#i’ve been hesitating on posting this one for months

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

i only see daylight

summary: a few months before the Pittfest shooting, Dana calls you to the ED to calm down Dr. Robby, who's had a rough shift. This is a follow up to a fic I’ve already posted, linked below. This is a prequel, so it’s not strictly necessary to read that first! previous wc:  2 k+  a/n:  Please feel free to send any requests my way! Title taken from Daylight by Taylor Swift warnings: general fluff, canon typical stress

A single text from Dana had sent you running for the emergency department doors. ‘Any time to stop by today?’ You did your best not to panic, but she wasn’t one to ask you to come to the hospital without reason to. It was your day off from the bakery, but you’d spent it in the kitchen nonetheless. Batches of banana bread had already been packed in a bag that you planned to pawn off on the next emergency department worker that was sure to stop in the next morning, but there was no reason to wait, emergency or no, so you threw it over your shoulder on the way out the door. 

The walk was short, but stretched out in front of you dauntingly. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you did your best to take steadying breaths in the interest of not needing a bed once you arrived. You’d long ago been given permission to come through the ambulance bay, but it still felt like you were committing a bit of a crime. You smiled at the EMTs waiting in the ambulance bay and made your way to the nurse’s station, finding Donna on the phone with her glasses perched on her head. She spotted you and tucked the phone against her chest. “Hey, doll,” she called, before whoever was on the other end of the receiver demanded her attention. It seemed the emergency could wait a moment or two. 

You snuck into the staff room, depositing a few loaves of banana bread on the counter along with a little note inviting people to take a slice along with a few plates and napkins. It wasn’t uncommon for all of the dishes to be stuck in the sink, so you took it upon yourself to keep some paper plates and things stocked for them, bringing extra with any treats as well. You allowed yourself a small smile before heading back into the fray. 

“He’s on a tear today.” Heather had fallen into step beside you. You peaked at her, not breaking your stride. There was no need to ask who she was talking about, there’s only one doctor you seem to have a special sauce for calming down.

“What provoked him this time?” you ask, clasping your hands in front of you. 

“What makes you think someone provoked him?” she asked, laughing softly. “You are too nice, sometimes.” 

You shrug, unsure how to respond. 

“Thank god you’re here.” Frank falls into step on your other side. “I wasn’t sure Gloria would live to see the end of the day at this rate.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” you sigh, but take his sarcasm as a sign that things are maybe not as calm as you first suspected. “Banana bread in the breakroom.” 

“If I wasn’t already married…” 

“Go before I tell Abby about this.” you laugh, bumping your shoulder against his arm. The threat was empty, just like his flirting. It used to freak you out, but after meeting Abby and seeing the way they worked together, you knew that he was harmless. Some assurance from Michael on the matter hadn’t hurt either. 

He turned on his heel, marching straight for the room you’d just left. “How bad is it?” you asked Heather, searching the central rooms instead of meeting her eyes. 

“He’s been snippy, Gloria’s caught the most of it but he’s…” she hesitated, searching for the right words. “You know how he gets.” 

You nod, knowing that this likely wasn’t an easy day for anyone. You were searching for the right thing to say when a med student appeared at Heather’s side, pulling her away. She gave you a look that said ‘I’m sorry’, but you were quick to give her one that insisted you were okay in return. 

You flopped into a chair on Dana’s right, glad to see that she was off the phone. “What can I do for you, my love?” you ask, turning the chair side to side. 

“He’s finishing up with a patient in Central 7,” she said, not looking up from her tablet. 

“And?” 

“And we both know you’ll calm him right down.” 

“High expectations,” you huff, examining a hangnail you hadn’t noticed until now. 

You felt Dana’s gaze on you before you even looked up. “I tried it all. I fed him, I plied him with coffee and that special creamer you left last week.” you fought down the heat in your cheeks, knowing that you’d been caught. You always insisted the things you left were for no one in particular, and you were a terrible liar. “We ran interference on Gloria but she’s slippery today.” 

For someone who was not employed at this hospital, Gloria was a surprisingly large thorn in your side. She had a way of choosing the most inopportune time to bother your friends, and you were left to pick up the pieces. You heaved a deep breath, steadying yourself for what you needed to do. “I’ll give it my best shot.” 

Dana laid a hand on your shoulder, squeezing firmly. “I know, doll.” 

The curtain to Central 7 thwipped open, revealing your grumpy friend rubbing at the back of his neck. He took a deep breath before shaking his hand, shoving his hands in the pockets of his zip up. You gave him a once over, noting the lines between his brows and the way his shoulders were nearly touching his ears. Gloria really did a number on him. You waited for his gaze to drift your way, not wanting to overwhelm him if he wasn’t ready to talk. You knew how to help but you weren’t keen on making him feel like he had to accept it. 

He stopped to talk to Samira, who was your favorite of the residents, not that you’d ever admit to having one in front of anyone else. After a few moments, she caught your eye over Michael’s shoulder, and her eyes lit up. She offered you a little wave, but Micahel didn’t see, already checking over his shoulder. 

You gave him a sheepish smile, doing your best not to curl in on yourself. He said a few words to Samira, nodding once before making his way to the nurse’s station. He leaned on the opposite side of the counter, shoulders hunching as he leaned on the desk. He gave you a once over, checking you over for signs of sickness or injury, half a byproduct of his job and half because he had a tendency to worry about you more than most. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” you joke, breaking the silence. 

You can see a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but all you get is a heavy sigh. “I’m fine.” he insisted, voice heavy. 

“Mmhmm. I brought banana bread.” you gestured behind you to the staff lounge. 

He gave you one more once over, another sigh heaving from his chest. You lean forward, resting your chin on your folded hands. You do your best to look innocent, but his eyes narrow and you have to admit you’re losing the battle. “I’m fine,” he insisted. 

“You promised you wouldn’t do that with me.” your voice is soft, a stark contrast to the sounds of the ED that echoed around you. 

His head dropped, forehead resting against his arms. Your fingers twitched at your side, wanting to comfort him in a way that you knew would be more effective, but you were unsure if it would be appropriate at the moment. Probably not a good look for the attending to have his hair smoothed mid shift. After a few moments, he peeked at you, shield slipping just a bit. 

“You don’t have to tell me now, or at all for that matter, but please don’t pretend.” you took a breath, centering yourself. “I’m not going to break.”

You could almost see the thoughts swirling in his head. He’d confessed before that he worries about overwhelming you, or dulling some of your shine if he talks about a particularly bad shift. You didn’t say anything for a moment, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t spook him. You’d settled on a simple thank you, and the laughter that fought its way out of him had only made your heart warm. 

He nodded, his own deep breathing mirroring your own. You glanced at the clock, glad to see that it was late enough his shift should be ending soon. “Plans later?” He shook his head. “You wanna walk me back?” A nod. You smiled, some of the tension in your chest loosening. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. Go finish saving lives.” He smiled, backing away a few steps and nodding again. “No pressure, though!” you called after him, and his laugh washed away the remaining worry. 

“You did good, kid.” Dana said, and you swiveled your chair towards her, unaware that she had been watching. “Thought I was gonna have to send Abbot up after him.” 

Jack had mentioned their trips to the roof so casually, you weren’t sure if he was being serious at first. But when you’d stopped by with a few treats and a coffee with his name on it and found him on the wrong side of the guard rail, your heart stopped. He’d climbed back over the instant he saw you, and you did your best to quell the guilt over him having to comfort you. 

You shook your head, shooing the memory away. “Glad it didn’t come to that.” you say, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

Dana caught it, smiling to herself. “Hasn’t in a while, dear.” Her tone implied she wanted to say more, but the charge phone broke the tension and you were saved for a bit. The time passed quickly, a few med students stopping by to complement the banana bread, fielding questions about the fall menu from Princess and Perlah. 

“That bad today, huh?” you looked up from your phone to find Dr. Jack Abbot, backpack slung over his shoulder and a mischievous smirk on his face. 

“It’s been relatively calm since I got here-” 

“He usually is after you show up, long as you’re not too banged up.” There was no humor in his voice.

This time, your face went hot within seconds. It wasn’t a secret that you had a soft spot for Michael, and that he was a bit protective over you. But it wasn’t something either of you talked about. “I, um-” 

“Dr. Abbot, can I get your eyes on this?” you were saved by a med student, iPad in hand. Jack gave you a final once over before lending his full attention to the student. 

You blinked a few times, willing your thoughts to clear. You were stuck for a moment in the middle of the aisle, the sounds of heart monitors and other various equipment making it a bit difficult to think. A rough hand rested softly against your elbow, grounding you. You turned to find Michael, familiar backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“You ready?” he asked, eyebrows scrunching together above his nose. 

“If you are!” you said, mustering up some false cheer. 

“And you promised not to do that with me.” You spared him a sheepish look, knowing that you’d been caught. All you can do is nod, and let him lead you out. You waved goodbye to Dana, who was leaving in the opposite direction and did your best to focus on Michael’s hand on the small of your back, warm and sure and grounding. 

“You gonna tell me what’s got you so freaked out?” he asked once you were a few blocks from the hospital. 

“Just something Jack said.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“Probably not.” you laughed, although the nerves were still hanging around. “I thought I’d make dinner, if you’re up for it.” 

He laughed, the smile finally reaching his eyes. The little crinkles that appeared when he smiled made your stomach flip, in the most platonic way possible. “You’re a terrible cook.” 

“Fine, you make dinner then.” you huffed. He wasn’t wrong, you could make incredibly complicated french pastries, but cooking was often too freeform for you to really wrap your head around.  

“I ordered a pizza about three minutes before we left, we should beat it home by a couple minutes.” 

You smiled, looping your arm through his and doing your best not to focus too hard on how he’d referred to your place as home. There was time to worry about it later.

[squidthusiast]

From my college days, painting based on Norman Rockwell’s “Rosie the Riveter”

[sejanusarchive]

Alright, took a break from Tumblr but I’m back and the amount of drafts I have accumulated is getting ridiculous. Would it be super annoying if I posted a bunch of them? It wouldn’t be well thought out stuff, and some of them are very unserious as well

[spencerreidenjoyer]

addicted to you | spencer reid x reader

Spencer isn’t inclined to be affectionate with you. He’s a socially awkward germaphobe, and you’re perfectly fine with it. However, being three months into your relationship, you can’t help but want more. Once Spencer gets a taste, he wants more too. A lot more.

part 1 | part 2 - insatiable

wc: 6.1k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: established relationship, first times, virgin!spencer, early seasons spencer, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering praise kink, morning wood, morning sex, sex in unconventional places (like, not in public but not the bed lol), cunnilingus, creampie, implied multiple orgasms

a/n: no excuse for this insane fic but i was strangely inspired by a post i saw on twitter that i wanted to put a lighthearted (and horny) spin on. i definitely felt crazy writing this and i feel crazy posting this now so i sure hope you enjoy this insanity! (p.s you can also find this fic on ao3!)

You don’t mind that Spencer isn’t touchy. You understand, with Spencer being a germaphobe and a little socially awkward, that he isn’t inclined to kisses on the cheek or holding your hand. You’ve only been dating for three months, and he’s already getting better at doing these things, which makes your heart sing. 

Spencer is sweet, willing to do whatever it takes to make you happy. He used to shy away from your touch, but he’s gotten more comfortable with you. He lets you hold his hand when you’re out on a date, or he’ll kiss you chastely out in public. He lets you drape yourself over him when you’re sitting on the couch together watching a show, his arm around your waist to pull you in close. 

While you can understand Spencer’s hesitance towards public displays of affection, due to his awkwardness and anxieties about germs, you’re surprised he hasn’t initiated anything more in the privacy of his apartment (or yours). You’re starting to itch for it, something more, your attraction to Spencer Reid simply too overwhelming for it to simply be sweet and innocent anymore. Your body craves him desperately, because he’s so lovely and so fucking handsome. You’ve caught yourself staring at his hands more than once.

Tonight, you decide you’ll get what you want. You’re going to fuck Spencer Reid.

With your head buried in his shoulder during movie night, your hand runs down his body, getting dangerously close to his crotch – he jumps up off the couch, almost comedic, and stares at you like your touch had burned him. He looks positively freaked out. 

“Spencer,” you say, very confused that he’s not into this. What kind of man doesn’t like his girlfriend initiating sex? Hell, what kind of man doesn’t like sex? 

“I just–” Spencer pauses, like he’s struggling to find the words. “I can’t. Not right now, I–”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You assure him. “We don’t have to. Ever, if that’s what you want.”

His eyes widen again. “No! I want to, just– It’s difficult, right now.”

You cock your head slightly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Spencer frowns slightly, seeming to know that talking about it is the most rational thing to do, but it’s not like that makes him want to do it. “Well, I– I’ve never done it before.”

Your mouth falls open, just a little, and you look up at him. While you don’t mean to judge, it certainly isn’t surprising. Spencer was fourteen when he was starting university, and his general awkward demeanour and extreme nerdiness would likely rule out any sexual encounters for him during his time in college. Spencer’s line of work would clearly make it difficult for him to maintain a relationship – you definitely lucked out with getting to date him – and he’s too much of a softie for one night stands. So, Spencer Reid being a virgin at twenty-seven definitely checks out.

“That’s okay,” you say softly. “It’s totally normal.”

Spencer’s lips press into a thin line. “Well, you know it took me a while to get used to being affectionate with you, so I think–”

“Being intimate with someone else is going to be a hurdle you’ll need time to cross, too?” 

Spencer looks up at you, eyes wet, looking at you like you’ve read him like an open book. He whispers, “Yeah.”

“That’s okay,” you repeat, even though you’re trying to come to terms with the fact that you’re not going to fuck Spencer Reid tonight. “I’ll– We’ll take it slow, if you want to try.”

“Yes, please.” He has a small smile on his lips as he looks up at you. “I– We could try doing something tonight, too. I just– I wasn’t expecting it earlier. I’m sorry for pushing you off like that.”

You shake your head, reassuring him that you aren’t offended by it by any means. Then, you ask, “You’re sure you want to try? Tonight?”

Spencer nods, as he reaches for your hand. He holds it gently, resting it on his thigh. “Yeah. I haven’t– It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone, but I want to, with you.”

You lean in to kiss his cheek gently. “I’m glad you trust me.”

His eyes are soft and syrupy when he meets your gaze. “Of course I trust you.”

You squeeze Spencer’s thigh before pressing your lips to his, the familiarity of kissing Spencer making you both ease up a little more. Your kiss is gentle, sweet, just like every other kiss you've shared, but you let your hand slide up his thigh as you kiss him, and you can feel Spencer tensing up under your touch. You squeeze his thigh to reassure him, and you feel Spencer wriggle underneath where you're leaning your body weight on him to loosen up. 

Your hand skirts over his crotch, a hardness under your palm that makes you feel somewhat proud of yourself. Spencer’s breathing is heavy as he keeps kissing you, and keeps letting you touch him. You think he’s so cute. You just want to make him feel good. 

You push the waistband of his sweats down, tugging him out of his pants. His cock is the same shade of red as his cheeks, his shyness turning you on extremely. 

He doesn’t look down at himself, where you’re holding him – instead, his eyes are intently focused on your face. You don’t push him about it, instead leaning forward to kiss him as you start to stroke his cock. 

This time, it feels desperate. Spencer kisses you with more fervour, like a fire’s been lit within him, the pleasure running through his veins almost like liquid courage as he kisses you deeply. You’re more than happy to be doing this, letting Spencer lick into your mouth while you jerk him off. You appreciate the weight of him in your hand, imagining him inside of you – but perhaps you’re getting ahead of yourself. 

“You can touch me, Spence,” you say, in between Spencer kissing you fervently. His hands have been cupping your face, but otherwise he seems awkward with them. You pull back slightly, and while it’s adorable that he’s still holding your face sweetly, you drag his hands down to your chest, in the oversized t-shirt you’d stolen from Spencer’s drawer. “Like this.”

Spencer’s large hands cup your breasts through the shirt perfectly. He squeezes tentatively. You bite your lip as his palms brush over your nipples, as he manhandles you just a little. It’s more force than you’re used to from Spencer, kneading and squeezing and feeling you, and that makes your head spin. 

Daringly, Spencer’s hands slip under your shirt, as he leans back in to kiss you. You feel his calloused hands on your skin as he feels you up, making you shudder. His touch isn’t demanding nor pushy, simply exploratory as he feels your soft skin under his fingertips. 

Your arousal is pumping through your system, Spencer’s gentle submissiveness like a drug you can’t kick. The more you touch him, the more he reacts; touching you more, whimpering and gasping against your lips, into your neck.

“Come on, baby,” you coo in his ear, your hand speeding up on Spencer’s hardness. He’s leaking pathetically, wet in your palm, and he squirms underneath you. 

“I’m– It’s too–” Spencer cuts himself off with a helpless whine, like he can’t control himself. His hands grip your waist tight. “Please–”

“Mm,” you hum sympathetically, while you thoroughly enjoy seeing Spencer like this. “Wanna cum like this, baby?”

Spencer’s breathing hard. He can’t get the words out, but he shakes his head. You slow your strokes, to an excruciating pressure on his length. “No? Then tell me, Spence.”

“Inside you,” He gasps, eyes squeezed shut. 

You absolutely should not let Spencer fuck you for the first time on his couch, but he’s desperate and your resolve is steadily crumbling. “You– You’re sure?”

“Please,” Spencer gasps, his eyes pleading with you helplessly.

So, you pull your hand back and push your shorts off instead. Your panties come off in one fell swoop, and you sit back onto the couch with your legs spread. Spencer’s eyes are wide and his lips are parted as he looks at you, takes the sight of you in. 

Then he’s like a baby deer, standing up and fumbling to get his sweatpants off. You can’t help but giggle at his awkward movements, in his excitement and eagerness to get to touch you, to get to fuck you. He’s quick to get between your legs, his hardness nudging at your entrance already. 

“Mm, not yet, Spence,” you hum. You reach for his hand, taking his wrist as you guide his fingers to your clit. “You know what to do, right?”

He turns his wrist so his fingers – God, his fingers – are poised almost elegantly above your clit. He presses down and starts to circle his fingers against you. You gasp.

“Thought you didn’t– oh– Didn’t have much experience,” you gasp. You hold onto Spencer’s forearm tight, throwing your head back as Spencer pleasures you.

Spencer huffs out a laugh. “I might not be experienced, but I’m not a prude– I remember the… stuff I’ve seen. Eidetic memory and all.”

“Stuff,” you laugh. “I’m sure the porn you’ve watched must’ve helped, darling.”

He slips his fingers into your wetness with an unsurprising ease, considering how turned on you are by him. He hits spots inside you you’ve never thought were possible to reach, but they make electricity zip up your spine. You moan as he crooks his fingers into you, rocking them in and out with a wet squelch.

Spencer grins at you. “You were saying?”

“You’re a cocky bastard, you know that?” you huff, your tone teetering between awfully turned on and mildly annoyed. 

“You like it,” Spencer says, assured of himself, and you smile, because you really do.

“My love,” you moan, as Spencer presses his fingers into you, back out. “You should try fucking me now.”

Spencer’s fingers are still inside of you, and his eyes are wide as he looks up at you. “You think so?”

You smile at him. “If you think you’re up for it.”

You mourn the loss of Spencer’s fingers, but as he’s mumbling to himself and lining his cock up with your entrance, you can only coo at how adorable you find all of this. And how turned on you are, but that’s more than obvious to the both of you by now. 

He looks to you, like he’s looking for reassurance. You nod. Even in the silence, he’s gotten the confidence to push his cock into you, the thickness of his tip breaching your hole. You gasp as you stretch around him, your cunt making space for him as he slides in, excruciatingly slow. “Spencer–”

Spencer lets out a whine as your tight heat engulfs him, his length swallowed up by you as he sinks deeper into you. “Oh, my God–”

“Just like that, baby,” you moan, your leg hooking around Spencer’s leg to coax him forward, closer to you. “Fuck.”

“Do I– When should I–” Spencer gasps, unable to form a coherent sentence with the pleasure swimming through his bloodstream. 

“You can start moving when you don’t feel like you’re going to blow your load if you breathe the wrong way,” you joke, but Spencer does seriously look like he’s going to finish any second. “Hey. Deep breaths, baby.”

Spencer’s brows are furrowed and his eyes are squeezed shut as he breathes in hard, in through his nose and out through his mouth. He’d told you to do that when he’d helped you through a panic attack one time, and while you feel bad that he feels so nervous about all this, it’s extremely amusing to you right now. 

“Look at me,” you say, trying your best not to laugh. “You’re doing great, love.”

Spencer pulls his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes looking to you for validation. 

“So good for me, darling,” you coo, your hand on his hip, while your thumb draws little circles into his skin. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer shudders, voice high-pitched and a little breathy. “I– You feel really good.”

“Yeah? It’ll feel even better when you start moving, sweetheart,” you hum. “You think you can do that for me? Slow, out then back in.”

Spencer whimpers, nodding, and he takes another deep breath in. His hands on your waist, he pulls out halfway before pressing back into you, and he moans so loudly your ears ring. “So– So tight, you–”

“That’s good, yeah? Feels good?” you coo. “Come on, baby. More.”

Spencer rests one of his arms on the back of the couch, holding himself steady and getting him that much closer to you. He starts to thrust in and out, starting off slow as he finds a rhythm. 

His thrusts are erratic, but you’re so wildly turned on and it still feels amazing, because it’s Spencer. 

Spencer is frantic, desperate, bracing himself against the couch as he fucks into you. Maybe pounding into you is a better phrase to use, because he’s fucking you like a madman, till the couch is squeaking under both your weight. You cry out, feeling Spencer drilling into you – and it feels so good.

“Oh, God,” Spencer whines. “You– It’s so good, oh–”

“Yeah, baby?” You rock your hips along with him, burying Spencer deeper into you. You clench so each thrust is a little tighter, and each time Spencer fucks into you, he moans a little louder. 

Amidst Spencer’s whines and pretty noises, you watch his face morph with pleasure, feeling assured that he’s enjoying this as much as you are. In fact, he’s probably enjoying this more. As you’re lost in your train of thought, admiring Spencer’s gorgeous face, you’re startled when you feel Spencer’s load inside of you, hot and slick. His hips flush against your ass, Spencer shudders as he rides out his orgasm, body trembling from the force of his pleasure.

“Oh, Spence,” you giggle, a little dizzy from how turned on you are, from watching Spencer lose himself just like that. You reach up to cup his face, your thumb gentle on his cheek. “Was that good?”

“Oh,” Spencer mumbles, seemingly brought back to reality. He pulls back, taking the sight of you in. “I’m– I’m good, I’m sorry–”

“Don’t be,” you say. “You’re so cute. It’s so hot.”

“I mean, you are too, but– But you haven’t–”

“You wanna make it up to me, then?” You smile, gentle and warm and Spencer nods like he’s eager to please you. 

You kiss him while he pulls out, replacing the thickness of his cock with two fingers, which fit into you easily. Like before, Spencer presses his fingers into you, slick and wet and squelchy. Spencer curls them and fingerfucks you like a pro, like he’s done this a hundred times. With his face pressed into your shoulder and your arms slung around his neck, Spencer fucks you on his fingers until your toes are curling and you’re screaming his name. You cry out as you orgasm, shaking as Spencer fucks you through it. 

You’re almost embarrassed when you finally come back to your senses, no longer reeling from the intensity of your orgasm. Spencer is kissing your jawline sweetly, his clean hand stroking your hair.

“Hey,” Spencer says softly, somehow knowing you needed to hear him. He parrots you from earlier, “Was– Was that good?”

“So good, my love,” you murmur into his shoulder. Then, after a quiet moment, “I thought you needed some time to get comfortable with being intimate.” 

Spencer pauses for a moment, like he’s pondering it, before he says, “I know. But for you, I think I’d do anything.”

That’s all Spencer manages to get out before you kiss him again. It’s tender and sweet, the intensity behind your kiss no longer lustful but full of adoration and love. You feel like you could sob right now, but you manage to hold it back.

Spencer gets into the shower with you, which you’re surprised by, but his hands are soft on your body as he cleans you up. You shampoo his hair for him, even though he has to lean forward a little so you can reach. 

You end up falling asleep in Spencer’s bed, curled up in his arms. 

You don’t dream at night, but when you wake up with a hardness poking against your thigh and Spencer’s gentle snoring in your ear, you think you might be. 

In your dreariness, you reach behind you, the angular sharpness of Spencer’s hip bone under your palm. He’s warm, cuddled up against you, and the tickling of his breath on your neck tells you that this isn’t a dream. 

“Spence,” you whisper, shaking him slightly. You watch as he blinks himself awake, drowsy as he comes to focus on your face. “Hey.”

“Good morning,” Spencer says, his voice rough with disuse. “What’s up?”

“You are,” you smile, a little too pleased, as your hand snakes down toward his crotch. 

He squeaks at the contact, your soft hand on his hardness, “Um, sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” you laugh. “Had a good dream?”

He pulls his lower lip between his teeth. “About you, yeah.”

“Wanna tell me about it?” you goad, wiggling your eyebrows. 

Spencer’s cheeks somehow get even redder than they already were, but he shakes his head. “I want– I want to have sex, though.”

Your eyes widen. “Now?”

“Do you have the time for it?” He asks, sheepish. “I– I want to fuck you again.”

Your cheeks flush at Spencer’s sudden crudeness. You think about what Spencer could’ve possibly dreamt up, wonder how Spencer could possibly be confident enough to tell you straight up that he wants to fuck you. That phrase probably hadn’t been in Spencer’s lexicon until about twelve hours ago – while Spencer was smart – a literal genius – his innocence was completely understandable. 

“We have time,” you exhale, looking back into his eyes after looking at the clock. “I only have to be at the office in a couple of hours.”

“Good,” Spencer says, leaning in to kiss down your neck. His hands are frisky already, slipping underneath your shirt. Spencer splays his hands over your stomach, before reaching up to cup your breasts in his hands. 

“You like touching me like this, don’t you, baby?” you chuckle breathlessly, already feeling weak in the knees from the way Spencer holds you. “Mm, I’m surprised.”

“Why is that?” His words are slightly muffled against your skin, too busy kissing you to make himself sound coherent. His hands are rough against the softness of your skin, and you moan from the way he’s handling you.

“Yesterday you couldn’t even tell me you wanted to fuck,” you croon, thoroughly pleased. “And now you’re touching me like you know what you’re doing. It’s so hot.”

“I– I just can’t get enough of you,” Spencer admits, his earnest words turning you on extremely.

“Now you’re just horny,” you laugh, feeling Spencer’s hand slide over your underwear.

“Mm, you’re so wet right now too,” Spencer murmurs in your ear, his warm breath and raspy voice sending a shiver down your spine. Where’d he learn to talk like that? You squeeze your thighs together, but that doesn’t stop Spencer from feeling the wetness between your legs, soaking through your panties. 

“All for you, baby,” you gasp, as Spencer’s fingers slip past the band of your underwear, deftly stroking your clit. “Spencer–”

“Can I fuck you? Please?” He pleads, breathy, his hips already rutting forward against your ass. 

His eagerness makes your head spin, his sudden confidence in the realm of sex surprising – maybe it’s cockiness, but you still find that stupidly attractive – but it is certainly welcomed. 

“Yes, Spence, please,” you shudder, the word yes leaving your lips enough for Spencer to pull your underwear down, over the swell of your ass. He fumbles with his own boxers for a moment, but soon you feel his hard, leaking tip pressed to your butt. He rocks his hips back and forth, desperately seeking whatever friction he can get. 

Lost in his own pleasure, Spencer is quick to slide his cock between your legs, the wetness from your cunt making it easy for him to rut into the tight, slick space. Like this, his length rubs up against you, the head of his cock nudging at your clit with every thrust of his hips. It feels primal, Spencer so far gone that he isn’t even fucking you proper, content with the slick, tight space between your thighs and your pussy. You wonder if you need to tell him, but Spencer’s groan in your ear is shaky as his tip catches on your hole.

His arms wrapped around you, both of you moan as Spencer finally sinks his cock into you. He slides in too easily, so easily you almost think he’d hadn’t meant to do it. Maybe he hadn’t, but you’d gotten there in the end, where you both need to be; Spencer buried inside of you.

It’s so different from yesterday, the angle when he presses into you from behind so exhilarating, so good. He’s just as desperate as last night, but there’s a sort of reckless confidence in his movements. His hands slide under your shirt to grab at your tits again, rocking his hips while he practically gropes you. It’s so hot your head spins. You feel like you’re going to explode.

“Spencer!” You cry out, your voice ripping its way out of your throat. Pleasure surges through you like electricity, Spencer’s thick cock hitting all the right spots from this angle. His eager desperation turns you on to no end, as you let him take you from behind. While you weren’t expecting lazy, morning sex at all, the intensity and desperation he fucks you with right now makes you think you could get used to this.

Spencer’s whine has your head spinning. His hips don’t slow, more rhythmic than yesterday but still as needy. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Yeah?” You coo breathlessly. You’re so fucking turned on, and every time Spencer drives his hips into you you can hear how wet you really are. “You’re doing so good for me, Spence, fucking me so good.”

“You like it? Is it good?” Spencer gasps, always so eager to please you.

“So good,” you moan. You’re still sore from last night, but the pleasure Spencer is giving you right now overrides all of that. You would love for him to wake you up like this every day. “I’m close, baby.”

“Oh,” Spencer says, like he’s surprised you’re already getting off on this, on him– “What do you need me to do?”

“Just keep going, Spence,” you gasp. “Keep fucking me just like this.”

Spencer’s hum is breathy, high-pitched. Somehow, his grip on you gets tighter, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. The force he fucks you with is so wildly arousing. You’re so enamoured, and so turned on.

Your orgasm creeps up on you, slow and steady as it bubbles up inside of you. You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the dirty, rough way Spencer fucks you, and then you feel his soft lips on your neck again. He isn’t properly kissing you – more like slobbering all over your neck, but you cry out as he does so, thighs pressing together as you reach your orgasm. You’re shaking through it, clenching around Spencer as you come, and Spencer’s gasping as your tight pussy pushes Spencer over the edge too. You feel his come inside of you, cock twitching as his load spurts hot and heavy into your cunt. You sob, feeling Spencer slow his thrusts as he rides out his orgasm.

“Holy shit,” you say, your voice coming out ragged and hoarse. You feel like a different woman, being fucked ruthlessly by your boyfriend in his bed for the first time. You can’t get enough. 

“I love you,” Spencer says quietly, earnest. It makes you shudder. 

“You’re crazy,” you laugh, taken aback at how Spencer’s returned to his gentle, soft self. “I love you too, you madman.”

“I can’t resist you,” he murmurs in your ear, the vibrations of his raspy morning voice almost soothing.

You turn around to face him, Spencer still holding you in his arms. He smiles warmly at you, and you lean in to kiss him. “You’re so cute.”

“Wanna go again?” he asks, somewhat timid. 

Your eyes widen. You try to hide your grin, but it doesn’t work. “Someone’s desperate, huh?”

Spencer flushes a gorgeous red. “Maybe a little?”

“I have to get ready for work,” you sigh, actually a little bummed that you can't spend all day fucking Spencer. “Maybe tonight?”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles. “Want me to drive you back to yours?”

You grin. “You’re the best!”

Work is relatively uneventful, numbers and Excel spreadsheets; and all you can think about is Spencer’s rapid change in demeanour over the last twelve hours, his innocence torn away by you, leaving behind a horny, insatiable man. You’re kind of proud of yourself for that. 

So, you can’t blame yourself for being excited to get back to Spencer’s. Lately, you’ve been staying over more, your apartment simply a place to house your wardrobe. Maybe you’ll talk to Spencer about living together.

“Hey, Spence,” you say, pleased when Spencer kisses you as he greets you at the door. 

Even with all the probable germs on you from being out all day, Spencer’s surprisingly clingy, hands on your waist as he stumbles in behind you, as you set the takeout you’d brought over on his dining table. Spencer leans in behind you, kissing your cheek then down your neck.

“Hey, what’s with you, baby?” you chuckle, very much enjoying the way Spencer’s hands slide down your waist to your hips, grabbing the meat of your thighs through your dress pants.

“Missed you,” Spencer answers simply, but even you can tell there’s something in his voice that implies he’s looking for something more. 

“I’m sorry I had to leave you alone the whole day, my love. I’m sure you must’ve found something to busy yourself with, though?” You hum, teasing. You have a good idea of where this is going.

Spencer’s quiet for a moment, so you turn to look at him. His lips are pressed into a thin line, looking almost nervous, and his cheeks are flushed red. Spencer finally presses his body close to yours, and you feel it–

“Spence,” you grin, “Someone’s happy to see me.”

“Thought about it– Thought about you all day,” Spencer mumbles. “You promised.”

“What did I promise, baby?” you egg him on, eager to hear him say it, even though you definitely know what he’s going to ask. 

“That we would do it again tonight,” he answers, but you shoot him a look. “You said we would have sex again tonight.”

“Twice in one day? I don’t know, baby,” you pretend to sound disinterested.

Spencer looks at you with wide eyes. Respectful as ever, he clears his throat. “Please? If you’re tired we don’t have to, but I really want to. Only if you want to, though. This involves both of us, I don’t want to impose–”

You giggle, reaching to hold his hands. “God, you’re perfect.”

“What–?” Spencer barely gets the word out before you’re kissing him. He’s happy to do so, holding your face gently, matching your energy perfectly. You feel his cock pressing against you. 

“I turned you into a sex fiend,” you laugh, between kissing him, “And you’re still thinking about making sure I’m into it too.”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer’s brows furrow slightly, like he can’t comprehend how he could be into it if you weren’t too. “And I- I’m not a sex fiend, I just–”

Smiling, you whisper sultrily, “I think you should take me right here, baby.”

“Oh–” You cut Spencer off with another kiss, and he squeaks as you reach for his half-hard cock through his sweatpants. You’re positively delighted that Spencer’s like this, for you.

Spencer kisses you deeply, leaning forward until the small of your back hits the edge of the table. His hands coming up to your ass, he lifts you up, getting you to lay back on the table. You gasp, as Spencer kisses down the column of your neck, his hands making quick work of the buttons of your dress shirt. His lips are soft against your skin, at the swell of your breasts. Your shirt gets pushed off your shoulders. You feel him unhook your bra with a surprising ease, tossed aside, and then his hands are grabbing your tits like they were made for him. His thumbs brush over your nipples, a little forceful as he kneads at you, and your head is spinning. 

“Spencer,” you moan, as he kisses down your stomach, unbuttoning your pants to reveal your soaked-through underwear. He smiles up at you, his messy mop of hair a lovely sight. 

“Can I…?” Spencer’s big brown eyes dart down to where you’re soaked, then back up at you.

Your eyes widen. “Yes. If you want to.”

Spencer grins. “Of course I want to.”

His fingers are gentle on your hips as he pulls your panties off, wasting no time in spreading your legs so he can get between them. Your eyes are wide as you watch him, feeling kind of self-conscious over how eager he is to be doing this. Knelt between your thighs, he lifts one of your legs and swings them over his shoulder. You can feel his stubble on the soft skin of your inner thigh, his nose nudging against your clit. His tongue comes up, wet and hot, as he tastes you for the first time. “Spencer–”

He presses his face impossibly closer, more urgent in eating you out. You watch as his eyes flutter shut, his jaw flexing as his tongue works on you, and you’re trembling already. Spencer’s extremely good with his mouth, and you’re surprised at how good he’s making you feel, considering he likely hasn’t done this before. The sounds of his mouth are wet and squelchy and so obscene, and you would feel almost embarrassed, were it not for how into this Spencer seems to be too, 

With your hands in his hair, you cry out when Spencer’s tongue circles your swollen clit, jolts of pleasure sent through your body. You can’t think straight when Spencer’s face is buried between your legs, eating you out like he was made for this. All you can think about is how gifted Spencer is with his tongue, and how you wish you could do this all night. 

“Please, love,” you moan, “Need you to fuck me.”

Spencer hums in approval, the vibrations between your legs making you jump. He makes a little wet slurping noise before he comes back up, and you feel your cunt throb when he looks up at you with his lovely, wide brown eyes, and his chin wet and messy with your slick. Spencer wipes his face with the back of his hand, and you’re so turned on you might just explode.

“I love you,” you tell him earnestly. “I think this is the craziest thing I’ve ever done. I love you.”

“What is? Having sex on my dinner table?” Spencer quips, as he sets your legs down and stands back up. He has a cocky grin plastered on his face. 

You roll your eyes playfully. “First time for everything, right?”

Spencer nods, smiling, before he leans forward to kiss you sweetly. You watch as he pulls his sweatpants down, his cock bobbing up, red and angry and rock hard. You feel yourself salivating at the sight, but decide that he needs to fuck you right now.

“Spencer,” you mewl, feeling breathless as you watch him wrap a hand around himself, stroking his length. Concentration is written all over his face and it makes you want to kiss him. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” Spencer says, pressing his cock forward until he’s lined up with your entrance. It’s so tantalising, the way the blunt head of his cock threatens to slip into you. You’re so wet and so loose for him, and you need him inside of you now.

You gasp when he finally pushes in, his thick cock splitting you in half as he slides into you. The pressure is so perfect, the slow draw of his hips as he takes care not to rush, wanting to take care of you. Even with all this still being new for Spencer, he still focuses on you, puts you first. You’re not sure if you’re swooning over him, or the way his cock fits inside you perfectly.

You don’t need to encourage him to start moving. He rocks his hips slowly, somehow already familiar with your body, and makes you feel like you could explode with pleasure. 

He leans forward, pressing his body to yours as he kisses you. Like this, Spencer presses into you deeper, fucks you slow and deep and loving. The edge of the table is absolutely digging into your back, but you don’t care when every sense of yours is filled with Spencer, getting to taste and touch and hear him. You taste yourself on his tongue, hear the sloppy way he thrusts into you, your skin burning wherever he’s pressed up against you. 

Burying his face in your neck, Spencer pants in your ear, hot and heavy as he fucks you, giving you everything you need. Your head is swimming with arousal, as Spencer presses you against the table and fucks you like his life depends on it. “You feel so good, fuck, so good–”

“I’m so close, baby,” you cry out, the pace absolutely ruthless as Spencer fucks you. You didn’t think his stamina would be this good, considering your boyfriend’s lanky stature and abhorrence towards exercise. You certainly wouldn’t mind doing this kind of cardio with him more often. “Please, Spence–”

“Let go, I– I’m here for you,” Spencer stumbles over his words, but he’s so sweet that you’re losing yourself, your orgasm crashing into you like a tidal wave. You scream as you reach your peak, your toes curling while Spencer fucks you through it, shaking as pleasure and arousal zips through your body. Spencer’s hips stutter as the tightness of your pussy has him reeling, too close too quickly. 

While his hips keep a steady pace, you’re feeling loopy as Spencer continues to fuck you. You hold his head close to you, kissing his forehead as you murmur, “You’re so hot, Spence. Made me come so quickly, and you held out for me? So good for me, baby. Are you close?”

Spencer whines, a pitiful noise in the back of his throat. “Please, I’m so close, need you–”

“I’m right here, baby,” you coo, stroking his sweat-matted hair sweetly. You’re so enamoured with him. “Gonna cum inside me, Spence? Fill me up with your–”

You don’t even get to finish your dirty talk before Spencer is moaning, coming inside of you. It feels like he’s released so much inside of you, hot and messy as he fucks you through his own high. His chest heaves as he pants, trembling as he reels from the intensity of his orgasm. Spencer’s hips slow to a stop, and he mouths at your neck mindlessly until he seems to get his bearings back. You imagine you must look a mess, sweat and spit all over you, your makeup from a long day of work likely running by now. 

Spencer gets up off of you, so both of you have space to catch your breaths. You feel Spencer slip out of you with a slick ‘pop’, and feel his release trickle out of you just moments after. You stifle a quiet moan, but when you look up at Spencer, his eyes couldn’t possibly leave the sight between your legs. His lips are parted slightly, pupils blown wide, as he watches you drip with his release. You feel Spencer’s cock, resting against your inner thigh, twitch slightly. 

“Woah there, cowboy,” you chuckle, out of breath. “Give me a minute to recover.”

His eyes practically twinkle when they dart up to look at you. He’s like an excited puppy as he asks, “Again?”

You shake your head, laughing, and sit up to kiss Spencer again. “Maybe we could try something new?”

Spencer grins, nodding eagerly. It definitely seems like he’s down for whatever, as long as it’s with you. 

[itsnesss]

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐞 | kimi antonelli × fem!reader

summary | after accidentally posting a meme about kimi before he got his first pole position, you’re called to his team truck. what starts as a tense confrontation quickly turns into flirtation

warnings | fluff, mild language, flirting, romantic tension, kissing

word count | 1.0 k

🖇 more ka12 🖇️ f1 masterlist

It wasn’t intentional. Well… maybe just a little.

The meme had been ready since Friday. Kimi Antonelli: the prince of Free Practice Fridays, the ghost of Saturdays. It was funny, harmless… at least until he pulled off a magic lap in qualifying and got his first pole.

And you, on autopilot, posted it right after.

"When you make more shade than lap times," the caption read, over a photo of Kimi stepping out of the car, serious face, dark sunglasses. It was clever. It was viral. It was... a big mistake.

Your phone explodes.

First, the retweets. Then, the messages. After that, PR calls. And finally, the message you were dreading:

Kimi Antonelli: “Can you come to the truck for a second?”

You swallow hard. Take a deep breath. Walking toward the team area has never felt this long.

You find him leaning against the side door, still in his race suit, unzipped to the waist, a white shirt clinging to his chest, hair a little damp from the heat inside the helmet. He’s not smiling. He’s not even blinking.

“What was that?” he asks, in that tone so... Kimi. Serious. Calm. Lethal.

You try a nervous laugh.

“It was a mistake. I had the post scheduled before quali. I didn’t think you were gonna… well, pull off magic.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“So my mistake was proving you wrong today?”

“That’s not what I meant…”

“No?”

There’s a pause. You cross your arms. He studies you like you’re one of his corners on a brand-new circuit. Something shifts in his gaze. It's no longer just irritation. It’s curiosity. Playfulness.

“You know how many memes I’ve seen in the last three months?” he says, stepping closer. “Each one made me want to prove I’m more than just potential.”

Your heart drums. The air between you gets thicker than a gridlock in Monaco.

“And what do I have to do with that?”

“You’re the one posting them.”

“And you’re the one who got a pole. I fixed it, deleted it, celebrated it. What else do you want?”

Silence.

“An apology. In person.” Kimi barely smiles. “Because I want to hear if you sound as sarcastic as you write.”

You look at him. Long. You step closer. Your lips are just inches from his ear when you whisper:

“Sorry, Kimi. I really thought you’d qualify tenth.”

He chuckles. Drops his head for a second like he can’t believe it. Then looks up again. Closer. Sharper.

“You’re worse than I thought.”

“And you’re more intense than I expected.”

“Intense?” he repeats. “This isn’t intensity. This is passion. Whole different thing.”

That tone heats your cheeks. You look away. He notices.

“But you kinda like it, don’t you?”

“Don’t answer that,” you say, smiling even though you didn’t want to.

Silence again. But this time, it’s not uncomfortable. It’s loaded.

The distant noise of the paddock fades as he runs a hand through his hair and crosses his arms.

“You know what bothered me most about that meme...” he begins, lowering his voice, “wasn’t what it said. It’s that it came from you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re good. Too good. And I didn’t expect you to be the one doubting me.”

That hits harder than a badly taken chicane.

“I didn’t doubt you,” you murmur. “I laughed a little. But I never doubted.”

Kimi looks at you. Strong. Steady. Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he steps closer. Your back touches the side of the truck. His hand rests just beside your head.

“Wanna buy me a coffee to make up for it?”

“Coffee?”

“Or whatever you drink when you wanna make things right with someone who’s looking at you the way I’m looking at you.”

You hesitate for a second.

A coffee. Any excuse would work, but you know it’s not about that. Not when he looks at you like this. Not when his eyes scan your face like they’re trying to memorize it. Not when his voice is no longer a challenge, but a whisper full of intent.

“I could buy you something,” you say, barely audible. “But I don’t think it’ll be enough.”

He tilts his head.

“No?”

“No.”

Your eyes drop to his lips, unintentionally. He notices.

What happens next is quick, but it doesn’t feel that way. Everything slows down.

Kimi leans in, just enough. Close enough for you to feel the brush of his breath on your lips. He smells like hot engine, adrenaline, and something fresh you can’t quite name—but it feels right. Familiar. The air between you vibrates with silent tension.

“Tell me if you don’t want this,” he murmurs, his voice a whisper. “But if you don’t say anything…”

You don’t say anything.

You can’t.

Because deep down, you’ve been waiting for this.

And he knows it.

His lips brush yours like he’s testing the moment’s temperature. Like he’s giving you one more second to back out.

But you don’t.

So you kiss him.

Or he kisses you. You’re not even sure. What matters is that it happens.

Slow. Intentional. Almost tender, though there’s fire underneath. Your heart pounds like it might burst through your chest. Kimi holds you by the waist, not hard, but firm—like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. Your hands end up on his chest, feeling the same wild rhythm that says just one thing: he wanted this too.

The kiss deepens. Your lips find his with a terrifying ease. There’s no awkwardness. Just need. Just desire.

When you finally pull apart, just barely, both of you are breathing like you just ran a qualifying lap.

He smiles. This time, for real.

“I think that made up for the meme.”

“Only a little?”

“A lot.”

“Then maybe I should post another.”

Kimi laughs. And this time, it reaches his eyes.

“Post whatever you want. But I’ll need the right to reply.” He pauses. “Privately.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Emotional contract. After that kiss, you’re officially my personal community manager.”

You laugh. He looks at you like you’re his new trophy. And you, who were just there to do your job, realize the most important pole wasn’t the one he got on track.

It was the one that made you fall headfirst into this.

Into him.

[slowburningechoes]

office hours

Summary: After an unforgettable night, Wilson just can't seem to get his mind off you. It's a good thing you work at the same hospital, but it's too bad House is next door... right? (as promised @chardalton & @the-ultimate-obsessive-fangirl !!!)

Pairing: James Wilson (House, MD) x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: 18+ content (NSFW/NSFM) - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT / semi-secret relationship (only from House), inappropriate workplace behavior, semi-public sex, brief sexting, office sex, thigh riding, fingering, female ejaculation, secret lingerie, desk sex, exhibitionism, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up), breeding

Word Count: 5.4k

Inspired by: this post

Here is a link to ao3 if that is your preferred platform.

It was midday when Wilson’s text came through: Charting is killing me. I could use a break... preferably with you on my lap. My office. Now.

You glance at your phone as you wait by the nurse’s station for your next psych consult. The directness of his request makes your cheeks flush as you shift your phone from the threat of any prying eyes. 

You move to lean against a wall (where you’re sure no one will see) and quickly type your response: You really know how to give orders, don’t you? Good thing I’m not feeling too disobedient today, I’m on my way.

When he calls your name to enter after you knock, you can tell from the strained tone in his voice he’s feeling impatient. As you let yourself into his office, it becomes even more apparent. Wilson’s hands are tapping across his desk and his facial features are even more defined from the tension in his jaw.

“Did you need a consult, Dr. Wilson?” you tease, tilting your head and batting your eyes. 

There had been numerous “consults” between Wilson and you since started secretly seeing each other about three months ago and dating for the last month.  House had only recently begun to get suspicious, but, of course, you’d already covered your bases, informing Cuddy and having a quiet chat with HR, just to stay ahead of things.

“Oh, hush,” he groans, his tone flirtatious but laden with desire. “Come here, darling.” Raising a finger and curling it, he beckons you over.

You obliged without hesitation, happily prancing over to meet him behind his desk.

As your message had said, you really weren’t in a disobedient mood today, though you did like to be bratty on most occasions. All day you’d been daydreaming about last night — how Wilson had devoured your pussy like a man starved before fucking you senseless in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom. Admittedly, you had been wet all day, pressing your legs together desperately, trying your best to focus on clinic duty… but the images always slipped in, corrupting your mind and making you throb with need.

“You’re being awfully cooperative today, aren’t you?” Wilson smirked, caressing his hands over your hips, which were level with his face as he sat in his office chair.

You nod eagerly, biting your lip in an attempt to conceal the depth of desire you’ve been holding onto all day.

“That’s so unlike you,” Wilson hummed, voice coaxing. “Have you been thinking about me, angel?”

He senses your restraint and places a soft kiss on the sensitive spot near the crease of your thigh, the one he knows drives you wild.

A sigh escaped you and your admission slipped out, breathless, “Yes… fuck, yes. It’s been driving me insane all day.”

“I thought so,” Wilson grinned at your confession before adding his own, hands roaming across your torso, but one moving to grip your ass firmly, pulling you closer.  

“I’ve been thinking about you, too. Trying to do all this damn paperwork…,” a small grunt comes from his throat. “It’s so hard to concentrate when all I can think about is this.” His hand runs up the back of your thigh, bunching up your skirt, fingers sliding under the sides of your panties. 

Your skin practically aches under his touch, desperate for any contact it can get. Breathlessly, you moan his name, “J-James…”

“I can’t stop remembering how beautiful you looked last night — my dick buried so deep in you… hair all messy, your mouth gaping open, crying for me…,” Wilson whispers with need, pulling you onto his lap in one fluid motion. You were straddling his thigh, your back flush against his chest, reminiscent of how you were positioned against him as he completely ruined you in front of the mirror last night. “I know it’s only been half a day, but I couldn’t wait anymore…I had to get my hands on my gorgeous girl.”

You rest your head back against his shoulder, the heat between you undeniable as you roll your hips down into his thigh, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his neck. “Then touch me, please,” you whisper, voice thick with need.

Wilson’s groan is low and strained as his hands slide underneath your skirt, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of your underwear. His touch is gentle, savoring every second of this tension between you. As he traces the intricate rose-patterned lace beneath his fingers, he stops suddenly.

“Oh?” His voice cracks slightly, full of surprise and lust, the weight of his discovery heavy in the air. “You’re wearing these… here?”

A rush of heat flooded through you, your body responding to the thrill of the secret you’d been carrying all day. You knew exactly what they would do to him when you chose them this morning. The sultry red lace, a cheeky cut pair of panties he nearly tore off you the first time you wore them.

Wilson's fingers begin to move once again, dancing across the meshed fabric before flattening against you

"You really walked around all day like this?" His voice is thick with disbelief and hunger as he lifts up the back of your skirt to reveal the trail of red trim that perfectly curves against your ass cheeks. Wilson muttered a few unintelligible words to himself before releasing a pained groan, “You sat across from me in this morning’s consultation, acted completely normal, while you had these on underneath? Knowing what they do to me?" His fingers press slightly harder against your still-clothed core, lace straining beneath his touch, applying enough pressure you can’t help but gasp.

You bite your lip, catching your breath before nodding earnestly. "I thought about telling you," you admit teasingly, rolling down into him again, your body aching for more friction. "But it was much more fun wondering if you knew."

He presses his thigh against the motion of your hips, almost as if he were answering your request. You feel his desire grow beneath you, making your throbbing need intensify. Wilson’s lips linger just below your ear, voice low and deep, “God, I should’ve known. You kept shifting in your seat, crossing your legs too tightly… I almost asked if something was wrong.”

You smirk, leaning into him until your neck meets his lips, “And if I had told you?”

He places a desperate kiss against your throat before lightly grazing it with his teeth, his hand finally sliding beneath the waistband of your panties. “I would’ve had you in here with the door locked before my first patient. I can’t believe you’ve been this wet for me all day.”

Wilson’s digits don’t hesitate to find your core, sliding between your folds and making small circles against your bundle of nerves. His touch electrifies your senses, sending shock waves through your body, hardening your nipples and making your clit pulsate, desperate for more contact. As his fingers dip between your labia, teasing your entrance, a pleasurable moan escapes your lips (louder, admittedly, than you had expected) in the heat of the moment.

“Shhhh,” Wilson warned, quickly bringing his free hand to clasp over your parted lips, muffling the sound of your moan. “You better stay quiet, doll,” he purred in your ear, the heat of his breath nearly distracting you from his fingers dipping into your heat, testing your restraint. “We wouldn’t want House hearing next door, now would we?”

You smirk underneath his touch, the threat of House discovering you both this way making you ache with need even more. But you can feel from the way his breath hitches, the way his hands tremble slightly against your mouth, and his twitching bulge beneath you, that the thought excites him too.

“Naughty girl,” he hummed, his smirk evident in his voice as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His teeth scraped lightly over your pulse before he soothing the slight sting with his tongue. “You really get off on it, don’t you? Seeing just how much you can get away with before someone realizes just how bad you really are.”

A pitiful near-whine of “uh huh” is all you can manage as you buck your hips into his hand, his fingers now finding their rhythm pumping in and out of you. The pleasure was already overwhelming, but all you could think about was wanting more. More of his touch. More of that very unprofessional dirty talk flowing from his lips. More of whatever he had to give you.

Wilson obliged without the request even leaving your mind, curling his fingers inside you and mindlessly beginning to press his bulge harder against you, soft grunts falling from his lips  The circular motion of his thumb against your clit made your entire lower half numb with warm pleasure, forcing you to bite down on your lower lip hard to stifle the urge to cry out like you had the night before.

"You sat across from me today, acted so damn composed, knowing full well what you had on underneath," Wilson continues, voice tense and thick with the last bit of his restraint. "Now, you’re on my lap making such a mess, hoping that House will hear on the other side of that wall — aren’t you?” His fingers are still curled inside of you, picking up their pace until you feel pressure grow in your abdomen.

Heat floods your face as Wilson makes clear he knows exactly what you were thinking about.“I - I like that he could hear,” you admit, voice trembling with arousal as your clit and inner thighs begin to flood with heat. As you continue, you are practically babbling, mind consumed with numbing pleasure. Wilson’s fingers had found your most sensitive spot, knocking it over and over with just the right amount of force in his fingertips. “K-knowing that he could hear everything — how badly I need you. How good you make me feel. Him knowing what you do to me, how dirty I am — fuck...”

Your tangent comes to a halt as you feel your orgasm crash into you, one that was more intense than any you had experienced before. The pressure that had built inside of you was heavy and nearly painful, but the relief that washed over you as you released on his fingers was mind numbing. You rode out your climax on his fingers with a recklessness that was unfamiliar to you, driven by a hedonistic bliss that was desperate and raw. The satisfaction you felt made your entire body feel like it was on fire and — for once in your life — your mind was completely blank, drunk on some kind of animalistic ecstasy.

“Jesus Christ,” Wilson groans, his large hands on each of your ass cheeks, pushing you up to the edge of his thigh. “You just squirted all over me. Damn, t-that’s so hot…” He stares at his now-soaked slacks and your swollen pussy with wide-eyed admiration.

His trance is broken when you gasp, your sore clit grazing his knee, sending a shock of pleasurable pain through your upper thighs. Responding tentatively with care, Wilson brings you back to rest flush against his chest, pressing multiple tender kisses to your flushed cheek. “You did such a good job, darling. You were perfect, as always.”

Every part of your body is sensitive as he caresses your body, fingers dancing up and down your torso causing bumps to rise along your skin.

“But I hope you don’t think we’re done here, angel,” Wilson whispers teasingly, still gently caressing his fingers through your hair. “You nearly made me cum in my pants… and now, I want House to hear just how pretty you sound taking my cock.”

You whimper in response as your body melts into his touch, every muscle softening as he moves you to bend over the edge of his desk. It’s as if you’ve forgotten how to hold yourself up, hot cheek pressed against the cool wood as he hikes your skirt up around your hips and spreads your legs open for him. He pulls your panties down your thighs with careless want, the lace scratching against your skin before the fabric catches at your knees.

Wilson groaned at the sight of you laid out before him, completely pliant under his hands. His fingers trailed down the curve of your spine, slow and deliberate, savoring the way you shivered at his touch.

“Look at you,” he hums, voice thick with hungry admiration. His thumbs press into your hips, holding you in place as he leans in, lips ghosting over your ear. “So sensitive… needy… gorgeous...”

Wilson’s fingers are flat against you again, coaxing your body to open until all you can do is surrender under his touch. Your breath hitches as you feel Wilson’s swollen tip line up with your entrance perfectly before gliding through your folds, causing your pussy to instinctually clench around nothing. There is a deep wanting ache inside of you that hated his teasing, but your body numb with pleasure, could find no reason to complain, reacting with small jumps every time he brushed against your clit.

As you process the pleasure you feel as he continues to slide his cock through your slickness, Wilson’s left hand comes down to grip your ass firmly. Before you can process his touch, he releases his hold, only to apply a stinging slap that motivates a breathy cry to escape your lips. You were shocked at first, he had never spanked you before — even when you were being bratty — but the sharp burning made you become even more wet and desperate for him to fill you.

Wilson’s fingers brushed the warm, flushed skin of your backside. “Guess you really weren’t in the mood to be disobedient today,” the tone of approval in his voice made your clit throb harder. “So good for me… letting me take control like this. Letting me do whatever I want.”

You try to form a response, your mind still hazy and body trembling, but the words escape you. All that comes out is a soft, shaky (and admittedly, pitiful) whimper. You can feel Wilson grin from behind you, his confidence thick in the already charged air. 

“Normally, I love that bratty nature of yours,” he chuckles softly, lining himself back up with your entrance. “You’re always so sassy, testing me, ready with some biting comeback. But this…,” Wilson groaned, finally pressing his cock into you at (a still) painfully slow pace, “...seeing you speechless, so fucked out of your mind already… it’s doing something to me.”

As he bottomed out inside of you, you couldn’t help but moan, a sound coming out that was some attempt at his name. You had already come to know how wonderfully Wilson stretched you, but this heat from your first orgasm made you feel as if you were melting around him, perfectly molding against every vein ridge of his dick. 

Wilson began to move, thrusting in and out of you with small breathy grunts accompanying each movement. His hands braced against your hips, fingers digging deep into your soft flesh. You could feel his gaze drinking you in, flickering between your pussy gripping him and the expression on your face — cheeks rosy, lips slightly parted, and eyes heavy-lidded, rolling back every time he sank into you. 

For the first time in your slew of inappropriate work rendezvous, you didn’t (and truly, couldn’t) hold back the noises that escaped your lips, one cry coming out as some semblance of his name. Wilson’s tip hit against your cervix with the perfect amount of pressure, tapping it just firm enough that you nearly felt it in your stomach.

Your sounds made Wilson twitch inside of you, prompting him to pause briefly to keep himself from coming undone entirely. 

With a low groan, he leaned forward, his chest flush against your back and his lips hovering beside your ear. “Think House is sitting in there, pretending he doesn’t hear how wrecked you sound?” Wilson whispered, an almost mocking tone in his voice. His words send a chill of pleasure down your spine, as his hand comes up to wrap around your throat, pulling you from the desk, your back flat against his heaving chest. He continues, words still against your ear,“Or do you think he’s listening… really listening — wondering what I’m doing to make you come apart like this?”

The thought makes you gasp, the sound echoing , His fingers pressed slightly harder against the sides of your throat as you did. You clench around him, responding in absent-minded pleasure. “J-James,” is all you can whimper.

The idea of House, himself, hearing wasn’t what turned you on — it was the delicious anticipation of him discovering that his careful sensitive friend had completely lost control. The idea of Wilson, usually so measured and cautious, now completely undone, taking you raw, right here on his desk in the middle of the day, was intoxicating. It wasn’t just the thrill of it; it was the satisfaction of knowing you were the one who’d made him forget himself, made him lose his usual restraint. The tension between his normally composed, loyal nature and the raw, reckless abandon he was giving you sent a rush of heat through your veins, knowing it was all because of you. He’d never imagined being so reckless, and yet, here you were, the cause of his unraveling once again.

Wilson’s thrusts were becoming increasingly more sloppy, rutting into you at an uneven and needy rhythm. “God — you look so damn gorgeous, Y/N… letting me have you like this in the middle of the day…” his voice was breathy, trembling just like his legs as he fought to hold onto his control. “Y-you’re perfect… shit — you feel so, so good, my little secret… I - I  can’t…” You thought it was so cute — how he always started to ramble when he was close to cumming, every bit of sense escaping him.

A deep, shuddering moan came from his lips, hand dropping down from your throat, fingers digging into your hips, holding you against him like he never wanted to let go. Wilson’s cock delved deeper within you, so deep it was nearly painful as his hardening tip hit against your cervix with relentless fervor.

You whimper at the sound of his voice, the sensation of his touch consuming you. “James,  baby…” You felt close to the edge again, a familiar knot building within the pit of your stomach. “I-I’m about to…”

Wilson cuts you off with agreement,“I know, angel… me too.” His voice is rough, strained as he presses a gentle, reassuring kiss to your neck. “Let go for me,” he murmurs, nearly pleading, lips ghosting over your ear, breaths hot and uneven. “Come on, sweetheart… let me feel you cum on my cock, please.”

The way he says it, the way he’s holding you so tightly but with so much care — it’s all too much. Your body seizes, that coiling heat in your stomach rushing down your shaking thighs. “F-fuck…” A sharp, broken cry spilled from your lips as pleasure crashed over you. You didn’t care who heard at that point - House, Cuddy, anyone. Wilson groaned in response, as if the sound alone was enough to undo him… and it practically did.

His movements stuttered as your walls clenched around him, only to find euphoric relief as you became so soft and open for him. He was following closely behind you, hips thrusting once more until a guttural, shuddering moan tearing from his throat and you felt him release inside of you. He buried his face against your shoulder, forehead beaded with sweat and his whole body weak as he let go, completely and utterly undone.

Neither of you moves for a long moment, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure. Your breath is still coming in shallow gasps as you cling to him, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat slowing against your back. You both rest, regaining some composure in your muscles before breaking apart from one another.

Wilson presses a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to the curve of your neck. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

“Then keep taking me, James,” You hum, leaning into his touch, your fingers finding their way through his soft and, now, thoroughly tousled hair. He continues to place kisses along your neck as you speak. “Keep taking me like this, over and over… take all of me, until you’re completely satisfied… until you’ve had every part of me.”

“Oh, I’ll take all of you, sweetheart,” he assured, voice still rich with lust. His hands roam over your body once more, possessive and gentle at the same time, savoring the feel of your skin beneath his touch. “But I’m not going to let you forget how much you want me to… I’m going to take you until you’re lost in me. Until every part of you is completely mine.” His hands drift lower, his fingertips teasing as they glide across your skin, making your body hum with need. “And you’ll beg for it, every time, won’t you?”

“Mhm,” you reply, feeling the tension build inside of you once more. Just as you begin to beg him to spread you open again, reality creeped back in — the cool air against your heated skin, the quiet ticking of the clock, and the ever-present threat of someone walking in. A frustrated sigh escapes you as your fingers slid over his hand, which was cupping your breast, pressing it there for just a second longer before reluctantly stilling him. The disappointment of having to stop was palpable, a slow, burning ache lingering between you.

Wilson shifted behind you, groaning as he peeled himself away from your warmth. “We should… probably make ourselves look decent.” 

You stifled a giggle, watching him blush at the realization of what had just transpired. “Mmm, you think?”

His lips quirk as he reaches for his crumpled dress shirt. “Unless you want House walking in and figuring out why my tie is missing and my pants are all soaked.”

You adjust your skirt back down over your thighs before blinking quickly, confused. “…Your tie is missing?” When did that happen?

Wilson paused, his brows furrowed, equally as perplexed. His eyes look around the room, groaning when he finds it draped over his desk lamp. “Fantastic.”

Smirking, you remove the fabric and thread it under his collar, hands lingering against his still-heaving chest. Though the tension never left, it was palpable again. Wilson’s heart was thumping so hard in his chest, you could feel it beneath your trembling fingers. His eyes, gentler and warmer now, were still filled with lust and need as they admired you make the first loop of the tie knot.

The pulse of desire within the air, however, was so rudely interrupted by the unmistakable rap of a cane against the doorframe. Your heart skips, the rush of heat between your legs suddenly replaced by a sharp jolt of anxiety.

Wilson’s face falls, hand lingering on the edge of your hip, trying to hold onto the moment before reality rushes back in. You can feel his body tense as a whispered huff escapes him. “Damn it…”

House’s voice filtered through, ladened with an undeniably smug amusement. “Wilson! Open up or I start taking bets on what exactly I just heard…” Two more sharp taps from his cane shook the door. “My money is on ‘reckless desk defilement’, but I’m sure that Cuddy might have more creative ideas.”

A look of exasperation was plastered across Wilson’s face, eyes already rolling in annoyance as he reluctantly removed his hands from your side. As he moved to grasp the knob, he groaned in defeat, turning it until the lock clicked in release.

House didn’t let a second pass, stepping just inside the doorway with his usual aura of casual arrogance. He leaned against his cane, gaze flickering across the scene, taking in Wilson’s still undone tie, your messy hair, typically neatly placed desk accessories along the floor, and the undeniable tension that still electrified the air.

“Well, well,” he began, his lips slowly twisting into a cocky grin, “it seems I should have taken those bets. Could’ve made quite a bit of cash.”

“House —,” Wilson started, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying his best to regather a sense of control.

“Oh, dont ‘House’ me,” came the sing-song reply, teasing thick in House’s voice. “I heard everything… but I’m sure you already knew that.” 

You couldn’t deny that his acknowledgement of your recent activities made your core ache in some sick way. Your muscles stiffened, fingers wrapping tightly around the edge of the desk as you felt your cheeks burn. You were enjoying this more than you thought you would.

“Tsk, tsk, Wilson,” House drawled, shaking his head in exaggerated disappointment. “I expected better from you. Mid-day debauchery in your office? Highly unprofessional.” He smirked. “And here I thought you were all about romance.”

 “House, please,” Wilson groaned, dragging a hand down his face, blocking his eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not judging,” House interrupted, waving a hand to stop him from continuing. “If anything, I’m impressed.” His gaze slid to you, eyes glittering with mischief. “And you, didn’t take you for an exhibitionist, but judging by that glow…” he gave a slow nod of approval, “you enjoyed this.”

A slow heat crawled up your neck, but you refused to flinch. Instead, you tilted your head, feigning consideration as your cheeks grew flushed. “Maybe.”

House let out a sharp, delighted laugh. “Oh, I like her, Wilson. Try to keep this one?”

“Can we please just skip to why you’re here?” Wilson begged, voice crackly just slightly, painfully embarrassed that his best friend and girlfriend were having such an exchange.

House gave him a pointed look. “Oh, I actually do have a reason other than just confronting your kinky lunchtime rendezvous.” House leaned against his cane, grinning. “Cuddy’s looking for you. Says it’s urgent.”

Panicked questions fell from Wilson’s lips with urgency, “What? Why?”

House’s grin turned wolfish. “Could be about a case… hmmmm, could also be about the very audible display of workplace misconduct that echoed through the halls.” He rubbed his chin. “Really, it’s a toss-up.”

Your boyfriend let out an exasperated sigh, “Fantastic.”

“Wilson,” House said, moving towards the door as he motioned to Wilson’s chest and leg with his cane. “You might want to check a mirror before you go. You still look…” His piercing blue eyes flicked toward you. “Ravished.”

Wilson shot him a murderous glare but didn’t argue, running a hand through his already-messy hair in a feeble attempt at damage control.

House clapped his hands together, proudly pressing them against his lips. “God, this just made my entire week.”

You rolled your eyes, smoothing your skirt. “Try not to enjoy this too much.”

“Oh, don’t worry… I am.” House said teasingly. “The best part is.. it’s our little secret now…”

Wilson’s face grew more red, hot with embarrassment and anger. But with that comment, House strolled out, casually whistling away as if he was innocent to anything that had just occurred.

Wilson exhaled slowly as he fell back into his office chair. “I am going to kill him.”

You grinned sheepishly, stepping closer to him “Later.” Your fingers brushed his collar before continuing to adjust his tie. “Right now, you should probably focus on looking less like a man who just fucked someone senseless.”

“You’re not making that very easy,” he insisted as your lips grazed the skin beside his collar, nibbling lightly on his earlobe.

“That’s too bad,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, “because I’m about to make it even worse.”

“Oh?” Wilson said, suspicion and interest laced in his voice.

You stepped back slightly, letting the moment stretch as he watched you with a mixture of curiosity and hunger, breath becoming uneven once again. 

Slowly, your fingers skimmed along the hem of your skirt, deliberately teasing. Your lips curved into a wicked grin when you saw his gaze darken at the sight. His breath caught as you slid your hands beneath the fabric, fingertips ghosting over your still-sensitive skin. And then, with unhurried precision, you eased your underwear down your thighs. The deep red lace slipped past your knees, pooling at your ankles. 

You stepped out of them with a playful step before gathering the delicate fabric between your fingers and holding them out toward him with a knowing smile.

“Thought you might need a little something to remember me by today,” you murmured, voice rich and teasing.

Wilson’s throat worked as he swallowed, his eyes dark and sharp as they broke from the gift and lifted back to meet yours. He took the lace from your fingers, the brush of skin against skin igniting another spark of anticipation between you. He didn’t say anything at first, rolling the thin material between his fingers before wrapping it in a fist. His expression is nearly unreadable as the silence lingers, jaw tense and lips pressed together tightly.

Then, in a voice low and rough, Wilson spoke, “You’re trying to kill me.”

“Noooo,” you insist sarcastically, smile deepening at his response. “Just trying to make sure you don’t forget me while you’re off being a responsible doctor.”

Wilson exhaled sharply, his free hand gripping the armrest of his chair firmly, visibly struggling to get himself under control. He tucked the lace into the pocket of his dress pants, fingers lingering there for just a moment, as if resisting the urge to bring them to his face, to savor the warmth and scent still lingering on the fabric.

“You do realize what this is going to do to me,” he muttered, warm eyes scanning across your body as you straightened your skirt back down your legs.

His breath hitched as you stepped in even closer, bringing yourself to rest against his still-damp thigh. “That’s the point,” you murmur, voice smooth and sinful. “You’re going to spend the entire day thinking about me. About how I feel when you touch me, about the way I sound when I come undone for you… about the fact that I’m walking around bare beneath my clothes, still full of your cum… and aching for more.”

Wilson groaned deeply, his hand grasping your hip as he attempted to still himself, exhaling hard.

“Jesus, Y/N… you know you’re making it impossible for me to function today, right?” he said, almost like a complaint — but there’s no real protest in his tone, just a quiet, tortured amusement.

Wilson curses under his breath, his hands flexing against his chair again, like he’s a second away from grabbing you again from locking the door and taking you out on the balcony this time. Instead, he tilts his head back slightly, closing his eyes for just a moment, trying to will his restraint back into place.

When he opens them again, his pupils are still blown, voice still rough. “You are so unfair.” 

“I like keeping you on your toes.” You pressed a tender kiss to his cheek before moving to stand.

Wilson huffed a quiet, frustrated laugh, shaking his head as he glanced at the clock. “You better be waiting for me when I get home tonight,” he warns, straightening his tie. 

“Oh, James,” you smiled confidently as you backed toward the door, his gaze following you with a barely concealed hunger. “I’ll be waiting… but I won’t be patient.”

You let your hand hover over the doorknob for just a moment, savoring the tension and truly, not wanting to leave him. With a slow turn of your head, you glanced at him over your shoulder. He was still in shock, sitting so stiffly, like he didn’t trust himself to move… or simply couldn’t.

You smirk, admiring the devastation you’ve left in your wake. “Oh, and James?” you purred, voice cloyingly soft. “Enjoy your meeting with Cuddy.”

Wilson made a strangled noise, somewhere between a groan and a curse, running a hand down his face. “You’re evil.”

You took a slow step towards the door, tracing your finger up your thigh, bunching up the cloth just enough to watch his eyes flick down to your legs, reminding him that there was nothing beneath it.

“Have fun,” your voice dripped with amusement as you finally turned the knob to go, winking playfully at him as you skipped into the hallway.

Wilson let out a long breath, so deep it sounded like he had been holding it the entire time. As you stepped out, just before the door clicked shut, you heard him mutter under his breath – half frustration, half admiration — “She’s going to be the death of me.”

[inlovewithpandora]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ FIRST TIME FLUTTERS ᝰ You and Miguel feel the baby move in your belly for the first time.

Music Advisory — Miguel O’Hara x fem!preg!reader // fluff, domestic!miguel, established relationship [married couple], mom!reader & dad!miguel, pregnancy [second trimester], emotional [happy tears], belly rubbing + kissing, Miguel speaking Spanish [google translations included]

Duration — a little under 1.0k words

Words from Artist — This was such a cute and fun little Drabble I wanted to write with Miguel because I love writing him w/ prego!reader and I was inspired when I seen this tiktok couple (the video is so cute🥹!!). I have some longer fics in the works for him with prego!reader but I wanted to post something short/quick for him. As always feel free to comment and reblog, I enjoy reading y’all reactions and would love to hear your thoughts <3

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The quiet hum throughout your home is soothing while the scent of Miguel’s cologne lingers in the air and your favorite choice of music plays softly in the background. You're currently sitting on the couch, curled up in one of your husband’s oversized shirts, while your hand rests gently over your belly. At nearly five months pregnant, your baby bump is becoming more prominent, a constant reminder of the life that’s constantly growing inside you.

Miguel’s in the kitchen, finishing up dinner. Tonight is one of the many times he insisted on cooking for you instead of letting you lift a finger since you revealed to him that you were carrying his child. He’s been extra attentive lately, always making sure you’re comfortable, well-fed, and not pushing yourself too hard.

While your mind begins to wander on the baby, wondering if she’ll have more of your features or Miguel’s, you notice that the soft flutter you felt earlier this morning has returned feeling a little more prominent than before, like tiny butterfly wings brushing against your skin. Earlier you assumed your mind was playing tricks on you, you’ve been so excited to feel your baby girl moving inside your womb that you assumed your body mimicked the feeling of flutters but now that the feeling is more profound you know that it's real, that you're actually feeling your baby move for the first time.

“Miguel!” 

He appears into your line of sight in an instant, his sharp features softening when he sees the expression on your face. “What’s wrong, cariño?” His voice is laced with concern at first, not knowing what’s going on but when he notices the way your hand is cradling your belly, his brows raise in curiosity.

“She’s moving,” you whisper, your smile growing as you continue to feel movement in your belly. “I can feel her.”

Miguel’s eyes widen at your statement, and without hesitation, he comes by your side, kneeling in front of you so he can feel your daughter making her presence known. His large, callous hand replaces yours on your belly, his touch surprisingly gentle as he tries to find the magic spot. “De verdad? [really?] She’s moving?”

“Yeah, right here.” You place your hand over his, guiding him to where you feel movement. For a few moments, nothing happens, Miguel can’t feel anything and you can see the faintest trace of doubt cross his face. But then, the flutter comes again, soft and unmistakable, and his eyes lit up with pure wonder. “There she is,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I can feel her.”

He presses his hand more firmly to your belly while his other hand covers yours, wanting to feel your touch. “Mi niña hermosa [my beautiful girl], it’s me, your papí. Can you feel me?” 

You watch as his usual stoic demeanor melts away and you notice the softer and emotional side of him appear that only you and your daughter are allowed to see. Miguel bends closer, his lips brushing against your belly as he begins to speak to the baby. “Hola, mi amor. [Hello, my love.] I’ve been waiting to meet you. You’re already so strong, just like your mamá.” He kisses your belly gently, his voice growing thick with emotion as he imagines what life will be like raising a child with you. “Tu mamá y yo te amamos tanto. [Your mom and I love you so much.]”

You felt your throat tighten with emotion as you run your fingers through his dark hair, watching him pour his heart out to your unborn daughter. “You feel her again?” you ask softly, blinking away your tears, trying your best not to cry but the moment is just too heartwarming not to.

He nods, a tear slipping down his cheek as another flutter greets the palm of his hand. “Sí [Yes], she’s moving so much now. She knows we’re here.” He presses multiple kisses your belly now, moving his hand to different places on your flesh as he speaks life into his unborn child, wanting her to feel his love before she even takes her first breath. “Te prometo, mi niña, que siempre voy a cuidarte. [I promise you, my little girl, that I will always take care of you.] You’ll never have to be afraid, not while I’m here.”

His voice cracks as he speaks, and he looks up at you, his dark red eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “She’s really in there.” He says almost in disbelief, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes shift between you and your belly.

You let out a little chuckle while you nod in agreement, tears streaming down your cheeks as your hand rests on the back of his head, gently rubbing your thumb against his skin. “Yeah. She’s really in there, Miguel.”

Miguel straightens up, sitting on the couch with you as his hands keeps their current placement, protectively on your baby bump. “I’m going to be the best dad I can be for her.” Ever since you told him you were pregnant he’s made it his mission to become the most dedicated husband and father possible. His usual reserved and serious demeanor has softened ever since he found out, and despite his mind racing with concerns about the future holds, the risks, or his own responsibilities, he’s fully committed to doing his best. 

You lean your head against him, pressing your head against chest and wrapping your arm around his. “I already know you will be. She’s so lucky to have you.”

After a moment, Miguel leans over slightly, his face level with your belly once again. He rested both hands on each side of your bump and pressed another kiss to your skin. “Te amo, mi princesa. [I love you, my princess.] I can’t wait to meet you. You’re going to be amazing, I just know it.” He rubs slow circles on your belly, his lips brushing against it as he whispers against your soft skin.

Once Miguel is done talking to your unborn child, he pulls you into a deep embrace, wrapping his arms around your body and your belly as if he could shield you both from the world. “We’re going to be parents.” you whisper, your voice breaking once again as you fight back tears, trying to keep your emotions in check but due to pregnancy hormones it’s harder than usual.

He nods in agreement, kissing the top of your head, excited for what the future holds for the two of you. “We’re going to be the best parents.”

Fanbase — @migueloharasoulmate @d0ubl-tr0ubl3 @tater-tot0423 @theitgurl2 @miguelsesposa @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @maxlynn17 @kxllanxtdoor @ban-al3x @beargracecanbeanyone @miguellover6969 @3zae-zae3 @mellagzz @h3art-l3ss-blog1 @taylormarieee @popeheywardssecretgf @onlyloaksgf @solanawrld @baizzhu @savagemickey03 @soilmayo @lilmiss-stussy @pixiesrealm

[jaysng]

when you have to go on bed rest — park sunghoon

frustrated and emotional reader, stuck on bed rest during pregnancy, opens up to caring husband, sunghoon. overwhelmed, she asks him to hold her, seeking solace in his embrace as he gently reassures her, reminding her of her strength. [wc. 1.4k]

PAIRING. husband!sunghoon x preg!wife!reader

GENRE. reader is feeling hurt, so angsty fluff

NOTE. this has been sitting in my drafts for about a month now and i’ve been contemplating whether to post it or not.. but here i am guess

you hated being on bed rest.

every minute of it felt like a punishment. you were used to being on your feet, handling things your way, but now you were confined to your room, relying on everyone else to do what you couldn’t. and while your logical mind understood that it was for the baby, the emotional weight of it all was suffocating.

you sat propped against the headboard, arms crossed, staring out the window like it had personally wronged you. the ache in your back had returned, your legs felt stiff, and your mood was steadily getting worse.

the sound of the door opening broke you out of your sulk. sunghoon stepped inside, holding a glass of water in one hand and a small plate of sliced fruit in the other.

“you didn’t eat much earlier,” he said, setting the plate on the bedside table.

“i wasn’t hungry,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes.

he frowned slightly but didn’t push. “you still need to eat something.”

you sighed, glancing at the plate but not making a move to pick it up. the simple act of eating felt exhausting, and your frustration only grew.

sunghoon lingered for a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed. he didn’t say anything, his gaze quietly observing you.

“what?” you snapped, sharper than you meant to.

he shook his head, unfazed. “you just seem upset.”

“of course i’m upset, hoon!” you burst out, throwing your hands up. “i’m stuck in this stupid bed all day. i can’t even get up to get my own water. my body hurts. my head hurts. and—” your voice wavered, “—and i feel so useless.”

his expression softened, but he didn’t interrupt. he just let you spill it all out.

“i can’t even…” you trailed off, your hands trembling as you clenched them into fists. “i don’t know. i feel horrible. and i don’t want to talk about it, but i can’t keep it in either. i just—”

you broke off, your throat tightening as tears threatened to spill.

sunghoon hesitated for a split second before shifting closer, his hand hovering like he wasn’t sure if you wanted to be touched.

“can you just… hold me?” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. “please?”

his eyes softened further, and without a word, he slipped his arm around your shoulders, gently guiding you against his chest.

the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breathing—it was grounding. you let out a shaky breath, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as the dam finally broke.

“i feel like such a mess,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against him.

“you’re not a mess,” he said quietly, his voice calm and certain. “you’re just overwhelmed. it’s okay.”

his hand moved slowly, rubbing soothing circles on your back. he didn’t try to fix anything or offer solutions—he just let you cry, let you feel.

“i don’t know how much more of this i can take,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

“you don’t have to take it alone,” he said simply. “i’m here.”

it was such a sunghoon thing to say—straightforward, without unnecessary embellishments. but somehow, that made it more comforting.

“i hate being like this,” you whispered. “so… weak.”

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his brow furrowed. “you’re not weak,” he said, his tone firmer now. “you’re growing a whole human inside you. that’s… incredible.”

you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “doesn’t feel incredible.”

“doesn’t mean it’s not,” he countered, his fingers brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “and even if you feel like you’re falling apart, it’s okay. i’ll hold you together, for as long as you need.”

you looked at him, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his eyes.

“thank you,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

he didn’t respond with words, just wrapped his arms around you again, holding you close like you were the most important thing in the world.

and for the first time that day, the frustration in your chest eased, just a little. enough to remind you that you weren’t alone in this.

© jaysng 2024 | do not repost or plagiarize.

[skzdust]

A Collar With A Tag

SMUT. MINORS DNI.

Mingi... alpha Mingi... my beloved... this is just a short little fic with NO plot but I love himmmmm

Shout out to @isawafilmtodayonbluejayway who put this idea on one of my request posts and gave me this idea 🫶 I love pet play and I love Mingi so thank you for getting me inspired!

Summary: You get home to find your roommate in rut, and he wants you to be his puppy.

Pairing: Alpha!Mingi x Omega!Afab!Reader

Includes: omegaverse/a/b/o, pet play, "puppy", "slut", mentions of collars, mentions of choking, knotting, coming inside, post-sex cuddles

Word count: 1.3k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

The scent hit you the second you opened the door. Hot, needy, almost predatory.

And so distinctively Mingi it made you ache.

You locked the door behind you. “Mingi?” You called into the house. “You okay?”

There was no answer. You went up the stairs, dropping your things in your bedroom before knocking softly on the door to Mingi’s.

“Y/n…” Mingi moaned. “Come in.”

Mingi was laying back on the bed, sweat visible on his forehead from the door. He was breathing hard, panting, his hands folded on his lap.

“You okay?”

“I’m— I’m fine.”

You looked him up and down. “You don’t look fine.”

“I’m fine.” His teeth were gritted. “And if you come any further into this room I will pin you down and breed that omega cunt so full you’ll feel it for days.”

A wave of heat went through your body. “You’re in rut.”

“No shit.”

You took a step inside. “Is there anything I can get you? Do you want water, or—”

Mingi hadn’t been kidding, apparently, because he was on you in a second, grabbing your waist and picking you up before throwing you on the bed. You yelped. “Mingi—”

“Tell me to stop.” He growled. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You hesitated. “Mingi… we shouldn’t.”

“I don’t care.” His voice went dangerous. “I don’t give a a shit what we should or shouldn’t do. I need to breed something, and I’ve restrained myself from coming in and fucking you silly every heat you’ve had since I moved into this damn house with you, and now you’re here?” He laughed. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to turn you into my good little puppy for months now.”

You opened your mouth to whine, but Mingi was already working your jeans down your legs. “You ready for my alpha cock to split you open, puppy?”

“Yes.” You breathed.

“You’re not gonna be able to fucking speak when I’m done with you.” He threw your jeans somewhere over his shoulder. “But while you still can, beg like a good puppy should.”

You were already slick for him. You shifted your legs to try and hide your dripping pussy, but he was already pushing your thighs apart.

His scent shifted. He was even hornier now looking at you.

“Mingi, please.” You sobbed. “Please fuck me.”

“Better.” He snarled, hauling you up and tossing you closer to the center of his bed. Your hips pushed up desperately against the air.

“Please, Mingi, I’m your good puppy, I’ll be your good puppy, just tell me what to do!” You were aching bad at this point, so ready for Mingi’s cock it was all you could do not to jump on him yourself.

You had a feeling bad dogs would get reprimanded, though, and you didn’t want that, so you stayed on your back, shivering under his harsh gaze.

“You’re lucky I’m in rut, or I’d tease you a lot longer, but as it is right now, I just need to knot that slick cunt.” He took off his own pants, and your mouth practically dropped at seeing his cock. It was so big, you didn’t know how it would fit, with a knot so wide you were seeing stars before it was even inside you.

He lined himself up, looking at you with a smirk for a second before driving his whole cock inside you in one thrust.

You gasped for breath, the fullness overwhelming. Your gasping turned to whimpers and whines, and your hips pushed up to meet Mingi. “Fuck me!”

“You’d think you’re the one in heat here, not me.” He groaned, starting to fuck into you faster than you’d ever been fucked before. He seemed to read your mind. “I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else.” His thrusts grew impossibly faster. “You’re fucking mine, you hear me? My puppy slut, my toy to fuck.”

“Yes, Mingi!” You threw your head back. “Yes, God, you fill me up so full, ugh, don’t stop…”

“Good puppy.” His hand wrapped around your throat. “Too bad we don’t have a real collar right now, my hand will just have to do.”

“Get me a collar.” You whined. “Please, Mingi, want everyone to see I’m yours.”

“I’ll get you one with a tag. A collar with a tag. Mingi’s puppy. Would you like that?” His voice was low, ever-shifting with the effort he was putting into fucking you. “You would, wouldn’t you, slut?”

“Yeah.” Your eyes rolled back as his hand twitched around your neck. He wasn’t choking you, just holding your neck, an ever-present reminder— maybe a promise— that you were his, his plaything, his puppy. “Yeah, need that, Mingi.”

“Good fuckpet.”

Your breath was erratic. It felt like everything Mingi said had you gasping or whining or making some kind of pathetic little noise.

“I’m gonna knot you.” He continued. “Gonna fill you up with my cum, stuff you airtight. My puppy deserves it for being so well-behaved.”

“Please! Please.”

He kept fucking you, his fingers twitching on your neck, your hip. He felt so fucking big inside you, you had no idea how his knot would fit, but you were excited to see how good it would feel when Mingi stuffed it inside you. You had a feeling he would make it fit.

You didn’t have to wait long. “Gonna knot you, puppy.”

“Yes.” You groaned. “Yes, please.”

Mingi pushed inside and stayed inside, and from that feeling alone you could’ve come, but when his knot inflated and he was locked inside you, you were pushed over the edge into your climax. You shook as he filled you up, his fingers surely leaving bruises on your hips. He murmured a string of pet names, commands, and other dirty things as he came. “Good slut, good puppy, take me so well, take my cum so good. Look at you, you’re such a good girl, such a good girl for me.”

When he was done, he carefully moved both of you onto your sides so you were facing each other, locked together. He brushed a piece of hair off your face. “Did that feel good?”

You swatted him, but there was no real fire behind it. “It felt amazing, did you even need to ask that question? God, you feel so good.” You moaned as he shifted a bit, moving inside you.

“So you… you like being my puppy?”

“Yes, I like being your puppy.” You smiled at him. “I like being yours.”

He smiled back. “I’ve wanted you for a long time, y/n.”

“And I’ve wanted you.” You said softly.

“It’ll take some time before this rut’s over, you know…”

You laughed loudly. “You can just ask me to help me through your rut, Mingi.”

“Can you help me through my rut?”

“I’d—” You cut yourself off with a moan as he thrust shallowly inside you, the knot preventing him from doing too much. He smirked.

You rolled your eyes. “I was going to say I’d love to, but if you’re going to act like this the whole time—”

“I won’t, I won’t, I’m sorry.” He giggled, but then his eyes darkened as he looked at you. “You just feel so fucking good around me, I can’t resist.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Yes, Mingi, I would love to help you through your rut.”

He scooped you into a hug, and despite the giant cock inside you, you relaxed into him. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” You murmured, finding his hair and stroking through it with your fingers. “Anytime.”

[surielstea]

Meet the Family

Based on a request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel takes reader to meet the Inner Circle for the first time and they take the opportunity to embarrass him.

Warnings: Mostly fluff, a little bit of angst about Azriel’s past but it’s super brief!!

A.Note: Not totally happy with this one, but I had to post it because I’ve been picking at it for like a month and I’m still not satisfied 😭😭 but I hope it’s okay for you guys nonetheless :)

2.2k words.

The River House was a vision, filled with soft music, warm laughter, and the shimmering glow of starlight spilling in through massive windows. Outside, the Sidra sparkled under the moonlight, and the first stars were just beginning to twinkle in the dark sky. The magic of Starfall hummed in the air, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace.

Azriel's hand gripped mine tightly as we walked through the grand double doors, his fingers laced firmly through mine. His posture was confident, as always, but I could feel the tension radiating from him. It wasn't nerves—not in the way most people would recognize—but I could tell he was hyper-aware of me, of this night, of the fact that this was my first real introduction to the people he considered his family.

I squeezed his hand and glanced up at him. "Relax, Az," I murmured. "I'm not going anywhere."

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile playing across his face. "You say that now," he replied, his voice low, "but you haven't met them yet."

I grinned. "You've told me so much about them. I already feel like I know them."

He gave me a sidelong glance, shadows curling at his shoulders as if they, too, were nervous. "We'll see if you still feel that way by the end of the night."

The energy inside the River House was infectious. Rhysand and Feyre stood near the bar, their heads tilted close as they shared a quiet laugh. Cassian's booming voice echoed across the room, punctuated by Mor's light, musical laughter. Even Amren, perched on a nearby couch, looked somewhat at ease.

Azriel didn't hesitate, guiding me straight into the fray. The first person to intercept us was Cassian, and he greeted me with the kind of enthusiasm that could knock a person over.

"So this is her," Cassian declared, his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief as he approached, his swagger entirely unmissable. He crossed his arms, towering over me, but his grin was warm and disarming. "The one who finally managed to pull Azriel out of his brooding lair. You know, we were starting to think it would never happen."

“You must be Cassian.” I smirked, undeterred by his towering frame or the teasing glint in his eyes.

Cassian’s grin grew wild. "He talks about me?" he asked, eyes glinting with adoration as he puffs out his chest with pride.

I nodded, smile twitching at my lips as I feel Azriel’s glare tightening on mine in warning. “Oh, non-stop,” I wink, leaning into my mates side.

“Oh, I like her,” Cassian said, clapping Azriel on the shoulder hard enough to make him sway slightly. "Hold onto this one."

Azriel muttered something under his breath, and I didn't miss the faint pink tinge creeping up his neck. I leaned closer to him, just enough to whisper, "I think he's testing how far he can go before you snap."

Azriel's sigh was audible as he reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine and pulling me toward the next room. "All right, enough," he muttered, though I caught the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Don't worry," I whispered to Azriel as we walked away. "I'll try not to inflate his ego too much."

Azriel shook his head, his voice dry. "You’ve already gave him enough to go off for the rest of the month."

I laughed softly as we moved further into the house, where another figure approached. Dark hair, violet eyes, and a smile so charming it could disarm anyone. Rhysand was everything Azriel had described—and then some.

"So you're the mysterious girl we've been hearing about," Rhys said, his gaze sweeping over me with a curiosity that didn't feel intrusive. "It's about time he brought you around. Though I admit, I was beginning to think you were a myth."

"It’s not too late for us to leave," Azriel interjected before I could respond, his tone wry.

"Azriel," I chided lightly, looking back at Rhysand. "Thank you for having me. Your home is beautiful."

Rhys inclined his head, his smile widening. "That was all my mate—but please, call me Rhys. And don't let Azriel scare you off. We're all family here. Though, judging by the way he's glaring at me, I'd say you're already part of that family."

Azriel's glare darkened, but I squeezed his hand, stifling a laugh. "Is he always this angry with you and Cassian?" I teased.

"Oh, constantly," Rhys replied smoothly. "But don't let him fool you. He's just worried we'll steal you away."

"I think I can handle that," I said with a grin. "But thank you for the warning."

Before Rhys could reply, two women appeared, their energy like a whirlwind. One with golden hair and bright eyes practically bounced toward me. The other, with chestnut locks and a calm demeanor, followed close behind, a soft smile gracing her lips.

"Finally!" Mor exclaimed, pulling me into a warm hug that I quickly returned. "Another girl to help balance out all the testosterone in this group. You have no idea how long I've waited for this."

I laughed, her enthusiasm infectious. "I'll do my best to even the odds."

"She's already perfect," Mor declared, spinning to face Azriel. "Why didn't you bring her sooner? Were you hiding her from us?"

Azriel sighed, his free hand pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can we not do this right now?"

"Oh, we’re absolutely doing this right now," Feyre interjected, her voice warm and teasing as she stepped forward. "It's wonderful to finally meet you. I hope you're ready for this lot—they're a handful."

"I think I can handle it," I said with a grin, glancing at Azriel. "I've had some practice, after all." I say while patting his hard chest.

Mor laughed, the sound a melodic song of harmonizing notes and rhythm. "Oh, she's good."

Azriel's hand tightened around my waist as he muttered, "All right. That's enough."

But Mor wasn't done yet. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that everyone could still hear. "So, what's the verdict? Is he as broody at home as he is here?"

Azriel groaned audibly, his head tilting back as if beseeching the heavens for patience. "Can we please move on?”

I bit back a laugh, deciding to play along. "He has his moments," I said, feigning seriousness. "But don't worry, I've been working on getting him to smile more. It's a work in progress." I wink, knowing deep down it was the opposite. It was rare I saw the Shadow Singer, he left when Azriel came home.

Mor's eyes sparkled with delight. "Oh I definitely like you.”

"Don't encourage her," Azriel muttered, his voice low but not unkind. His family didn't miss the way his hand lingered at my waist, nor the faint smile tugging at his lips despite his best efforts.

Rhysand, Cassian, and Mor exchanged knowing glances, their amusement clear. These three of known him longest. His true family. It was wrong to compare myself to them, but they had so much history that I’d never get the chance to even earn. Azriel’s arm slithered around my waist tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple in reassurance.

Cassian leaned closer, his grin wicked. "Territorial already, huh? Don't worry, Az. We won't steal her from you." He paused for effect, then added, "Probably."

Azriel sighed heavily, muttering something under his breath that only I could hear. "I knew this was a bad idea."

I leaned into him slightly, my voice soft and teasing. "Oh, come on. It's not so bad. They're just excited."

He glanced down at me, his gaze softening for a moment. "They're going to drive you crazy."

I smiled up at him. "Good thing I've got you to keep me sane, then."

His lips twitched, and though he didn't respond, the warmth in his expression said enough.

The evening continued in a blur of laughter and conversation. I found myself settling easily into the group's dynamic, their teasing banter drawing me in. Mor and Cassian seemed particularly delighted to prod at Azriel, their jokes relentless.

"Starfall miracle," Rhys declared at one point, raising his glass. "Azriel, finally among the living. Who knew it would take a beautiful female to thaw our Spymaster's icy heart?"

Azriel's response was a low growl, but the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement, because he knew the High Lord had spoken truth, and some part of him was proud that it had been his mate to pull him from his own self deprecation.

At some point, the conversation turned to stories from their past. Cassian, emboldened by a few drinks, decided to share a tale about a young Azriel.

"Oh, this one's good," Cassian began, leaning back in his chair. "Picture it: Azriel, barely sixteen, still figuring out his wings. He was convinced he could outmaneuver anyone. So, during training, he challenges not one, not two, but three of the older Illyrians to a sparring match."

"Cassian, don't," Azriel warned, his voice low.

Cassian ignored him, grinning wickedly. "So there he is, all confident and smug, thinking he's got this in the bag. And then—bam! One of them sweeps his leg—rookie mistake, and he goes down like a sack of potatoes. But the best part? When he lands, he somehow manages to fall face-first into a pile of mud."

I couldn't help it—I burst out in a giggle, the image too vivid and ridiculous. Azriel groaned, pressing his forehead against my shoulder to hide his embarrassment.

"Don't worry," I said between giggles, running my fingers through his hair. "I think it's cute."

"You would," he muttered, but I felt the tension in his shoulders ease.

“C’mon, little Az taking on three big men for his own ego boost? It’s adorable, and terribly embarrassing.” I add the last part with a soft laugh.

"See?" Cassian said, raising his glass. "She gets it. Az, you've been holding out on us."

"He's gone soft," Amren adds with a deadpan, causing an amused smile to stretch across my features, happy to be the one who caused it.

After what felt like hours of constant attention, I excused myself to step outside for some air. The cool breeze was a welcome reprieve, and I leaned against the balcony railing, staring up at the sky. The stars hadn't begun falling yet, but the night was beautiful, the heavens alive with light.

The sound of the door opening behind me was soft, but I recognized the quiet footsteps immediately.

"Azriel," I said, glancing over my shoulder.

He hesitated in the doorway, his expression unreadable. "Are you all right?" he asked.

I smiled. "I'm fine. Just needed a breather."

He stepped closer, his shadows swirling lazily around him. "If it's too much—if they're too much—I can take you home."

I turned to face him fully, my heart squeezing at the worry in his eyes. "Azriel," I said softly, reaching for his hand. "I don't regret coming. Your family is wonderful."

His brow furrowed, as though he wasn't sure whether to believe me.

"And," I added with a playful grin, "now I have plenty of embarrassing stories to use against you if you ever misbehave."

That earned a quiet laugh, and he shook his head. "You're terrible," he said, but his tone was full of affection.

I stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest. "I do mean it, I love you okay? Nothings going to scare me away."

His eyes softened, and he cupped my face in his hands. "I'm not used to this," he admitted. "This joy. Ever since you walked into my life, it's like everything's changed. I know I don't say it enough, but, I love you. More than anything."

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I stood on my toes to press my lips to his.

But the familiar kiss was cut short, the first star streaked across the sky, followed by another and another. Azriel pulled away, then pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me as we watched the stars fall together.

When we returned inside, nearly an hour after the stars stopped their descent, the group was already winding down. Rhys approached us with a knowing smile. "Heading out?" he asked.

Azriel nodded. "It's getting late."

Mor hugged me tightly before we left. "You're officially one of us now," she said, winking. "Good luck dealing with Az. He's not as tough as he pretends to be."

Cassian clapped Azriel on the back. "Don't screw this up," he said, grinning.

Azriel rolled his eyes but didn't respond, guiding me toward the door.

"Come back soon," Feyre called after us, her smile warm.

By the time we returned to our apartment on the edge of the Sidra, I was exhausted but happy. Azriel helped me out of my dress, his touch gentle as he kissed my shoulder.

"Thank you for coming tonight," he said softly. "It meant a lot to me."

I smiled, turning to face him. "I think I like your family," I teased.

Azriel snorted, pulling me into his arms. "That makes one of us."

And as we fell into bed, the sound of the river outside our window, I knew there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

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[myjjongie]

۶ৎ SWEET, SWEET, SWEET, KISS ── s. jaeyun

IN WHICH: you've never had your first kiss before. who better to help you out with that problem? your lovely boyfriend jake of course!

PAIRING: bf!jake x gf!fem reader GENRE/WARNINGS: one shot, fluff, established relationship, skinship, kissing WORD COUNT: 1.2k ₊⊹♡ EVIE'S NOTE: this was posted way later than i intended, sorry about that :P but here it is whaaat !!?? also yes its lowercase intended i'm sorry i'm crazy </3 and lastly hope yall like it !! <3

it had been a month since you confessed to jake sim. before he became your boyfriend he was your hallway crush. yes, you may have had mutual friends but he was never really your friend. so when the words “i like you too” came out of his mouth it was a shock. well more so a life altering shock. for once a guy you like finally liked you back. there were both pros and cons on the situation.

pro, you were dating someone who actually liked you back. con? you’ve never been in a relationship… so anything that had to do with a relationship was entirely new to you. that meant holding hands, cuddling, dates, long phone calls, and last but not least… kissing. as a college student the mere thought of not only never being in a relationship but also never having your first kiss was mortifying in a way for you. so for the first month of your relationship, you did everything you could to not kiss jake.

in hindsight it was honestly ridiculous. you avoided kissing your boyfriend for a whole month all cause you didn’t know how to kiss to begin with... anytime you felt jake lean in for a kiss you’d find any excuse to get out of it. from turning away to look at something else, letting out a nervous laugh, or even pretending to check a message on your phone. you always felt bad for avoiding it.

but now here you were sitting on jake’s couch in his apartment. his face was leaning in as he was getting ready to kiss you once again. with no hesitation you stopped him before his lips could touch yours.

“oh have you seen that new movie that came out on netflix?! what was it called again?” you laughed nervously trying to move jake’s focus onto something else.

jake was just too observant for his own good. one month into the relationship and he already knew you like the back of his hand.

“yn you’ve been weird lately.” a pout began to form on his face. his brows also furrowed in worry as well.

“i won’t lie. i’ve noticed anytime i try to reach in for a kiss you’re immediately dismissive of me. did i do something wrong?” now his soft pout deepened into a frown. the hurt expression he had pained you. thinking that jake felt he did something wrong made the feeling in your chest tighten up. jake was never in the wrong, it was you for letting your nerves get the better of you.

“no. no! it’s not like that jake. i just…” taking in a deep breath you let out a sigh. you couldn’t let this continue on any longer. it was now or never to tell jake the truth.

“ugh. just. just promise me you won’t laugh…” your voice faltered a bit as you mustered up the power to spill the truth. your eyes looked into his to see his eyes reflect a serious expression.

“of course.”

biting your lip nervously you finally say the words that you hoped to never share. “i’ve never had my first kiss!” your voice came off a bit loud as you spilled out your confession. you closed your eyes not wanting to see the reaction on jake’s face.

it was silent for a moment. then a small stifle of a laugh was heard in the room. jake was laughing. opening your eyes you immediately opened your mouth to speak.

“you said you wouldn’t laugh!” now you were the one with a frown on your face.

“i know i know. i just. i didn’t think you were gonna say that.” jake could barely form the sentence letting a few laughs out.

“babe is that why you were avoiding my kisses all this time? it’s okay if you haven’t had your first kiss yet. did you think i would judge you for it?” his fingers softly grazed your cheek as he gently tucked some hair behind your ear.

“well no. i just…. i didn’t wanna kiss you badly… is all..” your cheeks let off a soft red color at the creeping embarrassment.

“hey now. that’s why i’m here. if you think you were gonna do badly, you have me to practice with.” jake couldn’t help but finish off his words with a cheeky smile.

you roll your eyes slightly whilst giving him a gentle punch to his arm.

“what? i’m being serious. how about we learn now? is that okay with you? i’m not overstepping am i?”

you found it adorable the minute he backtracked on his statement. jake unconsciously wanting to make you feel comfortable and safe made your stomach do flips. he truly was a perfect boyfriend.

“yes jakey that’s fine.” your voice came off more calmer as your nerves slowly subsided.

without anything more to say, jake changed the way you and him sat on the couch. you were both now sitting there, both your faces in front of each other. his arm rested on the back of the couch while his other hand was gently placed on your knee. you sat there with crossed legs slowly feeling nervous again, you fidgeted with your fingers in your lap.

“okay to start off. don’t think too much about the kiss. i promise you it’s easier said then done. when you’re in the moment you won’t be thinking about it. we’re gonna jump right into it so just try pressing your lips onto mine. okay? and don’t be nervous. it’s just me yn.”

still feeling shy you quickly peck jake’s lips. the contact between you two was no more than 2 seconds or even less than that. you looked up to jake to shyly ask “like that?”

your eyes had a gaze of innocence making jake feel slightly flustered.

“fuck… you’re way too cute yn.” jake murmured under his breath. without a second to spare jake’s lips gently brushed against yours. his lips now locking with yours felt different then the quick peck you gave him mere seconds ago. you froze unsure of what to do next, but jake didn’t rush it. his movements were gentle and attentive. his hand cupped your cheek to help tilt your face a bit. the new angle alone helped melt away the nerves in your body. then finally you got the hang of it, following his lead each movement felt more natural as the time went on.

at a certain point jake parted ways from the kiss. he couldn’t help but enjoy the way you breathed in for air afterwards. he desperately wanted to nibble at your lips but knew it would’ve been too much for you in the moment. instead he was now peppering your face with kisses. your cheeks, forehead, and jawline were not left without a kiss to them. your body shivered at the ticklish feeling of jake’s lips kissing along your jawline. finally stopping, he let out a deep sigh admiring your face before speaking.

“see that wasn’t so bad was it?” jake asked out as his thumb gently brushed against your bottom lip.

your face felt heated from all the small kisses jake gave you afterwards. you shook your head in agreement too tongue tied to find the words to speak. jake let out a soft laugh as he eyed you attentively.

“next time can i teach you how to make out?” jake teased as he fluttered his eye lashes flaunting his puppy eyes.

“hmmm we’ll see…” you replied shyly, a small smile making its way onto your lips.

before being able to even think about the future lessons. jake quickly pecked your lips, giving you that big smile that you always adored.

perm taglist ( open! refer to this post ) . . . @ikeulove @leehsngs @nickiminajleftasscheek

©myjjongie 2025

[milkoomi]

how to make finals your bitch. ᥫ᭡

- be at your best to give it your best -

hello angels! so it’s been almost 2 months since i’ve been active on here & it’s simply just been due to me focusing a lot of my time and energy into my academics, career, & personal life! i’m nearing the end of my program with my externship just being one month away! as with a lot of us, the spring semester is slowly but surely coming to an end! and that means finals are just around the corner! i wanted my “comeback” to be some of my helpful tips, tricks, & tidbits of advice for getting through finals and making sure you pass with flying colors!

also, thank you so so much for 1.2k!! i didn’t expect to gain such an influx of followers while i was gone! it means so much to me that so many of you have supported my blog even during my inactivity/unexpected hiatus! i can’t promise i’ll be coming back completely as i have my externship coming up, so i’ll be very busy the next few months! but i hope to continue to post every now and again for you angels!

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — pre-finals prep

it’s important to start prepping for finals in advance! finals may be 4-5 weeks away, but it never hurts to get a head start in your preparations!

create a checklist! — you can always start by making yourself a list or two for everything you need to get yourself prepared for that intimidating finals week! these lists could be a list of different study materials you’ll need, a list in order of priority of the different classes you need to study for, a list of supplies you’ll need to get yourself through the week (& yes, this can include snacks or any self-care stuff!), or even a list of different topics from your classes that you feel need a bit more of your attention! checklists are an amazing tool to use to keep yourself organized and can help you visual what needs to get done or what needs to be obtained!

plan out the weeks! — designate a day in your week where you take some time to plan out your weeks prior to finals week and the week of! include time blocks where you set aside time to study and time to take breaks and rest your mind & body! add small, achievable to-do lists for each day or a bigger, more broad one for each week! weekly planning can give you a tangible idea of what your weeks leading up to finals and the week of will look like, so don’t hesitate to give it a try or incorporate that into your weekly routine!

tina’s tip: utilize your phone’s calendar app! i do almost everything digitally and i’ve been making great use of the Apple calendar to plan out my weeks! it’s a great way to color code different events, classes, appointments, assignments, etc. & if you’re also someone who wants to get into digital planning it’s a great first step into getting into it!

prioritize & maintain good health! — i’m saying this with love, but pulling all-nighter’s every single day leading up to finals is not going to guarantee the best scores for you. you need to make sure your health is where it needs to be! sleep is absolutely vital to making sure your mind and body is working at its very best. as someone who used to be an insomniac and who used to religiously pull all-nighter’s for school, i’m telling you it is not worth it. i didn’t see any improvement in my grades when i was doing that. if anything, my scores and my motivation for school got worse. you can’t just go all night racking your brain over your studies. prioritize your health! this also means making sure you fuel your brain and body with good nutrients! when i’m only running on caffeine, not only do i feel physically weak, but my mind is using so much more energy on becoming anxious than staying focused.

tina’s tip: make sure you set aside time at least once or twice a week to something that makes you happy, helps you relax, and is not related to your academics! i have a rule for myself that after 7:30pm-8pm every single night that i immediately stop working on anything related to my studies so that i can truly unwind for the night. i’ll use my time before bed to have a self-pamper night, play video games, watch a show/movie/youtube video, draw, read, or chat with a friend on facetime! it’s important to include things that bring you joy into your routine! don’t burn yourself out by only focusing on your studies!

୨ৎ — the study wave

try to give yourself at least two weeks in advance to study for finals. consider these two weeks as the study wave! this is the perfect time to really lock into those time-blocks you’ve set aside for your study sessions. each day should be filled with review & ensuring you fully understand the material! the time-blocks could be as long as 5 hours or as short as 30 minutes. i recommend the start of the study wave to include longer study time-blocks and as you get closer to the week of finals to shorten those time-blocks!

week 1 of study wave — reteaching yourself the material: rewatch lectures, review powerpoints/videos/notes/previous homework assignments, and incorporate study methods like the feynman technique, practice tests, & active recall! use this time to form study groups, don’t hesitate to have longer study sessions (remember to take breaks!), and refresh your mind of everything you need to know for upcoming exams! let week 1 help you decide what material/topics/chapters/classes need more of your time and attention and which ones don’t!

tina’s tip: dedicate certain days out of the week to 1-2 classes! this will help to prevent any overwhelming feelings of stress, anxiety, and/or burn-out as you prepare for finals! prioritize which class(es) need the most review, maybe a couple classes need more than one designated study/review day and maybe other classes just need one day throughout the week!

week 2 of study wave — refresh & review: utilize study methods like the blurting method, flashcards, practice tests, & other forms of active recall! this is prime time to focus on active recall methods. doing so will help make sure the information stays fresh in your mind and will help you refine that mental list of which classes/topics still need a little more attention! week 2 of the study wave should included shorter study sessions whether it’s 1 or 2 hours shorter than week 1 or even as short as setting aside 20 minutes every day reviewing material. take this time to try and focus more on those more challenging topics rather than reviewing every single bit of information!

tina’s tip: if you use the blurting method, i recommend using it towards the end of your study sessions! this allows you to recall information as well as put it into your own words that will show whether or not you comprehend the material. review what you’ve written down based off of memory and identify any missing points or errors in your work! this will also help you refine what bits of information still need more focus! repeat this method 3 times!

i highly encourage you guys to also use this time to meet with professors/instructors to ask any additional questions! you’d be surprised at how much of a difference it makes to ask those pressing questions on different parts of the material!

୨ৎ — finals week

it’s extremely important that you are getting enough rest the week of finals! it all sounds cliché, but making sure you’re well-rested and you’ve filled your body with the right nutrients can make such a crucial difference in your exam performance!

if you have time in-between different exams, use that time to do quick review sessions to prepare for your next exam!

avoid cramming! — these in-between study sessions should be used wisely and in an effective manner. take some time to focus on material that has been challenging for you and don’t worry too much about reviewing parts that you’re already confident with!

keep the review short! — if you have 30 minutes or even a couple hours before your next final, do not use the entire time of your “break” to study/review! give your mind a break to rest! listen to some music, play a cozy game, or even take a quick nap if you’re able to! a lot of your mental energy should be put into your time taking the exam, so don’t expend all that energy into studying/reviewing!

final notes —

finals can be exhausting, anxiety-inducing, and just an overall challenge. since it’s that time of the semester where, i’m sure, most of us are starting to experience a drop in the level of our academic motivation, it’s really important to maintain a good and reliable study/school routine to keep yourself on the track you ideally want to be on!

i stress this a lot in my other posts, but self-care is extremely important in being able to maintain good routines in your day to day life! so be sure you’re still incorporating time to focus on your self care to keep yourself afloat!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[melanchol1cs]

WHAT GOOD IS SORRY?

ex husband!leon x f!reader

word count: 3.3k summary: why does one wound those they love so deeply? masterlist | taglist | wips

18+ MDNI. mentions of divorce, cheating/infidelity, awkward leon stuff, guilt, yearning, leon and reader have a child together — and i named her denise for whatever reason, getting stood up by a date, drunk texting, kissing, oral(r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bittersweet ending(?) i guess.

a/n: old wip,, this was supposed to be super gut wrenching and angsty but for some reason, my brain didn’t want to cooperate and decided that this would be the ending. also, i’ve been contemplating whether to address this or not and even tho its not a big issue, PLEASE interact with my posts. it’s the only way i’m able to know that you guys actually like the stuff i write, and ever since i’ve started writing on here 7 months ago, i’ve been noticing a decrease in interactions. im honestly losing motivation to write because i truly don’t know if people actually read my shit and like it. anyway, enjoy my mediocre writing ^___^

leon regrets everything he’s done up to this point. running into ada on a mission, going to the bar with her afterwards, and the kiss. the stupid kiss that eventually led up to this.

the divorce.

it all felt wrong, so wrong. yet here he was, driving his car to your doorstep, his stomach in knots despite having done this several times before.

for the sake of your daughter, the two of you had decided that shared custody would be the best option.

he stands at the door, hesitating before knocking, his knuckles hovering anxiously. clearing his throat, he gently raps his knuckles against the door, hoping for an answer. he's already second-guessing himself, wondering if he should have texted or called first.

your door eventually opens, and he's met with a familiar face. you.

you greet him with a civil smile, pressing a kiss into your daughter’s hair before ushering her inside.

he fidgets, adjusting the brim of his leather jacket nervously as he takes in the sight of you.

you reach to shut the door, catching a glimpse of him awkwardly hovering over you porch.

“you okay?”

he tries to find his voice. "yeah, i just, uh... i was just thinking..”

he looks down at his feet, kicking the ground with the side of his scuffed boot, as if trying to buy some time or maybe just willing the floor to swallow him up. when he speaks, his voice is low and sheepish. “when i was— last night, i thought… uh, do- do you remember when.. shit. are you free this weekend?”

”what?” you muse at his question. “leon, i really don’t wanna have this conversation with you again,”

he winces at the rebuff, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as a defensive measure.

leon’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard, his ears burning at your words. he looks anywhere but at you, his eyes darting over the porch railing, the foliage, the sky — anywhere but your eyes. oh, those eyes he adored so much.

"no, wait, hear me out,”

"listen..." he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever fallout this might bring, knowing he's already on shaky ground. “i just wanna talk.. to you.”

he shifts his weight, glancing up at the roof of the house as if the heavens themselves could offer a solution. when he does meet your gaze again, his eyes are pleading, his jaw clenched with a mix of anxiety and something akin to desperation.

“i’m sorry, leon. i’m busy,”

he scoffs and his face scrunches up, a pained grimace contorting his features as he cuts you off. “c’mon, please?” he's standing too close now, invading the personal space he once knew so well. “i.. i know it isn’t what we do anymore but—“

“no, seriously. i literally can’t. i have something up.”

“oh.” he deflates slightly at your dismissal, shoulders slumping in defeat. a soft, regretful sigh escapes his parted lips, and his eyes drop, gaze wandering aimlessly. "can- can you can you cancel? is it really important? what about on sunday-? i’m sure we can..“

“leon.” it's not a question this time, you stare at him with the tiniest hint of pity. “i have a date.”

ouch. he freezes, his chest constricting as if he's been punched. a date? the words echo in his mind, each syllable like a dagger to his pride, his ego, his everything. a muscle in his jaw twitches, his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. leon swallows hard, his throat suddenly parched.

"oh," he repeats, the sound barely above a whisper. he takes a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, jaw working in agitation as he grapples with the blow of your words. a snarky retort rises in his throat, a cutting remark to deflect the sting, but it withers on his tongue, a futile attempt at salvaging pride he knows is misplaced.

leon swallows hard, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice, laced with a wry bitterness. “yeah, no worries.. guess that's that," a bitter, hollow chuckle escapes him as he shifts his weight. his tone is flippant, trying to mask the sting of rejection, but the defeat is palpable as he turns to leave. he starts down the porch steps, his boots thudding against the wooden slats.

you finally close the door on him, standing by the door, hand on the knob, unease prickling along you skin like a thousand tiny needles, each one stinging with the weight of guilt. you sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she tries to process her feelings. guilt, regret, a twinge longing — it's all so confusing, so messy.

the weight of his pleading eyes, the desperation in his tone — he had no right acting like a dejected puppy after he cheated on you.

you shake your head, face between your hands. he made his choices, just as you had, and now it was time to move on. you squared your shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped away from the door, determined to let go of the ghost of what was and focus on the life you were building. for you, and your daughter.

but it’s not really easy.

not when you’re sitting alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date that never bothered to show.

your phone buzzes and you hold your breath. hoping for some sort of confirmation, but it's quickly snuffed out.

‘hey, sorry i couldn’t make it. something important came up’ the simple text reads. the same stupid excuse. every. single. time. your heart sinks, a dull ache forming in the pit of your stomach.

a bitter, derisive chuckle escapes your lips. serves you right. you knew he was trouble from the start. yet, your heart aches, a dull throb of pain and disappointment. you feel so foolish, sitting there, waiting for someone who never shows. though, it isn't really new.

now you lay in your bed, having already kicked off your heels and changed out of the uncomfortably tight dress you wore.

you pull the blankets up to your chin, suddenly feeling cold. you toss and turn, brooding and wallowing in misery, and it seemed like you’ve been doing it for hours till you’re startled out of your fitful doze by the buzz of your phone.

it's a text from leon, of course it is. it’s another one of his ‘where are u? i miss u’ ‘can’t stop thinking about you. please let me c u’ meltdowns.

he's drunk again, you can tell by the sloppy caps and the desperate pleas. every time he has a rough night, he always thinks coming over will magically fix everything. and you always refuse, knowing he’s only drunk and alone. but tonight, you feel particularly lonely.

your thumb hovers over the keyboard, and before you know it, you're typing. ‘come over.’ you hesitate, then send the message.

by then, he’s already halfway out the door, stumbling out and nearly falling as he trips over his own feet in his haste. he takes the stairs two at a time, a goofy, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. when he reaches your door, he pounds on it with a fist. his breath comes out in short puffs as he waits, anticipation making his heart race.

click.

the door creaks open a fraction and his eyes lock onto you, looking all soft and domestic in a robe. leon's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drink you in.

he tumbles in, arms outstretched as if he's about to catch something. he's immediately in your space, arms around you in a tight, needy embrace. his face buries itself in the crook of your neck, breathless with relief and something else, something suspiciously like love.

“leon—“ he smashes his mouth against yours, tongue pushing past your lips, the taste of beer and regret in his breath. his hands roam, sliding up your back, gripping your hair, fingers splayed wide as if to assure himself you're real. a low, desperate sound escapes him, half-groan, half-moan as his body presses against yours. he's desperate, sloppy, but undeniably passionate. when he finally breaks for air, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes glassy with drink and longing.

“missed you s’ much, baby,” he presses a kiss to your neck, tongue tracing the pulse point with a reverence that borders worship.

“let me make it up to you, please,” he looks up at you with those big, puppy-dog eyes, an expression so pathetic it’s comical. yet, the desperation behind them makes it anything but.

his hands skim down your sides to your hips, fingers digging in as if to keep you anchored to him. his face buried in the crook of your neck as his hands knead the meat of your ass, claws digging in through the fabric of your robe. his breath hitches as he nuzzles into you, inhaling deeply as if committing you to memory.

he trails a string of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to nibble on your collarbone before continuing his journey south. his hands never stop moving, roaming over your body with an insatiable hunger.

you let out a soft whimper, arching into his touch. "bedroom," you breathe out, and he happily obliges.

once inside, he kicks the door shut behind him and spins you around, backing you up against the bed. he begins to undo your robe with shaking fingers, your heavy breathing and the rustling of silk the only sounds in the charged silence between you. when the robe falls open, he pushes it off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet.

the thin, sheer fabric of your nightgown offers little resistance as he practically rips it off you. a shaky breath escapes his parted lips as he reaches for you again, fingers grazing your skin as if he's not quite trusting his own touch.

he guides you to the bed, pushing you to sit on the edge. he immediately drops to his knees before you, face between your legs.

“these ‘re pretty,” he slurs out, before he fucking tears your underwear off.

“leon!”

he chuckles at your reaction, a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat. “sorry,” he murmurs against your inner thigh, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. “gonna buy you new ones,”

his stubble scrapes against your sensitive skin as he slowly trails open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, savoring every inch of you that you’re willing to give him.

he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking with a single-minded devotion that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back in your head. his scruffy cheeks hollow as he sucks a hickey into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

god, it’s been so long. the feelings practically foreign.

his tongue begins to lash at your slit, long and flat, with a dexterity that belies his level of inebriation.

“you still mine?” he huffs. “‘course you are, ‘m the only one that can get ya this wet,”

slurp, smack, suck, repeat.

his tongue is relentless, probing your entrance, swirling around your clit with increasing fervor. he's sloppy, uncoordinated, but it only serves to heighten the intensity of it all. every time he pulls back, you can hear his heavy breathing, feel the vibrations of his moans against your most intimate flesh. your fingers thread into his hair, tugging him closer as your back arches off the bed. a keening whimper escapes you, the sound muffled by your clenched teeth as you struggle to maintain some semblance of control.

“fuck, leon—” your words trail off into incoherent mumbles as he drives you closer to the edge, tongue darting in and out with a pace that’ll make a grown woman go crazy. “d-denise, were gonna wake her up,”

a low growl rumbles in his chest as he responds to your whine. there's a hint of accusation in his gaze, but it quickly morphs into a look of raw, desperate need. “don’t matter,” he's relentless, persistent, refusing to back down even as you tremble and writhe beneath him.

he grunts, his attention snapping back to you, blue eyes squinting as he looks up from between your thighs. his tongue is a damn metronome, lapping and smacking with a relentless rhythm that has you chasing the edge of oblivion.

it's like every drunken fantasy he's ever had is being poured out onto you. messy, uncoordinated, desperate. and you’re eating it up. “gonna make you forget all about that stupid date," he mutters through slurred words. "’m the only man who can make you feel this good,"

he's not wrong. the way he's attacking you with his tongue, it's like he's trying to prove a fucking point.

"leon, please," you gasp out, and he takes it as an invitation to continue. your entire body is wound up tight, a taut string ready to snap. he slips a finger in, then two, curling them just right so that they’re pressing against that spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

your legs wrap around his head, fingers threading into his hair as you pull him in as close as humanly possible. his name is a chant on your lips, a prayer to the gods of pleasure. "leon, leon, leon,". denise could come in right now and catch you like this — legs splayed, back arched, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. he's that good. or maybe that bad. you dont know. and you don’t care to find out.

"yeah, just like that," he praises, voice a low, gravelly growl. "love my fingers in this greedy little cunt, don't you?"

your thighs clench around his head, heels digging into his back as you ride out the pleasure. "gonna cum, leon, please—“ yours words trail off into a wail, a keen of pure, unadulterated euphoria.

your back arches, toes curl, and your fingers dig into his hair, holding him to you as the wave crashes over you. he tugs you down to the edge of the bed, practically burying his face in your groin. he laps at your slit, in and out, in and out, until the last bit of resistance melts away.

he lifts his face from between your legs, eyes hazy and unfocused as he fumbles to unbuckle his pants. once he has it off, he's back, pushing your legs apart as he kneels between them. the thick of his length throbs against your lower belly, and you can feel his racing heartbeat through every inch of him that's in contact with you.

he notches the head of his cock at your entrance, pressing in just enough to make you feel the pressure, gathering your juices before giving a long, slow stroke up and down, coating himself in you. he's throbbing, pulsing with need, and you can practically taste the desperation in your mouth.

he presses in, just the tip at first, then a bit more. slow, shallow strokes, in and out. his hips rock against yours, the motion slow and languid. one of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your closed eyelids to check if he was dreaming. the other hand palms the small of your back, fingers digging in as if to anchor himself. your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as he slowly sinks into you.

he's quiet for a moment, just holding you, his heart racing in his chest as if he's trying to communicate something without using words. his hips move, the action slow and lazy, as if he's trying to spoon you into submission.

he pulls out, just to the tip, before pushing back in. the motion is slow, sensual, a deliberate teasing that has you whining and writhing beneath him.

sweat beads on his brow, tracing down the lines of his face, but he doesn't slow. if anything, he's driven by a desperate need to make up for lost time, to prove himself worthy of you. your back arches, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he pistons in and out, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. he's not gentle, not soft, but rough and demanding, just like he always used to be when he was trying to stake his claim.

he nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before he sooths it with his tongue. “fuck, feels so good,” he gasps out, his words punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. “can't believe i ever let you go.”

"leon," you whimper, the name a plea, a prayer. his lips find yours in a sloppy, frantic kiss. he's drinking you in, devouring your mouth, your moans, your gasps, trying to consume every ounce of you.

he's sweating, hair a mess, face scrunched up in concentration, but those blue eyes remain locked on yours.

you're lost in the sensation, every nerve ending on high alert, screaming for friction, for relief, for release. "leon, leon, gonna cum," you pant, your voice raw, your throat dry. "please, i—" but your pleas are swallowed by his next thrust, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours, noses nearly touching. his hot breath mingles with yours, the scent of his beer-soaked breath and the musk of his arousal mingling together in the most intoxicating way. "love you," he suddenly whispers, the words a quiet, a desperate confession that hangs in the air between you.

“love you, love you, fuck—“

the way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. for a long moment, he stays frozen, buried to the hilt, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

the heat of your body seeps into his skin, chasing away the chill of the night air. he collapses against you, a boneless heap of satisfied male. his cock throbs, pulses, and drips onto the bed between your legs as he tries to catch his breath. the room is silent, save for your joint heavy breathing, and the occasional groan as his softening length slips out of you. eventually, he rolls off, lying on his back beside you, one big hand coming to rest on your stomach, thumb stroking in a slow, idle pattern. his eyes are hazy, unfocused, but they find yours and hold. a small, sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

"sorry," he slurs out, the word garbled and slightly off-kilter. "i shoulda been better, should’ve tried harder, i... i‘m gonna make things right, i swear,"

he peppers your neck with soft kisses, his stubble rasping against your tender flesh. he's warm, solid, and comforting. gentle and tender, a stark contrast to the desperation that drove him mere moments ago.

he's not reaching for grand gestures or flowery declarations. he's asking for something simple, intimate, and achingly human. a chance to hold you, to sleep beside you, to maybe, begin to rebuild something from the rubble of what once was.

and for a moment, you let yourself believe that he’ll be different this time. that he's not just trying to relive past glories, but genuinely wants to make amends, to start anew.

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

[forzarma]

Between the lines

Lando Norris x Law student!reader

A/N: ok amma just act like i didn’t ghost this app for months and came out if nowhere but here we are ig. Also the Brazilian gp??? What the heck like wild race istg😭

It all started one night in Monaco, on a break from law school. You were on vacation with a friend, celebrating the rare freedom that came with a brief pause in your intense study schedule. A night at the casino was not usually your scene, but your friend had insisted.

After about an hour, she’d struck up a flirtatious conversation with some guy who’d been lingering by the bar. You waved her off, telling her you’d be fine, and took a seat on your own near a roulette table.

That’s when he walked up. Unassuming at first, with that messy hair and a slightly cocky smile that had “trouble” written all over it.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, a hint of an accent in his voice.

You shrugged, amused. “Go for it. But I’m not particularly good at this.”

He chuckled. “Neither am I.”

You exchanged a few more jokes, but it didn’t take long for him to introduce himself, giving you his number in a smooth, unhurried way.

“Lando,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You stashed the number away without much thought. It was only the next day, when you mentioned the encounter to your little sister over FaceTime, that you realized who he actually was.

“Some guy named Lando gave me his number at the casino,” you’d said offhandedly. Her jaw dropped.

“Wait, Lando who??.”

You blinked, stunned, and then laughed. “I don’t know, apparently he’s famous”

“so it’s lando fucking norris what” she said wide eyed

She rolled her eyes, muttering, “Only my sister would be this oblivious to F1 drivers. I’ve been a die-hard fan since I was, like, ten, and you meet one without even knowing?”

From there, you let yourself get to know him, intrigued by how normal he seemed compared to the hype you’d suddenly realized surrounded him. When he asked you out, you thought, why not? You were used to focusing on your studies and keeping your personal life private, so it didn’t seem like much would change. But with Lando, everything was different.

-

Months later, you’d fallen into an unexpected but steady rhythm with Lando. Despite his career, he managed to keep things low-key. Neither of you posted much about each other. Hell, you barely posted anything at all. You were still a law student with a private life, and the last thing you wanted was for the whole world to know who you were dating.

One evening, you were lying on his couch, scrolling through your phone, when Lando turned to you with a sly grin.

“Babe, you know… you’re eventually gonna get caught, right? Someone’s going to snap a picture of us, and then the cat’s out of the bag,” he teased, nudging your leg with his.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Oh, sure, because every random person with a camera is just dying to know who you’re dating.”

He snickered, leaning in closer. “Maybe. But you know, it could be kinda nice… to go out sometimes. Like, properly. We don’t have to make a big deal of it.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. As much as you loved being with him, the idea of being recognized—or worse, photographed—made you cringe. Your accounts were private, your life simple, and you weren’t sure how you’d feel about people seeing you with him.

But, at the same time, you knew it wasn’t fair to keep him hidden away forever. So, you took a deep breath and gave him a small smile. “What if we make a deal?”

His eyebrows shot up in interest. “I’m listening.”

“You can have me at the paddock,” you said, already dreading the idea. “But my accounts stay private, no tags, no ‘girlfriend reveals’ on Instagram. I’ll show up, I’ll be there for you but I’m not trying to become some celebrity.”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Deal. Although I can’t promise you won’t end up in a couple of team photos. You know how they love to catch every damn moment.”

You chuckled, trying not to think too hard about what you were signing up for.

-

A couple of weeks later, you were lying in bed with Lando, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram, when you felt a pang of guilt.

“I never actually told you about my sister,” you said suddenly.

“Oh?” He looked over at you with interest.

“Yeah, she’s been obsessed with F1 since she was like, ten,” you explained, laughing softly. “She’s begged me to take her to a race for years, but I was always too busy with school. Now she’s a full-on Ferrari fan… and she’s probably never going to forgive me for dating you.”

He grinned, intrigued. “A Ferrari fan, huh? That’s rough. Maybe I can convince her to switch sides.”

You snorted. “Good luck. She’s already sworn allegiance to Sebastian Vettel. In her words, McLaren’s colors are ‘an offense to her soul.’”

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Well, in that case, we’ll have to win her over somehow. Why don’t we bring her to a race? I’ll make sure she gets the best seats, full experience,

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “She’d lose her mind. Seriously. Are you sure? Because I can tell you right now, she’d never root for McLaren.

“Absolutely,” he said, squeezing your hand. “If she’s as big a fan as you say, she deserves a proper race weekend. Plus, I think it’s time we officially break her ‘Ferrari-only’ heart.”

-

On race day, you and Lando arrived at the paddock, and immediately, heads turned. You’d chosen a classic, chic outfit and despite your initial nerves, you managed to keep your cool.

You spotted your sister down the row, and her jaw dropped as soon as she saw you. She approached, barely able to contain her excitement, though she shot a mock glare at Lando.

“Such a shame I don’t like McLaren,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied with a grin. “You just wait. One lap, and you’ll be a fan.”

She rolled her eyes, but you could tell she was thrilled, practically bouncing on her heels as she looked around at the spectacle. She turned to you, eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re really here… at a race. I don’t know whether to thank you or disown you.”

You laughed, nudging her playfully. “I’m still not a fan, if that helps.”

She huffed, pretending to be offended. “I guess I’ll forgive you. But only if you bring me every single time from now on.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of cameras, fans, and the hum of engines. You couldn’t deny the rush of excitement that came with being part of the chaos, even if it meant being in the public eye. And when you saw your sister’s face, completely lit up as she took in every second, it felt worth it.

-

The relationship slowly became public, just as you and Lando had agreed. You kept your accounts locked down, but fans began to recognize you, and a few photos of you two at the paddock circulated on social media.

Your sister stayed true to her Ferrari fandom, texting you regularly to tease you about your “betrayal.” But every now and then, you’d catch her slipping in a comment about McLaren usually something along the lines of, “Okay, that car looks pretty badass.”

One evening, Lando turned to you with a satisfied grin. “I think we’re doing alright, don’t you think?”

You looked around the Monaco apartment you’d somehow started calling “home” without even realizing it, at the life you’d built together. You leaned over, giving him a soft kiss. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

In the end, you realized you didn’t need to post, announce, or shout your relationship from the rooftops. Being there for each other was enough, even if it meant sharing some of the spotlight.

After all, Lando may have been the one the world wanted to see, but you were his, and that was more than enough.

[jeonstudios]

dextrocardia | 15

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 6k

warnings: self-esteem issues, feelings

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 15/? 

<previous | next>

© dextrocardia is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

The ride home lasts ten minutes, during which you’re holding back tears the entire time. It’s only when you’re finally inside your own apartment that you let them fall. It doesn’t help to see Fenrir’s collar and leash hanging next to your jackets, or his bowls still on the floor. In a way, it feels like you’re back at square one. 

You know you promised Jeongguk you’d call Jihyo, but you don’t, knowing she’d disapprove of you being on your own probably just as much as he does. Still, realizing that sooner or later you’ll need to either get back to work or find another job, you send her a text, asking if there’s any case for you to work on remotely until you’re ready to return fully.

The first night back is emotional, but you’re relieved to finally be home.

“I don’t think it matters how hard you throw it,” a worried Jimin watches Jeongguk hurl a dart at the dartboard. “Actually, I’m pretty sure you’d see better results if you didn’t throw it like an Olympic javelin thrower.”

Jeongguk doesn’t reply, just rolls his eyes and grabs another dart. The music around them is surprisingly quiet, drowned out by the chatter of the bustling bar.

“So, care to tell me what’s up with him?” Jin asks, nodding toward Jeongguk as he sets the three pints of beer on the table and takes a seat. 

“His little lady left him,” Jimin explains sadly, sliding one of the pints closer to Jeongguk.

“Oh. Why? You weren’t a couple, were you?” Jin asks.

“No,” is all Jeongguk mutters before he heads over to the dartboard to retrieve the darts. He has three of them, but only one actually hit the board; the other two embarrassingly stuck to the wood-paneled wall. From the marks already there, he’s at least not the first terrible dart-thrower. When he returns to the table with all the darts in hand, he pushes his designated pint back toward Jimin. “Can’t drink.”

Jimin meets his eyes, looking defeated. Jeongguk already explained that when you’re not with him, he can’t risk being drunk in case you need him. If you called, saying Hoseong had found you, Jeongguk would not hesitate to get on his bike or in his car, no matter how much he’s had to drink, and driving under the influence is something he’d rather avoid.

“She’s scared of me,” he repeats what you told him a few nights ago. Hearing the words from his own mouth stings less, but his heart still aches and his blood boils. He throws another dart but misses the board, and it sticks to the wall a few inches left of it. 

“Wait. What do you mean?” Jin asks, confusion written all over his face.

“Yeah. Although I’m pretty sure she hasn’t ruled out that I’ll just snap one day and kill her, she’s mostly scared that I’ll want to hurt her emotionally.”

“But why would you? I thought you two were doing alright? I mean, she’s been living with you for, what, the last month?”

“We were. Or at least, I thought so. She kissed me, and we were… getting closer, but I guess it freaked her out.”

“Why?”

“Remember how I told you I was horrible to her before I found out what Hoseong had done? Yeah, the things I said… they were inhumane.”

“What did you say?”

Jeongguk throws another dart, swinging his arm and using way too much force. “What haven’t I said? I’ve told her that she’s too ugly for me to look at, that she needs to stop eating, that she’s incompetent, and that she basically deserved being trafficked if only the traffickers would take her. That’s the short version.”

“Fuck, man,” Jimin breathes in disbelief. Jeongguk told him what happened ages ago but not explicitly what he’d said to you.

“Yeah. I just… I wanted her to hurt, to pay for what I thought she’d done, but she never seemed affected. I’d call her something, and she’d flip me off or glare at me or call me an idiot or whatever, but she never… I thought she didn’t care, so the next time I saw her, I said something worse. But I wouldn’t have, obviously, if I… If I… knew.”

Jin puts his glass down, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I mean, I haven’t met her, but isn’t she, like, objectively very pretty? From what I’ve heard?”

“Yeah, she is,” Jeongguk sighs. “Which is also why I didn’t think she’d take it to heart, ‘cause what I said isn’t true in the slightest.” 

“But can’t she see how pathetically in love you are? No offense,” Jimin asks. “I mean, I take it you’ve apologized and probably told her what you really think? She doesn’t trust that?”

Jeongguk falls silent as he retrieves the darts again, shamefully avoiding eye contact with his friends on his way back.

“Wait, you haven’t apologized?”

“Of course I have,” he argues before lowering his voice. “I just kinda… fucked it up.”

He feels the confused stares of his friends. “I’ve apologized many, many times for how I treated her, and she seemed to kinda accept that? But I never explicitly apologized for the things I said. Nor have I told her how I actually feel about her.”

He sees how Jimin is about to tell him exactly what he thinks about that, but Jeongguk cuts him off before he's able to.

“After I somehow convinced her to stay with me, I thought carefully about how to act around her. I thought that it would be better to apologize for… everything. I thought ‘I’m sorry for how I treated you’ would cover it. And I didn’t want her to second-guess my intentions, so I didn’t actually tell her what I really think.”

“You mean ‘second-guess your intentions’ as in…” Jin trails off.

“As in think that I chose to help her because I was interested in her. I didn’t want her to think I had an agenda or to feel like she’d owe me in any way. She hasn’t had the best experience with men—men in law enforcement, especially—so I wanted to be as… safe, I guess, as possible for her. I didn’t realize she was still thinking about it, taking what I said as the truth.”

Jimin sighs. “So she thinks you might still consider her the ugliest creature to walk the earth is what you’re saying?”

“Apparently. I tried to convince her before she left, but of course, it didn’t seem genuine. I don’t blame her.”

A bit more optimistic, Jin tilts his head. “You don’t think she’ll believe you if you just tell her exactly what you just told us?”

But Jeongguk lets his shoulders slump. “I don’t think so. She told me I scare her because I have a desire to hurt anyone who wrongs me, and she doesn’t feel like she can read me. And I believe her. I wanted to hurt her, and during the mission, I had to pretend to love her when I really didn’t, so I kept switching up on her.”

The atmosphere shifts from frustrated and sad to just sad as Jeongguk runs his thumb over the dart in his hand.

“I lose either way. If I tell her that what I said back then was true, then I think she’s ugly, and I wanted to hurt her by saying so. But if I say that I lied and that she’s really the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, then I still wanted to hurt her. And after everything she’s been through, she doesn’t want a man with a desire to hurt.”

“But like you said, you didn’t mean to hurt her to that point, more so to be taken down a notch? And it got out of hand?”

“Is there a difference? I’ve hurt her, probably beyond what is salvageable, and she thinks I’m still capable of that; that if we disagree on something, I might turn on her.”

With a deep breath, you pull open the doors to the police station one chilly Monday morning, the sky outside gray and heavy with the threat of snow. It’s been three weeks since you came home, and though Jihyo put up a fight, she eventually agreed to let you stay.

Since months have passed, and you still haven’t caught Hoseong and his crew, you figure you might as well try to get back to normal. So you started planning your return to work, but then Christmas came, which you spent at your mother’s, two hours away.

Jihyo also agreed not to tell Jeongguk about your living arrangements, per your desperate request. You’d rather not deal with his savior complex, and you know he’d park outside your building if he thought you were in danger. You scoff to yourself, but almost immediately, guilt settles in. A savior complex isn’t why he’s worried about you; he’s just a good guy. You know that. Still, you don’t want him to know.

Walking through the station at nine a.m.—on your way to Jihyo’s office to discuss your new assignment—you almost hold your breath. Some officers glance your way, still not used to seeing you back, and maybe even less used to seeing you without Jeongguk. Or maybe they know you had a “falling out?” Would he tell anyone here? Jihyo, maybe, if she didn’t already know, but you’re not sure if he’d tell anyone else; his closest friends besides Jimin don’t work at this station anyway. And Jimin probably wouldn’t gossip about you either.

Jihyo is waiting for you when you reach the door to her office, calling out for you to come in as soon as you knock.

“Hey,” you say, closing the door behind you.

“Hey. Want a donut?” she asks from behind her desk, happily pointing to the open box, a half-eaten donut in hand and what you assume is part of the other half in her mouth.

“Nah, I’m good,” you grin, sitting down in front of her.

“Alright,” she says, swallowing and wiping some crumbs from her lap. “So, I’ve been looking over your request and proposed methods.”

You watch as she pulls her laptop in front of her, setting the donut down on the table, and starts scrolling.

“And I’d say it’s very reasonable if we’re okay with the risks.”

“I don’t think there are any risks at all, actually,” you argue softly. “We parted on good terms.”

“Yeah, I know. And they played a part in your survival. But I’m still gonna need to have a risk analysis performed. Who would you want to go with you? I could assign Sana, I think, if you want her? She’s on an assignment right now, but we’re hoping they’ll be done by Wednesday, give or take.”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”

“No problem. I’m glad to see you back and wanting to work on what matters to you. I know the chief—ex-chief—did his best to be a pain in the ass for you.”

“Yeah. I can’t wait until the investigation’s finished, honestly. He deserves to rot in jail.”

“Agreed. I haven’t heard anything else from the higher-ups, so they’re probably still elbow-deep in it. Anyway, if you have any details you’d like to show me, I’m all ears.”

Your smile grows, and you reach into your bag for your laptop and notebook.

“Thanks,” you smile, standing up an hour later with your bag in hand. But before you exit her office and close the door behind you, you glance back at Jihyo. “By the way, I’m so glad you got the job. You deserve it more than anyone.”

“Thank you. It’s been… rough, these last couple of months. A lot to do and a lot of stress and pressure, but I think it’s worth it. And I’ve had help, making it easier for me to adjust.”

You know who she’s talking about; you don’t need to hear a name.

“He asks about you, you know.”

Holding onto the door, you look away. You’re well aware of what Jeongguk has done for not only you but also Jihyo, Sana, and the entire police station. 

“Let me avoid him for at least another month. Then you can tell him whatever you want, and I can try to be a better colleague. But now? I can’t… I don’t…”

Jihyo looks at you, seeing the pain well up in your eyes when you think about the reason you left his house that night. If you can just have another month to force the warm, yet invalid and hurt feelings you have for him back into the box they broke out of when you first kissed him, you can try to be more civil with him. Hell, you’ll even work with him if he can keep it professional as well.

Jihyo nods, sad but understanding. After all, she had a front-row seat when he used to tear you bloody.

For another hour, you sit at an empty desk, excitedly looking over the preliminary plan that starts on Thursday. You can’t believe it’s about to actually become reality.  

Step one:

Preliminary timeframe: Thursday. 

Possible obstacles and risks: Low risk of hostility or danger. 

Safety measures: Two detectives, civilian clothes, civilian car, concealed firearms.

Step two: Plan A or B, depending on what you find, if anything.

With your notes full of prepared questions, you rise from the chair, deeming it time to leave the station for the day. As you stand there, organizing your papers, movement catches your eye, and you look up just in time to see Jimin enter the big room. And of course, who does he have in tow if not Jeon Jeongguk, dressed, like so often, in the academy's navy crewneck and uniform pants?

Meeting both of their eyes, you’re saved by your phone’s ringtone, a sound that seems to stop even Jeongguk from taking an impulsive step toward you.

Fishing the phone out from the pocket of your black pants, you swipe your finger across the screen to answer. It’s Sana.

“Hello?”

“Hey! So I talked to Jihyo, and she said that your request got pre-approved? I’m a little busy at the moment and for the next few days, but send me anything you’d like me to look over in preparation.”

“So you’re up for it?” you ask, a wide smile forming. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Jeongguk reluctantly follow Jimin further into the room, where they start talking to two other officers with their backs turned. If you were more of a hopeless romantic instead of a realistic one, you’d describe the glances he sends your way as… yearning. To avoid his gaze, you focus on the notebook lying on the desk.

“Of course! You and me, just like old times.”

“Old times? It’s only been like a year since we worked on a case together.”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, I gotta go. See you.”

“I’ll send the info tonight. See you.”

Discreetly, you end the call and gather your things, quickly but quietly heading for the exit. But in the corridor, you hear a call of your name. You shut your eyes for a second before turning around. It hurts to see him, to walk these halls, avoiding him just like you used to. Only this time, it’s a different kind of pain.

The shame creeps in at the same rate Jeongguk approaches. It’s the same shame for how he sees you, but also for how you’ve reacted. You can barely look at him, yet you’re ashamed for not giving him a chance, even though he’s the one who made the bed he’s now tossing and turning in. He's so handsome, looking so warm and strong as he approaches, his black hair looking soft, shiny and just a little longer than last time. A part of you wishes he’d close his eyes so that you could throw your arms around his neck and breathe him in.

“Can you please leave me alone for a while?” is what you ask instead, clutching your notebook to your chest.

Now standing right before you, he looks down at you with sad, desperate eyes. “I’ll be quick, I promise. Two minutes is all I need.” 

You’re not sure why, because you’re not an immature person, but you press your lips together, trying to suppress a smile. Noticing the shift in your expression, Jeongguk thinks back to what he said, smiling as well. “I set that one up pretty well, didn’t I?”

You turn your head, trying to stifle the smile, but you find that it fades easier than expected. 

“And you think I’d wanna fuck that?” he snaps, eyeing your body with disgust. 

Your gaze locks on the lower part of the wall. You wish someone would lend you the cloak of invisibility so that you could hide yourself from him and the world.

“Look at me,” he instructs, but you don’t. The more you think about his eyes on your body, the more you want to leave. 

“Look. At me,” he repeats, firmer this time but still without sounding angry. 

So you do.

“I get it if you don’t want anything else to do with me, but I can’t have you walking around, believing what I said is true.”

Although you don’t cry, you reluctantly let him see just how hurt you are.

“You were right. I wanted to hurt you. I said those things because I was angry, and I wanted just… some kind of justice. When you instead seemed so… unfazed, I let it get the best of me, and somewhere along the way, I lost myself. But I was wrong and although I wanted payback, I didn’t mean to hurt you to this degree. I was only looking for a reaction, anything that showed me that you were paying for what I thought you’d done. If I’d known how I really made you feel, regardless of if you were innocent or not, I would’ve stopped.“

“So you’re just a man, after all?” you ask, and maybe it’s uncalled for, maybe it’s not.

Jeongguk takes half a step back, appearing lost for words, and with enough pain in his surprised eyes for you to think he looks hurt.

He blinks and lowers his voice. “Yeah. Just a man. But listen to me—the things I said were. Not. True. Okay? You hear me? I cannot let you go around thinking you’re anything like what I told you.”

“I find that hard to believe. How else would you know exactly where to hit? What to say to cause maximum damage? Talking about my cellulite and my… weight and…”

“I said what I figured any woman would be scared to hear.”

“Yeah, sure,” you dismiss. 

It doesn’t matter what he says now—he did know exactly what to say, which means he must have looked at you, inspected your body and found every single one of your flaws. It makes you nauseous, as if some of those flaws didn’t exist to the world simply because no one other than you had noticed or mentioned them. Then Jeongguk and his friends scrutinized every inch of you, uncovering them all and putting them on display.

“I think you’re gorgeous.”

“You would’ve told me.”

You really think he would have. The Jeongguk who wants you to sleep in his bed, holding you from behind, who asks to hold your hand, and who puts frosting on your lips as an excuse to kiss them—he would have told you if he liked you. If he thought you were beautiful.

“I didn’t. I thought–incredibly dumbly–that if I told you what I really think of you, you’d think I was hitting on you. If things were different, if we ran into each other somewhere without all this… baggage, I would’ve hit on you, but all I wanted at the time was for you to trust me as a friend and to trust that I just wanted you to be safe. I didn’t want you to think I was looking to get laid or that I would… that I was anything like Hoseong. I didn’t know that you took my bullshit to heart—because again, it’s just not true—and so I chose not to say anything.”

“But we’ve been past that point for a while, haven’t we?” you ask, finding his explanation a little too weak to believe. “I trusted you enough to tell you about the worst moment of my life, I kissed you, and I told you how pretty I think you are, yet you couldn’t even…”

Frustration boils in your veins, mixing with the raw disappointment and hurt which cools you back down. You feel so… small, so defeated. “I don’t need compliments. Just… something. Something that would’ve shown me you weren’t being sweet only because you felt guilty.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say to that. In retrospect, yeah, he should’ve told you, and thinking back to his joke about pretty being for girls makes him cringe with both shame and regret. Especially since he’d used multiple occasions to taunt you with the fact that you’re not a pretty girl. But it had been hard, finding a balance in showing his affection without scaring you off. When you reacted the way you did that night during the power outage, he... didn’t want to risk making you more uncomfortable or afraid. He’d decided to take a step back, let you lead, and he would follow. Of course, that backfired horribly.

You look at him, hurt still brimming in your eyes.

He searches for words, trying to explain himself better. “I should’ve told you, but I… I didn’t want to risk making you uncomfortable. I wanted to follow your lead and let you decide everything. You wanted me handcuffed and blindfolded—of course I realized you were nervous. But I thought you were more worried I’d do something to you, rather than what I would think of you. I didn’t want to influence you to do anything you would’ve regretted.”

You’re clearly not convinced, and you shake your head slowly.

“You could’ve just given me a ‘you too.’ That’s all I would’ve needed.”

Jeongguk can only watch as you leave, obviously still very much hurt by him. Ten seconds after your footsteps have disappeared, he heads back to the desk area, his head hung low.

Jimin looks at him, JJ and Min gone. The unasked question hangs in the air, and Jeongguk can see Jimin realize that no, it didn’t go very well.

“You gotta remember that she’s had a hectic few months and maybe wasn’t really able to process everything. You being an ass was probably the least of her worries for a while—until it wasn’t anymore. And healing isn’t always linear. I’m sure she’ll come around one day.”

Jeongguk sighs. “I don’t think she will, and I can’t expect that of her. I just… hate myself for what I did to her. I never even realized she was just walking around, bleeding from my words.”

You haven’t fixed your car since the last tampering, but fortunately, Jihyo agreed to lend you one of the station’s unmarked cars. A discreet black thing that you park outside the station at ten a.m. on Thursday to pick up Sana, who needed to retrieve some things and told you to meet her there.

Getting no reply, you lock your phone and step out of the car with a sigh. The ground is powdered white, your shoes leaving tracks as you walk up to the station’s main entrance.

Warm air envelops you as you step inside, the doors falling shut behind you.

“Good morning!” Sana rushes over, a coffee in hand. “Sorry, I’ll be done in a minute, I just gotta ask Mark something.”

She gestures for you to follow, and you do, trailing behind her into the sea of desks. The place is unusually crowded with officers, so you decide to wait near the wall, leaving her to weasel her way into the middle on her own.

There usually aren’t this many people here when you’re around, but in your case, the problem isn’t necessarily people; it’s big, strong, law enforcement men. Though they’re not paying you much attention—they must be preparing for something big—you still can’t will your body to fully relax.

By instinct, you tug at your clothes, wishing you hadn’t left your jacket in the car. Since you decided to wear civilian clothes today, you thought you might as well dress somewhat according to your original mission’s dress code. Except adjusted for winter, of course. 

You’re wearing winter boots that reach your upper calves, a pair of those invisibly fleece-lined pantyhose you’ve seen all over social media the last few months, and a cream-colored knitted turtleneck dress. It’s been in your closet forever, but unfortunately, you didn’t try it on before you had to leave.

It feels too tight on your body. Not to wear into a ‘strangely religious neighborhood,’ but too tight to wear here. You pull at the hem where it ends at your mid-thigh, keeping your eyes down when people pass you and hoping no one is looking at you and taking note of how awkwardly shaped your body is.

You stand there for a while, avoiding people’s eyes while you wait for Sana.

However, when you—out of the corner of your eye—notice a uniformed man walking toward you, you look up. Jeongguk’s eyes flicker between you and the people walking past you, as if he’s seen exactly the shameful way you carry yourself around men—these men—nowadays. It’s gotten worse since you left his house; you know that, but when all of your confidence was fueled by anger and then denial, removing those leaves… not much left.

He comes to stand in front of you, looking down at you with frustrated eyes. He’s so broad, so imposing, and it’s very evident when he wears his navy uniform, the sleeves rolled up his veiny forearms.

“Listen to me—”

You look away, about to step back, but he grasps your hand—not just to stop you but to guide the two of you a few steps away from the path of officers and behind the tall panels of a cubicle.

“No. Listen to me. I’ll leave you alone after this if that’s what you want, but I need you to know that you are so incredibly beautiful.”

You sigh, looking at him and wordlessly begging him to just give up already. He’s quiet for a few long seconds, his frustration seemingly growing.

When he speaks again, his voice is calm, more earnest. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

“No,” you shake your head. You can’t recall the very first time you met him.

“I do. It was a rainy day—my fourth at the station—and I ran into you at the main entrance. The rain had wet your hair, and I held the door open for you. You thanked me, but you didn’t really smile much, just politely. I think you also bowed your head slightly. I remember thinking that you must’ve been cold from the rain, but I realize you were wary around the men here, even if you and I didn’t know each other.”

Sounds about right.

“And I thought that you were just so beautiful.”

You look down. It’s humiliating, and you feel like shit, hearing him throw compliments your way just to make you feel better. You can’t tell if he’s lying or not, but what else would he say? You can’t exactly say you expected him to approach you today to call you ugly.

Noticing your hesitation, he appears to be searching his mind for something, and you glance at him. 

Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly, and he reaches into the pocket of his navy uniform pants. It’s his phone that he pulls out, and he starts to scroll. He scrolls, and he scrolls, until he finally finds what he’s looking for.

“Look,” he says, handing you the phone.

Although you’re not too keen on entertaining whatever this is, you can’t help but be a little curious. What could he have on his phone that would convince you?

Accepting the device, you start reading the words on the screen. They’re text messages from an old group chat, dated years back, and though you can’t remember the exact date Jeongguk first showed up at the station, you assume it was right around then. The chat seems to have consisted mostly of him, Ryung, Hoseong, Seunghwan, and Junseo.

Seunghwan: Yeah, we’re excited to have you, just let us know if you need anything.

The next few texts are from the following day.

Jeongguk: So I just met the most gorgeous woman I think I’ve ever seen??

Jeongguk: Quick question, is there a work dating policy here? I can’t remember. 

Jeongguk: And if not, where do I find this woman again? Is she an officer? I’m not even kidding when I say that I’m absolutely head over heels from a three-second interaction, and she didn’t even really say anything. 

Jeongguk: I’d love to ask her out.

Ryung: If it’s who I think it is then you better stay away, man.

You read on, seeing how Ryung goes on to describe a woman’s features, which happen to align with yours. The length, color, and style of your hair, the color of your eyes, and your height. But also a very generous way of describing your face and the shape of your body.

Jeongguk: Yeah! Is she with one of you already? In that case, I apologize!

Ryung: No, but Hoseong did her briefly, and she’s absolutely mental. Pretty, but crazy

The next words are not very nice, the men urging Jeongguk to stay away from the woman who could only ever be you, promising to tell him what happened the day after.

“See,” Jeongguk says, “Even Ryung knew exactly who I meant; I didn’t even have to describe you, just say that you were the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen.”

You’re not sure. Yeah, the evidence points to that, and you can’t deny that you’re definitely feeling some form of relief, but… you can still hear his voice in your ears, see the anger and hatred in his dark eyes.

You hand the phone back, and Jeongguk looks around, sighing before turning his attention back to you. “You want me to be completely honest? Tell you exactly what I think of you?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “No? That’s the point? I know that I’m not your type. I’m full of flaws. I don’t have a body fat percentage in the negatives like you, I don’t always have the energy to shave every inch of my body, and I’ve never gotten flowers. No matter what you say now, I’m not someone you want.”

“You think I’m someone who would care about any of that?��� he asks, his voice tinged with hurt.

“You look like someone who would.”

Jeongguk looks away, taking a second to gather his thoughts.

“I… wanted to ask you out that day, after I first met you. You looked so pretty out there in the rain, and I think my heart stopped for a while. I think that you’re cute—really fucking adorable—and charming, and you’re smart and kind, and you’re absolutely breath-taking and sexy as hell.

"Which was another reason I was so angry at you; I saw this… stunning woman, who appeared to live a very privileged life, yelling ‘sexism’ whenever something didn’t go your way to… I don’t know, avoid consequences and get ahead, not realizing what sexism truly meant for other women. I didn’t think there was that much harm in what I said because I thought you knew very well how goddamn pretty you are, so I gripped at every straw, trying to get a reaction.”

You listen to every word he says, still unable to decide. You want to believe him, but the deep wounds he carved into your skin are still bleeding.

“I was so conflicted during our mission. On one hand, I had to pretend to like the person who had shot one of my best friends, who got away with it and refused to be held accountable for it. On the other hand… I liked seeing you pretend to like me too. First, out of spite, but then I realized that I liked seeing you smile, and how nice you were to the people around you, except for me, of course, but I guess I always started it. Then you fell asleep in my arms at the barbeque, and I knew I was fucked. I felt like I betrayed my friends for… feeling something other than hatred for you. 

“But this little thing, that hated me so much, let herself be so vulnerable as to sleep in my arms. And I guess I looked at you differently after that. The more I realized that you might actually be a pretty decent detective; a decent person, the harder it was for me to be mean to you. After everything, and after I’d found out what had happened, I wanted to tell you how much I liked you and how pretty I thought you were, but I was scared you wouldn’t come with me if I did. I was scared they’d look for you at your apartment, so I kept quiet.

“Even after you came to stay with me, and it seemed like you started to trust me, even just a little bit, I had to convince myself to wait. And the more I got to know you, the harder it became. Do you have any idea how much I wanted to bury you in flowers? Hold you and kiss you silly? And you know why I was always up before you—or at least I tried to be—when you slept in my bed with me?”

You shake your head because you don’t know.

There's something else in his eyes when he holds your gaze, “Because I dream about you, and I wake up hard. But I remembered how I freaked you out when we made out back at the house, when you were on my lap and I got hard. I didn’t want to scare you or make you uncomfortable, so I made sure to wake up before you, just in case.

“I wanted to kiss you and hold you and really, it would’ve been my pleasure if you’d wanted to sleep with me. But more than that, I wanted you to be safe and feel safe, never doubting why I was doing what I was.”

He shuts his eyes for a short moment. “I guess that’s all I can say. I don’t need you to forgive me, I just need you to know that all I wanted was revenge; nothing of what I said was true.”

He opens his eyes again, looking into yours with his soft, brown ones and a gentle sincerity. Though it’s overshadowed by something else. “I have many regrets, but you are my biggest. What I did to you.”

Regret.

As if she’s been waiting for the right moment to make her return, you hear Sana call your name. When you turn around, you spot her approaching.

“I gotta go,” you excuse yourself.

Sana looks between you and Jeongguk, but when no one says anything, she shrugs and turns her attention to you. “So, Jihyo said you had a problem with your apartment? The door, was it? Cause I can call my brother, and he’ll fix it for free next week if you want?”

“You’re living in your apartment? On your own?” Jeongguk questions, his voice upset.

You turn back at him, “Yeah. Have been since I left your house. It’s fine.”

Despite the clear worry his eyes display, he makes no effort to follow you and talk you straight, probably realizing that there’s nothing else he can do; that was his last chance.

<previous | next> author's note: so there's that! thanks for waiting for it <3 this was the last puzzle piece of their past, i think, and i'd love to hear your thoughts on everything, but especially him lol <3<3

[insert-name-heres-things]

Happy Disability Pride Month!!!

Remember Folks:

- SELF CARE IS NUMBER ONE

- Use your spoons sparingly! Here’s some spoons to go: 🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄

- Clean your mobility aids! (Seriously dude when was the last time you wiped that shit down with an antibacterial?)

- Accommodate yourself, as others will follow.

- Make goals within your reach and abilities

- DO YOUR COPINGS SKILLS

- Remember to stay hydrated and take your meds!

- For my fellow heat sensitive homies, stay cool this summer! A cold rag draped behind your neck, airy clothing, a small portable hand fan, keeping ice packs ready, cold water and expecially cold electrolyte drinks, all do wonders!

- For my fellow autistic folks, don’t be afraid wear earmuffs, stim, use chew charms, whatever it is that helps you regulate. You don’t have to mask if it’s something that isn’t benefitting to your life.

- POTS havin mofos like me, salt the ever loving fuck out of your food. Try different foods with salt, such as fruits and vegetables! I’m currently eating a salty tomato. Drink lots of water, I’ve been aiding gateraid packets to my water and it’s made a HUGE difference, especially as someone who hates drinking water.

- Those with PTSD for whatever reason, I wish you safety and support as you learn to cope and hopefully heal.

- I don’t know exactly what to say to others with H-EDS, as I’m still understanding this disorder other then BE CAREFUL WITH YOURSELF THIS PRIDE MONTH. I swear to god we are the most accident prone mother fuckers lmfao-

- If your immune system is all fucky like mine, keep clean and be sanitary, communicate with others that if they’re sick you can’t be around them, and wear a mask if you feel like that’s the right option for you. In my hometown I’ve gotten yelled at more than once for wearing a mask post-covid, however you can’t let someone else’s ignorance result in your own suffering.

- Don’t forget to move around and stretch! A little movement can do a lot for your body.

- Check in with your disabled friends! Try and see if there’s any way you can help one another, see where both of your strengths and weaknesses lie, and swap some spoons!!

- Be aware of what triggers your disorders. Whether if it’s caffeine triggering bipolar episodes, the weather causing fibro flares, big changes causing meltdowns, overexerting your hypermobility, whatever it is, it matters. Listen to your body and mind.

- Don’t be afraid to call out that doctor who isn’t listening, dismissing your symptoms and medically gaslighting you.

- While it may not seem like a big difference for some, trust me when I say your appetite is so important! Remember if it comes down to it, that it’s better to eat something, ANYTHING, than nothing at all. 

- To that person who might be hesitant, ashamed or might be questioning wether or not they should use a mobility aid, if it’s the difference between you being stuck at home vs going out and living some life… USE THAT MOBILITY AID!!! Same goes for braces and any other tool that may help you live a better quality of life.

- Be accepting towards those with disabilities different then your own- remember this month isn’t a competition about who’s struggling the most, rather to understand that people of physical, psychological, sensory, neurodivergence, and even undiagnosed disabilities all share one thing in common.. WHICH IS BEING DISABLED!

- Doesn’t matter who you are, how young or old, black or white, thick or thin - the disabled minority is one you can end up becoming a part of at any time, and likely will if you live long enough. Disability doesn’t discriminate, so EVERYONE should be advocating for disabled people’s rights.

- And of course, have pride in being disabled. This shit is fucking hard, but if you’re reading this, you’re doing it. Just being here today and doing what you can handle or manage, is doing your best, and that’s enough. You don’t have to push yourselves to impossible lengths to be proud of yourself.

Here, have the disability pride flag: