - maybe this is why Blade always told her to not stay up too late. Emotions are dumb, and she does not have the time to deal with them-

There’s a gentle weight on her head, and then a soft rustling of her hair. Silver Wolf bluescreens.

“It isn’t a sin to miss someone,” Sunday offers softly. “Nor is it a weakness. All it means is that you treasured that person deeply.”

“I know,” Silver Wolf mutters. She hates how her throat has become a little choked up. Slapping his hand away, she shoots him a disgruntled look. “I’m not a child, by the way. You don’t have to treat me like one.”

“My apologies,” Sunday chuckles, returning his hand behind his back. “I’m afraid I got a tad bit carried away. I do hope you can forgive me, Miss Silver Wolf.”

“Whatever,” Silver Wolf sighs, dusting off her hair in a meager attempt to get it back in line. “And you don’t have to call me that.”

“Call you what?”

“Miss. It sounds stuffy. Just call me Silver Wolf, like everyone else does.”

“Not everyone, though,” Sunday points out, mirth glimmering in his eyes. “If I recall correctly, doesn’t Miss Kafka refer to you as-”

“Call me ‘Wolfie’, and I’ll drop you off at the IPC. ”

“Point taken.”

Silver Wolf squints. She doesn’t like Sunday’s tone, still patronizing as ever - but maybe that’s just how he talks. Eh, who cares. He isn’t the only one who talks weird - Kafka would give him a run for his money.

In search of some sort of stimulation, her phone materializes in her hands and she starts up yet another game - that Origami Bird game that she’d dueled against them with.

As always, she opts for PVP - Aeons know how dull the A.I.’s playing style is. But barely one minute in, and she already finds herself itching for something new.

“Is that from Penacony?”

Silver Wolf nearly jumps out of her skin, but thankfully, she manages to play it off well. Sunday is looking just over her shoulder, intrigue barely noticeable but still present.

“Yeah,” she says, shifting away slightly so that he doesn’t breathe on her. “Got launched a few days after you got arrested. Wanna play?”

Surprise flickers briefly over his dove-like features. “I… I suppose I could; although, I do have to warn you - it has been quite some time since I’ve picked up a video game.”

“Really?” Silver Wolf wrinkles her nose as she hands him one of her consoles. “What do you do in your free time, then?”

Sunday blinks. Silver Wolf blinks back.

“My what?”

Silver Wolf visibly cringes.

“Good grief, how are you worse than Blade?” She blows a raspberry, starting up the game. Atop her head, her holographic origami bird flutters to life, nestling into her hair comfortably. A few moments, and soon Sunday's own avatar materializes with a gentle coo. “Alright, whatever. Get the tutorial done, and then I’ll PVP you.”

“Ah, alright. How do I do that again-?”

Does he even know what PVP means? She doubts it. But as the familiar theme song begins to play, the chirps of the holographic birds fill up the empty silence, and she once again finds herself in the motions of teaching someone to play, she can hardly bring herself to care.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

tags: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace , @flurrina , @tragedy-of-commons , @cakechase , @kiiyoooo

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Remember You Even When I Don't (2)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 3.3K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language.

Notes: The response to part one was so overwhelming in all of the best ways. I'm so glad that so many people enjoyed it! Please let me know your thoughts for part two as well!

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed!

Part One

----------

The pain medication kept him knocked out for most of the night. He remembers waking up a few times, blinded by pain or uncomfortable in the small hospital bed, but you were there every time. You slept curled in the chair beside him, wrapped in that green sweatshirt. Once, when the pain was what jolted him awake, you woke too. You hit the button for a nurse and smoothed his hair back on his forehead, his skin sticky with sweat despite the coolness of the hospital room. 

“You’re okay,” you murmured to him, shushing him gently when he groaned again. “It’ll go away in a minute, you’re okay.” 

As the nurses came in and administered him more medication, you stayed right there beside him. Your hand was still in his hair when he fell back into a drug-induced sleep.

Still, though, when he roused to consciousness with the sun shining in through the slightly raised blinds, he wondered if it was all a fever dream and if you ever existed to begin with. He was almost afraid to open his eyes. Yesterday was the only memory he had of you. There was still nothing before that, except for how you made him feel. While confusing, there was no way that a dream could make that up. He opened his eyes slowly, and there you were. 

You were leaning back in your chair, watching the tv that was playing on mute in front of his bed. He couldn’t tell if you were reading along with the subtitles you had turned on in an effort not to wake him up or simply watching the moving images. You held what looked like a large cup of iced coffee in your hands. 

You were just as breathtaking as he remembered from yesterday. His heart did the same flip that it did when he first laid bleary eyes on you.

He didn’t get to ponder you for too long before you turned your head in his direction and noticed that he was awake. Your eyes widened a fraction and you stared at one another for a moment, and Bradley thought it would be easy to get lost in your gaze.

“Hi,” you whispered, breaking the silence. 

“Hi,” he spoke back, his voice rough, but relieved. You were real after all. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Less like I got hit by a train and more like I got hit by a truck, so I guess better.” 

“Technically, you were hit by a plane. I imagine a train is close enough though.” 

It took him a second to get the joke, but the laugh he let out felt good. Mentally, at least. Physically, it hurt his ribs. But you were making jokes with him and he’d take that over you crying again. 

“Not many people can say that, huh?”

“No,” she agreed with a shake of her head, “but you’ve always been a special one, Bradley Bradshaw.”

Blushing was an unfamiliar feeling. So unfamiliar that he didn’t realize that’s what he was doing at first, but hearing you say his full name and compliment him, because he knew that’s what you meant, made his face feel warm and his heart race. Your eyes flicked to his heart monitor, but you didn’t comment on it. 

“I asked your nurse if you could change since you might be more comfortable in your own clothes,” you said instead, motioning to a duffel bag that was set on the counter on the other side of his room that he didn’t notice before. “She said it’s fine, so I had a few things brought for you this morning. If you want.”

“That sounds great,” he said, because it did. He hated hospital gowns. He hated hospitals, period. “Any chance I can take a shower?” 

“No, I’m sorry. But um…they’re going to take you for more testing in a little bit, probably, and they said a nurse will help you clean up and change afterward.” 

You looked uncomfortable as you said the words, and he wanted to ask you why, but you pushed on before he could. 

“There should be a few pairs of sweatpants and shirts to choose from. If you don’t like anything in there I can get something else.”

“I’m sure whatever is in there will be fine,” he said softly. You were nervous, he could tell. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you nodded in response. 

There was a tension settling in the room that he didn’t quite enjoy. He supposed it was unavoidable, all things considered. Despite it, though, you remained in the seat beside his bed, almost within reach of him. Your hair was down this morning, one side tucked behind your ear to keep it out of your face. You were still wearing the Eagles sweatshirt that was too big for you. Your eyes were tired, and he wondered if you got anything more than restless fits of sleep last night.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up last night,” he started, unable to take the silence anymore. Your eyes snapped up to him. 

“It’s alright,” you insisted, sending him a small smile that had his heart fluttering again. “This chair is actually more comfortable than it looks.” 

He sincerely doubted that, but he didn’t call you out on it. You took a sip of your drink, barely putting it down before bringing it back to your lips for another. The ice rattled in the cup as it moved. 

He tried to make out what it was that you were drinking. Coffee, obviously, but he found himself curious as to what your typical order was. Were you just a cream and sugar kind of girl, or did you like flavors? Based on how long the order on the white sticker was, he guessed the latter. He couldn’t quite read what it said, but he could see the name above it. His eyebrows pulled together, causing an ache behind his eyes that he tried to push away. He remembered you saying that you had had a few things brought for him, not that you retrieved yourself, so he assumed whoever went to the home the two of you shared is who stopped and got your morning beverage, as well. For some reason, he felt a furling in his stomach. It was irrational, he knew, but the thought of another man doing these things for you, for him, made him feel something akin to jealousy. That wasn’t fair, he knew. He didn’t know your life or your family or even you. 

But he felt something for you. He didn’t exactly know what, but a connection that he’s never felt before existed between the two of you like an invisible string. It was one he found himself wanting to tug on and follow and see where it led. 

The unknown was intimidating to him, and that’s what this was. Everything about this was unknown.

“Who’s Pete?” he asked before he could stop himself. He hoped his voice didn’t come out as insecure as he felt. 

“What?” you asked, eyes widening and back straightening. He nodded toward the near empty coffee cup in your hand where the name was written above your order on the plastic. Your shoulders dropped and then tensed, which confused him even more. 

“Ah.” 

“I assume that’s who went and got my clothes? I’m sorry, I just don’t recognize the name.” He was trying, so hard, to pull something up to the front of his mind, but he couldn’t. He didn’t remember being close with anyone with that name. Maybe it was a family member of yours that he had forgotten along with you, but something told him that wasn’t the case. You wouldn’t be looking at him the way you currently are if it was a forgotten father or brother-in-law. You were eyeing him like you were uncomfortable in his presence, like you were scared of what to say to him. It was the first time he saw a look like this from you and he didn’t like it. There was something there, something about this name and him asking that unsettled you.  

A knock on the door interrupted the potential conversation, and now Bradley felt frustrated. He had so many questions and he knew the answers resided with you. One of the doctors from the previous day, Dr. Anderson, according to his coat, stepped in, offering a good morning as he scrolled on the tablet in his hand. 

“How are you feeling today, Lieutenant Commander?” 

The title was still unfamiliar to him. His gut reaction was to correct him, but the last time he did that, he found out he was missing four years of his life and an entire wife, so he refrained. 

“I’ve been better.” 

“Have you remembered anything overnight?” 

He saw you flinch out of the corner of his eye and the ice rattled in that damn coffee cup that he still had so many questions about due to your grip tightening for just a moment. 

He clenched his jaw and gave a single shake of his head. “No sir.” 

Dr. Anderson set the tablet on the foot of his bed and braced his hands against the plasti footboard, giving him the ability to look at him straight on. “That’s not uncommon,” he assured, though Bradley felt nothing of the sort. 

The white coat looked back and forth from the two of you a few times, and Bradley didn’t like the look he had in his eyes when they settled on you for a longer moment before looking back at him again. 

“It’s come to my attention that the time you're missing means you may not remember being married. Is that correct?” 

Bradley gritted his teeth, but nodded. 

“I see.” The doctor seemed to weigh his words for a moment before he spoke again. “Perhaps, Lieutenant Commander, it may be best if we speak in private?”

A flash of anger flared through him at the suggestion. You startled next to him, sucking in a breath as your eyes widened at the words. That protective instinct he had in regards to you had a glare hardening on his face. “Excuse me?” 

“Bradley…” your voice was gentle, soft, and it had him settling just a little bit, but his eyes remained on the man in front of him. 

“I mean no offense. I want to do whatever I can here to help you get on the road to recovery, but in order to properly treat you, you need to be completely honest with how you’re feeling and your injuries. Having someone who is currently a stranger to you could very well impact that. Would you be more comfortable if she wasn’t in the room with us?” 

“She is sitting right there, and no, Doctor, I would not be more comfortable if she weren’t.” 

“Lieute-” 

“She’s staying.” 

Dr. Anderson sighed, which grated on Bradley’s already fraying nerves, but nodded. He proceeded to ask him question after question, inquiring about double vision and how bad his head hurt and if he was having any trouble with the range of motion in his neck. They went over all of his injuries again and what his path to healing realistically looked like. His body should heal with no problem, but his head was trickier. 

“Unfortunately, there’s no cure for amnesia,” he was told when he asked, and he hated how nonchalant the doctor was when delivering that news. “The brain is the most complex organ in the human body. You sustained a significant amount of trauma to it that would have been considerably worse if your helmet didn’t take a brunt of the hit. Quite frankly, you’re lucky to be alive, Lieutenant Commander.” 

Bradley couldn’t fight the urge to look over at you. You were already staring back at him. You tried your best to smile at him, but he could see the pain in your eyes. He hated that he was the one who put it there. It was overwhelming how much causing you hurt,hurt him in return. 

Another knock at the door sounded and Dr. Anderson waved in the nurse standing in the doorway with a wheelchair in front of her. 

“I want to take you down for another scan to check on the swelling you had. If it’s gone down more overnight, we’ll be able to get a better view of any damage that perhaps we didn’t see before. We’ll grab some updated blood work and do a few other cognitive tests while we’re at it. Jackie will get you all squared away and wheel you down there.”

He grabbed his tablet off of the bed where he set it earlier, giving Bradley a nod that he returned. Instead of immediately turning and exiting, though, he turned to you. 

“Mrs. Bradshaw? Could I have a word outside?”

Hearing you be called Mrs. Bradshaw nearly took the breath out of him. But no, Bradley thought, he didn’t like that idea. Not with the way the doctor had looked and spoken to you a few minutes ago. But the older nurse was already speaking to him, asking questions of her own while unhooking some of the machines he was connected to. You stood up, following Dr. Anderson out of the room without a word. Bradley couldn’t do anything more than watch you leave. The door shut behind you and he immediately felt on edge.

“It’s good to see you awake, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw,” she commented, helping him slowly swing his legs off the bed after she had raised him more upright and lowered the safety bars.  She held onto his arm and waist as he transferred from the bed to the wheelchair she had placed directly beside it. His ribs ached with the motion and his vision blurred as his head pounded. It took him a moment to catch his breath and he found himself having to then breathe through a wave of nausea. 

You walked back into the room right as the nurse was unlocking the wheels of the chair. Your face was desperately trying to remain neutral. 

“What?” he asked, the concern washing over him taking him by surprise. 

“Nothing,” you insisted. But Bradley knew you were lying. Your eyes gave you away. They were so expressive that he felt like he could almost see right through you. He knew you were upset and something he didn’t understand twisted in his chest that you were trying to keep that from him. 

“I’ll get him back to you in an hour or two, dear,” Nurse Jackie smiled at you as she wheeled him out of the room. 

Bradley was so tired of being cut off when he wanted to speak with you.

“You’ve certainly been a popular patient,” Nurse Jackie informed him as they waited for the elevator. 

“Ma’am?”

“That wife of yours has barely left your room, the poor thing. I think the furthest she’s gone is the cafeteria, and that’s only when she was coerced into doing it by your friends, and even then not for long.” 

“There’s been others here?” he asked, confused. 

“Oh, of course. There’s been a carousel of visitors in this room with usually one or two more in the waiting room. The two of you don’t lack love or support, I’ll tell you that.” 

That surprised him. He racked his brain trying to figure out who she could be referring to, but came up short once again. Bradley wasn’t close to many people. Making connections with people was hard in this line of work. He wasn’t usually in one place for long enough to have something genuine, friendships or otherwise. It was a sacrifice he was always content with, made easier by the fact that he bore so many emotional scars from all the love he lost early on in his life. He was man enough to admit that.

But yet here he was, being told that he apparently had so many people he was close to that his hospital room had become a revolving door. He had a hard time believing it.

The thought stuck with him when they got on the elevator and made their way down several floors. He went through the motions of it all, doing what was asked of him and answering all the questions he could, but his mind was elsewhere, searching for something he didn’t know. 

The machines scanning his brain made him feel claustrophobic. It was unfamiliar to him because he spent his days locked in the cockpit of a single-seater jet, yet he felt like he was aware of every inch of himself as he tried to lay as still as possible. He was becoming uncomfortable in his skin and feeling things he never did before. This wasn’t him and he couldn’t make sense of it. 

By the time he was being wheeled back down the hallway to his room, three hours later, the thoughts had festered so much that they etched a tight scowl on his face. The testing should have only taken an hour at most, which irritated him further. 

It didn’t help that you were on the phone with someone when the Nurse, a different one whose name he couldn’t remember, pushed him through the door, only to quickly hang up once you spotted him. 

“How’d it go?” you asked, and the nurse was answering for him before he could even process the question.  

“Just fine, ma’am.” The response was curt. Bradley watched your face fall at the tone the nurse gave you, lacking the kindness that Nurse Jackie had when she took him away. 

“I’m going to help him get cleaned up and changed,” the nurse continued, stopping him near the bed and locking the wheels on the chair so that it wouldn’t move. 

You cleared your throat and nodded. “Right. I uh-I can get out of the way.” 

“You don’t have to go,” Bradley said, meeting your eyes for the first time since this interaction began.

“It’s okay,” you said, forcing a smile onto your face as you grabbed the duffle you had shown him earlier and set it on the bed. “I um..I’ll leave you to it and be back in a few minutes, okay?” 

It wasn’t okay, but he didn’t feel like he had a right to feel like that, so he nodded instead. “Alright.” 

The process of getting something akin to a sponge bath and into new clothes was painfully uncomfortable for him. The nurse didn’t say much as she helped him, only giving him direction when she needed him to move a certain way or checking in to ask about his pain level if he flinched too hard. 

That part of him that he didn’t recognize wished you had stayed and helped him instead. 

By the time he was settled back in his hospital bed, he was tired and in pain. The nurse administered him another dose of painkillers before she made her exit. 

Bradley decided he preferred Nurse Jackie from earlier in the day. 

He tried his best to relax into the bed, focusing on keeping his body still until the drugs kicked in. He rested his hands over his stomach and paused. For the first time since he had been helped into them, he looked down at what it was he was wearing. 

He knew this t-shirt. It was soft and well worn, a UVA logo faded with time. It was one he had had since college. He wondered if it was a coincidence or if you had requested this specific one, knowing he’d recognize it. The thought eased some of the frustration he felt, but it didn’t go away completely. 

Bradley didn’t like feeling helpless and out of control of himself, and that’s exactly what he was right now. 

You said you would only be gone for a few minutes and he wanted to stay awake so he could talk to you, to maybe finally get a few answers, but the exhaustion from moving around mixed with the pain medication finally kicking in had him drifting off to sleep, your face and name cycling through his mind. 

--------

Part Three :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

*Part 4 and beyond are also on the masterlist!

Notes: Don't forget to comment & reblog! It's so unbelievably motivating.

Tagging those who asked or interacted with part one. I think I caught everyone, but I'm very new to this so apologies if I missed you! Please let me know if you'd like to be added or taken off this list :)

Tag List: @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @hoyaharper - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @iamaslytherin0 - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @benhardysdrumstick - @fandomxpreferences - @acatwriteshere - @1234-angelika - @double-j - @cocoskween - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @littlezee80 - @sometimesanalice - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @sunnysidesidra - @notroosterbradshaw - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-unerthesun - @avengersfan25

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Jake Jensen

Summary: Jake knows he's the luckiest man in the world and it's all because of you.

Warnings: None at this time. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Part 2

The baby monitor woke you up way before your alarm. Your brain was quick to force you out of bed because whenever one twin started fussing, the other would soon follow and you wanted to preempt that. Taking care of one baby could be done but having to rock both to sleep might require Jake's help and you really wanted him to get some sleep.

You got to the nursery and found Leia using her crib to hold herself up. Thankfully she hadn't yet woken up Luke. She holds out her arms to you and you pick her up and start snuggling her. She curls herself up against you and lets out a contented sigh.

“Just needed some attention?” you ask the toddler, not expecting a response. “I suppose I can't blame you. Waking up in the dark can be pretty scary, huh?”

You carry her over to the rocking chair and settle in. Grabbing the handmade baby blanket you wrap it around yourself and Leia. Her closed eyes and steady breathing might trick anyone else into thinking she's asleep but you know from experience if you tried to set her back in the crib now she'll be fully awake and crying. So, instead, you rock her while humming “You Are My Sunshine”.

Once you hear her breathing change you know she's fully asleep and, as carefully as you can, you put her back in her crib. You let yourself smile at her for a few moments before your body demands you go back to bed for a few more hours of sleep.

As soon as you lay down, Jake has you in his arms. “Missed you,” he mumbles. Smiling, you drift off to sleep.

Jake's alarm goes off, startling him out of sleep. He tries to go to turn it off but his body is having trouble moving. Opening his eyes, he realizes it's because he's holding you and much of his annoyance at the alarm melts. You're both moving and, as soon as his arm is free, he's turning off the alarm.

“Turning on the light,” you warn him and he covers his eyes just in time. The arm you'd been laying on was tingling from having gone numb while he slept but it's worth it to him. He knows cuddles with you were the main source of his good dreams last night. And good dreams are usually an indicator of a good day.

Then again, every day with you was a good day. You changed his entire world for the better. First when you agreed to go out with him. Again when you agreed to marry him. And again when the twins were born. If he didn't have to work, Jake would spend every moment making sure you felt loved and appreciated for everything you've done for him.

The two of you work together to get a quick breakfast, working quietly to try to avoid waking the twins.

“This would be a lot easier, and faster, if you didn't feel the need to hug me while I work,” you joke.

“Just like touching you,” he sighs. “Like holding you.”

“You say as if we didn't fall asleep cuddling,” you chuckle.

“You say as if there's such a thing as 'enough cuddles',” he retorts.

You giggle and lean into him. As much as you joke about it, you really do appreciate the closeness.

“Any plans for today,” Jake asks.

“I was thinking of taking the twins for a stroll.”

“Anything you need me to do to help before I go to work?”

“I don't think so,” you shake your head.

“Let me know if that changes?”

“Of course,” you assure with a kiss on his cheek.

Part 2

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82 ; @peyton-warren @ronearoundblindly

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Price takes Nikolai to a gig and gets more than he bargained for.

cw: sexual content towards the end.

Price stood on the outskirts in the standing area of Liverpool's Olympia stadium tracing back the decisions that had led him to this moment. He clutched half a pint of the worst lager he had ever tasted in one hand, his fingers bending the plastic inwards under a tense grip, while the other hand remained deep in the pocket of his jeans, turning his flat keys over and over.

Nik had thrown the flyer down on his desk about a month ago, and those big brown eyes had been turned onto their pleading setting immediately. Laswell likened them to the eyes of her barrel-shaped black Labrador; big, loyal, soft, irresistible. Price had asked her whether her wife knew there would soon be a third in their marriage and she'd thumped his arm hard enough to leave a mark. "Liverpool, this is where you live," Nik had said, stating rather than asking. "Can you help me book this?"

Nikolai could fix you a handgun in Liverpool no problem, replete with silencer and enough hollow point ammunition to create a very bad night for the Merseyside police force, but booking and attending a gig was apparently too much. Price had snagged up the flyer, squinted at the band name as if he had a chance in hell of recognising it, and then agreed.

Because why the fuck not? Brass were pressuring him to book some leave so they could tick the 'monitoring mental health and well being' box on his performance management, so it was as good excuse as any. You can kip on my sofa, he'd said, I can cook a better sarnie than the Premier Inn.

Nik's entire face had lit up. "Good! And you can come with me," a single beat of breath, "or I might get lost." There has been no time to argue the point because Garrick had knocked and entered, only to be scooped into a hug with a boomed, "Gaz, my brother, good to see you!" and the Russian-shaped whirlwind had disappeared.

So Price had done just that. He'd booked two tickets at the same time as his annual leave - three days should get them off his back - and put it out of his mind.

Not that there would have been much time to mull it over; they shipped out on a week long recon mission the following day, and the fallout that followed had taken up the rest of the time. Before he knew it, he was sitting on the train with Nik opposite, watching the British countryside sprint by in a blur of green and grey, drinking a beer and playing cards.

Being around Nik was easy. It wasn't just that he didn't take up energy to entertain, or require a certain mask from Price, it was more than that. Like he slotted into a part of Price's psyche built precisely for him, and Price felt happier when he was there. Laswell said it was like Nik removed the stick from Price's arse as part of his exfil service and Price had told Laswell to fuck off.

They had spent the afternoon mooching around Price's gaff. Not much to see really, but Nik had been fascinated by the dusty family photos on Price's wall and asked after every face; mother, father, sister, two nieces, a nephew, grandparents. He'd wanted to know about them all.

Then, with an hour and a half to go before Olympia's doors opened, they'd got changed for the evening. Price had thrown on the only shirt he owned that didn't come from the bargain bin of a Mountain Warehouse or the Army Surplus catalogue - a Ralph Lauren his sister has bought him one Christmas instead of the much preferred fishing-themed memorabilia - and stepped out to be confronted by Nik in a Slayer cut off tank that showed off the sides of his torso in a way that made Price feel hot under his designer collar.

"You look," Nik had said, studying Price carefully, head tilting to the side with a wry little smirk, "ill-prepared."

"And you look like Ozzy Osbourne took some steroids so I reckon it evens out." Nik had laughed at that and thumped Price's chest, and in the next moment they were sitting in the back of a taxi, Nik talking through the set list with the same excited gusto he did when pawing over a new bird in the hanger. Price was just glad he had remembered his Loop earplugs and couldn't help but smile along at Nik's excitement.

After drinking together through the support band and watching Nik grow gradually more and more restless, Price had sent him into the pit. He stood watching Nik from afar - "your shirt is too nice, captain, you stay here and finish your beer, I'll be back," - a man ten years his senior, orchestrate what the lead singer was calling a Wall of Death. More, more, further. Don't be a pussy! And then they sprinted at each other to the crescendo of a shredding guitar. Jesus fucking christ. Price lifted his lager to drink and then hesitated; he was pretty sure he'd felt something wet slosh over his face and shoulders, into his drink, and he couldn't be sure it wasn't piss, so he put his inordinately expensive and shit lager down on the nearby bar.

The last gig he had been to was at fifteen, a year before he joined the service. 3rd November 2000 at Wembley in London; the Smashing Pumpkins. He remembered it so clearly because of the hiding his father had given him for not only hitchhiking his way to London, but stumbling home off his head on cheap vodka the morning after. There hadn't been any Walls of Death at the time.

Nik stumbled out of the melee that had followed the wall's demise just as the song ended, and a line formed down the centre of Price's brow. A knot twisted in his belly, and a little further down, at the lumbering mess of a man that approached. His tank clung to the curves of his chest, darkened with sweat, his usually neat hair ruffled and erratic, the sheen on his arms and collar bones reflecting the strobe lights and drawing Price's eye. A shiver of something that felt far too fucking much like longing ran down his spine.

"You're bleeding," Price said dumbly, his throat tight. His gaze settled on the split in Nik's lip and the blossoming bruise on his cheekbone.

"Eh," Nik huffed, wiping a smear of blood on the back of his hand. "The other guy looks worse." There was that feral little grin. The same grin Nikolai wore in the field when shit had gone Pete Tong but they had still come up golden through sheer grit, dumb luck and the precise application of violent savagery. It set a fire in Price's chest, made something feral and untamed rouse from slumber, and suddenly there was an itch beneath his skin.

"Damn fuckin' right," Price replied, reflecting Nik's grin back at him. A breath passed between them, something unspoken and wild as their eyes met. And then there was a strong hand gripping his jaw, another on his hip, pushing him into the wall behind him. His back hit home, knocking the air from his lungs, and his fists bunched in the sweat-soaked material of Nik's shirt as Nik's lips pushed to his. The coppery taste of blood mixed with cheap beer and cigar smoke, and every sane thought fell out of Price's head, replaced instead by a maelstrom of chaos centered around the feel of Nik's tongue, the softness of his lips, the demand of his teeth and the rock hard bulge that ground into Price's hips.

Price was sure his moan would have been audible but for the thump and scream of the music. Nik kept that grip on his jaw as he damn near plundered Price's mouth for what he wanted, but the other hand left his hip to push against the wall, clenched in a fist near Price's head. When they pulled apart, Price sucked in a strangled gasp of air and Nik pushed his face into the scruff of Price's beard. "Ty prekrasen," Nik breathed, "ya tebya hochu."

Price had been practicing Russian. He still couldn't read it, but even if he hadn't understood the words or the low growl in Nik's voice, the hunger in Nik's kiss on his neck would have communicated his meaning just fine. "Bloody hell," Price arched against the hard line of Nik's body, fists shaking. "Yeah. Fuck. Wait..." He shoved Nik away, just a fraction, but held onto his shirt with the same desperation. Caught in the conflict between what he wanted and another part of him that had been wounded once before. "I'm not your three a.m. shag, Nik. We clear? I don't do that. If this is--if this is what this is, then no, look at me, you hear?"

Nik let out a burst of a chuckle, eyes soft as he met Price's gaze. "John, you are and always will be my everything." He was drunk enough to struggle around the 'J' in Price's name, defaulting the zsho- inflection, but his eyes were clear as he said it.

"Fuck," Price responded, eyes wide, and Nik kissed him again, slower this time. When he stopped, Price was shaking.

"And you?" Nik breathed into his lips.

"Not here, not... I can't hear myself fucking think."

"Then home." Nik pulled him from the wall and soon they were navigating the corridors crowded with drunks and staff into the night. The cool air bristled over Price's skin, but it did little to cool the heat in his body, barely able to keep his hands off of Nik when they fell into the back of the cab. Nik sat contentedly, the backs of his fingers stroking up and down Price's forearm as he watched the city speed by.

Price's hands shook as he shoved the key in the door of his flat, and he turned just in time to be crowded across the threshold by Nik's chest. The door slammed shut and they tumbled onto the beaten up old sofa padded out with a spare duvet and pillow. Nik tore into Price's clothes remorselessly, thirty-ish quids worth of buttons skittered under Price's coffee table as the shirt was k.i.a. It didn't matter, because the feeling of Nik devouring his chest, scrubbing his stubble into sweat, hair and cologne with a deep, guttural groan, was worth every shirt Price owned and then some.

They fumbled and wrestled out of their clothes in search of skin. Nik worked his way down Price's body, wrenching his jeans and boxers over his thighs to lick a long stripe up the hard line of his prick before swallowing it in one. A strangled noise broke from Price's chest as he buried a fist in Nik's hair; the responding moan that vibrated in Nik's throat sent pleasure licking up Price's spine like tongues of flame. Nik kept him teetering on the brink, pulling away with a soft pop to work his way back up Price's body and squirm out of the baggy cargo shorts far enough to free his own cock. He took them both in one big hand and rutted forward, grabbing at the arm of the sofa behind Price's head for purchase.

Slicked by their precum and Nik's saliva, Nik fucked them both into his palm with enough pace and force to make the old sofa creak. He leaned down to kiss the moans and whimpers from Price's mouth in between growled pants of want, slipping in and out of Russian, English and some of the other eight languages he knew, like his brain had short-circuited and was spinning out. Fuckin' hot, is what it was. One of Price's hands joined Nik's, if only to feel the silky iron of his prick against another part of him. He squeezed tighter as his pleasure crested, balls pulling tight, and spilled between them.

Nik practically fucking purred with delight, thrusting against Price's spent cock until he grunted in discomfort before pulling away. No fucking way Price was letting him keep the upper hand; he snagged Nik's shorts and used them to yank him up until Nik's cum-slick cock hung over his face. His palm gripping one plentiful arse cheek, he sucked Nik into the back of his mouth, encouraging him to thrust in with a firm squeeze and low growl.

If Price had thought Nik had been loud before, the act of fucking Price's face had unearthed a whole new vocal range. Nik moaned, growled and panted like an animal, fisting Price's hair as his balls settled against the bristles on Price's chin. Price's throat spasmed, his chest ached, his damn eyes watered, but fuck he wanted Nik buried in him forever. His fingernails bit into the flesh of his arse, his spent cock flicking with interest across his belly, as Nik staked his claim. It took only a handful of deep thrusts before Nik hit his peak, buried to the hilt and spilling down Price's throat with a euphoric shout.

His grip loosened in Price's hair and he withdrew slowly, cock still twitching as it drew over Price's tongue. He replaced his prick with his mouth, kissing the taste of himself on Price's swollen lips with a bone deep moan, before lapping at the tear tracks on Price's cheeks.

At some point, Nik must have moved them to the bed, because Price resurfaced from his haze with his face on a thick, furry chest and a strong arm around his shoulders, the bedsheets draped up to their waist. Nik traced vague circles on Price's bicep, half lidded eyes unfocused as they stared at the ceiling. "I meant it," Nik said, clearly sensing Price's return from his post-fuck delirium. "Everything I said."

Price swallowed hard. How did you respond to that? Nothing in his life so far had prepared him for Nik's devotion. "I know," he murmured. "I... Me too. For a long time."

Nik shifted, rolling Price onto his back so he could look down into his eyes. "Then we make it work."

"Nik... Our lives, we... Shit could go upside down real bloody quick."

A finger pressed over his lips. "I specialise in upside down, captain."

"You just put your prick in my throat and you're still going with captain."

Nik shrugged, lopsided grin slipping back into place. "It is hot. Maybe I will fuck you in your uniform next time, hm?"

"Presumptuous, Nik..."

"Maybe over your desk." Nik sank down to kiss Price's neck.

"Cleaning lady would have somethin' to say about that."

"She is not invited. I do not share." A nip against his throat, and Price arched into Nik's chest.

"Fuck, okay... Mate, you're rabid."

"Hm, only for you."

Fuck. Only for you. Price closed his eyes as Nik's hand slid beneath the blanket. Yeah, fine, they could make this work. They could have this. They deserved it, this one thing, and fuck did Price want it bad.

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings. This chapter also has some suggestive themes and language

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men

Chapter 20

[Prev] [Next]

Law’s grip on your sweaty hand was grounding for you as you fidgeted in your seat.  Across the table from the two of you in the tiny medical conference room was Robin, who was silently shuffling through papers in front of her.  The room was so silent you could almost pick out the sound of the clock hands ticking away each passing second, each interval seeming to grow longer and longer.  You anxiously bit the inside of your cheek as you watched your doctor diligently sort through your comprehensive patient history.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally looked up.  “I think IVF will be a good method to try.  The success rate for women with endometriosis successfully conceiving and carrying to term with IVF is much higher than going without.  Additionally, you have undergone some treatment for your condition, which improves your chances much more substantially.”

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief, the tension seeming to roll off of your shoulders.  You glanced up at Law beside you, whose face was contorted in confusion.  The sight made you stifle a chuckle.

“Sorry, can you, uhm… explain what IVF is?” he asked Robin.  “Sorry I’m a bit useless with gynecological stuff.”

The question made Robin smile, appreciating his candidness.  “Of course, Law.  IVF stands for in vitro fertilization.  It’s a procedure where a mature egg is fertilized outside of the body and is then implanted into the uterus, thereby increasing chances of successful conception and embryo growth.  Of course, that’s the layman’s version of it.  But once I have your official go-ahead, I will explain in much greater detail.”

You could see the gears turning in your husband’s head, making you grin.  You loved the way he was clearly dissecting the mental image of what Robin had just explained.  He silently nodded.

“I would like to go through with it,” you affirmed.  “If it will increase our chances, then I’ll do anything.”

Robin organized your patient files in front of her, a content grin on her lips.  “I’m delighted to hear that.  If you’re ready, we can begin discussing the full process, since I imagine you would like to begin as soon as you possibly can.”

You eagerly nodded.  “Yes, absolutely.”

Law was counting in his head.  “How long has it been since the last miscarriage?”  He was growing so nervous in the stifling room that he was losing track of time.  You started to worry that he might be the one to pass out this time.

“Almost six months, I think,” you answered, rubbing the surface of your glass ring with your thumb.

Robin nodded.  “I believe that’s correct.  That’s a good amount of time for your body to heal, so you should be ready to conceive again with little issue.”  The black-haired woman reached into her bag in the chair beside her and procured her laptop, opening the device and clicking through a few windows.  “Are you okay if we begin discussing the procedure?”

“Yes I am,” you confirmed.  Law nodded beside you.

“Perfect.  The entire process could take anywhere between six to eight weeks, so I want you to be prepared for that waiting period.  Because, trust me, there will be a lot of waiting,” she explained.  She turned her computer around, displaying an illustrated diagram of a uterus and ovary.  She used her finger to point around the screen.  “I’m sure you’re more than familiar with what you’re looking at, so I won’t have to explain the anatomy.  We’ll monitor your menstruation cycle briefly, and then the process will begin with ovarian stimulation, which alone can last anywhere from eight to fourteen weeks.  This will ensure that multiple eggs can grow to maturity, instead of just one.  We will most likely use an injectable hormone medication for you, considering your condition.  Are you following?”

You once again nodded your head, laser focused on her words as her fingers moved around the diagram.  “Following.”  You weren’t so sure about Law, but you thought somewhere in that thick head of his he was absorbing your doctor’s long-winded explanation.

“Alright.  After ovarian stimulation, we’ll be monitoring your eggs while they’re still in your body every few days to ensure they are maturing properly with the medication.  36 hours before the retrieval, you’ll be given what’s called a “trigger shot,” to stimulate your eggs to complete maturation.  Egg retrieval will be done as a minimally invasive procedure, so you will be put under general anesthesia, but the process is quite short.  A suction tube will be inserted through your vagina with the help of an ultrasound, and a small needle will be placed through the tube to puncture your ovary and extract a small amount of mature eggs.  The eggs are stored on a petri dish and placed in an incubator to prepare them for fertilization.”

“Kind of like chicken eggs,” you joked.

Robin snapped her fingers with a chuckle.  “That’s a good comparison.  Once they’re ready to be fertilized, a single sperm will be injected into each egg on the dish.  It’s likely that not all the eggs will successfully be fertilized, but having the multitude of mature eggs greatly increases the chances that at least one will form an embryo.  You’ll have to wait a few days while the embryos develop on the dish, but once they have progressed far enough, they will be able to be transferred.  You also have the option to freeze unused fertilized embryos, in case you want to conceive again in the future.”

You and Law nodded along with her words.

“The embryo transfer itself is a very quick procedure, similar to a pap smear.  A speculum will be inserted into the vagina, and a catheter will be used to insert one or more of the fertilized embryos into your uterus.  Your body will usually take care of the embryo from there, having it latch to your uterine wall and form a placenta.  After about 14 days, we’ll give you a blood test that will determine if the pregnancy was successful.  If it is, then we’ll go about the usual pregnancy monitoring.  If not, we try again after a few menstrual cycles.  Understood?”

You and your husband leaned back in your chairs, taking deep breaths.  The explanation of the process was almost as exhausting as actually carrying out the procedure, but something in your chest told you that this was a good idea.  You had a giddy feeling develop deep within, almost begging you to go through with the long, arduous process, somehow promising that it would be worth it.

“I understand.  I want to go through with it,” you once again confirmed.

Robin smiled, amused by your willingness.  “I’m happy to hear that, we’ll be there constantly to support you and monitor your progress.  Let’s officially begin the process in a week.  We’ll need to do a comprehensive full blood panel, infectious disease screening for both of you, an evaluation of your reproductive system, and a male fertility test.  It’s just a formality,” she explained.

Law became slightly rigid in his seat, alerting your attention.  He appeared nervous as he asked, “Will I have to go back to the fertility clinic?”

Robin looked confused at his question.  “Yes, is there a problem with that?”

You thought briefly about why your husband would be so uncomfortable with returning to the clinic, until a sudden memory flashed into your brain.  The sight of Law, hunched over your kitchen counter with his head in his hands, guilt plaguing his entire being as he informed you he couldn’t ejaculate into the cup at the fertility clinic until he watched 15 minutes of porn on his phone with the volume as low as it could go.  You had laughed at his misery then, and you had to fight your entire body to hold in your laugh now.

Law quickly shook his head, collecting himself.  “No, no problem at all.”

The gynecologist’s eyebrow tilted up in confusion, but she dropped the subject as she wrote a list of instructions on a piece of paper before handing it to you.  “Take this to the reception desk to schedule your appointment for next week.  Most of the tests on you we can perform in this clinic, but your blood panel will have to be done at the outpatient laboratory.  I’m also going to file a prescription for estrogen patches so we can begin regulating your cycle.  Once all your tests are done and approved, we can proceed to the next step!”

You enthusiastically took the paper from her, reading over her guidelines and dates.  You smiled at your doctor, standing when she did and shaking her hand cordially.  “Thank you so much, Dr. Robin, I really appreciate it!”

“Of course, I’m more than happy to be able to help you two with this.  I’ll see you next week, alright?” she asked as she gathered her papers and laptop into her bag, preparing to leave the room and let you two continue on with your day.

You and Law gave her an affirmative nod as you departed, your husband following you like a lost dog to the reception desk so you could schedule your next appointments.  The only thing in his mind at that moment, however, was the dread of returning to the fertility clinic.  He did not want to have to deal with Dr. Franky again next week.

—

“HEYYYY, TRAFALGAR!  It’s good to see you again, welcome back!”

The booming voice of Dr. Franky made Law wince as the giant man entered the small room, another clear plastic cup clutched in his abnormally large hand.  The cardiac surgeon looked at the fertility doctor differently now that he knew that your gynecologist was this man’s wife.  What a small world.

“How are those swimmers doing, huh?” the blue-haired doctor asked, a bright smile on his face as he plopped himself down in the swiveling stool that rested below the medical counter.  He clacked a few times on his keyboard, looking up Law’s patient info.  “Here for another sperm sample, I see.”

“Just part of a protocol,” Law muttered, his face growing red with shame.

“Ahh, got it, got it.”  Dr. Franky nodded a few times as he typed.

Law felt his phone buzz a few times in his pocket, but ignored the urge to reach in and check his device while the boisterous man was in the room.

“Well, you know the drill!  Just–”

“I know, Doctor, I know…” Law mumbled, fighting the reflex of pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

With a pout, Franky passed over the clear cup, gave his regards, and left Law alone in the room.  Finally surrounded by silence, the man slipped his phone out of his pocket to see who had texted him during his brief yet horrendously awkward discussion with the fertility doctor.  His spirits immediately brightened upon seeing your name on the screen, followed by slight confusion upon reading your messages.

Wifey

Good luck at the clinic today baby!!!

Wifey

Thought these might help you ;)

Wifey

[3 Image Attachments]

Wifey

[1 Video Attachment]

Wifey

See you later darling <3

Law felt his face grow heated upon seeing the images you had sent him.  Suffice to say, he was not expecting it.

But his wife’s beautiful body was always worlds better than porn.

—

“Hey, I’m home!” you called into your apartment, kicking off your shoes.  The excited tapping sounds of Bepo greeted you, your cloud of a dog skidding across the floor into your entryway, his bushy tail wagging a mile a minute while his pink tongue lolled out of his mouth as he smiled up at you.  “Look who’s happy to see me!”

“Hey, hon,” Law called from around the corner, leaning against the wall as he watched you be smothered by the thick, billowing fur of your four-legged baby.  He had a smirk on his face as you stood to greet him, a surprised gasp leaving your throat as he grabbed your arms in his calloused hands and brought your lips to his, kissing you dumb.

When he finally pulled away, you flashed him a knowing grin.  “I take it you appreciated the ‘help’ I sent you?”  You used air quotes to punctuate your sentence.

“Oh, I more than appreciated it,” he hummed back, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck where he knew you were the most ticklish.  He delighted in the giggle that left your lips as you fisted his shirt in your hands.

Bepo eagerly butted in between your pairs of legs, demanding the attention to be on him.  He had spent so much time with Shachi and Penguin as of late that he was desperate for the love from his parents.  His big, beady eyes gazed up at the both of you as he silently demanded you to go to the living room and sit on the couch so he could curl up next to you.

“Okay, okay, let’s go sit down,” you relented, laughing as your dog immediately sprinted to his favorite couch cushion.  You followed your furry baby, Law’s hand in your own, a pleasant, content grin on your face.  You flopped down next to your dog, your husband following your lead and pulling your body down on top of his, your ear resting over his heart.  You could hear it thrumming away, endlessly excited about the concept of holding you.

“You know what I like about you, Law?” you asked, adjusting yourself to be more comfortable.  

“Other than the fact that I’m married to you?” he teased.

“Yes, other than all the obvious things that I like about you,” you joked back, poking a finger into his side.  “I like that you still treat me like you did when we were dating.”

Law’s eyebrows furrowed, trying to deconstruct what your words meant.  “What do you mean?”

You sighed.  “I don’t know… I was just thinking about it today.  Like, some married couples drift apart after they have kids or after big life tragedies, but you didn’t do that.  And I like that about you.”

Law wrapped his arms around you, linking his fingers together as they rested over the small of your back.  “Couples who leave each other after having kids probably didn’t have a spark to begin with,” he replied.  “Same with couples who give up on each other after bad events happen to them.  But that’s not us, it never has been and it never will be.”

“So you’ll still like me when I’m old and shriveled?” you asked, your voice holding a hint of sincere insecurity along with your joking tone.

“I’ll love you even when we’re decaying skeletons six feet underground,” he replied, planting a kiss to the crown of your head.  “Who knows, maybe the 80-year-old you will be even sexier than you are now.  Only one way to find out.”

“Law!” you yelped, laughing at his flirtatious remark.  A few more jokes were tossed between you two, lighthearted giggles floating through the air as you cuddled before you finally relaxed in his embrace.

“How did your tests go today?” your husband asked, idly trailing his hands up and down your sides.

“They went well, my blood panel was completely normal, but the nurse said I should try to up my Vitamin D intake,” you explained.  “My ultrasound and saline sonogram were fine, there was some endometrial tissue on the outside of my uterus but Robin said it shouldn’t pose a problem.  And my infectious disease panel…”

The way your voice trailed off made Law pick up his head to look at you, concern bubbling in his chest.

You gazed back up at him with a cheeky smile.  “No tuberculosis.”

Law barked out a laugh.  “I sure as hell hope not!”

You giggled along with him, dropping your head back down onto his test.  “Aside from my texts, how did your test go?”

Your husband grinned, though you couldn’t see with your current position.  “It went fine, thanks to you I was out of there much quicker.  Nothing abnormal with my semen, and I hope to whatever’s up there in the universe that I won’t have to go back there again.”

“Is it really that bad?” you asked, holding in your laughter.

“It’s just that Franky guy.  He’s so… loud.  He’s always the last person I see before I’m supposed to jerk off into a cup,” he lamented.

“Fertility doctors don’t get you hard?” you teased.

“Not when they call semen ‘little swimmers,’' he griped back.

The conversation was making you giggle uncontrollably, your body trembling in your husband’s grasp as you poked fun at his misfortune before finally getting your energy out and settling down.  “Well… for your sake, I’m happy you’re done with that, too.”

Another comfortable silence settled over the two of you as you lay back on the couch, your dog snuggled with both pairs of your feet.

“Are you feeling ready to start this whole thing?” Law asked.

You pondered your thoughts briefly.  “I’m… I’m definitely really nervous, but I think I’m ready.”

Law’s hand rested on the back of your head, supporting you against his chest.  “I’m not leaving you, baby.  I’ll keep promising that until my tongue falls out.”

His words made a relieved, content grin crawl to your lips as you buried your head further into the junction between his shoulder and neck.  “I love you, Law.”

“I love you, darling.”

[kinardsevan]

“you did so good. don’t worry, you-you did so good.” buck has surgery and tommy is with him on the recovery ward - extra points: buck in a gown and tommy is a comfort outfit

(ahem. you asked for this. Also, this might become something longer bc hurt/comfort feels)

Evans eyes slipped open slowly, vision hazy as he looked around the room. The walls were too clinically white for his comfort, and he could hear the beeping of a monitor speed up slightly as he tried to focus his vision. He tried to make noise, but the ventilator still in his throat was making that an issue. 

“Hey,” Tommy said suddenly, popping up from his spot resting on the side of the bed. He looked exhausted, but the worry on his face was obvious. He leaned  up against the bed, reaching out and cupping Evan’s hands in his face. 

Evan tried to talk again, barely managed to be audible around the tube, whimpering as a tear ran down his cheek. 

“Shh, baby, you did so good,” Tommy murmured back to him, wiping the tear away quickly with a thumb. “Don’t worry. You did so good.” 

Evan snuffled, turning into his fiancé’s hand. 

The surgery had not been planned. Tommy had taken him in a few weeks earlier after Evan had started having pain radiate out from his chest, upward, and then started having breathing issues. Initially they’d figured he’d pulled something. 

He’d wished he’d pulled something. It had been so much worse. 

The doctor had been concerned almost immediately when the combination of chest pain, difficulty breathing, and an irregular heartbeat had been found. There had been a CT ordered after that, which had led to them finding an aortic aneurysm. A “minor” one, the doctor had stated, which really meant that he still needed surgery to remove it, but that he hadn’t needed it that day. Instead, they’d sent him home with beta-blockers while they waited for insurance to process and a doctors note keeping him out of work. 

He’d barely slept during the two-and-a-half weeks that it took for the surgery to get approved by his insurance and then get scheduled. That had been a whole process too, given that his insurance was concerned that he didn’t actually “need” the surgery, given his age, granted his cardiac surgeon had been vehemently against that argument. 

In that way, he’d been lucky. His doctor had been more than willing to go toe-to-toe with Evan’s insurance, understanding that they were on a time limit of how long he could be left without treatment before surgery would be too risky. As it was, Evan was lucky to have found out about the aneurysm the way he did and not because it dissected. 

“You’re okay, baby,” Tommy murmured to him, continuing to stroke his cheek. 

Evan lifted his hand out of where Tommy was still holding it in his other hand and signed. “o-k?” 

Tommy nodded. “The doctor said the graft took really well. It’s gonna be a process getting back to work, but he said he was hopeful.” 

Another tear fell, and Tommy quickly wiped it away. 

Evan tugged on the end of Tommy’s sweater sleeve, wanting him closer. Tommy gave him a half smile, but shook his head. 

“You’re in a mountain of pillows for a few days, babe,” he told him. Evan glanced down at the bed and realized he was right, seeing each of the ones under his arms. He was issued a pair of shorts from the hospital given that he had at least a dozen tubes going in and out of him, and they needed direct access to his chest. They also had him in compression stockings, and he knew there were plans to get him up and moving once he was off the ventilator, with plans for someone from PT to come in and keep his leg moving so he didn’t end up forming new clots after this current surgery. He’d also ordered back on the blood thinners following this one, just as a precaution, but it still wasn’t something he loved. 

“Let me see if I can get you something,” Tommy murmured, sliding off the bed. Evan whimpered, but Tommy squeezed his hand, leaned down, and kissed his cheek before walking over to the pull-out cot in the room and digging into the duffel with their things. Evan stared at him as he did. Tommy had on a pair of black joggers and his black “born to fly” hoodie he’d gotten him for his birthday. The fact that he looked so cozy just made Evan want to snuggle up to him, which really just made his current predicament suck more.

Tommy returned a moment later, holding a t-shirt in his hand. He padded back over to the bed and held it up next to Evan’s face. Although the ventilator was doing a generous amount of breathing for Evan to not overwork his heart, he could still smell Tommy’s scent coming off the LAFD t-shirt.  His eyes crinkled at the best attempt of a smile he could manage, given the ventilator.  

Tommy rested it on the pillow next to his head before sitting back down next to him, taking his hand once more. 

“Better?” He asked. Evan lifted his hand, curled a fist, and signed yes. He blinked wearily, squeezing Tommy’s fingers inside his own hand. Tommy’s other hand lifted to his head again, stroking down on his hair. “Rest, baby. I’ll call Maddie up when you wake up again.” 

Evan nodded, turning his head towards where Tommy left the t-shirt, and let the scent of his love lull him under.